Anchors Aweigh - 6 (21 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I left Taylor in bed the next morning sleeping off her excesses of the night before, my heart still hurting, my brain crammed full of information I badly needed to share and purge. Last night I’d intended to hook up with Manny and Coral, but had fallen asleep listening to my sister’s drunken pillow talk and alcohol-induced snoring. But this morning found me a woman prepared to take action.

I’d initially debated my course of action. Should I save a life or ascertain if my sister was in love with a man I’d lusted after and obsessed over for more than a decade?

I’d opted to let sleeping sisters lie.

After yesterday’s excursions I was content to remain hidden away on the ship, but after the situation with David, I knew I had to demand action. Tell someone. Today’s port of call in Grand Cayman and the Cayman Islands might provide an opportunity for U. S. federal law enforcement to be brought in and an official investigation initiated.

I considered the situation. David Frazier Compton had denied he was trying to kill his wife. Why, if he planned to silence me anyway, wouldn’t he just go ahead and admit it? In fact, he’d actually thought Coral was out to do him in—which made sense if he was blackmailing her about the accident, but made absolutely no sense when it came to the phone call I’d eavesdropped on. That had clearly been a man, and he’d been speaking about the woman in his life. And insurance policy makes three.

What were the odds that there were two murder plots afloat? Coral certainly had ample motive to do away with David. Or motives. Blackmail and a love affair made pretty compelling reasons for murder. But there was also the incident in the sickbay to consider. Sam Davenport had been Johnny-on-the-spot right after the attack. But why would he want to see me dead? He already knew what I’d overheard—already knew I’d thought it was David involved. Had he decided at that point to do away with David? For Coral? For love? Had he thought of me as a loose end who could come back to trip him up later?

Now that David had apparently been ruled out as plotting Coral’s murder—who killed their only source of income, anyway?—the only other possible contenders were Ben and Steve. I sighed. I didn’t have a choice. I had to level with Sam Davenport, tell him the truth about my memory just as I had with Sherri and Courtney, relate what had transpired with David Frazier Compton the night before and turn it over to him once and for all. But I wasn’t going without backup. Just in case.

I thought initially about recruiting Manny. He already knew about the man on the phone. Still, after Manny’s cloak and dagger routine of the evening before, and given his contact with Davenport, I wasn’t comfortable keeping it in that particular family.

I thought for a second longer. Rick. I’d tell Rick. He’d be majorly bent out of shape when I told him what I’d been up to, but he was a good man to have on your side in a tight spot. Experience had taught me that.

So. I’d explain everything to Ranger Rick. He’d rant and rave and piss and moan, but he’d eventually come around. And he’d help me figure out what to do next.

I quickly showered off the smell of booze and cigarette smoke, dressed and hurried to Townsend’s stateroom. I knocked.

“Townsend, I need to talk to you,” I called. “It’s a matter of life and death.” I was saying that a lot lately.

“Tressa?” I heard. “Just a minute.”

It took another half minute for Townsend to open his door. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his hair rumpled, it was clear he hadn’t showered yet.

“Did I wake you?” I said, thinking that a bit odd considering Ranger Rick was one of those weird and frightening individuals known as a day person. “Have a bad night?” I asked, getting a sudden whiff of food. Food that smelled like—bacon!

“Do you have food in there?” I asked, craning my head to see more, delivering that line with as much outrage as a suspicious spouse delivers the old “Do you have a woman in there?”

“It’s not a good time, Tressa,” Rick said.

“Sorry. I can’t wait for a better one,” I said, getting the sense that Townsend was hiding something—and figuring bacon wasn’t the half of it. I sniffed. “Is that a cinnamon roll I smell?” I asked, planting my foot in the door—not really all that wise considering I was wearing sandals. “Let me in,” I ordered.

“Fine, but don’t get the wrong idea, okay?” he said.

Now I was really concerned. I sniffed. Could we be talking eggs Benedict?

I gave him a peeved look as I stepped into the room and said, “So you lacked the resolve to resist going off the Eat Your Way to a Healthy Life plan. We can’t all have the strength of character I possess. No biggie,” I added, turning to discover Townsend had a co-conspirator in his illicit breakfast. Brianna, the trainer, was sitting on the tiny futon love seat feeding her face.

“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” I bent over and got a whiff of hollandaise sauce. Tell me I don’t have a talent for sniffing things out. “Isn’t this cozy? And isn’t this also like contraband?” I said, picking up a length of honest-to-goodness bacon.

“Brianna and I were just catching up,” Townsend said. “You’re welcome to join us.”

I let the bacon fall to Townsend’s plate like it was a ganja pipe. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. “I’m actually committed to making positive changes in my diet to promote long-term good health.”

“You’re kidding,” Townsend said.

I shook my head. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re the girl whose idea of a nutritious breakfast is cold pizza left over from the night before. You’re also the girl who keeps Cadbury crème eggs from Easter in your freezer to eat year-round,” he said.

“I do not!” I said.

“Oh? How do you know? You’ve lost your memory. Remember?” Townsend taunted.

“I’d know if I did something like that,” I said. “I’d remember.”

“Right,” Townsend said. “Right.”

I stalked to the door and opened it. I was just about to yell “Screw you and the Starcraft speedboat you sailed in on!” and storm out of the cabin when, to my shocked surprise, those actual words did not come out. Instead, what I heard was, “Brianna? Beat it!”

She stared at me. Townsend did, too. Okay, so I was more than a little blown away, myself This was the last thing I’d planned to do. Or say.

“What?” Brianna got slowly to her feet.

“I said beat it. Rick and I have some catching up of our own to do. And sorry, but three’s a crowd, even with an ex-girlfriend.”

Brianna’s stunned expression was mirrored by Townsend’s.

“Rick?” she said. “Do you want me to go?” she asked.

I crossed my arms and looked at Townsend. “Well?” I said. “Do you?”

His stunned expression turned to one so hot I was afraid his eyebrows would start to singe. “Beat it, Brianna,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

It was my turn to be stunned. “Huh?”

“What?” Brianna repeated. “You want me to leave?” she asked.

Townsend shook his head. “No. But I want her to stay more.” He walked Brianna to the door. “Sorry, Bree. It was good to see you,” he told her, shutting the door, leaning his back against it, arms crossed, to study me.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said, shaking his head, “but I don’t know why that still surprises me…Calamity Jayne, considering you’re known for that kind of thing.”

“What I know is that reputation is the product of flawed thinking—as is that catchy but misplaced moniker,” I told him, feeling suddenly like I’d walked into a bull’s cage, shut the door and thrown away the key.
Ay caramba!

“So? You said we had some catching up of our own to do,” Townsend said, unfolding his arms as he walked across the stateroom toward me.

“I did. We do,” I agreed, panic creeping into my stammered responses. “I’ve got a sort of admission to make,” I told him. “It can’t wait.”

Townsend stopped a step away. “Oh? It sounds serious.”

“It is. Serious,” I said, telling my eyes to look anywhere but at his lips. To gaze at anything but his gorgeous brown eyes. So they did. And to my acute embarrassment my peepers moved to the area between his legs.

Shit.

“Tressa? What are you looking at?” Townsend sounded amused.

“Nothing!” I forced my eyeballs to safer scenes and, instead, surveyed his room and the big full-sized bed that made mine look like a camping cot.

“Nice bed,” I said. “I bet that it’s way more comfortable than my army bunk.”

“You’re welcome to try it out and see,” Townsend offered, and for half a second (okay, longer) I considered taking him up on his offer.

“Will you be joining me?” I teased.

“That depends,” Townsend responded.

I raised an eyebrow. “On what?”

“On whether I’m invited,” he said, closing the distance between us.

Okay, now here’s where I might lose you all, so I have to explain what happened next and why. You know, so you’ll understand.

There I was. A huge responsibility on my shoulders. Emotionally confused. Nutritionally deprived. Majorly nookie-starved. In a stateroom where you didn’t stub your toe turning around. The tantalizing smells of bacon, Cinnabon cinnamon and hollandaise sauce mixing and mingling and teasing my senses. The man I personally thought should make the
People
magazine cover for sexiest man alive giving me a Long John Silver ain’t got nothing on me look. Okay, I’ve set the scene.

And…action!

“It’s your bed,” I said, my voice shaking. “You hardly need an invitation.”

He reached out and pulled me to him, his palms pressed against my lower back, his hands making soft, soothing circles, warming my skin.

“So, does this mean some things are coming back to you?” Ranger Rick asked, bringing one hand up to cup my chin. “Are you remembering?”

“I’m not quite sure. Quiz me?” I heard myself say.

Ranger Rick’s gaze sharpened. The heat of his embrace ramped up, putting out only slightly less heat than Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego’s fiery furnace. He gathered me close. Brushing back the hair from my face with caressing fingertips, he cradled my jaw with his hand and brought his lips to mine.

I found myself thankful I’d taken the time to brush and floss.

He kissed me softly. A nice kiss. A sweet kiss. He pulled back to look at me.

“Is that familiar?” he asked.

“Hmm,” I said. “It’s hard to say, given such limited exposure.”

He kissed me again; this time his kiss was longer. Wetter. Hotter.

He pulled away. “How about now? Do you remember that?”

Certain key areas of my body sure did.

“I can’t be positive,” I said.

His next kiss was deeper, totally intense and wickedly carnal. When he ended the kiss, I could hardly stand, so it was a good thing he’d backed me over to the bed. The mattress hit the back of my knees and I dropped to the bed on my back.

“Did that ring any bells?” Townsend asked, his grin negated by the serious look in his eyes.

I looked up at him. “All of them,” I said, and he eased me back onto the mattress and covered my body with his.

I vaguely remembered there was something important I needed to discuss with Ranger Rick, vaguely remembered I suspected my sister thought she was in love with him, but the feel of his tongue sliding over my neck and his teeth nipping at my earlobe all but erased any other urgency from my head. When his hand slid across my breast and cupped it, I knew I was lost in a sea of sensation that had too long been denied. I was adrift with acute awareness, an awareness of needs left unsatisfied, unfulfilled, an awareness that I was venturing into uncertain waters; but also I had the sudden clarity that here, with this man, I would find safe passage.

Every part of my body was throbbing. And I wasn’t the only one. Townsend’s timber was a-shiverin’, too.

He kissed me again, long and hard. “Nice shirt,” he said. “But I bet what’s under it is even nicer.” His crooked smile did a number on my vitals.

“You’re talking about my sports bra. Right?” I teased, my voice breathless and husky.

He pulled at a strap. “Hot pink,” he observed. “Your favorite. Mine, too. When you’re in it,” he added, pushing aside the opening of the white blouse I wore to nuzzle the skin at the top of my turquoise tank top. “But even more when you’re out of it.”

I felt Townsend’s hand creep beneath my shirt and over my bare midriff. I shivered as his hand roamed upward, his thumb and finger finding and squeezing my nipple, but I was powerless to do anything but arch against him like a wanton woman in a romance novel. A woman in lust.

Or…love, maybe?

I felt my shirt being lifted over my head and Townsend settled over me, looking deep into my eyes as he tugged on one hot-pink bra strap.

I held my breath.

He slowly pulled the bra strap down. Cool air hit my nipple, sending a flood of feeling soaring through wondrous places.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

He bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth.

Oh. My. God.

My eyes rolled back in my head and a bolt of pure ecstasy coursed through me. This was it. This was the moment. This was the man. All bets were off. Batten down the hatches and full speed ahead. Ding. Ding. Ding. X marks the spot!

Townsend pulled my other strap down, his fingers rubbing my nipples, his tongue flicking at the tips before his lips left my breasts to come back to my mouth, his tongue swooping inside and leaving me no doubt he’d arrived at the same latitude and longitude. I moaned into his mouth, ready to demand he shuck his shirt, when the phone rang.

I tensed. He sensed it.

“You better get that,” I said. “It could be important.”

He grimaced. “Not more important than this,” he said, and kissed me again.

“You can’t just let it ring. What if there’s an emergency? The ship is taking on water. The captain has had a heart attack?”
A passenger has been murdered.

“We’re in port,” he pointed out. “But anything to make you happy,” he said, and giving me a quick kiss he got up and answered the phone.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Taylor,” Rick said.

Taylor? I instantly thought about her mumbled confession the night before.