Elle James - Deadly Allure

“Don’t you have anything else?” He practically bit the words out.

“In case you didn’t hear the part of the story that specifically stated I drove straight here with nothing but the clothes on my back, let me remind you.” She threw back her shoulders. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

His nostrils flaring, Dave shoved his T-shirt at her. “Put the damned thing on,” he growled, turning his back to give her privacy.

Nicole hesitated, ready to throw the shirt back in his face. But knowing battles with this man would be better fought fully clothed not buck naked, she pulled the shirt over her head and gathered all her righteous anger.

When Dave turned back, she stared straight into his eyes, daring him to say one derogatory thing about her body. When he didn’t, her chin lifted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...” With a flip of her damp hair, she headed for the stairs leading out of the boat, snatching her clothes off the hook on the bathroom door as she went.

“How do you plan to get to Emma’s?” Dave asked. “Your motorcycle won’t start. I tried it. Until I have time to check all the wiring and the battery cables in the daylight, you’re without transportation.”

With her hand on the rail, she paused. “I’ll walk.”

“It’s over three miles...uphill, most of the way.”

She shrugged, though the effort seemed huge at that point. Three miles seemed like forever after straddling a motorcycle for so long. “It’ll be a good stretch of the legs.” The legs that were shaking at the thought of climbing out of the cabin, much less climbing a hill up to Emma’s.

A loud sigh behind her made her stop with only one foot on the bottom step. “I said you could stay the night. But you’ll sleep on the couch. The bed is mine.” He grabbed a pillow and tossed it her way.

She caught it but wasn’t in time to catch the blanket he threw right behind it. It landed over her head, blocking her view of the smirking man.

Humph!

Not stupid enough to set out in the fog on foot in the dead of night, Nicole lay on the worn cushions of the built-in couch that doubled as seats for the dining area. Tucking the blanket around her bare legs, she rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Sounds of Dave rustling around in the forward cabin kept her from falling right to sleep. Having him so close disturbed her in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Why, when she was so tired, was she so drawn to this infuriating man? He was nothing like the kind of man she usually found interesting. Pigheaded, grumpy and unshaven... What did he have going for him?

Broad shoulders, rich brown hair and eyes so dark a woman could fall into them. With his muscles and trim figure, he could have been so much more than the captain of a dive boat. So why was her body humming at his every movement? And why was she wondering if he slept in the nude?

“I’m not changing the way I live just because you’re here.”

“So?” She lifted her head, staring into the darkness of the forward cabin.

“It’s just a fair warning,” he said. “I sleep in the nude.”

Nicole’s mouth fell open, and then she snapped it shut. Not only was he infuriating, he was a freakin’ mind reader.

She’d hoped to sleep, but his final comment left her wide awake and angry. At him, absolutely. But more at herself for imagining him in his bed, sprawled out, naked and gorgeous.

Damn him.

Her body thrummed with white-hot desire that refused to fade.

Not until the clock over the galley stove blinked past two o’clock did she finally calm down and drift into sleep.

Less than an hour later thrashing sounds brought her wide awake. She lay still, listening, wondering what had been loud enough to drag her out of the sleep of the dead, her nerves on edge in case the men who’d been chasing her had found her.

A moan from the other room made her swing her legs off the side of the couch and sit up.

“No!” Dave’s shout sent her to her feet. She grabbed the small fire extinguisher from the clamp on the wall and edged toward the forward cabin. Who could have snuck past her?

Another moan and more thrashing, the thud of something hitting the wall made her jump and move faster until she stood at the end of the bed, extinguisher raised, ready to clobber whoever was hurting Dave.

Only he was alone, asleep and having one heck of a nightmare.

Setting the extinguisher aside, Nicole hesitated. Should she wake him or let him keep dreaming?

The moan turned to a soft keening sound like that of a wounded animal or a heartbroken person. Nicole climbed up over the end of the bed and spoke softly. “Hey, Logsdon.”

His body went still.

Convinced she’d shaken him out of his bad dream, she eased backward toward the foot of the bed, realizing he’d been truthful about sleeping in the nude. He lay there, bathed in the soft green glow of an alarm clock, his body sculpted as beautifully as a Greek statue. Before she could think through her actions, she reached out to touch the rippled, hard plane of his abdomen.

His belly sank in as his hand reached out, grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto her back. Then his body covered hers as he straddled her, his hands circling her neck.

“Why did you do it?” he growled.

She clawed at his fingers, gasping for breath.

“Why did you kill him?”

She wanted to scream at him, tell him she wasn’t who he was dreaming about, but no air could make it past her vocal cords. She pounded his shoulder with the heel of her palm and tore at the fingers wrapped around her throat. The fog of unconsciousness crept in around her vision.

In a final effort she rolled to the side, forcing him to hit his head against a low-hanging storage cabinet.

When he did, his grip loosened and Nicole was able to breathe long enough to say, “Wake up, Dave!”

His fingers tightened around her neck again and squeezed, his weight effectively pinning her beneath him.

Please, she begged with her eyes.

Dave shook his head, his eyes widening as he stared down at his hands around her neck.

Nicole could tell when he finally woke up. His glazed eyes cleared and he jerked his hands back. “What have I done?” he asked.

“Almost choked the living daylights out of me.” Nicole coughed, her voice rough, gravelly. “Remind me to never wake you up from a bad dream again.”

His brows pulled down low over his eyes. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“You were having a nightmare. I would have let you continue, but you were keeping me awake.” She rubbed her neck. “Next time, I’ll bury my ears in my pillow. At least I’d live to see another day.”

He raised his hands as if they were foreign to him and then closed his eyes, his face etched in pain.

Nicole’s heart slowed, absorbing some of the horrible emotion he must have been feeling. “What was it about?”

“What?” He looked up, his gaze far away.

“Your dream?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He lay back, pulling the sheet up over his lower half, covering the evidence of his arousal. “Get out.”

“On my way.” She scooted to the end of the bed and was about to get up when she paused. “Were you ever in the military, Dave?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice harsh. In a softer tone he added, “A million years ago.”

“Ever consider that you might have PTSD?”

“So?”

“They have therapy available for soldiers with PTSD.”

“Do they have therapy for those who died to save the rest of their unit?” He snorted. “Show me the therapy that’ll bring them back.” Raising his head, he glared at her. “I said get out.”

Nicole raised her brows. “Touchy, aren’t we?”

She slid off the bed and padded barefoot back to the couch, where she lay, her thoughts revolving, not around her own predicament but around what Dave had said.