Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (26 page)

Jane Smith cautiously opened the cabin door and slipped noiselessly inside, closing it after her with the utmost care. She leaned against the door in the stygian darkness for a brief moment and tried to still the rapid beating of her heart.

Despite her brave words to Penny, she was finding her first attempt at housebreaking—or was it yacht-breaking—a terrifying experience. She closed her eyes for a second and relived the panicky, helpless feeling she'd known as she had clung like a koala bear to the anchor line while she'd worked her way up hand over hand, inching toward the deck that had seemed a mile above her, while the threatening darkness of the sea waited for her first mistake.

Once she had reached the deck there was no difficulty in finding Dominic's cabin, thanks to the rough map Les had drawn, which she'd faithfully memorized. Still, it was a bit nerve-racking to be cast in the role of an intruder, even if your cause was just. Well, the sooner she got the job done, the sooner she could get out of here. Her eyes had now become used to the darkness, and she could dimly distinguish the shape of a king-sized bed a yard or so away and various pieces of furniture scattered around the room. On the far side of the cabin, she could discern the outlines of a large porthole. She would have to use the wall opposite the bed, she decided.

Undoing the straps of the backpack, she pulled it off and un-fastened the pouch, extracting the can of red spray paint. She silently glided forward, going around the bed. The floor was obviously lavishly carpeted, she noted, as her sneakered feet sank into the cushioned softness without making a sound. Her hands swiftly explored the paneled smoothness for art plaques or paintings. All she needed to do was to destroy one of Dominic's masterpieces, she thought grimly. She'd read that he was as ardent a collector of art as he was of women. The area was clear. She breathed a sigh of relief and backed away, aiming the nozzle of the spray can carefully. She fleetingly considered flipping on the light, but discarded the idea immediately. It would be too risky, and the message just had to be readable, not a thing of beauty.

She pressed her finger on the button and released a stream of paint, her arm moving in sweeping movements over the surface of the wall. It went quite quickly, and in a few minutes she neatly recapped the paint can and dropped it into her pouch. Her hands fumbled momentarily in the bag until she found the timer switch connected to the square metal box. She flipped the switch and then dropped the backpack carelessly on the floor.

Jane moved cautiously toward the door, wishing she could see well enough to hurry. Les had said the timer would give her forty-five minutes to get off the ship and back to the pier, but she didn't like to push it. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to climb that terrifying anchor line.

“What the hell!”

The exclamation erupted from the king-sized bed, and Jane froze in horror as her eyes flew in the direction of the sound. The voice had been rough and masculine, and she experienced a ghastly sinking sensation as she realized to whom it must belong. She turned to flee, but it was already too late. The shadowy figure launched himself from the center of the bed in a tackle that knocked her neatly from her feet and pinned her to the carpet.

Jane struggled frantically, her fists beating at the wide shoulders, her body writhing and kicking beneath the heavy masculine weight that was holding her helpless.

Suddenly she froze with shock as her touch communicated a frightening fact to her startled brain. My God! The man was nude! Her fists relaxed, and her palms slid tentatively over the hair-roughened chest, then glided exploringly over and around his hips to gingerly touch his hard buttocks. She jerked her hands away as if they'd been burned. It was true!

“Damn!” the man swore harshly, as his hands moved over the revealing softness of her body beneath the masculine attire. He roughly tugged the woolen cap from her silken curls, which smelled faintly of vanilla. “Not another one! This must be some kind of record. Two persistent women in one night!” His hands moved exploringly down her throat to the delicate curve of her shoulders. “Why not?” he drawled. “I'm finding your rather bizarre approach quite tantalizing.”

Incredibly, Jane felt his loins lift and then rub with sensual aggression against her own, and she made a sudden movement of protest. He rapped out roughly, “Lie still, damn it!” Then his mouth covered hers.

Jane inhaled sharply in breathless shock as the warm hard lips pressed demandingly on hers, expertly parting them to invade her with savage intimacy. It was a bizarrely exciting sensation to be held helpless under that virile male body while his lips and tongue toyed with her own with ruthless expertise. The swiftness of his physical attack had left her dazed and bewildered, and the passionate onslaught of this nude stranger was suddenly met with a primal reaction from her woman's body. An aching warmth flooded her loins, and the tips of her breasts hardened in response to the stimuli his body was feeding her. Her lips opened yearningly to allow him eager access in his delicious love play.

He gave a deep groan of satisfaction, and his hands closed slowly over her small high breasts.

The intimacy of the caress caused her to stiffen in surprise. Abruptly Jane came to her senses. What was she doing? she wondered wildly. She was deliberately inviting the man to rape her! She resumed her frantic struggles against him with renewed desperation. The man's nude body was hardening in arousal, her movements acting as a provocation rather than a deterrent, she realized helplessly.

His mouth left hers and buried itself in her throat. “Be quiet, woman,” he said thickly, his tongue teasing the hollow of her throat. “Give me what I want right now. I'm not in the mood for games tonight.”

“No!” Her protest was smothered by his lips once more, and her mind searched frantically for an escape route. He was much too strong for her struggles to be anything but a minor annoyance to him. Her mind arrived at no answer, but her body acted instinctively to protect itself.

Her strong white teeth fastened on his sensual lower lip, and she bit down viciously, holding on like a terrier until he jerked his head away with a roar of rage. His weight was suddenly lifted from her, and she quickly jumped to her feet.

Jane experienced a moment of disorientation as her eyes eagerly searched the darkness for the outline of the cabin door. There it was! She made a swift movement toward the portal, but she had waited too long. The cabin flared into brilliant light.

two

THERE WAS NO QUESTION THAT IT WAS JAKE
Dominic who stood at the light switch by the door, Jane thought resignedly. She had no problem recognizing the face from the newspapers. The black frown on his face gave his features a distinctly Mephistophelian cast. High cheekbones, sensual mouth, and dark expressive eyes lent him a satanic charm that was augmented by the black brows, one of which was slightly crooked, giving him a look of perpetual mockery. It was entirely in keeping with the cynical set of Dominic's mouth and jaded weariness in the ebony eyes. His crisp dark hair, worn slightly long, was ruffled from their struggles, and made him appear wild and careless.

Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, his whipcord body possessed a virile magnetism that was blatantly attractive. Jane's eyes dropped in fascination to the springy dark hair on his bronze chest, which gradually narrowed to a thin line as it reached his flat stomach. Her gaze flew quickly back to his face as her own face flushed scarlet. Dominic stood there as arrogantly unconcerned as if he were fully dressed, but she did not have the same
sang-froid
. She'd never been alone with a naked man, and she felt desperately uncomfortable—though perhaps she had better begin worrying about Dominic's emotional rather than his physical
reaction. The man looked absolutely furious, black eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. His lip was bleeding freely where she'd bitten him, the sensitive flesh already starting to swell.

Jake Dominic's stormy gaze had become riveted by the lettering on the wall, and he stared at it incredulously. Jane turned and surveyed her handiwork with dismay. In three-foot cursive letters was the spray-painted slogan NO NUKES, and below it, in even larger letters, NUKES STINK. It was fortunate that it had been dark when she'd used the paint, she thought absently. If she'd seen the loveliness of the rich walnut paneling, she could never have brought herself to desecrate it.

Dominic's gaze returned to Jane, noting the tousled red hair and wide, frightened golden eyes. His eyes lingered for a moment on the swollen pink lips before he leaned indolently against the wall and wiped his hand over his bleeding lip. Though his face was still angry, there was a trace of amusement in his voice as he drawled softly. “Well, I'll be damned. If I haven't caught myself a baby terrorist.”

Jane lifted her chin indignantly. “I'm no such thing,” she argued defensively; “I'm a protester, not a terrorist.” She gestured to the wall. “There's nothing in that to fill anyone with terror.”

“It's a question of semantics, is it?” he asked lazily. “Regardless of what you may call it, you will admit that it's blatantly illegal.”

She nodded reluctantly. “I suppose it is, technically.”

“Technically, hell,” he said roundly. “Vandalism, destruction of property, breaking and entering.” He touched his lip gingerly. “And assault.”

“Assault,” she gasped, the angry color pinking her cheeks. “I was defending myself. You were trying to rape me.”

“Rape!” Dominic exploded, his eyes sparkling dangerously. “I don't have to rape women. You were more than willing, my little terrorist. Your hands were all over me.”

“Only because I couldn't believe that I had a totally nude,
bare-assed pervert on top of me,” she shouted, her golden eyes blazing. “Why the hell don't you wear pajamas?”

A look of astonishment wiped the anger from his face. “I haven't worn pajamas since I was ten.” His black eyes gleamed strangely. “You'll forgive my insensitivity, I trust. It's not often that I have a baby burglar drop in on me without invitation.”

Suddenly her anger was gone, and she drooped disconsolately. What difference did any of it make? She had been caught, and she was frighteningly aware that the consequences could be more serious than she had dreamed before Dominic had reeled off that staggering list of charges.

“If you're through amusing yourself at my expense, I'd appreciate it if you'd just call the police and get it over with,” she said dejectedly.

“Oh, yes, the police,” Dominic said idly. “I suppose we had better call someone in authority.” He reached for the white telephone on the table by the door and punched a number rapidly. After a moment he spoke into the receiver, his eyes still fixed on Jane's pale, weary face. “Hello, Marc. I'm sorry to wake you, but I think you'd better come down to my cabin. It seems we have an intruder.” He replaced the receiver gently and turned back to Jane. “Now, while we're waiting, why don't you make yourself useful and clean up this lip? It's beginning to sting damnably.”

Jane's eyes darkened with concern as she responded instinctively to the appeal for help. The lip was looking uglier by the minute, she noticed guiltily. It must be very painful. She impetuously moved forward to stand before him, touching the lip tenderly with a finger. “I hurt you,” she said huskily, her eyes swimming with tears. “Please forgive me.”

Her tone was patently sincere, and even Jake Dominic's cynical appraisal could detect no false note in the heartfelt apology. He smiled curiously, his dark eyes flickering. “I have the glimmering of an idea that you're not a very good terrorist, redhead.” He took her hand and pulled her gently toward a door
on the far side of the room. “Come along and play Florence Nightingale.” He opened the door to reveal a luxurious bathroom, decorated in various shades of blue.

Jane followed him docilely into the small compartment, and while he half sat, half leaned on the cobalt-blue vanity counter, she carefully bathed the lip in cold water. Dominic flinched once, and her eyes clouded in distress. She made a low sound deep in her throat. Her reaction seemed to fascinate him, and for the remainder of the cleaning procedure, he studied her face with curious, narrowed eyes. When she'd finished, he slipped off the counter and, taking the washcloth from her, threw it carelessly into the sink.

“I'm obliged,” he drawled casually. “It feels much better now.”

Jane smiled in relief. “I'm glad,” she said simply. “Now will you do something for me?”

His crooked eyebrow arched quizzically. “What?” he asked warily.

“Put on some clothes!” she said, the annoying color rising in her cheeks again.

He chuckled. “Oh, yes, you do have a hang-up about that. I'd forgotten. Well, as I can't leave my prisoner alone, you'll have to come with me.” He strolled lazily out of the bathroom and, going to a built-in paneled closet, he slid back the door and took out a pair of dark trousers and pulled them on easily. He shrugged into a cream sport shirt and thrust his feet into a pair of Gucci loafers.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at Jane. “Satisfied?”