“This is gonna hurt.”
Another blaze of pain scorched his arm. Trent cursed through his clenched teeth, braced his feet, and throttled back to an idle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Halli drop the bowl to catch the back of the captain’s seat when the sudden stop pitched her forward. She made the grab, but still lost her balance. He lifted his left arm so as not to impede the tumble that landed her sideways across his legs.
Hmm. Interesting turn of events. The angry sting of peroxide bled into the background, along with his annoyance.
Halli recognized the aggravation in Trent’s tight jaw a second before he brought the boat to a rocking halt. Next thing she knew, she lay sprawled across his hard thighs, and his right arm saved her head from slamming against the throttle. The bowl was a goner, but her fingers remained clenched around the small bottle of antiseptic as she stared up into Trent’s narrowed eyes.
She’d pissed him off. Well, who cared? She didn’t even feel bad for ambushing the big baby with the peroxide. He’d been shot, for God’s sake, a little bit of sterilization should’ve been no big deal.
His warm, masculine scent surrounded her, full of testosterone, threatening to undermine her resentment. Desperately, she clung to the emotion like a life preserver while the boat swayed, because anger was so much easier to deal with than outright fear. Anger she could control.
Below deck a few minutes ago, the fact that he could’ve been killed by that bullet had hit her hard. Hard enough that she’d had to scrub his blood from her hands and take a moment to compose herself or return with the first aid kit blubbering like an idiot.
His fixation on her chest may have heated her from the inside out, like his intense gaze was doing right now, but it’d also given her a convenient channel for her jumbled emotions. And then he’d called her sweetheart again. A word he tossed about so casually it made a mockery of the endearment. Her dad had used words like that as if they were nothing, too.
That’s it. Don’t think about how great Trent smells, or how sexy his body is, or how wonderful it would feel to have his arms hold you close...think about how he reminds you of Dad.
In essence, they were both actors. Both played whatever part they needed to get what they wanted. Having learned that lesson years ago, she didn’t trust Trent’s act one bit, especially when she wasn’t entirely sure what it was he wanted. Told herself she didn’t want to know.
Before her own traitorous body proved her a liar, Halli grasped the steering wheel to pull herself up and off of his lap. Once she was sitting, he gripped the other side of the wheel, trapping her between his arms. His softened hazel gaze locked on hers, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded, slow and deep.
This is why she’d avoided looking at him the past fifteen minutes. The man annoyed the hell out of her and yet he could mesmerize a cobra with those eyes. With his heat caressing her skin, she discovered she was much more susceptible than a snake.
It didn’t help that the whole time she’d cleaned his arm, she’d had to consciously keep her gaze from lingering on his broad, bare chest. It was one thing to feel those muscles cloaked under a cotton T-shirt and quite another to visually feast upon them unclothed. Not to mention, she couldn’t shake the memory that he was commando under the wet
jeans that molded his thighs and backside. The same muscled thighs she currently sat upon.
He leaned toward her. Intent shone clear in his eyes, and she suddenly couldn’t summon a single ounce of willpower to resist. The gentle rocking motion of the boat enhanced the seductive air cloaking the softly-lit cockpit. Once again, she was awed that he would want to kiss her.
His warm breath caressed her lips and her breath hitched in anticipation.
“It’s so sexy when a woman literally throws herself at me.”
Nothing like a dose of of his ego to ruin the sensual fantasy she’d foolishly descended into. Either he was making fun of her, or she was just another convenient, willing notch to add to his proverbial bedpost. Halli turned away from the temptation of his mouth and half-naked body and pushed against the arm holding her captive. There was hope for her yet, if not him.
“This was your fault, and you know it, you bigheaded jerk. I rest my case, and your arm’s still bleeding.”
A light puff of air stirred her hair and tickled her ear. When she hunched her shoulder, he gave another of his deep throated chuckles that made her stomach quiver. Thank God he lowered his arm. She scooted off his leg, the seat of her jeans wet from his.
Trent eased the boat forward.
Resisting the urge to peel the clinging denim away from her skin, she squatted down to gather up the supplies scattered on the floor of the boat and hoped her pants dried fast. For just a moment it had been fun to make Mr. Hollywood lose his cool. Until he turned the tables and proved she didn’t have a chance of playing in his league. Nope, it was time to take care of business and get the heck away from him.
She’d given up hope of getting to the consulate tonight, so that meant a few hours on opposite sides of the boat, hopefully a few hours sleeping. Then finally, tomorrow, he’d drop her off in Milan, and she’d never have to see him again.
That thought sent an unexpected ripple of melancholy across the relief she should’ve been swimming in.
Whoa, no, she was relieved. He’d go his way, she’d go hers. Back to Wisconsin and her reliable routine that kept her days sane and secure. So what if they were totally predictable, and—dare she admit it?—a little boring. But so what, if that’s the way she liked it? Lord knew she didn’t need a sexy movie star kidnapping her every day. Even if he was saving her life. Especially if he was saving her life. No one needed that much excitement on a daily basis.
With that in mind, she picked up a clean towel and held out the peroxide to finish the job and get to the other side of the boat. Trent groaned in protest.
Halli rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say.” He craned his neck around to look at the table. “You got a shot of whiskey back there on your little nurse’s station?”
“Watch the water, would you?” When he’d faced forward again, she placed the towel against his arm and lifted the bottle. “Ready?”
He gave a sharp nod and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. With the advance warning, his only reaction to the bubbling antiseptic on his raw flesh was the clenching of his jaw and tightening of his lips. His hands flexed on the steering wheel as he released a breath.