Читать книгу Shelter In The Tropics - Cara Lockwood - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

CATE FELT TACK’S strong arms around her. For a second, she froze, wondering what would happen if Tack pressed his lips to hers. Would she let him kiss her? Would she slap him? Did she want him to kiss her? Then she got the impression they were both starting to sink. With neither of them able to touch bottom, kicking alone—even with fins—would not keep their heads above water for long.

“You’d better let go of me or we’re going to drown,” she cautioned him.

“It would be worth it,” he said, the flirting tone unmistakable.

Cate grinned, but then splashed him once more. He let go and she swam away, laughing. She realized she was actually having fun.

Swimming next to Tack, she wondered if a little fling would be good for her, after all. He was a tourist, so it’s not like there could be anything serious. A week at most? What was the harm in that?

Plus, there was something about the man that made her feel both at ease and anxious at the same time. He was built like a Renaissance statue, complete with chiseled abs. His muscles simply couldn’t be real. That’s what Cate told herself over and over again as they swam together in the fish-filled cove. She tried not to stare, but everywhere she looked, she saw his muscles working. His broad shoulder muscles tensed as he swam along the surface, and she wondered how easily he might be able to lift her up. Or carry me to his bed.

The thought popped up in her mind completely unwelcomed, and she squashed it down instantly. I can’t have a fling. I’ve got Avery to think about. And Tack’s a perfect stranger. Can’t be trusted.

For all she knew, he could be on Rick’s payroll.

The thought was paranoid and probably not true. She wondered when she’d stop thinking every stranger worked for Rick Allen. Maybe never.

Besides, if he were working for her husband, he’d have called in the cavalry by now, and Rick would be banging down her door. Right? He wouldn’t take a morning off to go snorkeling.

He dived down to the silty bottom and brought up a small shiny piece of metal. Trash from a fishing boat, most likely. He broke the surface of the water and Cate followed. He spat out his snorkel as he held out the hook and line.

“This doesn’t belong there,” he said, and grinned.

“You’ve probably done enough cleaning,” Cate said, nodding with approval to Tack’s small mesh bag, which he’d filled with trash. “Ready for a break?”

Tack nodded, and the two of them swam back to the boat. The wind kicked up, and as the boat rocked back and forth, it was a little bit harder to get the ladder, especially with the swells about three feet instead of one.

Tack nodded to the rocking boat.

“Ladies first,” he said. Cate felt like arguing. After all, he was her guest, but somehow, she knew she wouldn’t win. She swam for the ladder, which was bucking up and down, and she managed to get hold of it. The wind blew harder and the boat dipped dangerously to the right, and she slipped, bumping her head hard against the second rung. Stars blurred her vision and for a paralyzing second, she thought she’d black out...go under...drown.

Suddenly, though, Tack was there, keeping her from falling off the ladder, pressing his body against hers, his strong arms cinched around her, holding her in place. Cate felt the hardness of his muscles, the safety of his thick arms. They felt so...right. She leaned into him, her vision returning. She glanced up at him and saw the salt water dripping from his chin, his eyes trained on hers, worried.

“You okay?”

“Uh...yeah,” she managed to say as she worked on climbing awkwardly up the ladder—fins still on, wondering why she turned into the world’s biggest klutz anytime Tack was near her. Normally, she wasn’t so clumsy or careless. But how come every time Tack was around she found herself in peril? First the near car accident and now this. Honestly, he was going to think she was the clumsiest woman on earth. Tack eased himself on board, kicking off his fins on deck.

“You should sit down,” he said, taking her by the shoulder and maneuvering her to the nearest cushioned bench. She sat, still feeling a little bit dazed. Tack knelt in front of her, and she was more than aware the man was half naked, wearing only swim trunks. She glanced down at his navel, and immediately realized her mistake. The expanse of bare, tanned skin, with that tantalizing V running down like a welcoming arrow to his lap, made her want to reach out and touch it, feel just how taut the muscles were beneath the skin. “Let me take a look.”

“I’m fine.” Cate covered her forehead with her palm, the sting of the hit only just beginning to fade. She pulled her attention reluctantly from his chest and met his gaze. He ran a hand over his dark hair, wet from snorkeling.

“This is getting embarrassing. You rescuing me all the time.” Cate tried to sound playful but instead just sounded grumpy. “I really am not usually this accident prone.”

“Really?” Tack made a disgruntled sound in his throat to show her how little he believed that. “Let me look.” He gently peeled her hand away, assessing her forehead for damage. “You’re going to have a serious knot there, by the looks of things. But...” He trailed off, meeting her eyes once more. How did he get so close to her? There was an intensity there in his gaze, so powerful that she felt the need to break the stare, but then realized her mistake. Now she was focused on his lips, slightly parted, almost as if asking her to kiss him as he knelt in front of her.

And then, her brain simply shut off. She forgot to be anxious or worried, or overthink anything. She forgot why it was she avoided men, why she worked so hard all the time to keep herself carefully removed from anyone who might find out her dark secret. In that moment, instinct took over. She inched a little closer, their lips nearly touching.

She paused suddenly, right before they touched, suddenly frozen by second thoughts. What am I doing? Am I really going to kiss this man? But before she could back away, retreat, his lips covered hers, and she felt the rest of the world melt away. She could taste the salty sea and felt the gentle exploration of his mouth on hers. It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone, and yet her mouth remembered exactly what to do.

He began gently, a tentative touch, his expert lips on hers in a perfect dance. She’d forgotten how intimate a kiss was, how amazing it could be, closing her eyes and letting the warm, delicious sensation overtake her. She pressed her lips against his, wrapping her hands around the back of his strong neck. Want ran through her body, hot and searing, as the kiss turned deeper. Her lips parted as she felt the delicious warm wetness of his tongue. She felt like a switch had been thrown, and her body came alive, wanting more, ever more.

He pulled her down to him, and she went, their chests pressing against one another as they knelt together on the boat. Wet from the water, his muscled chest slid against hers. She felt desire rise in her, a strong need she hadn’t felt in months. All she wanted to do was devour him, inch by inch.

Suddenly, a loud blast of a horn sounded, wrecking the moment. Cate pulled back, a little dazed, her eyes blinking back the bright sun. The horn sounded again, and she saw it came from a huge, white boat, blaring music and crowded with tourists, that had inched up to them, parking nearly right next to her smaller boat. She could hear the eighties hairband music blasting across the water.

Tack glared at the intrusion. Cate groaned.

“Great,” she murmured.

“You know that boat?”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Reluctantly, Cate pulled herself to her feet. Tack did the same. “Terry Blake owns that boat.”

His tour excursion service had beaten out hers—and many others—to deal exclusively with two of the major cruise lines. He was also probably the most obnoxious and full of himself man on the island. Terry, with his sleek bald head, ample gut and furry gray chest, didn’t care about anything but having a good time—and making sure all of his guests were usually hammered. He’d nearly clipped her boat more than once in these narrow coves. He was reckless and dangerous.

Then, she realized, he planned to block her in—putting his boat in between her and the sea, leaving her stuck between the shallow reef and the beach.

“He’s going to block us in.” She shouted Terry’s name, but there was no way the captain could hear her over the blare of the music. He saw her and waved, not bothering to try to listen as he let out three more obnoxiously loud blasts of the horn right in their ears.

Cate laid on her own horn multiple times, but the boat kept coming. It almost looked as if he’d collide with her, but at the last minute it cruised to a stop. With about six inches between the two boats now, Terry dropped anchor and about thirty loud, and most certainly already drunk, tourists half fell, half jumped off the boat.

“Terry! You need to move!” Cate shouted when the boat lurched to a stop.

He put his hand to his ear and gestured to the blaring music. He was shirtless, his big furry chest visible, as was the bright gold chain around his neck. Terry was a walking stereotype. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart,” he called.

Tack’s face flushed red with anger as he glared at the offending boat.

“I’ll handle this.” Tack climbed to the other boat with an easy long stride. Cate scrambled after him, not sure if she wanted Tack to clock Terry or if she should try to keep the peace.

Once on board, the smell of cheap mixed drinks hit her like a wave. The floor was also sticky with spilled mai tais.

“Cate!” Terry called, ignoring Tack. “Looks like you’re finally getting some—” he paused in a vulgar way to let his meaning be perfectly clear “—R and R.”

Cate decided to ignore that. “You’ve blocked us in, Terry. You have to move.”

“What? No introduction?” Terry looked offended. He also looked drunk. And it was just eleven in the morning. Did the man get up early to drink?

Tack frowned. “Tack,” he said, reaching out his hand. “And you are?”

“Terry.” He reached out a beefy hand and shook Tack’s, all the while assessing the man’s stature. “You’re tall.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Terry. Move your boat.” Cate felt the anger rising in her throat.

“What’s the rush? Why not stay awhile and have a drink.” Terry offered her a plastic pitcher filled with a dubious red liquid.

“No, thanks. I don’t drink while I’m working.” Cate took in Terry’s puffy, red face and bloodshot eyes. Definitely drunk.

“Didn’t look like you were working. I saw how you two were sucking face.” Terry leered at Cate, making her want to punch him in the face. He gave her a slow once-over, too, making Cate wish she’d thrown on a T-shirt to cover her bikini before she’d climbed on board his ship.

“I’m working. This is a guest at the resort.”

“Oh, I see. Is that how you’re luring guests to that ramshackle hut of yours? A little bit of sweet side action?”

Cate balled her fists at her sides, wanting to actually attack the man, but it was Tack who reached out and put his hand on Terry’s furry shoulder.

“That’s not very nice. I suggest you apologize,” he growled, his meaning and the threat clear. He squeezed the shoulder harder than he should have, and Terry blanched.

“Hey! I was just joking. Come on. It’s a joke. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Sheesh.” Terry put up his hands and backed away from Tack, who let him go.

Cate had never seen Terry so quick to comply, but then again he’d probably never faced 195 pounds of muscled ex-marine, either.

Tack grinned, all easiness once more. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, move your boat, please.”

Terry nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Sure.” He shook his head. “Is this any way to treat a friend who offered you help?”

“What help?” Cate spat.

“Oh...Mark didn’t tell you?”

Now Cate felt her guard rise. “Tell me what?”

“I offered to buy you out. Seems maybe you’re in the red? A little bit of love under old Terry, and that resort will be hopping with tourists.”

Cate felt suddenly light-headed. Terry had approached Mark about buying the resort? Why hadn’t Mark mentioned it? She felt suddenly hot and cold all at once. Was Mark trying to work a deal behind her back? Cate mentally shook herself. He wouldn’t do that. Not to her.

Yet he’d invested as much of his life’s savings into the place as she had. Would he want to cut and run?

She could feel Tack’s eyes on her, assessing. She wished he hadn’t heard the last part of this conversation.

“Seems like you two should talk,” Terry said. “Because what I really want is something Mark can’t sell me. I think you and I both know about the little beachside property Mark has nothing to do with.”

Cate froze. Nobody was supposed to know about that little parcel of land. Well, Mark did, but it had been her side investment. She’d paid cash, proceeds from the jewelry she’d sold.

She felt a twinge of guilt and then instantly pressed it down. That money was hers. Fair and square. She didn’t steal it.

“I’m not selling,” Cate said, resolute.

“Suit yourself.” Terry just grinned at her, showing a row of yellow teeth. God, she hated that man. She could feel Tack studying her, and Cate tried to keep her face neutral.

Stiffly, Cate returned to her boat, and Tack followed.

“What was that about?” Tack asked as Cate took the helm of her boat once more, watching Terry pull up the anchor so he could move.

“Nothing,” Cate said, hoping that she was right.

* * *

THE MOOD ON board the boat for the rest of the morning felt muted as Cate struggled to put on a brave face. Tack could see her try to shrug off Mr. Gold Chain’s remarks. She tried hard, but he could read every emotion on her face. He wondered how such a good liar had such a bad poker face.

Clearly, she was having money troubles, sealed by the fact that Terry offered to buy the place. Tack knew she had a lack of visitors. Anyone paying attention could see the hotel was less than half full, and yet he thought that was by design. According to Rick Allen, Cate stole enough cash and bearer bonds to be set up indefinitely. Millions, if his total was accurate. Had she gone through all that in just three years?

Maybe she used it all to buy the land that Terry mentioned.

That’s the only hiding place that made sense.

She certainly didn’t spend money on herself. Tack looked once more at her frayed jean shorts and worn flip-flops. Even the tour boat they were on had clearly seen better days. Some of the paint was peeling off the side, a few of the cushions had rips. Something about this wasn’t adding up. Did she hide away the money? Was it somewhere she could get it if she needed to flee? Maybe she was just trying not to draw attention to herself. So far, she’d been meticulous in covering her tracks, and spending a lot of cash could certainly raise a red flag.

Another mystery. Just like the kiss they’d shared earlier. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. He had not been planning it, but the woman was just so damn kissable. She’d been so close to him and so impossible to resist. Yet, he knew it was a mistake. He couldn’t bed a woman who’d tried to kill her husband.

He shouldn’t feel anything but disgust, and yet...that was not the feeling she stirred in him. He’d been really worried when she’d hit her head on the ladder, and then...when Mr. Gold Chain was being so obnoxious, he had felt protective of her. It was probably just his upbringing by a mother who insisted that it was his job to look after ladies—to open doors, to protect them when he could. And Cate sure did need protection.

Yet the way she kissed him, it just screamed want. And need. He’d had every intention of kissing her, but once he did, he’d lost a little of himself, lost the tight rein of control he always kept on himself. He hadn’t intended to want her as much as she wanted him. It was supposed to be a game, a ruse, to ensure she let down her guard with him. It was all part of the investigation, until his body decided it wasn’t.

He kept a rigid control of himself for a reason. When he let emotions get the best of him, bad things happened. Like when he’d hit his commanding officer. That had led to a court-martial. But the weasel had deserved it.

Adeeb’s brother had died because Derek Hollie refused to let Tack save him. Then Derek conveniently scrapped all of Adeeb’s paperwork for the visa promised to him by Uncle Sam. By the time Tack realized the mistake, the visas had run out, the program had been nixed. There were none left for Adeeb.

Cate Allen was supposed to be the answer to his problems, but right now, she was making things far more complicated than he liked. He thought he was certain he’d been the one playing her, yet now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t let himself start thinking she was just your average girl. Nothing about her was average. Or safe.

“This is our last stop before I get you back to the resort for lunch,” Cate said, pulling the boat into another small inlet. Tack didn’t want the morning to end. He told himself it was because he wasn’t done trying to pry information from her, but the truth was, he liked her company.

Tack glanced at the small town not far from their diving spot. He saw open-air cantinas and cafés, as well as a string of brightly colored shop awnings. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the snorkeling and head over there for lunch?”

Cate shaded her eyes from the bright sun overhead and blinked at the shore. “Smuggler’s Cove? You want to eat there?”

“Sounds exciting. Will there be pirates?”

Cate snorted. “Hardly. Unless you call the tourist-shop owners pirates. Though, they will rob you blind for shell jewelry boxes and shot glasses.”

“Sounds perfect. I thought this was an island tour, after all. Aren’t you going to show me around?”

Cate studied Tack, wary. “There’s a nice seafood place there. But it’s pricey. All the restaurants in Smuggler’s Cove are pricey. It’s the gentrified part of the island.”

“I’m paying,” Tack said.

“I don’t need...”

“I said I’m paying.” Tack grinned, and he could see Cate relenting.

“But I’m not dressed for...”

Tack glanced at the people walking down the small cobblestone streets. “Looks like they’re all dressed like us,” he said. “Aren’t shoes dressing up on an island?”

Cate sighed, and Tack knew then that he had her. She’d run out of excuses. “Fine,” she said.