Satisfaction Guaranteed (20 page)

She burrowed into his big body and absorbed his warmth, took comfort in the security of his arm around her, and tried not to question why she needed that so badly.

"So you're not a big fan of cocoa," Kane said, making it a light, teasing statement.

"I like it." She shrugged. "I'm restless, I guess."

"There's nothing like the open water for that." Kane scooted her around to the side so he could cradle her lying back in the curve of his arm and look down into her eyes. "We could take
Rebecca
out. This pirate ship does not have to stay docked."

"That sounds good," Sabrina said. "And it'll make it so much harder for the Mob to catch up to us."

Kane bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "I'll check for weather updates and make ready. You can walk around, or read a book. Whatever you feel like doing." He nodded in the direction of her abandoned wool coat. "Put that on over the sweats if you come out, it'll be colder when we're under way."

"I have spent some time on the water," Sabrina assured him. "I do know to bundle up."

"You rode the ferry over with nothing under your coat, and you probably stood outside during the crossing." Kane frowned at her, and she couldn't help grinning back.

"Well, yes. But the view is so much better outside," Sabrina admitted.

"I'd say the view is spectacular inside." He touched her cheek, a light caress with the back of his hand, then set her on her feet and stood.

"Spectacular?" Sabrina asked, forcing her legs not to wobble underneath her.

"Definitely." Kane lifted the hem of her borrowed sweatshirt to stroke her bare stomach. She sucked in a breath as that simple touch made her body tighten and react.

"I'll just get my deck shoes on," she managed to say through lips that felt swollen and awkward. Or maybe that was her tongue. Kane only had to look at her and she practically swallowed it.

She bent down and fumbled around for the shoes she'd discarded along with her jeans what seemed like a lifetime ago. She heard his footsteps recede and sounds of something opening and closing, probably a drawer. Of course, he couldn't go outside bare-chested. He'd have to put something on. It was kind of a shame to cover up a body that beautiful to look at.

But then looking led to touching. She hadn't even been able to stay on her side of the table with him sitting across from her. She'd had to climb into his lap. If they'd stayed there, she probably would have started working on the zipper of his jeans.

She froze, one shoe in hand, contemplating what might have happened if she'd lowered that zipper. Which led to remembering Kane naked and in her mouth. Kane hard behind her, working his way into her anal passage so very carefully. Kane under her, telling her to take what she wanted.

"Okay down there?"

She blinked up to see Kane standing over her, now wearing a sweater, his polar fleece, and deck shoes over thick socks in addition to his jeans. Which were now fastened all the way, no tempting top button left open.

"Fine," Sabrina said. Her voice only squeaked a little bit. "Just finding my shoes." She waved the one she'd found as proof that she was doing something besides sitting on the floor having hot flashes. She was too young for hot flashes.

"The other one is over there." He pointed.

"Okay. Thanks." She nodded, trying to look as if she could see anything in the room besides him. Which probably didn't come off, since she was staring up at him instead of looking in the direction he'd indicated. She clutched the found shoe tighter. "I'll just put this one on."

He looked as if he were on the verge of saying something, then thought better of it. "Okay, then. See you on deck."

She nodded and stayed there, clinging to her shoe as if keeping a grip on it would help her keep a grip on herself.
Deep breaths, Sabrina
, she told herself.
Put the shoe on. Find the other one
.

It wasn't so hard, if she kept her mind on the task and didn't allow it to go reveling in memories of sexual excess or drifting into moony imaginings starring Kane. She got both shoes on the right feet. Mission accomplished. Having something to focus on was good. Maybe she needed something else to focus on now, while Kane got ready to head out on the water. He'd mentioned reading. Which meant he had books somewhere.

Sabrina looked around the galley, and her eyes came to
rest on the cushions covering the kitchen bench seats. Of course, that would be storage. She walked over and lifted one up, opening the cabinet top to peer inside. Rope and assorted useful items and tools. No books. She did know where to find a life vest now, though. She dropped the lid and cushion back into place and poked through cupboards at random, exploring Kane's world.

He lived simply, she realized, but he didn't lack for comforts. The
Rebecca
was a self-contained little oasis. Everything was neatly stored and well kept. Kane ran a tight ship, it seemed. Literally.

Sabrina picked up her coat and put it on so she wouldn't forget it when she went on deck. In her current distracted state, that was possible. Then she wandered into the cabin and threw herself onto the bed. The crazy quilt was bright and colorful, the mattress inviting, and being on Kane's bed was like being near him. She stretched out on her belly and thought that if she was the kitten he called her, this was where she'd choose to curl up. It felt good to be there.

How was it going to feel when the date was over and she went home? How would it feel to never be near him again? Her stomach twisted, and she knew the answer. She didn't want it to be over. She didn't want this to be the only time she was welcome in Kane's bed.

She wanted to be with him out of bed, too. He made her laugh. He made her mind race to keep up with his. He made her feel good just by being around him. She wanted more from him than amazing sex, although it was amazing. And addictive. If she'd really been a hit woman like the identity he'd invented for her, and he'd kept her tied up and distracted with sex to convince her not to kill him, it
wouldn't have taken very many days before she'd have wanted Kane to live forever.

The date had to come to an end. They couldn't live the pirate fantasy, but maybe they could try reality. Which meant taking the very risk she'd wanted to avoid when she chose the agency. Opening herself up to rejection.

She wanted a chance to know the real him. She already knew what kind of lover he was, and that told her a lot about his character and personality. He was protective and passionate, giving as well as demanding, very careful about how he used his size and strength. What else? Kane was smart and creative and quick, good at thinking on his feet.

And he lived on a boat. Retired navy? Possible. There were a lot of navy people in the area. If Kane had joined up just out of high school or college, he could have put in his twenty years and retired by forty-two. It would explain why he felt comfortable making his home at sea, although it was hard to believe any man could spend that many years in the navy and never get a tattoo. The long hair, well, after years of military haircuts, a natural rebel like Kane would probably want to grow it long.

That thought made her frown, and she rolled onto her back, considering his personality in terms of the military. They really didn't run to nonconformists. Probably not navy, then. His creative drive and intelligence made her first theory, that he'd made his money in computers and retired early, much more likely.

At least she knew for sure Kane liked her. It showed in the way he looked at her and smiled at her. The little things he did. If he'd only wanted sex, he didn't have to cuddle her or joke with her or touch her in nonsexual ways. So much
of the physical contact between them had simply been touch, being close to each other.

Hopeful signs. Buy signals, in sales talk. So she'd sell him on the idea of moving from anonymous sex partners to something more. While she was at it, she could sell herself on the idea that she wasn't free-falling with the ground rushing up at her.

Her stomach plummeted.
Think of something else
. Sabrina closed her eyes and savored the fulfillment of a long-held fantasy. She'd been taken by a pirate, cherished and ravished and satisfied. Her lips curved in a smile as she remembered just how thoroughly Kane had satisfied her. The smile widened as she thought about their exchange over Kane's imaginary rivals for her affection and her explanation for her fidelity during her captivity by Black Jack.

Something about that struck her as familiar and stirred in her memory. Something from a book? The smile faded as she concentrated. Kane had lifted his explanation about the boat from the Travis McGee mysteries. Had Black Jack come from a similar source?

Then her eyes flew open as it struck her.
Pirate's Prize
. The historical romance that had planted the seed of her favorite fantasy, the desire for a man to take her and make her his. In it, one of the plot twists that had divided the lovers was . . . the pirate rival who had stolen the heroine from under the hero's nose. And held her on his private island. For three months.

What were the odds that Kane would invent details of his imaginary mock foe that so exactly paralleled a novel he'd never read or heard of? That would take one hell of a coincidence. And men did read romance novels.

Some even wrote them.

"Oh. My. God," Sabrina breathed.
Rebecca
. If she was right, she knew who Kane was, and she knew whom the yacht was named after. The answer was in Bluebeard's closet. She'd stake her entire shoe collection and her Nordstrom card on it.

Sabrina leaped off the bed and went to the trunk. She tried the lid. Locked. But there would be a key, and organized, shipshape Kane would put it in a logical spot. She found it in the first drawer she tried in the little desk cubby that housed a laptop and fitted it into the lock with shaking hands.

The key turned and the lock opened. She lifted the lid and looked inside and drew in a sharp breath. Paperbacks stacked wide and deep filled the trunk, emblazoned with the author's name: Rebecca Kane.

The truth had been under her nose from the very first, and she hadn't seen it. Hidden in plain view. She remembered telling him he should write a book and wanted to groan out loud.

Kane was Rebecca. And at least one other person, she noted, seeing a stack of men's adventure novels under the name Kane Woods.

It explained a lot. His ability to spin stories out of thin air on a moment's notice or pull from other fictional sources. How he lived on a boat. He hadn't retired early, he just worked from home. As a writer, he could live anywhere. If he had an adventurous streak, having a portable home probably held a lot of appeal. Any time he got bored, he could pull up anchor and go someplace else, taking his home and his work with him.

Sabrina noted a thick stack of manuscript pages on top of the paperbacks. A new book? And which of his alter egos had written it?

It was under the Kane Woods name. Which, she realized, might actually be his real name. There was a page of notes paper-clipped to the top of the manuscript, and she read them with a sickening sense of disbelief.

A lot more than the mystery of Kane had been locked in this trunk. The mystery of why he'd gone to the Capture Agency was here, too, in the handwritten notes detailing a conversation with his agent. Sex scenes were uninspired because Kane was holding back. He had to break out. Experiment with and research fantasy material. And evidently, he'd wanted to be the hero from
Pirate's Prize
as much as she'd longed to find herself in the role of heroine. Except that he wasn't the hero of her erotic and romantic imaginings. He hadn't arranged this date with her for the sake of having hot, kinky sex. He hadn't done it for the same reasons she'd done it. He'd done it to further his career. And he'd picked her because the kind of woman he needed wasn't the kind he'd get involved with.

I am a research subject, Sabrina thought numbly. A guinea pig. And she'd not only let Kane use her, she'd encouraged him to. He'd known exactly how to romance her because he was a damn professional. And while he pretended to romance her, Kane had planned to use everything they'd done together in his book. She imagined a scene starring herself bent over the kitchen table, her most private erotic memories stolen and made public.

She felt sick. Dropping the manuscript, she lurched to
her feet and half ran, half staggered to the door and made her way up to the deck. Good, they were still docked.

Sabrina ran for the ladder and the pier, and then she was off the boat and running back to the ferry terminal before Kane saw her and noticed she was gone.

Sabrina was halfway back to Seattle before she realized she'd run away in his sweats and left her jeans behind. It was pure luck that she'd had her coat on with her wallet and keys in the pocket when she bolted. She'd at least been spared the humiliation of having to go back for those items. No way would she go back for her pants. Kane could keep them.

She thought of him finding her gone with only her jeans left behind. He didn't know her full name, her address, where she worked, who her friends were. And unlike the Prince in "Cinderella," he could hardly go all through the Greater Seattle area trying to find the ass that would fit those jeans.

Not that he would have any trouble recognizing her ass, being so intimately familiar with it. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her chest, and she fought it grimly down. She stayed outside for the full half-hour ferry crossing, breathing in great gulps of sea air, staying near the rail in case she needed to throw up.