Trial Run: Addicted To Love Romance Collection (6 page)

“Don’t worry. We might get a bit of rain, but we’ll be okay.”

Rob’s words still rang in Amelie’s ears as she curled herself into a ball in the cabin entrance, praying she would survive being pelted by raindrops that felt the size of saucers. The wind was howling now and their boat felt miniscule in the stormy ocean.

She couldn’t understand what had gone so badly wrong. She’d checked the weather forecast herself, not that she expected any trouble. It was weeks before the hurricane season usually started.

Rob stood right in front of her, hanging onto the rail beneath the windshield, working desperately on keeping them on a stable course. They’d passed Bimini a while ago, when the wind and rain seemed like no more than a short but intimidating summer squall, a quirk of nature. If they stayed on course, they should hit New Providence soon, and then they would be safe.

Amelie peeked up at Rob, not daring to ask about time or place for fear of disturbing him at an inopportune moment. Her eyes lingered on his arms, his muscles corded as he fought for grip on the slick rail. His legs were strong and defined, like perfect stone carvings, yet when he darted from the rail to the back of the boat to check the engine, his steps were fast and agile, like those of an athlete.

The man was incredibly strong, under his air of casual indifference. She hadn’t quite expected that when she’d suggested he take her along for the trip. Maybe his job as stunt double had required him to be strong and fit. Not that he hadn’t been fit even as a teen. He was drool-worthy then, and the last ten years had only added another layer of masculine ruggedness to this already beautiful man. If she hadn’t made such a conscious, determined decision to ignore her former crush on him, she had to admit she might have just thrown caution to the wind and flung herself at him. He was exactly the kind of man that made her dreams of independence puff right out of existence and her resolve melt, alongside her heart, in a pool of lust at his feet.

Though she would have probably thought twice about getting on board a boat this fragile-looking.

The damned thing didn’t even have a proper cabin, and the small depression beneath the glass windbreaker, laughingly called cockpit, served merely as anchoring point as far as she was concerned. She hung with all her might onto anything solid – the edge around the entrance into the cabin, the floorboards, the rope tied around her middle. That had been the first thing Rob had done when the winds began rocking the boat, and she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. With her luck, she’d probably fly overboard at the first twist of the craft.

The boat bucked and shuddered, and Rob swore loudly.

She looked up at him intending to ask what happened, but his eyes met hers before she could speak. It was bad news; she could tell.

“The cable snapped. We have no steering.”

Yes, that was bad. Rob proceeded to adjust and finally shut down the engine. There was no need, no further use, to have an engine running, propelling them toward an unknown destination.

For an interminable amount of time, she concentrated on not screaming each time the boat jolted beneath her. The wind was getting worse, and the rain had turned cold and hard, denser and more painful than before. Rob planted his feet right in front of her crouched form, so even if she slipped out of her shelter, there would be one more barrier between her body and the sea.

At some point, after the darkness had become solid, like a physical wall they could smash against at any moment, Rob bent over and shouted at her something she could barely understand. It sounded like ‘land’ or ‘island’, but if that was the case, why was he scowling? He should be celebrating. She struggled to her feet, to have a look, but Rob pulled her tightly to his chest and spoke loudly right in her ear.

“I need your surfboard. It’s the only thing on this boat even vaguely useful. I just hope it’ll be long enough and strong enough to see us through the reef until we get closer to the shore.”

Amelie nodded and kneeled back down, feeling her way to the surfboard, and shielding her face from the pelting rain. She pulled it out with some difficulty, and in the process her perfectly ordered bags of provisions shifted and loosened. Now she would have to guard the entrance to the cabin for an entirely different reason.

Rob would do his best to get them to land, or at least past the worst of the jagged reef, with the boat intact. The job she took upon herself, therefore, was to keep as many of the belongings they’d packed in the boat, and preferably unspoiled. She was glad they were nearing land, ecstatic even, but she also knew there would be little chance to travel any farther than that using this boat.

For the first time in years, Amelie prayed. She prayed the cay was inhabited, or that it was close to a well-used travel route, at least. She hadn’t noticed any lights when she’d looked briefly that way, but surely they deserved that tiny shred of luck, after what they’d been through. She prayed she stayed alive, or that at the very least her body would be washed ashore and some kind soul might find it and send it home, to her brother. But most of all, she prayed for Rob. For him to stay alive, for him to stay healthy and strong… and for him to stay with her. Incomprehensible as her thoughts seemed to be at that moment, she didn’t stop to dissect their meaning. She simply closed her eyes and prayed.

Rob darted to the side and plunged the board in the sea, pushing hard. She felt the boat scrape along sharp edges, but the foaming waves quickly twisted it around the rocks and away. Rob cursed. Did he want the craft to break into pieces on the reef? She didn’t understand his reaction.

She watched, wide-eyed, as he deftly maneuvered the boat back toward the reef, taking advantage of the direction of the waves in this fickle storm. After what felt like a hundred years, and after she’d taken an unexpected dunking when her grip hadn’t been strong enough to hold her in place, they passed the first line of rocks, and she understood Rob’s plan. Being inside the reef meant it would be harder for the storm to drag them back out into the open ocean. Rob had obviously relaxed, too, because he wasn’t paying attention as much as before. He leaned over the edge of the boat at the wrong time and in the next moment he disappeared.

Amelie shrieked and lunged for the spot where he’d stood last, not caring what happened behind her. Several breathless minutes later, when she was sobbing and praying anew – praying for the end, because there was no way she was going to survive this alone – Rob’s strong hand grabbed the edge of the boat and she shrieked again, with elation this time.

He dragged himself back on board and lay there, on his back, catching his breath, uncaring of the rain pelting down. Amelie dropped to the deck, by his side, her face on his chest, gave up all pretenses and sobbed. Just all-out, deep, heart-felt sobs that felt like they were coming from within her whole body, ripping her into pieces, bringing her to her knees in more ways than one. Even Rob’s arms around her shoulders hadn’t been able to stem the flow of tears, not really.

Eventually, he pushed her gently up, got up as well, then he did the most unexpected thing, the one gesture that had calmed her more than anything else could have done: he untied the end of her rope from the boat’s rail and tied it around his own middle. Now they were connected by the same rope. She would not lose him.

And she could weather any storm, Amelie realized, as long as she had Rob standing by her side.

They were huddled in the cabin doorway, and the storm gave no sign of being close to letting up. Though he’d been surprised at its sudden emergence, Rob decided to use it to his best advantage. He’d made no comment and no move to rouse Amelie’s suspicions, content to let the storm wreck the boat instead. Just before the navigation system gave out, they were south of New Providence, heading east-south-east, and if they stayed on course, they’d land in the general area he’d agreed with Jason. Most craft could tour the whole string of islands in a day or two, so Rob wasn’t particularly worried.

When the steering cable snapped, he felt just a small pang of concern. He would have preferred to have the option of choosing the direction of travel. He stood staring at the sea, squinting through the downpour and trying to find the slightest trace of a clue so he could figure out where the storm was taking them, but there was nothing. The boat twisted and turned, until he couldn’t tell which way they were moving anymore under the dull skies, and darkness made that final. Somewhere in the Atlantic, hopefully not too far away from civilization, a little boat, ill prepared for storms, bounced about with two people on board. He couldn’t tell what Amelie was thinking about, because she’d hidden her face under his arm, but he sure was hoping the universe was sending some good luck their way.

He gave Amelie’s shoulders a squeeze, and she lifted her head to look at him.

“I think we should try and get to land. The storm’s not letting up,” he shouted to her.

Amelie nodded and struggled to her feet. The boat bucked beneath them and she lost her grip on the rail, but he caught her before she got to the edge of the boat, this time. She clung to him as if he were a real-life lifesaver, and he couldn’t suppress a wry smile. For all her grown-up attitude, Amelie was just a kid, a scared, weak, silly girl who stood no chance of making it on her own. Jason had been right. His sister needed a 24/7 knight in shining armor on her speed-dial.

The water raged around the small craft and shoved it hard backwards onto the rocks. For the next few minutes the storm kept them grinding against the rocks with such ferocity, Rob found it difficult to stay upright.

They had to do something, and soon. They could jump in and swim for the beach – it probably wasn’t that far away – or maybe they could find a way to push the boat closer to land first; but they had no tools, no oars, nothing. Even Amelie’s surfboard had smashed.

Rob stared at Amelie for a moment, trying to assess their chances. He knew he was strong enough to make it, but if he was to be completely clinical about it, Amelie didn’t stand a chance.

Only one thing he could do: he’d have to jump in and try to push the boat nearer to the island, using the rocks closest to the surface as much as possible. Carefully.

He fought with Amelie when she didn’t agree with his plan, but went ahead anyway. Five minutes later he was back on board, completely exhausted, cuts and gashes adorning his legs. The ocean was incredibly ferocious. He felt like he’d been put through the fast spin cycle of a washer.

Yet somehow, he had to find a solution. It would be suicide, waiting the storm out stuck in the jaws of the reef. So he did the one remaining thing he could think of doing – he got them ready to swim for shore. He emptied one of the eight-gallon water bottles and re-sealed the top tightly. Next, he tied it to Amelie in such a way that her head would be supported above water. She scowled and screamed at him, but he didn’t bother listening. He stuffed the small first-aid kit in one of his pockets, but decided against burdening himself with anything else. If they made it to shore, maybe they could return and grab anything else of use after the storm had passed.

Nothing to do now, except swim. But convincing Amelie that was their only choice wasn’t proving easy. She’d locked her hands around the rail, and boy, did the girl have a strong grip! It took several attempts to dislodge her grasp, and even then she tried to bite his hands so he’d let go.

In the end, Mother Nature took that decision out of their hands. The boat bucked wildly, and as neither of them was hanging onto anything solid, other than each other, they flew overboard.

Amelie kicked the water, trying to get to the surface, but she found it hard to work out which way to go. With one last ounce of sense, she stopped moving and allowed the empty water bottle to drag her up. It seemed to be working, but at the same time she felt a sharp tug in another direction.

What was Rob doing? Was he intent on drowning her?

She grabbed the rope around her middle with both hands and pulled back, her lungs beginning to feel tight. Exhaustion had set in hours before she hit the water, and this new struggle was not one she could ever win, she knew that. Her grip slackened, but she didn’t want to simply give up. She didn’t want to die. So she flailed her arms around, fighting the stormy sea and the damn bottle in equal measure, and making no noticeable progress.

The pull on her middle was strong, and she was far too tired to resist. She prayed again that she would survive. Al least her body wouldn’t be lost to the abyss, tied as it was, both to a floating device and to Rob.

Just as she’d reached that conclusion, she felt his strong arms around her. He lifted her up. Trusting and grateful beyond belief, she opened her mouth and took a large gulp of salty water. The sea pulled her away from Rob’s grasp and this time she knew she was a goner. She started to see spots. Her vision darkened and she sighed in resignation.

Air! She spluttered and gulped some air, only a mouthful, but enough to hang on. Rob’s fingers were circling her arm with an iron grip.

She risked another mouthful. Still air. Rob’s fingers left her skin, but she felt the positive tug on the rope around her middle. He was saving her.

Exhausted yet hopeful, she searched for her bottle, hung onto it as best she could with numb fingers, and let herself be towed. Marginally more aware, she waited for the right moment to take another breath, careful of the churning waters.

A few minutes – or hours – later, she became aware of a darker shape in front of her. It stretched left and right as far as she could see. The water was calmer here, so she began to kick and move her arms into a half-swim that couldn’t have helped much, but at least she felt she was doing something useful.

Soon, her toes dragged through sand, and she used the rope to pull herself closer to Rob, closer to the shore. When he stood up on wobbly legs, she let out a squeal of joy and grabbed him around the waist with both hands.

She was so happy, she could have kissed him. Instead, she contained her enthusiasm for a dryer day. His arms locked around her and he pulled her up and forward, to solid land and safety.