Stranded With The Captain

CHAPTER FOUR

AT THE WHEEL of Spree, Cat scanned the horizon, searching for the marker that signaled the entrance to the channel into Alice Town. According to Javi, they should be approaching North Bimini, the best place for them to clear customs.

Hidden by the sail, Javi was on the foredeck, probably relieving himself over the side of Spree, which was easier than having to go below. For sure men had it easier in the plumbing department. The wind remained steady, but the sea had grown calmer since they’d left the Gulf Stream, allowing Spree to easily slice through the water. With only the shortened mainsail up, the boat sailed almost level.

She ought to be exhausted from the punishing trip, and yeah, physically, her body was drained. Muscles she hadn’t known existed were sore, yet her brain remained alert and active. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this alive, this...free. And victorious, like she’d bested an ancient foe.

Perhaps that’s what the sea was. Isn’t that why men had gone to sea since time began, for the challenge the oceans presented?

Maybe she was more tired than she realized.

She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. She knew her clothes were wrinkled and filthy. She hadn’t combed her hair or bathed since yesterday morning, much less brushed her teeth. But for some reason her appearance didn’t matter. Maybe because the captain looked equally in disarray. On him, though, it was sexy.

She was hungry, though. Around 1:00 a.m. Javi had left her at the helm to heat up a can of tomato soup, which had tasted better than any meal she’d eaten in years. Although her real pleasure came from the fact that the captain had trusted her while he went below to fire up the stove. He’d also made coffee and poured it into a thermos, and they’d sipped all night to stay awake.

She’d gotten used to the shroud of darkness around them. Other than their mandatory running lights—one red and one green on either side of the bow—the only illumination had come from millions of stars and a half-moon, which cast a magical never-ending beam onto the water.

They hadn’t talked much. Mainly the occasional comment about the action of the boat, the mystery of the ocean or the occasional passing ship. They were far too busy keeping their boat on course, each taking their turn steering while the other took a quick power nap on deck.

She’d never experienced anything quite like the sunrise, watching a fiery orb ascend from the abyss to brighten the sky, revealing a gray sea that slowly morphed into an aqua miracle surrounding them. The crossing had been an almost mystical experience for her, alone in the dark with the captain, battling the elements—and it had definitely been a battle. She felt oddly close to him, although she didn’t know him at all.

Why did she feel she’d come to know him on some basic human level?

Yeah, she was definitely tired.

Javi returned from the deck and grabbed the binoculars out of a cubbyhole in the cockpit. Focusing on the sea ahead, he nodded.

“We’re there.”

“You see the marker?” she asked.

“Right where it should be.”

He started the engine. Its grating rumble told her the journey was at an end. Would the noise rouse Joan and Debbie? Doubtful. As Javi predicted, her friends hadn’t reappeared since going below. Cat hoped they’d feel better when they got to dry land.

“Head into the wind,” he instructed. “I’m going to drop the main.”

While she motored up a clearly marked channel, mangroves passing on either side, the captain lashed the sail to the boom and stowed it inside a cover. Next he raised a yellow flag with a Q on it.

“What’s that?” she asked when he’d returned to the cockpit.

“Quarantine flag. We have to fly that until we’re cleared.”

The captain took the wheel and steered them into a crowded harbor full of moored boats of all sizes. Marinas full of megayachts from all over the world lined the shores. Rigging clanged against masts. A strange-sounding siren wailed in the distance. When a giant motor yacht passed them in the channel, its wake rocked the boat so hard Cat was forced to sit down.

North Bimini reminded her of the chaos of the busy World Orchid Conference on opening day.

“So much for a quiet anchorage,” Cat said.

“Yeah, this place has really changed since they built the resort,” Javi said. “It’s expensive to dock these days, but I have a buddy who’ll let us tie up for the time it’ll take to get clearance.”

“How long will that be?”

“You never know.”

He steered Spree into a dock with four or five fuel pumps. After they’d secured the boat, the captain hurried away with a stack of papers they’d worked on last night to present to Bahamas Customs, including their passports and a Maritime Declaration of Health.

She hoped seasickness wouldn’t count against the occupants of Spree.

When Javi disappeared inside the fuel dock’s office, Cat went below to check on Joan and Debbie. They couldn’t leave the boat until the captain returned with official permission. She creaked open the door to her friends’ cabin, and an unpleasant odor washed over her. She hoped they hadn’t been sick in the room, which understandably wasn’t nearly as neat as when they’d departed.

Neither of her friends reacted to her appearance. Lying on her side, Debbie snored loudly, probably thanks to a bottle of sleeping pills on the table next to the bed. On her back, Joan didn’t stir. Likely she’d been able to keep a sedative down, as well. Probably for the best.

Cat considered waking them, but decided to wait until the captain returned with permission to go ashore.

After tidying up the galley—a task impossible in the dark while sailing—she took a quick shower, which wasn’t as cold as she’d feared, and changed into clean clothes. Refreshed but hungry, she prepared a bowl of cereal and went on deck to eat and watch the world sail by. Another siren howled in the distance.

She was comfortable alone—the way she spent most of her time—but hadn’t expected this vacation with two old friends to be so solitary.

* * *

TWO AND A half hours later, with Bahamian clearance in hand, Javi returned to Spree. His time with customs took longer than it should have, but Sunday morning was the worst possible time for quick service. Plus, his bad luck, there’d been a robbery of high-grade pharmaceuticals last night in Nassau, which had put the Royal Bahamas Defence Force on high alert.

Intrigued, he’d tried to learn details, but the authorities weren’t cooperative other than telling him two cops had taken fire.

Not his problem, anyway. He was on a sail charter, and his FBI badge gave him no jurisdiction in the Bahamas. He’d declared his service weapon, which caused additional complications, more time. The authorities had reluctantly allowed him to retain it, but weren’t happy.

As he hurried down the concrete dock toward the boat, he spotted Irish in the cockpit under a huge straw hat wearing white sunglasses. She had a book on her lap, and raised her head when a Jet Ski raced by rocking Spree. Since he’d been gone so long, he thought she might fall asleep, and couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse that she was awake.

If asleep, she couldn’t put up any arguments.

Much to his surprise, she’d been great last night, and he’d enjoyed working with her. It’d been a hell of an exciting sail, reminding him how much he loved Mother Ocean. He’d bet his shield Irish had enjoyed parts of the crossing, too. Not so much her friends. Once they got out of this busy port, maybe the week would flow more smoothly.

Although who knew how charterers would react when things didn’t go their way.

“Javi.”

He halted when his friend Heathbow Smith hailed him.

“I need that space,” Heathbow said. “Sun’s getting high. Customers need my dock to buy fuel.” Sweat dripped off the Bahamian’s face. “I hope you’re planning to leave soon.”

“Soon as I top off the tank, Heath.”

Heathbow grinned, revealing a gold tooth. “Good.”

“Do you know anything about what happened in Nassau?” Javi asked. If anyone knew details it would be Heath. He’d retired from the defense force, and his brother remained on active duty.

Heathbow’s smile disappeared. “Bad business. Two cops shot, one DOA.”

Javi cursed. No wonder customs had been jumpy. A cop killed in the line of duty was an unusual event in the Bahamas.

“Perps stole a boat. They halfway to Jamaica by now,” Heath continued. “Bad weather coming, though. Tough luck for them.”

“Right. Hey, thanks, buddy. I owe you,” Javi told him, shaking his hand.

“That you do.” Heath’s grin reappeared. “I’ll collect another time.”

Irish looked up with a smile when he tugged on Spree’s dock line. She’d evidently showered and changed clothes, now appearing fresh and relaxed. Good for her. He felt grubby and anything but relaxed. He’d traded on his long-standing friendship with Heathbow too long. No telling how many sales the man had missed with Spree blocking one of his fuel pumps.

“All set?” Irish asked as she rose.

He handed her the clearance papers. “I hope your friends didn’t go ashore,” Javi said.

“They’re asleep in their cabin,” she said with a cursory glance at the paperwork. “I’ll wake them now that you’re back.”

“Don’t. We have to gas up and get out of here pronto.”

Her smiled faded. “What? We can’t stay for a while?”

“No. This is a fuel dock.”

“But I’m sure Joan and Debbie will want to check out this charming town.”

Charming? Unlocking the fuel tank, Javi said, “I thought you wanted a deserted anchorage.”

“True.” She hesitated. “But isn’t dry land the best cure for seasickness?”

“Usually.” Javi paused, trying to ascertain her mood. She appeared worried, or maybe that was frustration. Or fatigue. He still couldn’t read her. Most likely she wanted stable land under her feet, too.

“If you want to stay in Alice Town, dockage will run you several hundred dollars a night,” he said.

She raised her sunglasses onto her head, revealing those startlingly emerald eyes. “That much?”

He nodded. “Marinas charge transients by the foot.”

She looked around the harbor. “What about a mooring?”

“I doubt if there’s one available, but we still need to leave here. My friend is anxious for Spree to vacate this spot so he can make money.”

He watched with interest as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Damn, but she had an intriguing mouth. He definitely needed to catch some shut-eye if he was imagining a charterer’s mouth on various parts of his anatomy.

Apparently out of arguments, she nodded. “Can I help with the fueling?”

“Well, I’ll need a credit card.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, right.”

When she emerged from below and handed him a card, he asked, “Do you want to top off the water tanks? That way you won’t have to be so careful with showering and cleaning.”

“I suppose we have to pay for water, too?”

“You have to pay for everything. Even to dump the trash.”

She sighed. “Fortunately, we don’t have much trash yet. Do it. Deb and Joan are going to want showers when they wake up—even if the water is cold.”

Fifteen minutes later, with Spree’s tanks full of water and fuel, Cat cast off the bow line. Javi placed the engine in Reverse and backed away from the dock. Heath waved as they motored away, obviously glad to see them go.

A sixty-five-foot motor yacht squeezed into their space as soon as they vacated.

“Do you want me to get on the radio and find a place to spend the night?” he asked.

Frowning, Irish looked toward the cabin. “I wish I knew what they’d want to do.”

“Wake them up and ask.”

“I tried. They’re both out of it from sedatives.”

Javi shrugged. That’s one way to cure seasickness. “I thought the vote was for serenity.”

“Yeah, but that was before they became violently ill.”

“So it’s up to you, Irish. What do you want to do?”

“How far to an anchorage?” she asked. “The closest place to allow us to get some sleep.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but with our depth Gun Cay is the closest safe anchorage. That’s a three-hour sail.”

She nibbled on her lower lip again, a sign she was deep in thought. At least he’d learned something about her. He needed to forget the idea of learning more.

Another Jet Ski roared by them, forcing Irish to grab hold of the wheel to keep her balance.

“Let’s stick to the original plan,” she said. “I vote for calm.”

“You got it,” he said.

* * *

FOUR HOURS LATER, with the sun well on its way toward the horizon, Cat stood behind the wheel and motored Spree toward Gun Cay. She’d expected a protected cove of some sort, but apparently they were going to anchor offshore where the land blocked the action of the wind and waves.

On the bow, having already secured the sail, Javi hoisted an anchor from a storage compartment onto the deck and returned to the cockpit. Using the binoculars, he surveyed the area around them.

“I don’t see anyone else anchored.” He handed her the binoculars and took over at the wheel.

Cat scanned the area through the lenses. As predicted there were no other boats—the reason they’d made that crazy crossing. So why did Javi look uneasy? Maybe he was worried about the depth. Maybe he always looked worried. For a sail bum, he never seemed to relax.

“This is good,” he said with a nod at the depth finder. “See the difference in the color of the bottom?”

Cat nodded, noting the water surrounding them in places appeared lighter, other spots darker.

“The lighter color means sand, which allows the anchor to dig in better than sea grass. After I drop the hook, shove the engine into Reverse and give it a little gas until I signal to stop.” He held up a clenched fist to demonstrate.

Within minutes, Javi had dropped the anchor overboard. She set the hook by backing up, forcing the tines to dig into the sandy bottom.

When he gave her the signal, she placed the engine in Neutral and moved to the bow. Looking over with Javi, she gasped at the clarity of the water. It was impossible to tell the depth, but she could see everything on the seafloor, including their anchor on the bottom maybe sixty feet away.

Javi still looked worried, though.

“Best to visually check it,” he said.

Before she could respond, he’d yanked off his shirt, revealing the flat abs and muscular chest that sparked a tug of temptation every time she got a glimpse. Without another word, he moved to the stern, flipped down a ladder she’d never noticed and dove into the ocean. He swam in the direction of the anchor. With a furious kick, he submerged, came up once to take a huge gulp of air and then dove again.

He surfaced again and used the ladder to climb into the boat. Water sluiced over every visible muscle, pooling in the cockpit at his feet. Cat swallowed and forced herself to avert her gaze.

“It’s holding,” he announced.

She remained on the bow, checking out Gun Cay, waiting for the engine to go silent. She released a relieved breath when it did. In less than a day, she’d grown to hate the sound of boat motors. Now all she could hear was the sound of the wind gently clanging the rigging on the mast, the squawk of an occasional bird and the slap of water against the side of the boat, the tide either going out or coming in.

She couldn’t make out anything on land, just a green hump on the horizon, probably trees or mangroves. She looked forward to exploring tomorrow.

Leaning against the bow support, staring at the incredibly clear blue-green water around her, Cat again marveled at how alert she remained. She ought to long for sleep, but had no desire to climb into her bunk. She suspected Javi had already collapsed in his without bothering to tell her. If she was tired, he had to be beyond exhausted, although he didn’t act it. The man was like that battery-operated rabbit that never stopped. Good thing, too.

She and her friends had been nuts to insist on this anchorage.

This whole journey had been so new, so challenging, so completely different from anything in her past, that she didn’t want to—then she heard a distinctive new sound. But one she knew well.

The pop of a cork releasing from a bottle of champagne.

Was the captain celebrating their safe arrival?

She hurried to the cockpit and found Javi—still bare chested, but with a towel around his neck—pouring wine into two of the plastic flutes they’d used for mimosas yesterday morning. Was that really just yesterday morning?

“I thought you’d gone to bed,” she said as she accepted the champagne and sat facing him across the cockpit, pushing up sunglasses that were no longer necessary.

“I’m too wired,” he said. “You?”

“Definitely,” she agreed. “I’m exhausted yet wide-awake.”

“To your first crossing,” Javi said, holding up his wine.

“And a safe arrival,” Cat said, touching his flute with hers with a plastic clink.

They both took sips. Nice. Surprised, she glanced at the bottle and realized this wasn’t the inexpensive stuff she and her friends had purchased for morning mimosas. Must be the captain’s private stash.

“Were you worried during the sail?” he asked.

“I was terrified,” she admitted. “But strangely loved every minute of it. Well, almost. Not so much when you pointed out that shark following us.”

Javi laughed. “He thought we were his mother.”

“All I could think about was Jaws.”

“You did great, Irish. You’re good crew, and I appreciate your help.”

“Thanks,” she said, hoping the flush she felt in her face didn’t show but knowing it did. Great. Now that the adventure was over, she didn’t know how to act around the captain.

He moved to sit beside her, bringing the wine bottle with him to fill her empty glass.

“This is delicious,” she said after a healthy gulp, unable to think of anything better. Just keep drinking, Cat.

Javi murmured agreement and settled into the seat against her. “I’m surprised there isn’t at least one other boat here.”

“Isn’t it off season?”

“True, but there’s a legend pirates buried treasure in this cove.”

She glanced toward land and took another swallow. “Is there any truth to that story?”

Javi shrugged. “I doubt it, but a lot of cruisers like to anchor here so they can search.”

“Don’t tell Debbie. She’ll want to buy a shovel.”

“You’re very different from your friend Debbie.”

“She’s been through a lot lately,” Cat said.

“How long have you known her?”

“We met as freshman at the University of Florida.”

“And now she’s been through a divorce.” Javi nodded. “That changes a person.”

Cat took another swallow of champagne for courage. “Is that comment from firsthand experience?”

“I’ve never been married, if that’s what you’re asking. How about you?”

* * *

WAITING FOR IRISH to answer, Javi knew he was treading in dangerous waters. What am I doing? He shouldn’t be waiting for the sunset alone in the cockpit with a gorgeous charterer, sipping champagne and asking about her marital status. He should go below and sleep.

“Nope,” she said, confirming his assumption. “Never married.”

“Boyfriend back in Miami?”

“No. My orchid nursery keeps me too busy.”

“You raise orchids for a living?”

“A family business, started by my parents. I can tell that surprises you.”

“It’s an unusual profession.” Javi poured more champagne into her flute. “I figured you for a flight attendant.”

“Flight attendant?” She flushed again, and he was charmed. “Why?”

“Beautiful woman.” He raised his wine to her. “Beautiful smile.”

“Thank you,” she said, staring at her feet.

“Do I make you nervous, Irish?” Javi asked, making his voice soft.

She glanced up to meet his gaze, started to say something, but shrugged. “Definitely.”

Smiling at her honesty, he asked, “Why?”

She raised her glass in a toast similar to his. “Beautiful man. Dangerous smile.”

He laughed. “Dangerous?”

“You remind me of a pirate.”

“Do I, now?”

“Maybe it’s the earring,” she said.

He fingered his earlobe. “I had it pierced in Bali when I was eight.”

“Did you sail there?”

He nodded. “With my parents. You don’t like piercings?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said.

“Good.”

He ran a knuckle down her cheek, and her eyes widened. Her skin was as soft as it appeared.

“Or maybe it’s your beard,” she murmured, not objecting to his touch.

“My beard?”

“That makes me think of you as a pirate.”

“But pirates are marauding criminals,” he said, continuing to stroke her cheek, fascinated by the stark desire in her glittering gaze. He’d known from their first meeting that she was attracted to him. She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell.

Champagne and fatigue made it easy to ignore the voice in his brain that cautioned him to back off. But even a saint would find it hard to resist a woman as sexy as Irish.

“I can easily see you doing some marauding,” she said.

“No way,” he said. “Believe me, I’m a law-abiding man.”

Leaning closer, his gaze tracked to her lips. She’d welcome a kiss, and he wanted to know how that gorgeous mouth would taste. Getting Irish into his bunk would be easy, although a disastrous move. The image of this siren naked and willing beneath him threatened his fragile grip on common sense. Talk about too much damned bubbly.