Castaways (2 page)

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A large wave tossed the yacht, causing Katie’s stomach to pitch. Something just didn’t seem right. Nothing was right. Clouds whorled high overhead, and the wind was rough enough to tear her long hair from her ponytail. The blue and white flags flying at the top of the yacht were flapping so wildly that one ripped loose and flew behind the ship like a bird caught in a downdraft. It dipped, dipped again, then plunged into the water.

Someone shouted over a speakerphone for all passengers to get below deck. In Katie’s mind she knew she should follow the directions, but she found herself frozen, like an ice sculpture. She couldn’t move away from the railing, hypnotized by the angry water beating against the ship.

Another huge wave swelled beneath the boat, lifting it high before releasing it and causing a sudden drop. Terror ripped through her so completely that she went even stiffer, completely unable to move. Saltwater sprayed her face and coated the sunglasses. She gripped the railing tighter. Another large wave slapped the boat and her fingers slipped.

Katie lost her balance on the slick surface. She stumbled back. Fought to hold onto the wet railing with one hand. With a shriek, she lost her grip and fell.

Right into a pair of strong arms and against a solid chest.

A whoosh of relief came up from the center of her. With the stranger’s help, she regained her balance. She turned to thank him…and found herself looking up into the eyes of the man she’d seen earlier, minus the sunglasses.

Another wave slammed into the boat and Katie stumbled again. The man caught her tight in his embrace, holding her close. She couldn’t say a word as she braced her hands against his chest and looked up at him, but she heard a thrumming in her ears that matched the pounding of the waves against the boat.

“Good catch,” she finally said in a ragged voice and tried to push away.

“A
very
good catch,” he murmured in a powerfully deep voice that about made her melt on the spot.

No, no, no, no!

Even as she tried to push away from him, the man wouldn’t let her go. His long hard body pressed so close to her she could feel every inch of him through her wet shirt and capris. Fear climbed up her throat. Too tight. A man she didn’t know shouldn’t be holding her like this. But the next thing she knew, his arms gripped her so tight she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Hold on,” he said in a low growl—right before a wave slammed into them.

Katie screamed as the wave knocked both her and the man up against the cabin. Her elbow hit a hard piece of metal and she cried out again. In an instant, her mouth and eyes filled with saltwater and her clothing was completely drenched. Instinctively she clung to the man who held her close, gripping his shirt in her fists.

When the wave receded, the craziest thought went through her mind. The man smelled so damn good. His heady, musky cologne mixed with the heavy smell of brine.

“Oh, shit,” he said, his eyes focused straight over her shoulder.

Screams from other passengers echoed in her ears. The sunglasses dug into Katie’s cheeks as she buried her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Den grabbed a railing on the cabin with one hand, keeping the woman tight against him with his other arm. But it was no use. The power of the wave slammed into them, tearing his hand from the railing, flinging the pair away from the cabin. The woman screamed against his chest as they were tossed onto the ship’s deck. Pain lanced Den’s spine as he landed on his back, holding her tight with both arms. They skidded across the deck, causing someone to trip over them. He saw the man in a blur, and was certain it was Mike.

But Den didn’t have time to think about his friend as the power of the wave drove him and the woman toward the yacht’s railing.

He snatched at the metal and caught it one-handed, barely keeping them both from sliding under the cold bar and into the ocean. The woman’s terror was a palpable thing as she clung to him.

Lightning flashed so close he smelled ozone and felt wet hair rise on his arms and his scalp.

Thunder boomed loud enough to rattle his teeth. He raised his head, only to see the black swirling clouds becoming more intense above them.

“Goddamn,” he said through gritted teeth as a monster wave rose up in the air like Thor’s hammer, ready to drive the boat deep beneath the surface of the ocean.

Den did the only thing he could. He held the woman tight to him and waited for the storm’s fury to fall on them.

Pain slammed into him and the woman cried out. His eyes, ears, mouth, nose—all filled with so much water he was suffocating from it.

Vaguely he heard the screams of other passengers. Louder, much, much louder, came the crack of timbers, the screech of metal and the groan of a boat being ripped apart.

She moaned. Every part of her body ached. Especially her head. It throbbed as if her heart beat in her skull. Her head hurt so badly, she was afraid to open her eyes. What the hell had happened?

Sunshine heated her eyelids and she felt sand coating her body. Her clothing was damp and sticky against her skin. The roar of the ocean, the lap of waves against the shore and the call of sea birds filled her ears.

Apparently she was on a beach, probably passed out after partying way too much. Although she didn’t remember a party, so that didn’t make sense. She groaned again and decided she’d have to give in and open her eyes. She blinked, but the bright sun was too much for her sensitive eyes to bear. By the position of the sun it must be afternoon.

She turned her face away from the sunlight, resting her cheek against the sand.

And found herself looking into brilliant blue eyes. The eyes of the sexiest man she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. He was lying beside her, his elbow in the sand and his head propped up on his palm. His short black hair ruffled in the light breeze, a day’s stubble roughened his jaw and a blue t-shirt molded his well-developed chest. His free hand was gripping one of hers, like he wasn’t going to let her go.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice low and husky. Then he shook his head and smiled. “I meant to ask how you are, but your eyes…they’re the most incredible green I’ve ever seen.” Heat beyond the sun’s rays warmed her skin, but she couldn’t help the questions that came spilling out of her mouth. “Who are you? What happened and where are we?”

“Whoa.” He released her hand and held up his own in a motion meant to tell her to slow down.

“Take it easy. You had a pretty rough night.”

She grimaced. “Whatever I did, it must have been something wild.”

“I’m Den.” He reached for her and squeezed her hand again. “As for what happened, that boat ride turned a little rough.”

“Boat ride? Rough?” She shifted and her body protested. “It must have been one hell of a party, because I feel like I’ve been dropkicked and thrown around like a football.” His _expression turned immediately to one of concern. “I don’t think you have any broken bones, but maybe you have internal injuries.”

“I think it’s just my head.” She wiggled her toes and realized her feet were bare. She moved her legs, her torso, her arms and fisted and un-fisted her hands. So far so good. “A little banged up, scratched and bruised, but other than that I think I’m okay.” He frowned. “No doubt you have a concussion.”

She tried to push herself up to a sitting position and he let his hand drop away. Black spots appeared before her eyes and she felt a rush of nausea that almost caused her to vomit. “I think you’re right.” She relaxed back against the sand. “Maybe—maybe I’ll just lie here for a moment.”

Den put his palm to her forehead, and she felt an instant sense of connection with the man.

Questions kept trying to pop up in her mind, but her head hurt too badly to even begin to think about them.

“I don’t think you have a fever,” he said, “but you’re warm from the sun.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back to her. “Mike and I are done with the shelter, but I was afraid to move you in case anything was broken.”

“Really, I think I’m okay.” She’d like to trade her head in for a new one, but other than that she was certain she was fine.

The corner of his mouth curved into a smile as he moved his hand from her forehead and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “What’s your name?”

She shivered from the sensual touch, then frowned. Her name? It seemed to be there on the brink of her thoughts but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Like it was hovering just out of reach.

The more she tried to remember, the harder her head ached. The harder it became to say what felt like was on the tip of her tongue. “I-I…” Her gaze met his. “Crap. I don’t know.” Den moved his hand away from her and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He looked even more concerned than before. “Damn. Do you remember anything?” Closing her eyes, she tried to bring up images of her past. She had a past, didn’t she? Of course she did. Pictures flashed through her mind. Faces she didn’t recognize, scenes she didn’t remember.

When she opened her eyes again she shook her head and felt sand sliding beneath her hair.

“Nothing.”

Den audibly took a deep breath and let it out. “It’ll come back to you. Just don’t push it.” He brushed strands of hair from her face. “We have to call you something for now. How about Sirena?”

“Sirena?” She scrunched her nose. “Why that?”

“Because you’re a Siren of the sea.” He smiled and she shivered as he continued to stroke her hair. “Something about you called to me the first time I saw you, and you came out of the sea with me. Not to mention you could be dangerous…to my body and to my heart.” The magic in his words and his eyes caused her to freeze. Her gaze locked with his. Den’s face moved closer to hers, and even though she didn’t know this man, she wanted his mouth on hers, for him to kiss her even more senseless than she already was. He smelled of warm sunshine, the ocean and the heady musk of man. A tingling sensation worked its way from her belly, down, down, until she felt a sweet ache between her thighs.

But he only brushed his lips lightly over her forehead, giving her a soft kiss that seemed to lessen her headache and increase her desire for a total stranger.

She turned her face away from his and pushed herself to her elbows. Her head still felt stuffed with cotton and it ached like a sonofabitch, but that was beside the point. She caught her breath as she looked at the wreckage scattered across the white sand beach and the endless expanse of blue-green ocean before her. She might not know her name, and she might not remember what happened, but this much was obvious. “We’re shipwrecked,” she stated.

“And we don’t know what happened to the rest of the passengers.” Den sighed, and she turned her gaze back to him. He offered her what looked like a halfhearted smile. “But a good portion of supplies landed on the beach along with us, so we ought to be okay until we’re rescued.” Sirena glanced down at her clothing and gasped. Her capris were ripped up the inseams and outer seams to her thighs, but what was worse was that her blouse was in shreds and one of her nipples was peeking out from a slit in the material. She tried to sit all the way up so that she could cross her arms over her breasts, but her body was too weak and she had to keep her palms braced on the sand. Her gaze shot to Den’s, her cheeks surely flaming red.

“I don’t suppose any clothing washed up with those supplies?” she asked, a hopeful note to her voice.

He kept his eyes averted from her breasts. “Several suitcases floated in, so you might find something there. We also found oilskin cloth that we used to put together a small shelter, along with parts of the yacht.”

This time his gaze did drop to her breasts. “You can have my shirt for now,” he said, “as soon as you have a little privacy.”

Sirena’s nipples grew achingly hard beneath his stare. Jeez. How could she want a man so much when she didn’t even know her own name, not to mention the fact that he was a total stranger?

And they were shipwrecked! Was she completely out of her mind?

Obviously.

Den swallowed down his lust and carefully scooped Sirena up in his embrace. She cried out in surprise, wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. He loved the feel of her body against his, and the sight of her nipple peeking through a tear in her blouse. He almost groaned at the fantasy of this woman on her knees, submitting to him, taking his cock deep in her mouth.

But she had no memory of who she was, what she was, where she was, and he wouldn’t take advantage of her in such a fragile state. He had been determined to pursue her from the moment he first saw her, to find out everything he could about her, to make her his.

But now…
Shit
.

How could he even be thinking of that at a time like this?

Sirena moaned as he gently laid her on the oilskin cloth. That morning Mike had covered the sand with the oilskin in the small shelter they had constructed. The shelter was tall enough for the men to stand up in, and large enough to give the three of them plenty of room to move around. It had a flap to keep out bad weather if they needed it, but it was pinned back to allow sunshine into the tent.

Den stood after he settled Sirena on the cloth, and faced his friend who’d followed him in.

“How is she?” Mike’s brown eyes met Den’s. “Is she going to be all right?”

“Yes,” mumbled Sirena from below them. “And stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Mike grinned and the way his dark eyes roved over Sirena’s half-naked body made Den want to punch him. “A feisty wench, eh?” Mike said as his gaze rested on her nearly bared breasts.

“Wench?” Sirena started to push herself up from where she was lying, but Den knelt at her side again, placed his hand on her shoulder and forced her back down. “I’ll show you wench,” she grumbled.

“Don’t push it, Mike.” Den cut his gaze back to his friend. “She has amnesia. Until she remembers her real name, we’ll call her Sirena.”

Mike squatted down beside them, resting one knee in the sand. “Then you’ve forgotten all about our ménage à trois last night, love?”

Den rolled his eyes, but Sirena’s glare didn’t waver. “Why don’t you go beat your chest, Tarzan?”

Mike chuckled and glanced back at Den. “Like I said. A feisty wench.”

“We need to find wood and kindling.” Den jerked his head toward the opening that made a doorway. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”

Despite her comeback about the wench thing, a thrill curled low in Sirena’s belly when Mike had mentioned a ménage. The sudden image of the dark-skinned man’s cock in her mouth while Den fucked her from behind made her flush from head to toe with heat, and did her pussy ever ache.

These men were strangers, and she was thinking about sex with them. She couldn’t remember anything about herself, but she damn sure must have been a horny woman.

While Mike walked out of the tent and into the sunlight, Sirena couldn’t help but admire the man’s powerful stride, the tightness of his ass. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the muscles beneath his dark skin rippled in the sunshine. The combination of the two men would be lethal.

She could barely breathe as she turned her gaze back to Den’s deep blue eyes. She heated even more at the way he was looking at her—like he’d seen right into her head and shared her fantasy.

Sirena swallowed back the rush of desire. It was nuts. It was all wrong. It was this shipwrecked-survival thing that was making her think crazy thoughts.

She licked her lips. “About that shirt?”