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Authors: Loucinda McGary
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grabbed her brush and smoothed her sleep mussed hair into a ponytail, trying to ignore her bloodshot eyes and the dark circles shadowing the skin beneath them. Not exactly the way she wanted Rip to remember her, but too late to change anything, for the water had stopped running.
A few moments later, Rip came out dressed in his dirty cargo shorts and T-shirt. "Sorry I woke you up," he said, pulling the coveralls on over his clothes.
"No, I -- I wanted to say good-bye." She watched him sit on the end of his bed and pull on socks and sneakers, while she fought back the urge to beg him not to leave.
He shoved his flip-flops into his duffle bag, zipped it closed, and stood. "This isn't good-bye." Duffle in hand, he moved toward the door, but stopped when he stood next to her. "I know you don't believe me, but I am coming back, and I intend to take up where we left off at the old fort in San Juan."
Wanting desperately to believe they could, Avery stood rooted to the carpet, unable to force words out of her mouth. Rip's fingers brushed across her cheek and traced lightly over her lips as he kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
Instead, he murmured, "Look for me on the dock in Miami in ten days."
Her eyes flew open just in time to see him closing the door. But she still couldn't move, couldn't call out for him to stop. She felt as if someone had carved out her insides and left only a hollow shell. Damn him for doing exactly what she vowed she wouldn't let him do.
Damn him for making her care.
Chapter 5
Rip and Williams bided their time and tried to mingle with the other crew members who were busy preparing Valiant for her day in port. Within five minutes of their arrival, another smaller cruise ship, Enchanté , pulled directly across from them on the wide dock. Apparently the two ships often made this stop together, for the men called back and forth congenially to each other as they worked.
After about twenty minutes several people began wandering up and down the pier, and Williams gave the signal for the two of them to move out. At the end of the dock, they ducked into the public restroom and shed their coveralls. Rip shoved his into the duffle bag. Since he had so few items of clothes with him, he couldn't quite throw them away.
He put on his new sunglasses and pulled the baseball cap Williams had supplied low on his forehead. As they crossed and walked down the road that followed the waterfront, Rip figured they looked like typical American tourists.
"Nice shades." Williams' sarcastic tone indicated he knew his agency had footed the bill.
The knowledge made Rip smile a little in spite of himself. "Thanks."
"We need to get to the public dock before the rest of the passengers disembark," Williams reminded him.
However, he stopped at an ATM long enough to get some local currency used throughout the West Indies, but refused to let Rip use his card in case his account was being monitored. With a sardonic expression, Williams handed him two small bills and a half-dozen coins. "Here, knock yourself out."
Rip dropped them in his pocket with a silent, scathing look.
By the time they reached the public dock almost half a mile away, morning traffic had picked up with more and more people making their way to work. Rip could see the boxy white ferry-boat sitting at the end of the pier, already taking on passengers even though it wouldn't leave for more than an hour. True to his word, Williams walked past the kiosk selling ferry tickets and approached some of the local fishermen and private tour operators. Within ten minutes, he'd struck a deal and he and Rip were ushered onto a small boat with a flying bridge and the name Sirene painted on the bow.
Though he tried not to limp, Rip noticed the further they'd walked, the more difficult it was for the agent to disguise his injury. Williams dropped onto the padded bench seat with a sigh, and immediately put his foot up. Rip settled on the bench on
A few moments later, Rip came out dressed in his dirty cargo shorts and T-shirt. "Sorry I woke you up," he said, pulling the coveralls on over his clothes.
"No, I -- I wanted to say good-bye." She watched him sit on the end of his bed and pull on socks and sneakers, while she fought back the urge to beg him not to leave.
He shoved his flip-flops into his duffle bag, zipped it closed, and stood. "This isn't good-bye." Duffle in hand, he moved toward the door, but stopped when he stood next to her. "I know you don't believe me, but I am coming back, and I intend to take up where we left off at the old fort in San Juan."
Wanting desperately to believe they could, Avery stood rooted to the carpet, unable to force words out of her mouth. Rip's fingers brushed across her cheek and traced lightly over her lips as he kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
Instead, he murmured, "Look for me on the dock in Miami in ten days."
Her eyes flew open just in time to see him closing the door. But she still couldn't move, couldn't call out for him to stop. She felt as if someone had carved out her insides and left only a hollow shell. Damn him for doing exactly what she vowed she wouldn't let him do.
Damn him for making her care.
Chapter 5
Rip and Williams bided their time and tried to mingle with the other crew members who were busy preparing Valiant for her day in port. Within five minutes of their arrival, another smaller cruise ship, Enchanté , pulled directly across from them on the wide dock. Apparently the two ships often made this stop together, for the men called back and forth congenially to each other as they worked.
After about twenty minutes several people began wandering up and down the pier, and Williams gave the signal for the two of them to move out. At the end of the dock, they ducked into the public restroom and shed their coveralls. Rip shoved his into the duffle bag. Since he had so few items of clothes with him, he couldn't quite throw them away.
He put on his new sunglasses and pulled the baseball cap Williams had supplied low on his forehead. As they crossed and walked down the road that followed the waterfront, Rip figured they looked like typical American tourists.
"Nice shades." Williams' sarcastic tone indicated he knew his agency had footed the bill.
The knowledge made Rip smile a little in spite of himself. "Thanks."
"We need to get to the public dock before the rest of the passengers disembark," Williams reminded him.
However, he stopped at an ATM long enough to get some local currency used throughout the West Indies, but refused to let Rip use his card in case his account was being monitored. With a sardonic expression, Williams handed him two small bills and a half-dozen coins. "Here, knock yourself out."
Rip dropped them in his pocket with a silent, scathing look.
By the time they reached the public dock almost half a mile away, morning traffic had picked up with more and more people making their way to work. Rip could see the boxy white ferry-boat sitting at the end of the pier, already taking on passengers even though it wouldn't leave for more than an hour. True to his word, Williams walked past the kiosk selling ferry tickets and approached some of the local fishermen and private tour operators. Within ten minutes, he'd struck a deal and he and Rip were ushered onto a small boat with a flying bridge and the name Sirene painted on the bow.
Though he tried not to limp, Rip noticed the further they'd walked, the more difficult it was for the agent to disguise his injury. Williams dropped onto the padded bench seat with a sigh, and immediately put his foot up. Rip settled on the bench on
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