Lost Wishes (3 page)

I scrub my hands over my face, knowing that I need to try to stand. If I’m going to puke, it’s time to get this shit done. I push up from the bed and grab my head. Everything starts to swirl around me again. I slump against the small doorframe and swallow down the uplift of the bile from the pit of my stomach.

Lifting my eyes from the swaying boat’s floor, all my senses evaporate, save for my vision. Fuck. I squint as I try to focus on the figure in the cabin. It can’t be.

The angel…

That’s it. I’ve finally lost it. I give my foggy head a thorough shake and pieces from the night before start to take their collective arrangement.

I started drinking at the marina bar, fucked that “bitch” in the motel then came back to the boat and hit the bottle hard. I sat out on the bow for a while before even leaving the dock. I’d been in the water for about an hour, but I couldn’t be certain. Once there was no land around me, I remember shutting down the engine and dropping the anchor.  I couldn’t head straight to Avalon; I knew I’d smash my boat into someone else’s in the marina if I tried. I stumbled down below, figuring I’d sleep it off.

I found her on the floor. Damn, I did pick her up and put her in my bed. Motherfucker, she is real.

Then…shit! I rub my pounding head. Then I went through her purse. Katie. That’s it. Her name’s Katie. She works for Jessina’s new husband, Lennox something. I found a business card. Yeah. It’s all coming back now. And fuck, she’s still here. She’s still on my boat. Still sleeping like a goddamn angel.

Taking a few unsteady steps closer, her short blond hair hides most of her face. Lips swelled and partially open, she’s fast asleep. Her hands are so small and dainty, fingernails painted a light shade of pink, almost the same color as her lips. I get a whiff of her; feminine and musky. At least she doesn’t smell like a damn flower. I glance down at the floor and spot her heels, black with red underneath, literally like on the bottom. What in the hell. She has a business suit on. The dark skirt has crawled up her slender thigh. My cock jerks in my jeans.

Dammit. I cram my hand down my pants and grab my morning wood. I gotta piss, that’ll get rid of that. Just not sure how the hell I’m gonna get rid of her. I need to get to Avalon. There’s no turning this ship around now.

After finishing my business in the bathroom, I don’t look back. I head up the stairs, strip down to my boxers, and jump in the water. Shivers run through my alcohol-destroyed body when I hit the cool water. Feels fucking good. What I really need is a shower, but this will do. It’ll shock my senses back into order and get me ready for when the stowaway awakens. I have a good feeling that she’s not gonna be too happy with me after she discovers that I have no intention of taking her back to shore or giving her the deed to Aunt Lulu’s house. Can’t. Aunt Lulu was very specific about the conditions. Shelby’s going to be pissed about it too, but I promised. And, hell, I’ve broken a few of them already, but this one, I intend to keep.

I swim around for a few minutes, letting the frigid ocean cure my hangover. It gives my body something else to concentrate on—something besides the woman in my cabin, the throb in my head, and the hard-on that didn’t go away after my morning piss. When the sunlight doesn’t hurt my eyes so much and the shit in my stomach doesn’t feel like it’s going to spew out of my mouth, I wade over to the ladder and pull myself up from the water.

Stowaway is up. Sitting on the bench, she’s found my raft and is trying to blow it up. Lips pursed around the thing, cheeks puffed out, she sees me. Her crystal blue eyes go wide. Man, those eyes are beautiful—fitting for an angel.

I flick the wet long strands of hair from my face.

Watching me, her lips pull from the raft as she sucks in some air and then blows. She does it a few more times, her steady eyes following me as I approach her. Gotta hand it to her, she’s determined. She’s getting off this boat any way she can.

“There’s a pump under that seat.” I point, stopping a few feet from her.

She looks at me for a second then gets up and lifts the seat. She pulls the pump out, inspecting it.

“You pump it with your foot,” I tell her.

“Thanks.” She glances at me with a tight-lip fuck you and sits back down. “Got any paddles to go with this raft,” she asks, brow high and rounded. Fuck, she’s serious.

“What are you gonna do? Paddle your way back to California?”

“If I have to.” She squints up at me. “Yes.” Staring into her resolute eyes, I believe her. I smile, and the idle muscles in my cheeks, weak and heavy, not accustomed to the gesture, feel weird. “That is unless you’re going to take me back,” she says.

“Can’t.” I push my fingers through my hair, a small part of me having a quick remorseful conscience. “I need to get to Avalon.”

Her eyes slowly move to my neck, my chest, and then back up.  And all the places those captivating eyes touch wash away the chill from the ocean. My skin warms and heat flourishes through me. My dick jumps an inch. Luckily, when it presses against my cold, wet boxers, it pulls back.

“Okay.” She gives me another fuck-you grin as she starts to take the pump out of the box.

All right, I half-expected a heel-stompin’ tantrum, some screaming and harsh words. But this, I wasn’t prepared for this. Usually, when someone finds themselves in a predicament that they want out of, they’ll wager, argue, and plead. Not this chick. She accepts and moves on. I take a harder look at her.

Hair short, just at the shoulders, long strands hanging over an oval face. Nose small, cheeks rosy, and chin stubborn. Just as with her eyes, in her own unique way she’s beautiful. It could also have something to do with her determination; that shit is sexy as hell.

She drops the pump on the floor of the boat, puts her foot on it, and starts to pump. “Well,” her head lifts and the strands slide back from her stoic face, “are you just going to stand there and watch me?” Her eyebrow arches. “Thought you had somewhere to be?”

The muscles in my cheek get another workout, the corner of my mouth tugs trying to form a smile. “Yeah,” I chuckle. She’s damn sexy.

I turn and head down below to put on some jeans. The entire cabin smells of her musky, feminine aroma. It has me changing and guzzling down a bottle of water in a few seconds flat so I can get away from it. That or I’m in a hurry to get back to her. Nah, I give my head a shake at the notion. Like all other emotions, anticipation flew the coop years ago.

When I get back up on the deck, my eyes snap from the half-filled raft to flesh—creamy, soft-looking flesh. She had removed her suit jacket and was wearing what looked like a white see-through tank with lace on the edges. I get a glimpse of the shape of her tits. Not big, not small, just perfect. My fingers rub together, itching to touch them as my eyes make their way to hers. She’s smirking at me as if she knows what my fingers want. This woman just keeps checking shit off my list. Beautiful, check. Bold, check. Strong-willed, check.

“So,” she tilts her head and those pink lips purse, “where’s those paddles?”

“Get that thing filled, and we’ll talk about the paddles,” I say, walking past her to the anchor. I lift it, and then go to start the boat up, not glancing back at her. In and out, the air from the pump quickens. She’s picking up speed. Really, when she gets that thing filled, where in the hell does she think she’s going?

I flick on the motor, and it fades out the determined air-swooshing sound.

Chapter Four

Katie

I could push him overboard and no one would be the wiser. Who’d know? Who’d care? The son of a bitch. My eyes might be eating up every inch of that rock-hard body, but I loathe the man. My foot pumps faster. It’s crazy. I’m a Utah girl. I’ve never paddled a raft in my life. Where I come from the boys do that. Not that I couldn’t, it’s just what happens. But how hard could it be? Honestly, I’m pumping this damn thing out of sheer denial. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to Avalon. I think it’s on the Santa Catalina Island. If I’m right, that’s only a two or three-hour boat ride from California. I’ll hitch a charter boat back, or maybe there’s some kind of air travel available.

As I make my plans, Captain Asshole drives the boat, and I find myself staring ahead at his broad, naked back. He stands in a pair of jeans that fondle the finest ass I’ve ever seen. Damn him! I can’t get the divine image of Fallon O’Conner coming out of the water, wet muscles glistening in the morning sun, out of my head. God. Just the sight of him soaked my panties. Imagine what the guy could do if he touched me, my pussy. Shit. No. Don’t imagine that. I pump my foot harder, and I think it’s turning me on. Lift, push, pump. Harder, faster…shit! Between that and the view before me, I am getting turned on!

When I woke up and made it to the deck, I heard the splashes then spotted him in the water. That’s when I had the insane idea that I was getting off this boat any way I can. Then I found the raft and looking down, the damn thing’s almost blown up. To preoccupy myself and focus on something other than the captain, I check my cell phone again but still no bars.

I toss my phone back in my purse. And I’m back to salivating over Mr. Sexy-Back. As if sensing me, he glances over his shoulder from the raft to me. A dark challenging eyebrow lifts. Bastard!

“Looks like I’m ready for those paddles now,” I call out, not about to give him the satisfaction of winning. I refuse to eat my words. No longer is it in my blood to admit defeat.

Once I’m in the middle of the ocean, doing circles in this small raft, all I can hope for is that another boat comes along to save my ass before a shark eats me.

I hear the motor shift into idle mode. His firm, tanned, muscular body moves toward me. My hormones crackle to life from the heat he infuses. Dammit. It’s only an attraction. That’s all. I need to get laid, and he’s the only man around. I’ll call Brandon when I get back to Nevada to fix that need. And I’ll forget all about Fallon O’Conner.

Eyes steady on mine; he leans over and grabs the raft. “You need some help getting it into the water?”

Unbelievable—he’s really going to let me do it! Well, I was warned. The guy didn’t even have the decency to attend his own sister’s wedding a few weeks ago. But he’s more far gone than his cousin Jessina could ever imagine. He’s lost the ability to give a shit about anyone. He’s heartless. I hate him.  “No.” I stand up and try to snatch the raft back from his hand, but he won’t let it go. “I can do it.” I tug harder. “I just need the damn paddles.”

His lips slowly curl up and then he chuckles, a deep sound that teeters between charming and downright irritating. I’m about to sacrifice my life here, and the son of a bitch is laughing at me. I open my mouth to tell this asshole where in the hell he can go when I hear something puncture the raft, followed by a loud hissing sound. My eyes snap to the raft, and I can see it’s quickly shrinking.

“Did you really think I was going to let you go out on that thing,” he says, closing the switchblade he must’ve pulled out while I was glaring up at his smug face. He slips the knife back into his jeans pocket. “Jessina would have my ass if I let anything happen to you.”

Thank God!
I lift my dropped jaw from the floor and release the wilting raft from my hand.

“Wait,” I say, wits rebounding, “why’d you let me spend all that time filling it then?”

He shrugs. “To keep you out of my hair.”

My blood cooks and my hand curls into a fist. I want to punch him, to wipe that self-satisfied expression clean from his gorgeous face. But I keep my cool. He started this. And, it’s game on, baby. If I’m a bump in the routine of his sorry excuse for a life, then I’m really going to rock his boat. “Now that the raft’s ruined, what are we going to do if this ship goes down?”

“It’s not going down.” He turns.

“But it could, right?”

“No,” he says, heading back to the captain’s chair.

“There’s a small possibility, though,” I say, following close behind him. “What then?” His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. Good. I’m annoying him. “Do you have another raft,” I press.

He stops, and I nearly bump into him. His head turns, aggravated eyes slithering along the way. “No.” A muscle quivers in his jaw. “So, I hope you’re a good swimmer.”

“I am.” I smile big.

“Good.” He sits down in the chair, shifts the throttle, and the motor revs. “Why don’t you go sit down? It’ll be another hour before we get to Avalon.”

“But I—”

He shoots me a warning look. “That wasn’t a suggestion, stowaway. Stop talking and go sit your ass down.”

I have a good sense to open my mouth, but as I sink deeper into those desolate, hazel eyes, empathy squeezes tight around my heart. This man has obviously been tortured enough. Even if he’s the one doing the harm, the pain still has to hurt. Besides, as he said, Avalon’s only an hour away. Game over. I walk away. Not defeated; just not in the mood to add to his self-inflicted misery.

Retrieving my cell from my purse, I wander around the boat searching for bars. One pops up and then disappears. Dammit. I walk straight to the edge of the boat, stretch my arm out, and again the bar appears and then vanishes. I grip the rail, bend forward, and reach as far as I can. Two bars! I glance down at the violent waves slamming loudly against the side of the boat then back to my cell. Three bars! I let go of the rail to try to send a text. My foot slips and I fall head first toward the ferocious ocean. It’s going to swallow me whole! I’m dead!

A strong yank of my skirt pulls me from my death. I fall back into the boat. But before my ass can hit the floor, Fallon’s arm comes around me and he jerks me against him. I crash into his naked, chest. Hard, everywhere he’s hard. And being encased by all that strength is exhilarating. I raise my head. Face scowling, lip twitching, he snarls, “What the fuck!”

“I… I was trying to get a signal,” I stutter, aware of how asinine it sounds.

He grabs my hand, pulls the phone from my clutched fingers, and tosses it overboard. “There, now you won’t need to worry about getting a fucking signal.”