If that labeled him an ass, so be it. After a childhood of watching his mother work herself to the bone to support the two of them only for her to suffer now with a rare case of early onset Alzheimer’s, he felt he deserved the lifestyle he now indulged in. And Carol Allen deserved every comfort he could now afford to gift her with.
By mid-afternoon, the heat of the August sun pushed him to slow down and float for a while, after all, he had no place to be and was in no hurry to go anywhere. A lot of people would find being the lone vessel surrounded by endless, blue water disconcerting, but he liked the quiet solitude. Moods of melancholy always came upon him after a visit to the home where his mother rarely knew him anymore. His need for space, to just get away always took him out of town, and right now, he was about as far out of town as he’d been in a long time.
Shutting down, he opted to go below decks where it’d be cooler, grab a soft drink and sprawl out on his bed with a book. Unlike most yachts, the space below was as spacious as above deck, room for seven staterooms, each with double berths and private baths, and a wide, galley kitchen. A circular booth big enough to seat ten in a semi-circle around the table sat on a raised dais opposite the long length of counter and appliances.
Popping the bottle cap, he swigged a long draw as he strolled toward the master stateroom at the opposite end. Flinging open the door, Zach stopped dead in his tracks as his startled gaze landed on a small huddled form curled on his bed.
Outraged at this unexpected, unwanted surprise, he didn’t consider waking the intruder gently. “Who the fuck are you and what’re you doing here?”
Chapter 2
The woman jerked upright with a look of such abject terror that Zach experienced a rare twinge of remorse before he recalled how far away from the mainland he’d already sailed. He recognized her right away as the new girl in the marina office, which added to his curiosity.
“I repeat, what’re you doing in my bed, on my yacht?”
“Oh!” Scrambling off the bed, she picked up a backpack, stuttering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just so tired, and the rocking lulled me to sleep… Please, I’ll leave… I didn’t mess with anything…”
“That’d be damned difficult seeing as we’re already a hundred miles from Miami. Unless,” he added with a derisive lift of one brow, “you’re up to rowing back to shore. There’s a chance, a slim one, you’d make it about the time I return at the end of the week.”
Scrubbing her eyes, she mumbled, “What?” before jerking her head up and gazing at him with a look of wonder filling her wide green eyes. “Are you telling me we’re miles away from Miami? In the middle of the Atlantic?”
Before Zach could confirm she had it correct, she jumped up on the bed, drawing his frown as she stood on tiptoes to press her face against the portal.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed, her tone conveying awe, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a touch of excitement. As fast as she’d leapt on the bed, she hopped down and flew past him, the backpack clutched in one hand as he listened to her flying up to the first tier.
“Great, I’m not only stuck with a stowaway, but a lunatic as well,” he groused as he followed and found her standing on the port side deck, gazing in rapt pleasure across the ocean. Gone was the fear she woke with, likely brought on by his rude awakening. The sun picked up hints of red and blonde highlights in her unruly, poorly cut cap of short brown hair that seemed to suit her pixie face. With a squeal, she spun in a circle then stumbled to a stop when she faced him.
Flushing, those emerald green eyes didn’t shift away from him as she said with point-blank honesty, “I can’t explain.”
That was a new one, Zach mused with a touch of humor that didn’t last long. “Why?” he returned with just as much bluntness.
Her shoulders drooped and for a split second, so fast he may have imagined it, the fear on her face she’d awoken with returned. “I’m sorry, I just can’t. But, I promise I won’t get in your way. Did you say you planned to be gone for several days?”
“Yes. Four days I was looking forward to spending alone, getting acquainted with my new purchase.” He swept out an arm to indicate the yacht.
“This boat looks big enough I can hole up somewhere, and you’ll never know it—why’d you trade in your other boat? It was already one of the largest at the marina.”
God, he hoped her penchant for jumping from one topic to another wasn’t a habit. He might have to strangle her and toss her overboard if so. And why the hell did hearing her point out his extravagance produce a sense of guilt? He could afford a bigger yacht, so he bought one. It was that simple.
“It’s a yacht, not a boat. Look,” he stated, firming his tone and placing his fists on his hips. “It’s obvious I’m stuck with you, unless you annoy the hell out of me, in which case I’ll toss you overboard.”
Nonplussed, which again, surprised him, she quipped with a teasing smile, “Guess I better be good then. I’m hungry,” she announced as the loud rumble from her stomach made its displeasure known.
“Well, you know where the kitchen is. Don’t expect me to wait on you.” Pivoting, he took a few steps before tossing over his shoulder, “Pick one of the smaller staterooms to bunk in and stay out of mine.”
“Oh, heaven forbid the captain share his spacious sleeping quarters,” she taunted.
This time, the twinge of guilt prodded a curse from him, but his anger at this whole fucked-up excursion prevented him from turning around and shocking her with a small example of what he liked to do with women who shared his bed. He wondered how sassy she’d be if he yanked down those jeans and turned her ass a rosy red. Climbing the circular stairs leading to the top level, he decided to take out his frustration with his stowaway with a round of skeet shooting. Annihilating a dozen clay discs ought to help improve his mood.
Sandie watched him stalk off, preferring to indulge in the heady, euphoric feeling this brief hiatus of freedom awarded her rather than worry about his unwelcome response to finding her here. She couldn’t fathom where the gall to taunt the man came from. Her instant terror his surprise return evoked had been replaced so fast with exhilarating relief upon hearing they were miles from Miami and the men searching for her, she hadn’t had time to adjust to the abrupt shift of both her emotions and circumstances. Maybe the days and nights ahead of her filled with relaxing, lazy hours in the sun followed by hours of stress-free sleep without having to constantly watch for the people after her accounted for her bolstered courage. She’d just seen firsthand Zachary Allen-Vancuren was not a man to be toyed with, but a small, perverse, previously unknown part of her couldn’t seem to curtail the desire to push his buttons. Then again, her strange desire to poke at him could be because every cell in her body clamored in awareness of the man for the second time.
Heeding her stomach’s demands, Sandie returned to the lower level and scoured the kitchen. Pulling out the ingredients for a thick deli sandwich, she slid into the raised booth and contemplated her reaction to her reluctant host. The way Zach drilled her with those laser blue eyes made her itch to squirm under his intense stare, whether to relieve the flare of arousal that look fired up or because she suspected he was a man who saw beyond the surface of a woman, she didn’t know. Lust. That had to be all it was because anything else would be impossible. Despite him being hot with a capital H, his personality left a lot to be desired. Biting into the sandwich, she thought back to when she’d ended her last relationship and realized it’d been close to a year already. No wonder she was primed for the first man she’d be stuck on a boat with for four, blissful days.
She must still be tired, Sandie mused as she pulled the tab on a Pepsi and took a long drink. Inane, random thoughts always popped up when she’d been on the run for a month from murderous thugs. Between her ill placed, humorous musings and the lingering warmth between her legs, she may just have to indulge in some finger therapy tonight, since it was obvious hunky rich guy would rather dump her overboard. When th
at thought brought a smile, she knew the sudden switch from constant, tense fear to blissful relief from threats had affected her common sense.
A sound drew her attention to the doorway where she spotted Zach leaning with nonchalant negligence and a frown. With his arms crossed over that wide chest, emphasizing thick biceps and that piercing gaze zeroed in on her, dampness filled her sheath, urging her to tighten her thighs in order to contain her reaction to his physical appeal. Yeah, she wanted him, surly mood and all. With a sigh of regret for unrequited lust, she waved her sandwiched filled hand at the table strewn with fixings.
“Want me to fix you one?” Why her polite offer tightened his frown she didn’t know, but for some reason she took it as an encouraging sign instead of a negative one.
“I can make my own.” Sliding into the booth on the opposite end of her, he reached across the big table, and she helped slide all the packages of deli meats and cheese over to him. When his gaze caught sight of her backpack sitting next to her, he demanded, “Why haven’t you picked a stateroom yet?”
“What’s there to pick? I’ll open one of the six doors and bunk down shortly. Unless you’ve changed your mind about giving up your sinfully big bed?” Oh, baiting an angry tiger was never wise. It must still be the four-day, heady hiatus of stress-free liberation turning her so reckless.
“Sorry, baby, I’m not that nice.”
“Baby, huh? That’s original. A gentleman would give up his bed to a guest,” she told him, not in the least deterred by his blunt comment.
Slapping a thick sandwich together, he replied, “I’m not a gentleman, and you’re not a guest. If you don’t want me calling you baby, maybe you should tell me your name.”
His dry tone matched the coolness in his eyes. “Sandie. How about if we share it?”
“Forget it. You’re not my type.” Which was a lie because Zach didn’t have a type, but it was the only defense he could come up with against her constant ribbing.
Sandie didn’t know if it was hormones, her recent, long bout with celibacy or pure contrariness that kept compelling her to goad him, but went with the flow because she hadn’t had so much fun in ages.
“You’re right.” She expelled a dramatic sigh for extra measure. “Mags wouldn’t like it.”
Zach damn near saw red when the implication of her statement sunk in. “How did you…” Her laugh cut him off, her amusement at his expense shone in her sparkling eyes and wide grin. That look teased his cock into twitching, much to his annoyance.
“That closet was very uncomfortable, but thanks for the entertainment.”
He pictured her spying on them from the small utility closet. Recalling the scene with Maggie she witnessed, he warned, “Now you know what I like to do with women, you’d do best not to push me further.”
“Or what? You’ll spank me?”
Sliding out of the booth with his sandwich, he glared down at her pixie face. “Pick a damn stateroom and go to bed,” he growled because that’s exactly what he wanted to do, regardless of how pissed off he was at her intrusion into his much-desired solo get away.
“Goodnight Zachary Allen-Vancuren.”
That smug, nonplussed tone followed Zach up the stairs, but it was the revelation she knew his full name that pissed him off anew and took his mind off giving her what she kept needling him for. She admitted she couldn’t, or wouldn’t explain, but for some reason he thought her falling asleep on his yacht had been purely by accident. Was she just another conniving woman eager to get into his bed and his money? Leaning against the rail, he gazed out across the now black ocean, the smattering of twinkling stars the only way to differentiate between sky and water, and he remembered where she worked and he’d first seen her. Paying his marina bill, he’d had to give her his full name. Being new, she didn’t recognize him like the manager would.
He also recalled the appreciative glint in her wide green eyes when he’d come in. That look had lacked the instant calculation that usually entered a woman’s eyes when first meeting him and hearing the name that was well known as one of the wealthiest in Miami. He’d taken note of her striking features he wouldn’t label beautiful, but admitted those large, face dominating green eyes were arresting. Her hair lacked style, cut in haphazard layers that framed her face and curled under her chin, but suited her in a way he couldn’t define. Despite his appreciation of her as an interesting new face, he hadn’t given her any thought until finding her stowed on his yacht.
Swearing at the reminder of how she’d come to be here, he shoved her and the growing urge to take control of that petite body out of his mind, finished off his sandwich and walked to the storage unit holding diving gear. He’d planned to just snorkel the next few days, but now that there would be someone aboard to watch for an alert in case he ran into trouble, he decided tomorrow he’d go deeper and scuba dive. The damn woman could just earn her keep while staying out of his way.
Cleaning up the kitchen, Sandie mulled over the way her buttocks clenched imagining Zachary’s big hand connecting with her soft flesh and how much fun it would be to poke at him until he caved. She had to do something to entertain herself the next few days, didn’t she? Aside from the lust he evoked, there was something about the man that pulled at her. The pampered, rich playboy airs he portrayed should turn her off, but instead she found herself amused by them. Or maybe it was the fact he didn’t try to be anything but what he was that drew her. She appreciated honesty in a person even if it came in the form of a conceited ego. Having a stepfather who hid the truth of his vile, evilness behind a caring, generous façade made it easier for her to respect someone who didn’t attempt to hide their true persona.
Grabbing her backpack, she traipsed down the hall and chose the first stateroom on the left to crash in. Despite the short, but deep, undisturbed sleep she’d gotten earlier that day, her full stomach brought on a wave of fatigue that propelled her to sink down onto the wide berth with a grateful sigh. Dropping her bag on the floor, she kicked off her sneakers and gazed around yet another posh room with all the amenities of a five-star hotel suite. The aisle between the king-size berth covered in cool, satiny emerald sheets and the door to the bathroom was a comfortable width with plenty of room for the small chest of drawers. The open pocket door to the attached bath offered her a view of a green marble, glass enclosed shower and vanity with a matching counter top and white porcelain bowl sink. Light grey towels draped a warming rack in between the shower and sink, matching the plush pewter carpet under her feet.
Switching her gaze to the low, porthole window on the side of the bed, nothing but darkness looked back at her. Why that was a comforting sight, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because tonight, for the first night in the past month, she had the comfort of knowing no one could get to her as she slept. Well, no one except her recalcitrant host, she amended. Now him, she wouldn’t mind pouncing on her. Shaking her head at her ridiculous yet persistent thoughts of a man whose only interest in her was how fast he could get her off his boat, she leaned over and pulled her sketchpad from the backpack.
Already half full of drawings of people and places she’d seen after fleeing home, she flipped to the next blank page and sketched Zachary, her heart aching for her students as she drew. The grade school age kids were why she embraced her job as their art teacher with heartfelt enthusiasm for her class. Their exuberant natures, eagerness to learn and endearing work that reflected their irrepressible characters offered more pleasure than any of her brief relationships ever had. Maybe that’s why those relationships never went the distance, always ending just shy of a commitment.
Sandie held up her drawing a few minutes later, the image of Zachary staring back at her out of vivid blue eyes. She’d gotten the color about right, that bright blue that stood out against a sun-tanned, swarthy face, but the impact of that gaze wasn’t the same, not as strong. Closing her eyes, she pictured him with that look and her body turned into a warm furnace of need. She couldn’t ignore the lust he inspired any lon
ger and inched her hand down to cup her crotch, jumping as tingles of pleasure ricocheted up her sheath.
Moaning aloud, she wondered what the heck was wrong with her. She wasn’t one to be ruled by her body even before she’d fled Alabama in fear for her life. Living in a state of constant desperation fueled by fear the past few weeks hadn’t left room for physical relief, or even the thought of sex. The year-long bout of celibacy and recent stress could account for her off the charts, unexplainable reaction to a man who hadn’t even touched her, but she couldn’t recall a single man she’d slept with who had elicited such a fast, damn near uncontrollable quiver of need just from a look.
Loosening her jeans, she slid her hand down to her sheath, not surprised to discover the copious juices coating her palm. Missing her bedside buddy, a ridged, pink dildo, she made do with three fingers, sliding between her puffy folds with ease. Sandie’s gasp broke the silence in the room as slick, warm muscles clamped around the invasion. Using her other hand to reach under her top, she freed her breasts with a quick twist of the front clasp of her bra and filled her palm with soft flesh, rasping her thumb over the distended nipple. She shuddered from the impact of the dual stimulation, the image of Zachary’s face watching her adding to the pleasure.