Happily Ever After (21 page)

She wanted nothing more than to forget all that
had passed between them. She wanted to start over. Daring to press herself
closer, she closed her eyes, hoping he would respond.

Her body tingled where it met his skin, and she
ached to reach out and explore... to smooth her fingers over the muscles of his
bare chest.

“Sophia,” he began, his voice hoarse and low. “May
I... kiss you?”

Her heart hammered at the question.

She swallowed and whispered back, sounding more
hesitant than she wished to, “I would like that.”

She felt him lean closer, though he didn’t close
the space between them. She longed for the feel of his mouth on hers.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, giving her one
last chance to deny him.

Sophie was quite certain.

Couldn’t he tell how much she wanted to kiss him
by the sound of her heartbeat? It was so loud in her ears that her body
thrummed to its rhythm. She nodded and, for answer, lifted her hands from under
the blankets, finding his face in the darkness. She touched it tentatively and
heard his soft gasp.

His hand covered hers just an instant before their
lips met.

The shock of it sent Sophie reeling... or maybe it
was the boat listing once more. She couldn’t really tell. He held her close,
kissing her passionately, but with restraint... and Sophie knew instinctively
he was holding back.

She didn’t want him to.

He kissed her like a gentleman, not because he was
one, she sensed... but because he chose to be one, and that knowledge in itself
left her breathless and excited in a way she had never experienced before.

His kiss was nothing like the chaste pecks on the
lips Harlan had given her.

He cradled her face in his hands, pleading with
her. “Open for me, Sophia.”

For an instant, Sophie didn’t understand what it
was he was asking. She was delirious. She closed her eyes and saw tiny points
of light bursting before her lids.

Capturing her hands once again, he drew them
behind her head and shifted so that he was atop her, pinning her beneath his
weight.

There was no escape.

The very thought of it made her body ache in
places she had never even known existed.

“Give me your tongue,” he whispered against her
ear. “Let me taste you, Sophia.”

Sophie shuddered in anticipation of his request.
She parted her lips as he wished, and the first foray of his tongue sent her
heart fluttering out of her breast. Like a wanton, she clung to him. In
response, he deepened the kiss. He held her hands behind her head and moved
atop her with such delicious slowness that her body instinctively sought him.
She arched into him, trying to free her hands, to hold him, but he held them
fast, refusing to free her.

“Just as I remembered,” he murmured, and Sophie
had no notion what he was talking about, only that it gave her a heady rush to
hear him say so.

“Kiss me back,” she heard him beg her, and Sophie
tried to obey. She had never kissed a man with openmouthed abandon before.
Tentatively, she offered him her tongue, and nearly fainted where she lay when
he took it to suckle gently within his mouth.

She whimpered softly beneath him, writhing in
pleasure, urging him deeper into her mouth.

She wanted more ... wanted him to show her more
...

Jack groaned with satisfaction over the taste of
her. Brief as their first kiss had been, he’d remembered exactly. The taste of
her had taunted him since, and like a man starved for sustenance, he craved
her.

His hands needed to roam her body, to touch her,
feel her... make love to her, but he restrained them, knowing she hadn’t given
him leave to explore.

But he wanted to—God, he wanted to!

He held her hands behind her head, because if she
touched him... if she so much as urged him to... unwittingly even... he would
give it to her gladly.

He broke free of the kiss, before he could be
tempted further... before his hands could slide down over her beautiful body to
lift the hem of her flimsy gown. If he did that... if he dared to... she would
need far better armor than what she was wearing.

He stared down at her, very aware of his arousal
nestled between them. His body ached. Did she have any idea what he wanted from
her?

More than anything, he wanted to be inside her.

She was so
beautiful.

Though he couldn’t see her, he imagined her lying
beneath him, her rich auburn hair spread like molten copper about her perfect
face. And those eyes ... golden like honey, and sprinkled with emerald dust. He
cursed the darkness in that instant that he couldn’t see them ... that he
couldn’t read her expression.

Did she regret it already?

He surely didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

She was silent, and Jack told her, “Do you know
how long I’ve wanted to do that, Sophia?”

She sounded breathless, the same as he did. “How
long?” she asked him, and he had to smile at her question.

As a matter of fact, he didn’t remember a moment
when he hadn’t wanted to kiss her, and yet he couldn’t honestly give her the
exact instant he’d first realized.

“Since you first kissed me,” he told her, and knew
it was a lie.

He’d wanted her before then.

“Oh!” she replied. He wished he could see the color
in her cheeks. And then she added, sounding as though she were holding back an
embarrassed giggle, “I don’t suppose I should apologize, then?”

Jack grinned down at her. “Not on your life,” he
assured her, and chuckled.

There was silence between them then, and after a
moment she said, “I’m very sorry about your papers, Jack.”

Jack didn’t want to think about that just now,
didn’t want to remember who she was. “It’s all right. I managed to save most of
them anyway.”

“Still... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He wanted to believe she had nothing to do with
Penn, other than the obvious. He wanted to believe her when she’d said she
missed her fiancé and wanted only to see him... and yet a part of him recoiled
at the very possibility... because he wanted her for himself.

“You don’t really believe I would steal from you,
do you?” She sounded hurt by the prospect.

Reality smacked him in the face.

She was some other man’s fiancée... engaged to be
married to someone other than him.

On top of that, he wasn’t entirely certain he
could trust her. His answer was honest when he gave it. “No.”

He couldn’t believe she would kiss him like that
if she could so easily turn around and stab him in the back. And still... she
wasn’t being completely honest with him... because no woman in love with
someone else could kiss another man like that.

At least he hoped to hell it was true.

CHAPTER 19

“She’s not what you think,’ Kell said, coming up
behind him.

Jack glanced up from his work, annoyed that the
only thing Kell ever seemed to have to talk to him about was Sophie. “No?” he
asked, though he was beginning to sense it as much himself.

“No,” Kell answered, and came to sit on the desk.
The portrait of Harlan Penn caught his attention and he lifted it up, arching a
brow as he inspected it.

Jack tried hard not to notice the picture, as much
as it irked him. In fact, he’d like to send it flying across the room, and
would have happily let his desk bum down just to get rid of it. But it belonged
to Sophie and so he just ignored it.

“You know something I don’t?” he asked Kell,
sensing it was so. Kell never kept anything from him, but somehow Jack felt
this time he was.

Kell’s reply only provoked him more. “Maybe.”

Jack studied his friend. “You like her, don’t
you?”

Kell flipped the picture down against his thigh
and grinned at him. “Everyone likes her, Jack.”

Jack knew it was true.

“Except you, ye rotten bastard!”

“I like her just fine,” Jack countered, and it was
a hell of an understatement. He liked her more than just fine... he liked her
too damned much.

“Do you?” Kell pried.

Jack sat back in his chair, studying the smug
expression on Kell’s face.

“What is it you’re trying to tell me, Kell?”

Kell stood again, took another look at the
picture, and said, “If you’re too blind to see the truth then you don’t deserve
to know.” And then he set the picture down facing Jack and walked away.

Jack watched him go with narrowed eyes, thinking
they had known each other far too long. He sighed deeply and his gaze returned
to the portrait of Penn.

His brows drew together as they focused on the
picture, and he reached out to grasp it in his hand.

“I’ll be damned,” he said, and chuckled.

The artwork wasn’t his.

Penn sported two horns on his head and a third on
his chin, and his eyes were filled with dollar symbols. The look suited him.
Jack shook his head and laughed outright. He glanced at the door and thought
about calling Kell back to hound him for whatever information he’d gotten out
of her, but he knew Kell well enough to know he wouldn’t give it—not if
he’d made up his mind not to, and it seemed he had.

“I’ll be damned,” he said again, and set the
picture down facing him, so that he could enjoy it while he worked. His mood,
as he sat again, was much lightened.

Suddenly he heard the shouts, and he nearly
knocked the desk over in his haste to discover the cause of the commotion.

“I’m perfectly all right,” Sophie assured Randall
who was shouting at her to come down, trying to calm him before he managed to
rouse Jack. It wasn’t as though it were windy and the seas turbulent. The ocean
and sky were both at peace after last night’s storm, and Sophie didn’t see the
first reason why she couldn’t manage a simple repair. If a man could do it, she
could do it. That much was certain.

“Miss Vanderwahl,” Randall shouted up at her,
“please come down from there!”

Sophie ignored him, climbing higher up the
makeshift ladder. Apparently, through the night, the winds had further rent
hole she had inadvertently put in the sails—enough that it was visible
from the deck below and she didn’t want the rip to worsen. She would certainly
take precautions, but she would not be deterred.

She wanted to do something nice for Jack.

They had awakened that morning arm in arm on the
floor. He’d held her through the night while the storm had raged, and she’d
pretended to sleep on while he’d risen with the bright morning sun, taking care
to tuck her in before leaving. He’d brushed the hair from her face... so tenderly
that it had made her heart twist with longing.

“Miss Vanderwahl,” Randall protested, and then was
joined by Kell, who thankfully remained quiet while staring up at her as though
he thought her mad.

And perhaps she was, because all she could think
about was Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. What in damnation was wrong with her?

A crowd began to gather on deck, but Sophie
ignored them, determined to be of some use. She had found needle and thread in
storage, and by their enormous size she determined they were intended for just
such an occasion. She might not know how to repair sailcloth precisely, but she
was hardly beyond figuring such things out.

Once she reached her destination, however, the
size of the rip dampened her resolve. From below, it had seemed small enough,
but up close, she began to wonder if she would do it any good. Even so, it
didn’t hurt to try. She took the rope she had coiled on her arm and tied it
first about the masthead, and then about her waist, securing her position, lest
she slip and fall. That done, she braced herself to work and removed the needle
from her dress. It was already threaded; she had done that before coming up.
And if she should need more thread, she had that at the ready.

All was well until Jack shouted up at her,
startling her.

“Goddammit, Sophia! Get down here!”

She dropped the needle.

Sophie peered down at Jack, glaring at him. “Look
what you made me do!” she railed at him.

“Get down here, Sophia!”

His tone of voice grated on her nerves. “I will not!”
Sophie countered. “How dare you use that tone with me!” If he were concerned
about her, there were far better ways to show it! At any rate, she was just
fine, except that now she had no needle to sew the sails. Irritation welled up
inside her.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you are
doing?” he asked her, with the emphasis on the word hell. He set his hands on
his hips as he glared up at her. “Or do you make it your duty to run around
looking for trouble? In all my blasted days, Sophia Vanderwahl, I have never
met a more undisciplined woman!”

If there had been anyone aboard ship who hadn’t
known she’d climbed the masthead, he certainly knew it now.

Undisciplined,
was she?

Anger surged through her. Were she a man up here,
Sophie doubted her efforts would have been viewed quite the same way. A man
would have been considered conscientious and constructive.

Undisciplined,
bah!

“I’m fixing the sails!” she informed him smartly,
and tried to look as dignified as she possibly could under his tirade. Everyone
was watching. “Not that someone like you would bother to appreciate that,” she
railed at him. “Ungrateful man,” she muttered under her breath.

“I see,” he said. “So that’s what you are doing up
there.”

“Yes.”

“And you planned to just stitch it up with needle
and thread?”