Breeze off the Ocean (8 page)

When she stepped onto the deck she came to an abrupt halt, her hand groping for something solid to steady herself with. An off-white mist lay over everything, muffling sound, obscuring visibility. The deck was beaded and slick with moisture. Placing her bare feet carefully, Micki moved cautiously toward the canopied section that housed the wheel, and the man who stood at that wheel, alert tenseness in every line of his tall, muscular frame.

She thought her progress was silent, yet the moment she stepped under the canopy, his left arm was extended backward.

“Come stand by me.” Wolf’s hushed tone blended with the cotton blanket that surrounded the boat.

Without a word Micki moved to his side, sighed with contentment when his arm closed around her, drew her close to his hard strength.

“Why didn’t you go back to sleep?” Still the same hushed tone, not scolding, a simple question. He did not look at her, and her eyes following the direction of his intent gaze, she answered as simply.

“I wanted to be with you.”

She saw his hand tighten on the wheel at the same instant the muscles in his arm tautened. He slanted her a quick glance and an amused smile curved his firmly etched mouth.

“I see you’ve made free with my shower and bath soap.” The smile deepened. “Bedecked yourself with the latest yachting creations from Paris also.”

“But of course,” Micki teased back. “This particular number was labeled MORNING SUNLIGHT THROUGH HEAVY GAUZE CURTAINS. Does my lord approve?”

Wolf’s soft laughter was an exciting, provocative attack on her senses.

“But of course,” he mimicked her seriously. “Still, I think I prefer the, er, more basic ensemble you were wearing earlier.”

Flushed with pleasure, Micki rubbed her warm cheek against his cool, mist-dampened sweat shirt. Misunderstanding her action and the pink glow on her face, he chided her softly.

“You’re a beautiful woman, babe.” Wolf’s soft tone brooked no argument. “Every soft, satiny inch of you. There’s no reason for embarrassment.” He paused, slanted another, harder look at her. “Do you feel shame?”

“No!” Micki’s denial was fast, emphatic. “Or embarrassment either.” Rising on tiptoe, she placed her lips on the strong column of his throat. “I’m—I’m pleased that you find me attractive.”

“Attractive?” Micki could feel the tension ease out of him. “I don’t think that adjective quite makes it.” Leaning forward, he peered, narrow-eyed, through the moisture-beaded window. “If I ever get this damn boat docked I’ll try to come up with the right one. Now be still and let me get on with it.”

Barely breathing, Micki watched as he inched the craft along through the mist-shrouded water, and sighed with relief when he murmured, ‘There’s the marina.” When he removed his arm, she stepped back ready to follow any order he might issue.

“Have you ever driven a boat?” Wolf asked tersely as he backed the vessel into the slip.

“Yes,” Micki answered quietly, then qualified, “But never one this large.”

“Good enough.” Their voyage through the mist completed safely, all his intent tenseness fled. His silvery eyes glittered teasingly. “You hold her down and I’ll tie her up.”

Suiting action to words, he drew her to the wheel, gave a few brief instructions, and then he was gone, swallowed up in the gray-white mist. A moment later she heard the dull thud as the securing line landed on the pier, and then another as he followed it.

When the craft was secured, its engine silent, Wolf slid his arms around the bulky slicker at her waist and held her loosely.

“You hungry, baby?” His low tone, the way his eyes caressed her face, drove all thoughts but one from her mind. “Do you want some breakfast?”

Micki was shaking her head before he finished speaking. Not even trying to mask her feelings, she gazed up at him, her eyes honest and direct.

“I want to go back to bed.”

“Good Lord,” he breathed huskily, his arms drawing her closer. “What did I ever do to earn you as a reward?”

Pleasure radiated through her entire body at the warmth of his tone, the emotion-darkened gray of his eyes. Her arms, made clumsy by the too-large raincoat, encircled his neck to draw his head closer to hers. A shiver of anticipation skipped down her spine as his hands slid slowly over the smooth, stiff material of the garment.

“Are you wearing anything at all under that slicker?” His face was so near, his cool breath fanned her lips.

Mesmerized by the shiny, tautened skin of his mist-dampened cheeks and the motion of his mouth, Micki whispered a bemused, “No.”

His parted lips touched hers in a brief kiss before she felt her lower lip caught inside his mouth, felt his teeth nibble gently on the tender, sensitive skin. Moaning softly, she flicked his teeth with her tongue. Instantly his arms tightened, crushing her against his hard body, and his lips pushed hers apart to receive his hungry, demanding mouth.

Awareness of him sang through every particle of her being. Squirming inside the stiff, confining coat, she strained her body to his, thrilled to the feeling of his body straining to hers.

“Wolf, Wolf.” The words filled her mind, whispered past her lips to fill his mouth.

Lifting his head, he stared deeply into her eyes, his own eyes now nearly black with desire. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

“Why are we standing here?” His murmured groan held near pain. One arm clasped firmly around her waist, he led her along the slippery deck, down the steps, and into his cabin. Releasing her, his hands moved to the buckles on the coat.

“I swear, if I don’t soon feel the silkiness of you against my skin, I think I’ll burst into flames.”

And in a sense he did, engulfing her in the conflagration.

* * * *

They didn’t leave the boat all that day or night. In fact they hardly set foot out of his cabin, except when hunger drove them to the tiny galley for sustenance.

At those times they worked together, mostly getting in each other’s way. Micki, clad in her mid-thigh-length beach wrap, juggled a frying pan around Wolf’s large frame as she endeavored to prepare a cheese omelet on the small two-burner cooking unit. Wolf, wearing a belted, knee-length terry cloth robe, stretched long arms around and in front of her in his effort to make a pot of coffee and open a jar of olives.

When Micki opined that had they followed the simple method of flipping a coin to determine who would get the meal the job would have been completed a lot faster, Wolf retorted that it would also have been one hell of a lot less fun.

They went through the same bumping into and laughing procedure while preparing a canned soup and canned corned beef sandwich supper, washed down with canned beer.

And both times, after appeasing the hunger of their stomachs, they went back to the appeasement of their seemingly insatiable hunger for each other.

They slept for short periods when exhaustion could no longer be held at bay, waking every time to come eagerly together, resentful of the hours of separation the need for sleep had imposed.

At one of those times, late in the night, Micki woke first and lay quietly, unmoving beside Wolf’s sleeping form. Touching him with her eyes only, she studied him minutely, imprinting his likeness on her mind, in her soul.

Although by now she knew him fully in a physical sense, he was still a stranger. A stranger she was deeply, unconditionally in love with. It was a sobering thought. Sobering and somewhat frightening, for although he had murmured countless, impassioned, exciting love words to her, none had been words of love for her. But then, she had not spoken of her love for him either. Maybe it was all too new, too sudden for both of them. And maybe, she thought with a insight beyond her years, the avowals of love now would ring false, take on the shadings of an excuse for their wild coming together. Micki shrugged mentally. It didn’t matter. She’d face the reality of it all tomorrow. For right now, she knew she loved him, would probably always love him.

Micki’s eyes misted over as she stared at his face. He had made her so unbelievably, joyously happy. She loved her father dearly, yet she knew that should Wolf ask her, she would go with him anywhere in the world with never a backward glance. She had had no promises of undying love, had had no solemn words spoken over her, still she felt like a bride on her honeymoon. And no girl’s honeymoon, she was certain, had ever been more idyllic, more perfect than this one.

“Why are you crying?” Wolf’s tone, though soft, held hard concern.

Blinking against the moisture, Micki snuggled close to him.

“Because I’m happy,” she whispered, her lips brushing his taut jaw. “Haven’t you ever heard that women cry when they’re happy?”

“
Yes, I had heard that” The movement of his lips at her temple sent tiny shivers down the back of her neck. “In fact there have been several occasions when I have been the recipient of those happy tears.” The admission was made tonelessly, without conceit. “But never for so little.”

“Little?” Tilting her head back, Micki looked up at him, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “I don’t understand. What do you mean—for so little?”

Lifting his head, he studied her expression, as if trying to determine if her confusion was authentic. Obviously deciding it was, he shook his head in wonder. “Always before, the tears were in response to a gift from me.” Wolf’s eyes held hers steadily, gauging her reaction. ‘Jewelry, flowers, things like that,” he shrugged, “but always a tangible, usually expensive, object.”

Micki gazed back at him, trying, but failing, to keep the hurt from her eyes.

“And you think,” she asked softly, “your gift of this weekend, being an intangible gift, has no value?”

“Honey, I didn’t—” Wolf began.

“You’re right.” His eyes widened slightly at the firm words that cut across his protest. Blinking against the hot moisture that clouded her eyes, Micki placed the tip of her finger over his mouth, silencing whatever he was about to say. “There can be no price tag attached to the gift you’ve given me, simply because, to me, this weekend has been priceless.” Despite her efforts, two tears escaped, rolled slowly down her face. “I never dreamed this kind of happiness, this perfect contentment, was possible to achieve.”

Her voice faltered and she lowered her eyes. Hesitant but determined, she went on softly, “This is the gift you’ve given me, Wolf, and that’s why I was crying.”

A stunned silence followed her small speech and Micki began to tremble, certain she’d shattered the harmony they’d shared till now.

“Good God, can this woman be real?” Wolf’s hushed tone held a hint of genuine awe. Glancing up at him, Micki saw he was no longer looking at her, but was staring at the night-blackened porthole. As if unaware of her, he went on, in the same hushed tone. “She offers me her innocence, her youth, her trust, then absolves me with her tears for my greedy use of them.”

In the shadowy light Micki thought she saw his eyelashes flutter suspiciously, then all thought stopped as she was hauled, almost roughly, into his arms.

“You can have no idea what your words mean to me,” Wolf whispered raggedly, “because I have no idea where to begin to express my feelings. But what I said was true. I am greedy and I don’t want to waste one minute of our time together.”

They left the boat in a once-again mist-shrouded predawn. Like the morning before, Micki woke to find Wolf getting dressed.

“Wolf?” The one softly murmured word held both a question and a plea for him to come back to bed.

“I was just going to wake you.” Wolf’s eyes devoured her. “It’s time to go, baby.”

“But, I don’t—” Micki’s protest died as his features settled into lines of hard determination. Trying a different tactic, she asked innocently, “Aren’t you going to kiss me good morning?”

Although a smile curved his lips, he shook his head emphatically. “No way, honey. If I come over there, it’ll be noon before we get off this tub. I want to get you home while there’s at least a chance no one will see you. If anyone even suspects we’ve spent the weekend together, your reputation will be shot to hell.”

“
I don’t care about that—” Micki began earnestly.

“I care.” Wolf’s tone was suddenly harsh. “And you should too.” The fingers of his right hand raked through his hair and rubbed absently at the back of his neck. Wolf sighed and went on less harshly. “I’m eleven years older than you. Can you imagine your father’s reaction if he found out about this?”

Micki could, only too well. The thought alone sent a shudder rippling through her slender frame. She groaned softly.

“Exactly,” Wolf said flatly. “At any other time I wouldn’t give one goddamn what your father, or anyone else for that matter, thought about me. But right now I can’t afford that unconcern. So don’t argue, babe. I’m going to go make some coffee. By the time it’s ready I want to see you in the galley fully”—his eyes shifted to her discarded bikini and his tone went dry— “dressed.”

They stepped off the boat into a pearl-white cloud. Halfway along the narrow pier Micki paused to look back at the apparition-like outline of the craft, bobbing gently in the ruffling bay waters. When she turned back to Wolf, her face was wistful, her eyes sad. One strong arm encircled her waist, drew her close. Bending over her, he murmured, “We’ll come back, honey.”

Micki’s eyes lit up. “When? Can we come back tonight’“ The light dimmed as he slowly shook his head and she walked beside him to the car park.

“Although I’m crazy about the way you look in a bikini, I want you to get all dressed up to go out for dinner tonight.”

“Can’t we have dinner on the boat?” The light was back and for a moment he didn’t answer, seemingly bemused by the sparkling blue of her eyes.

“You’d rather have dinner on the boat than go out somewhere?” Wolf laughed.

“Yes,” Micki answered gently. “Can we? Please?”

“You’re absolutely something else.” Wolf’s tone shivered over her skin like a caress. He stopped walking and turned to her, his arm tautening as he crushed her to him. In complete opposition to his crushing hold, his kiss was a tender blessing that robbed her lungs of air, her legs of strength.

“All right, we’ll have dinner on the boat.” He started moving again, his arm possessive around her waist. “But I still want you to get dressed up. I’ll come for you about eight. I have an appointment in Cape May this afternoon.” He stopped beside a late-model Cadillac, unlocked the door, and held it open for her. Seated in the car, Micki watched him, loving the long, lean look of him, as he strode around the front of the car and slid into the seat beside her. Frowning, he turned to her. “If I can shorten the meeting, which I doubt, I’ll call you. But I can’t make any promises.”