Sharon Hartley - Stranded With The Captain

“God, no. My stomach is a wreck,” Joan said, sitting across from Cat.

“How about a diet soda? Sometimes carbonation helps.”

Joan nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Some vacation,” Debbie murmured.

“Sorry, guys,” Cat said. She stepped to the cooler and rummaged for sodas.

“It’s not your fault,” Debbie said, moving toward her cabin. “I’m going to bed. Until this sedative wears off, I can’t even have a conversation.”

“I hope you feel better,” Cat said.

She returned to the table with numb fingers and a couple of icy cans. She and Joan each popped a top, spraying cool mist, and Joan took a long, greedy swallow.

Wondering if Joanie had dumped too much too soon on an already queasy stomach, Cat also took a drink of the cool, sweet liquid. Maybe she should suggest they return to Florida. So far this trip hadn’t been much fun for anyone but her. And her enjoyment could be at an end now with that steamy kiss out there between her and the captain. She hadn’t known how to act around him before. How was she supposed to act now?

Sad to admit, but the scratch of his beard on her cheek had been the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

This was a small boat. He was the captain. No way to avoid each other. Would he act like nothing had happened?

How unfair to feel awkward about one stupid kiss. If she were going to be uncomfortable, she should have gotten the full experience and enjoyed what was sure to be mind-blowing sex.

“Oh, God,” Joan said, closing her eyes. “The soda didn’t help, after all.”

“Can I do anything for you?” Cat asked.

“No. Sorry, Cat, but I’m going back to bed, too.”

Leaving her can on the table, Joan lurched to her feet and barely made it to the bathroom before the sound of dry heaves began again.

Cat sighed. Just great. Now what?

She hadn’t come on this holiday to spend the week alone.

Tomorrow would be a fresh start. The obvious thing to do would be retire to her own cabin and get some much-needed sleep. She could read for a while. Remembering the spectacular sunrise, her gaze drifted to the porthole. Sure enough, the sky already showed tinges of pink. The guys in Hattie’s Hammock had promised beautiful sunsets in Gun Cay. She didn’t want to miss the first one.

Plus, she did need to eat. The door to the head swung open. Joan emerged and slipped into her cabin, shutting the door.

Cat focused on the closed door to Javi’s cabin. Was he already asleep? She could rap lightly on the door and find out.

Yeah, she could, but a different woman would. Too bad this one didn’t have the nerve.

She could use the excuse of offering food. That wouldn’t seem too obvious.

Maybe she’d find the courage with a little more booze.

She poured her diet cola into a plastic cup, added ice, a healthy shot of rum and took a sip. Not bad. Debbie would insist on lime, but that was too much trouble.

Armed with her drink, Cat hurried up the steps to the cockpit where a gorgeous coral-streaked sky welcomed her. She froze when she spotted Javi sitting on the bow leaning against an aluminum railing and chugging out of their bottle of champagne. Or was it a second bottle?

He was bare-chested, as usual, but had changed into a dry pair of shorts.

How did he get up on deck without her noticing?

* * *

JAVI TOOK THE last swig of the champagne as he admired Irish’s approach. This novice sailor already had her sea legs—and such amazing legs they were. His gaze followed the lines of firm, strong thighs and curved calves beneath her shorts.

He frowned. Too pale. He hoped she didn’t burn.

But anyway, she was off-limits. Why couldn’t he remember that?

He’d heard the entire conversation between her and her friends. No help for it on a boat this size.

So she’d been abandoned for the night. Was she lonely? Looking for company to watch the sunset? Or something else.

Well, of course he aimed to please. He nestled the empty champagne bottle on the deck where it couldn’t roll overboard.

Irish sat down beside him, also facing the setting sun. Close enough to catch the fragrance of coconut-scented sunscreen.

Close enough for him to touch her.

“Oh,” she said. “The hatch. Of course.”

He squinted at her. “What about the hatch?”

“I couldn’t figure out how you got up here, but you boosted yourself up through the opening in your cabin.”

He nodded. So maybe she didn’t want company, after all. Maybe she’d thought she’d have the deck to herself. Once again he’d misread her.

Irish had paid good money for use of this boat. He ought to give her some space.

“Do you want me to go below?” he asked.

“What?” She blinked. “Why?”

He shrugged. “If you want privacy. I don’t mind.” Like hell he didn’t.

“No. Please don’t go.”

“You want me to stay?” he asked.

“Yes.” She wrinkled her brow.

Was she confused or thinking hard?

“That is, you know, if you want to,” she said.

Maybe she was just being polite. She did appear to be the polite type.

“I wanted to watch the sun do its thing,” Javi said.

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