him.
But he didnât let her go. He was swimming strongly to the boat, dragging her along like an errant puppy.
âIâm all right!â she insisted again, but a rise of water splashed into her mouth and she started choking and coughing as he thrust her toward the dive ladder at the aft of the boat. She grabbed hold of the rail and lifted herself from the water, feeling his hand on her derriere propelling her upward. She leaped aboard and turned, watching as he came aboard, dripping sea water in gallons just as she seemed to be doing herself.
She put up a hand in case he thought of coming near again. âIâm going to take a shower and put on dry clothes. And I suggest you do the same. Then I think that we really have to get out of here and find Shanna!â
Without another word she turned and fled down the steps to the starboard cabin. After slamming and locking the door, she peeled off her sodden clothing and stepped beneath a tepid shower.
Industriously she scrubbed her hair and lathered her body. Then she leaned against the walls of the tiny stall and just let the water run over her. Sheâd fly to China to escape from all the things that were already simmering between her and Brent this night. They couldnât talk any more, the talking was over, the past was gone. The divorce was the most painful, bitter thing sheâd been through in her life, and she could never, never set herself up for such misery again. She had to remember that.
Yes, she had to remember thatâ¦.
But all that she seemed to be able to remember was the way he could touch her. How she loved the sound of his voice, how she longed to sleep in his arms.
Abruptly she turned off the water and groped for a towel on the nearby rack. Then she dried herself briskly and opened the dresser door in one of the built-in cabinets.
She stared blankly at the emptiness there before remembering that she had moved all of her clothing into the other cabin when she had planned the outing with Axel. This was the nicest cabin, and she had wanted to offer it to her guest.
She stood, perplexed, certain that she didnât want to go walk out clad only in the wisp of a towel. Then she looked at the door and exhaled with a certain relief because she had a terry robe hanging there. It wasnât great, but it was better than a towel. In fact, lots of women probably felt fairly well covered in a floor-length terry robe.
But they were women who didnât know Brent, who didnât already feel as if their flesh and blood and limbs were already half afire, women who didnât feel as if they were already touched, already naked, waitingâ¦.
She wrenched open the cabin door and stood in the narrow hallway. She couldnât hear a shower running so she hesitated, then knocked on the door.
It was thrown open, and there was Brent, in a wisp of a towel himself, his dark blond hair slicked back from the shower, an expression of irritability naked on his face. âI see that you did clean out in here,â he said curtly.
âWhat?â
âI canât find a thing in here to wear.â
âItâs my boat! And youâve been out of my life for three years!â
âAny suggestions?â he asked her.
âYes! Yes, Iâve lots and lots of suggestions for you but Iâm really not certain that you want to hear them!â She flared. âYes, Iâve dozens of suggestions! You could start out by locking yourself in a closet!â
âKathy, you little bratââ
He didnât get any further. She shoved her hands against his chest, thrusting him into the room, then she swung around almost blindly, wanting to escape him once again.
She didnât hear him behind her as she passed the galley and mounted the steps. She didnât sense him until his hands were on her and he was spinning her around. She cried out and fell down to the floor beneath him.
He was sprawled over her, taut, tense, his
But he didnât let her go. He was swimming strongly to the boat, dragging her along like an errant puppy.
âIâm all right!â she insisted again, but a rise of water splashed into her mouth and she started choking and coughing as he thrust her toward the dive ladder at the aft of the boat. She grabbed hold of the rail and lifted herself from the water, feeling his hand on her derriere propelling her upward. She leaped aboard and turned, watching as he came aboard, dripping sea water in gallons just as she seemed to be doing herself.
She put up a hand in case he thought of coming near again. âIâm going to take a shower and put on dry clothes. And I suggest you do the same. Then I think that we really have to get out of here and find Shanna!â
Without another word she turned and fled down the steps to the starboard cabin. After slamming and locking the door, she peeled off her sodden clothing and stepped beneath a tepid shower.
Industriously she scrubbed her hair and lathered her body. Then she leaned against the walls of the tiny stall and just let the water run over her. Sheâd fly to China to escape from all the things that were already simmering between her and Brent this night. They couldnât talk any more, the talking was over, the past was gone. The divorce was the most painful, bitter thing sheâd been through in her life, and she could never, never set herself up for such misery again. She had to remember that.
Yes, she had to remember thatâ¦.
But all that she seemed to be able to remember was the way he could touch her. How she loved the sound of his voice, how she longed to sleep in his arms.
Abruptly she turned off the water and groped for a towel on the nearby rack. Then she dried herself briskly and opened the dresser door in one of the built-in cabinets.
She stared blankly at the emptiness there before remembering that she had moved all of her clothing into the other cabin when she had planned the outing with Axel. This was the nicest cabin, and she had wanted to offer it to her guest.
She stood, perplexed, certain that she didnât want to go walk out clad only in the wisp of a towel. Then she looked at the door and exhaled with a certain relief because she had a terry robe hanging there. It wasnât great, but it was better than a towel. In fact, lots of women probably felt fairly well covered in a floor-length terry robe.
But they were women who didnât know Brent, who didnât already feel as if their flesh and blood and limbs were already half afire, women who didnât feel as if they were already touched, already naked, waitingâ¦.
She wrenched open the cabin door and stood in the narrow hallway. She couldnât hear a shower running so she hesitated, then knocked on the door.
It was thrown open, and there was Brent, in a wisp of a towel himself, his dark blond hair slicked back from the shower, an expression of irritability naked on his face. âI see that you did clean out in here,â he said curtly.
âWhat?â
âI canât find a thing in here to wear.â
âItâs my boat! And youâve been out of my life for three years!â
âAny suggestions?â he asked her.
âYes! Yes, Iâve lots and lots of suggestions for you but Iâm really not certain that you want to hear them!â She flared. âYes, Iâve dozens of suggestions! You could start out by locking yourself in a closet!â
âKathy, you little bratââ
He didnât get any further. She shoved her hands against his chest, thrusting him into the room, then she swung around almost blindly, wanting to escape him once again.
She didnât hear him behind her as she passed the galley and mounted the steps. She didnât sense him until his hands were on her and he was spinning her around. She cried out and fell down to the floor beneath him.
He was sprawled over her, taut, tense, his
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