Sharon Hartley - Stranded With The Captain

She nodded, a small smile playing with her lips, which intrigued him. Irish was one of those natural sailors who just “got” how to handle a boat. It would be fun to race against her when she got a little more experience.

“Do you think your friends would like to go back to the Keys?” he asked.

She glanced at him in surprise, but quickly refocused on the main, her gaze worriedly assessing the telltales flowing over the sail.

Good girl. She really does learn fast.

“Is that an option?” she asked.

“Totally up to the three of you, but I don’t think Joan or Debbie are having much fun right now.”

She bit her bottom lip, he suspected to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe not,” she agreed.

While Irish concentrated on getting the feel of the boat, and probably thinking about a return to Florida, Javi took the opportunity to check her out. She wore shorts and T-shirt. Before she’d put on the life preserver, he’d tried, without success, not to notice how her shirt strained against her generous breasts. The wind had pulled much of her long auburn hair loose from the ponytail, and she constantly tucked a stray lock behind an ear.

“Ask them,” she said.

“What?”

She shot him a quick look, and a slight smile told him she’d caught him eyeing her. No harm in looking.

“Ask them if they want to go back,” she said.

“Do you?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Not really, but this vacation was all about Debbie. We wanted to cheer her up.”

“Is she the recent divorcée?”

“Yes.”

“I figured.”

Irish’s cheeks, already flushed from the wind, reddened. “You heard us, huh?”

“Hard not to.”

“So,” Cat said, “I’ll do whatever Deb wants.”

Javi turned to ask the question, and found Debbie sitting up.

“I have to pee,” she said.

“I don’t recommend going below,” Javi said. “Remember what happened to Joan. You’ll really feel the motion of the ocean down there.”

“Sorry,” Deb said. “No choice.”

“Wait. Do you want to turn around?” Javi asked.

“What?” Deb halted her awkward progress toward the companionway. “You mean, go back to Marathon?”

“Only if you want to,” Irish said.

“But aren’t we closer to Bimini than Florida by now?”

“No,” Javi said. “Not really.”

He watched Debbie raise her chin, a surprisingly stubborn look in her eyes. Still, he was surprised when she shook her head.

“I’m not giving up.”

“We wouldn’t be giving up, Debbie,” Irish said. “We’re getting you back to dry land where you won’t be sick.”

“No,” Debbie insisted. “I want to go to Gun Cay.”

“You’re sure?” Irish asked.

“Yeah.”

When Debbie descended into the cabin below, Javi said, “We won’t see her again until we arrive at shore.”

Irish shrugged. “Part of the trouble between her and Brad was he said she was a quitter.”

“Doesn’t appear that way to me,” Javi said.

“So we keep going?” Irish asked.

Javi glanced to Joan, who had also sat up. “Unless you and Joan want to outvote her.”

Joan looked to port, but there was no longer any land visible. She sighed in a way that told Javi she’d go back in a flash. “Like Debbie said.”

“Your decision,” Javi said, his opinion of the women rising. They certainly weren’t wimps. “On to Gun Cay.”

Joan came to her feet. “I’m miserable no matter where I am, so I’m going to my soft bed.”

When Joan disappeared, Javi said, “I hope they don’t puke all over the cabin.”

CHAPTER FOUR

AT THE WHEEL of Spree, Cat scanned the horizon, searching for the marker that signaled the entrance to the channel into Alice Town. According to Javi, they should be approaching North Bimini, the best place for them to clear customs.

Hidden by the sail, Javi was on the foredeck, probably relieving himself over the side of Spree, which was easier than having to go below. For sure men had it easier in the plumbing department. The wind remained steady, but the sea had grown calmer since they’d left the Gulf Stream, allowing Spree to easily slice through the water. With only the shortened mainsail up, the boat sailed almost level.

She ought to be exhausted from the punishing trip, and yeah, physically, her body was drained. Muscles she hadn’t known existed were sore, yet her brain remained alert and active. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this alive, this...free. And victorious, like she’d bested an ancient foe.

Perhaps that’s what the sea was. Isn’t that why men had gone to sea since time began, for the challenge the oceans presented?

Maybe she was more tired than she realized.

She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. She knew her clothes were wrinkled and filthy. She hadn’t combed her hair or bathed since yesterday morning, much less brushed her teeth. But for some reason her appearance didn’t matter. Maybe because the captain looked equally in disarray. On him, though, it was sexy.

She was hungry, though. Around 1:00 a.m. Javi had left her at the helm to heat up a can of tomato soup, which had tasted better than any meal she’d eaten in years. Although her real pleasure came from the fact that the captain had trusted her while he went below to fire up the stove. He’d also made coffee and poured it into a thermos, and they’d sipped all night to stay awake.

She’d gotten used to the shroud of darkness around them. Other than their mandatory running lights—one red and one green on either side of the bow—the only illumination had come from millions of stars and a half-moon, which cast a magical never-ending beam onto the water.

They hadn’t talked much. Mainly the occasional comment about the action of the boat, the mystery of the ocean or the occasional passing ship. They were far too busy keeping their boat on course, each taking their turn steering while the other took a quick power nap on deck.

She’d never experienced anything quite like the sunrise, watching a fiery orb ascend from the abyss to brighten the sky, revealing a gray sea that slowly morphed into an aqua miracle surrounding them. The crossing had been an almost mystical experience for her, alone in the dark with the captain, battling the elements—and it had definitely been a battle. She felt oddly close to him, although she didn’t know him at all.

Why did she feel she’d come to know him on some basic human level?

Yeah, she was definitely tired.

Javi returned from the deck and grabbed the binoculars out of a cubbyhole in the cockpit. Focusing on the sea ahead, he nodded.

“We’re there.”

“You see the marker?” she asked.

“Right where it should be.”

He started the engine. Its grating rumble told her the journey was at an end. Would the noise rouse Joan and Debbie? Doubtful. As Javi predicted, her friends hadn’t reappeared since going below. Cat hoped they’d feel better when they got to dry land.

“Head into the wind,” he instructed. “I’m going to drop the main.”

While she motored up a clearly marked channel, mangroves passing on either side, the captain lashed the sail to the boom and stowed it inside a cover. Next he raised a yellow flag with a Q on it.

“What’s that?” she asked when he’d returned to the cockpit.

“Quarantine flag. We have to fly that until we’re cleared.”

The captain took the wheel and steered them into a crowded harbor full of moored boats of all sizes. Marinas full of megayachts from all over the world lined the shores. Rigging clanged against masts. A strange-sounding siren wailed in the distance. When a giant motor yacht passed them in the channel, its wake rocked the boat so hard Cat was forced to sit down.