Jack & Jilted (17 page)

They were naked, which she’d sort of expected. But they were most assuredly not sunbathing.

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat, and for a second she froze as her brain processed what her eyes were witnessing. Tom was lying on the deck, the towel beneath him as if he were sunbathing. Lily was straddling him, her back arched, her head thrown back. He held her hips and pulled her to him, his hips rising gently as she pushed down to meet him. She would wriggle slightly, and Chloe could see his face tighten with passion. They were both breathing hard—that was the sound Chloe had heard but could not believe—and making other tiny sounds of ecstasy.

Chloe felt a tug of longing, a tingling that shot through her whole body. She quickly averted her eyes as she realized what she was doing and fled for the bow of the deck. She sat at the pointed rail, as far away from the lovemaking couple as possible. She shouldn’t have investigated. She felt embarrassed at what she’d seen…and envious.

Unbidden, thoughts of her week with Jack came flooding back as if they’d just happened.

We never made love out on deck.

But they’d done everything else, her memory reminded her. He had been the most extraordinary lover. The fact that they were now becoming platonic friends and business partners of sorts didn’t diminish that one bit. And he’d wanted her—still wanted her.

As much as she wanted freedom and financial challenges, she couldn’t get around that basic fact. She wanted him, too. It had not gone away. If anything, it had gotten stronger in the past few weeks. Every time he’d gotten close to her in the galley, every time she’d sat on his bed, she’d had to force herself to focus instead of reliving the past, the feel of him pushing into her, the heightened sensations of his touch and taste and scent, the pounding rush of release.

She was leaving, and leaving would mean she’d want one more night with him, she realized. That was probably terrible of her to even think; it was tantamount to using him, then walking away, and any man who proposed the same she’d probably slap. But if he wasn’t going to be able to give her anything else, she doubted he’d mind.

And if her emotions hurt her as a result…well, she had no one to blame but herself.

In the back of the boat, Chloe heard Lily’s growing cries of completion mixed with Tom’s moan. They no longer cared if there was an audience or not. Chloe closed her eyes, miserable with desire and regret.

She knew Jack had been trying to explain his position. Now she’d let him explain, and then they’d realize they each had to go a separate way. In the long run, she wanted the whole enchilada: business and love.

In the meantime, they would finish business, part as friends…and have sex.

HERE HE WAS, IN THE middle of the Pacific, surrounded by dark water and even darker skies. The sea was getting temperamental, and he knew that the Rascal was in for one rough night. Still, with all of that, he found himself dwelling on one thing.

He knew it was way too fast and crazy, but he knew somehow that he had fallen hard for Chloe Winton. He hadn’t been in love before—not like this, anyway. This was complicated, but more than that, it was strong enough to make him willing to face the complications. No woman had ever been worth putting up with drama before. Meanwhile, his entire relationship with Chloe seemed like nothing but drama. Still, he was going headfirst into it. He wasn’t sure what that would entail, but for now he felt he’d do what it took to make her happy.

He acknowledged why he’d avoided love for so many years—it was a real pain in the butt.

He was peering out his cabin window when he heard Chloe’s familiar knock on his door. “Come on in.”

He hoped that the storm would hold itself at bay until they were finished talking. This conversation would be too important for him to be half-assed about it. She deserved his full attention. Still, he’d have to go to steering soon to help out Ace and Jose. The boat was already starting to toss in the larger-than-average waves.

Chloe was wearing a pair of low-riding jeans and a crop top, her cinnamon hair pulled up in a loose bun that let ringlets cascade around her face.

Stay focused, McCullough. This is important.

“I’m glad you’re finally talking to me,” he said. “I wanted to explain a few things.”

Her smile was wistful, just this side of sad. “You don’t have to explain anything,” she said, her voice soothing and soft.

He sighed. “Actually, yeah, I do. I think you might’ve got the wrong impression from our conversation when you first got on the boat.”

She sat down on the bed, and he started to take his customary position behind his desk when he was stopped by her words. “Jack…come sit here, by me.”

He looked at the bed as if it was a booby trap. She was patting the mattress next to her, her eyes turning sultry. The sultriness that he remembered from their time together, on her ill-fated “honeymoon.”

He knew it was stupid, especially when he was trying to keep focus, but he sat down next to her anyway, breathing in her perfume of vanilla and almond. The smile she wore now was much less sad and much more seductive.

He cleared his throat, ignoring his automatic bodily response at being in such close proximity to her. “I know I didn’t say anything about wanting love or a wife or anything,” he said slowly, concentrating as hard as he could. “But I’ve never met any woman who I would have considered worthwhile to stay with for life.”

“Shhh,” she said, and her fingertips stroked his arm. It was a simple touch, but he shivered slightly nonetheless.

“No, I need to say this.” He plowed forward. “I know it seems like all guys have these commitment issues and crap like that, but in my case it’s…well, I don’t know if it’s different or what, but it’s a reason.” He took a deep breath. “When I was a kid, my parents were strict. Insanely strict. They had my life planned out from my first breath.”

Chloe’s hand paused on his arm. He felt the warmth from her palm seep through his skin, comforting him.

Jack hadn’t thought about this in depth for years—hadn’t wanted to. He closed his eyes for a second, then felt Chloe’s hand move, caressing the back of his neck…more to console than to seduce.

It was almost more than he could bear.

“They sent me to military school when I was ten,” he said. “Totally regimented. My dad had been in the Army, in Vietnam. He wanted to train me to be disciplined. My mom wanted me to be successful and get married and carry on the family legacy. By the time I was eighteen, I knew I didn’t want to do anything they wanted me to. Once I got out of military school, I just left them behind.”

Chloe made a sympathetic noise. He glanced at her face. She was staring at him intently.

“I’ve been with plenty of women, I’m not going to lie to you,” he said, his voice—his spirit—heavy with it. “And most of them have wanted to heal my past and give me something better. I enjoyed them, I cared about them, but I didn’t want to take what they were offering. I didn’t want the perfect life they wanted to give me. I wanted my life. My ship, my rules…”

“Your freedom,” Chloe summarized.

He nodded, grateful. “Yeah. I wanted freedom more than anything.”

“That’s understandable,” she said. “I’m not trying to take that away from you, Jack. You didn’t have to tell me all of this…although I’m glad you did.”

“I wanted you to understand that it wasn’t about you,” he said. He felt the need to hold her, to hug her, to believe that she really did accept all this about him and didn’t want to press forward and “fix” him. “I know you want marriage and the whole nine yards. I never thought that way before. I always saw it as a loss of freedom.”

“In a way, it is,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I always thought it was a trade of sorts. A partnership.”

He sighed. “Honestly, I hadn’t really thought of that, either.”

“Your freedom again,” she said.

“But it’s different now,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently. “I care about you. You know I want you and you know I want to be with you. I think maybe we could make this work.”

She held him, and he felt her sigh against his chest. “Jack, I don’t want you to force yourself into anything.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I’ve been thinking about this….”

“But you don’t sound thrilled with it,” she countered. “This isn’t what you want—it’s what you think needs to happen. And that’s not what I want.”

He pulled back, huffing slightly. “Don’t I get points for trying?”

“I love that you’re trying,” she said, and he felt some of his irritation back down. “But I…care too much about you to watch you tie yourself up in knots. It’s not supposed to be hard, Jack.”

“You have to work at any relationship,” he argued.

“Yeah. But you don’t have to fight to the death for it.” That small, sad smile was back, and it was mirrored in the depths of her amber eyes. “At least I don’t think you have to. And I’ve gone pretty far in my day.”

He bit back a swear. “So where does that leave us?”

She didn’t say anything. She simply leaned up and kissed him.

The feel of her soft lips against his was a balm—and also a torture. His emotions were already burning at a high level. He shouldn’t be able to switch gears this fast—for the first time in his life, it seemed, he wanted to talk more than he wanted to have sex. But she was insistent and more temptation than his body or spirit could handle. He’d wanted her for too long, and when she started something, the woman damned well knew how to finish it.

He groaned against her mouth, succumbing to her. His hand threaded around the nape of her neck, holding her to him, and he heard her little cry of relief. He lowered them both to the bed, and her leg automatically hooked over his hip, bringing the heat between her thighs against his erection. His eyes went half-lidded in response as he kept kissing her.

He could do this forever, was his last coherent thought. He wanted to do this forever.

She pushed against him, to his surprise, laying him flat out on his back. Then she straddled him, and he mentally cursed the layers of denim between them.

“I want you,” she said, looming over him, and shook her hair out of the bun, letting it tumble in cinnamon waves across her shoulders. “I’ve always wanted you. I don’t care that it’s not forever.”

He wanted to protest, but she tightened her thighs and leaned down, crushing her breasts against his chest as she kissed him fiercely. It was almost more than his body could stand. He’d been dying, wanting her and not having her. Now she was seducing him.

He heard a boom and wondered for a second if it was his heart exploding. Then his brain registered a second loud noise.

He sat up, holding Chloe to him.

“What was that?” she murmured, hugging him tighter, an edge of fear piercing through the desire.

“The storm,” he said, glancing quickly out the window. “Damn it. I was hoping we’d avoid this.”

He gently moved her from his lap, ignoring the throbbing ache of his groin. Outside the window it was dark…too dark. And loud. He had been too engrossed in his physical response to notice the increased tossing of the ship, the rolling pitch of it.

This was going to be bad.

“I have to go,” he said quickly, turning to Chloe, whose eyes had widened. “Don’t be scared. We’ve been through squalls before. I just need to concentrate on this.”

She nodded.

Jose burst into the room, his clothes soaked. “We’ve got a wall of water coming at us, boss,” he said, his voice grim.

“I’m on my way,” Jack assured him. He turned to Chloe. “Stay belowdecks. Don’t come up. I’ll be back when everything’s all right.”

She nodded again, silent.

Jose was waiting for him, but he leaned down and kissed Chloe, hard. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Then he walked out of his cabin, bracing himself for the storm.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

Chloe heard Lily’s shriek from her own cabin. Chloe had wondered the same thing; there were crashing noises of both surf and thunder, and the yacht was being tossed around like a sock in the spin cycle. Every sense was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the storm: the deafening noise, the engulfing darkness shot through by flashes of lightning, the smell of salt water and rain, the raging feel of imbalance as bodies struggled for stability in a world that could not provide it. As for taste—everything tasted like fear.

In her cabin, bracing herself on whatever she could, Chloe felt as if she were going crazy. Jack had gone up to help Ace and Jose, presumably to steer while they did…something. Bail water? Fix machinery? She didn’t know what exactly facing this storm entailed. It seemed more luck than anything. She realized just how little about this “business” she actually knew. She felt like a dilettante, a fraud. It was one thing to love boats when they were cruising on calm blue waves in balmy skies. But this?

She thought it might be exhilarating if she weren’t so scared of dying.

Lily was crying by this point, loud, gulping sobs. Tom was trying to calm her, but his words were tinged in hysteria. “It’s gonna be all right, honey,” he yelled, but his words seemed more geared to convince himself first. “It’s going to be all right….”

Chloe got up, lurching into the door of her cabin and throwing it open. She made her way down the hallway. She pounded on the door of the honeymoon cabin. Lily screamed in response.

“Tom! Lily!” she called. “It’s Chloe!”

After a few moments, the door opened with some difficulty. Tom had opened it and he looked frantic. The evidence of Lily’s sobbing was clear on her face: her pale complexion was splotchy, hectic with color. “Has something else happened? Are we okay?” Tom asked warily.

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” Or as fine as it could be. As far as she knew.

Tom looked puzzled for a second, his expression asking Then why are you here?

“I wanted to see how you were holding up,” Chloe said slowly. “Sorry. That’s stupid, considering. I mean, I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you two feel better.”

That wasn’t much of an improvement, she realized, since unless she had some godlike control of the weather, she could do exactly zip about their situation.

“Are we going to be all right?” Lily asked plaintively, curled up in a fetal ball on the bed.

Tom went back to Lily, and Chloe followed, sitting on Lily’s other side. Tom was rubbing Lily’s back with one hand and bracing himself with the other.

“We’re going to be fine,” Chloe said, packing as much reassurance into her voice as humanly possible.

“Of course we are,” Tom echoed, sounding slightly more convincing than he had a few minutes ago. Apparently it was easier for him to comfort Lily with assistance, so Chloe felt better—she’d made the right decision. “Chloe’s been on a ton of cruises with Jack and his crew. She knows he’ll pull us through this.”

Lily turned to Chloe, her eyes huge and imploring. “Is that true? Can Jack get us through this?”

Chloe blanched for a second. What could she say? She’d been on board for a month, and all of it in San Diego’s temperate weather or up and down the coast. But Lily was pleading, and Tom was obviously expecting her to help out, not make the situation worse.

“Jack will get us through this,” Chloe said.

“See?” Tom nodded like a bobblehead doll.

“But how do you know?” Lily’s cry was almost a shriek.

Chloe watched the two of them, so terrified, trying so hard to cling to any kind of hope but still managing because the two of them were together.

Suddenly she felt calm, as if everything around them had gone quiet and still.

She took Lily’s other hand, giving it a comforting squeeze to get her attention. When Lily focused on her, she said slowly and clearly, “I trust Jack with my life.” The words rang with sincerity.