Elusive Dawn (11 page)

Robyn murmured a good night and went into her cabin, shutting the door quietly behind her. She sat on her bunk for a long time, watching George with eyes that never really saw him.

Shane was right: they had to be honest. In theory, that was fine.
But in practice...

She could never be truly honest with Shane, she knew, until he was told who and what her husband had been.
Until he knew how terrified she was of giving her heart to another reckless man...

George claimed his new role of ship's cat with great gusto and rapidly learned certain key words of nautical terminology. Phrases such as "You damned cat!" irately bellowed at him by Shane while Robyn laughed obviously meant that sail-climbing wasn't encouraged.

Robyn tried her best to teach the seagoing cat a few manners, but he seemed obstinately determined to get on Shane's nerves. In fact, as Shane pointed out menacingly, he seemed to have a death wish. Robyn spent most of Thursday alternately yelling at the cat and warning Shane not to yell at the cat. She finally pointed out to George that swimming back to land wasn't something to look forward to, but since her pet chose to ignore the lecture in order to attack the end of a line Shane was tying off, she couldn't feel that she had done much good.

"Robyn!"

"I know, I know! George, don't do that! Maybe if I wrap you up in one of these ropes, you'll stop playing with them."

"I'm going to tie him to the anchor and drop him overboard!"

"You wouldn't do that to a defenseless creature-"

"Defenseless? He scratched the hell out of me not an hour ago!"

"You pulled his tail!"

"How else was I supposed to get him down from the sail? Now look at him,
dammit
! You stupid cat, that's a mast not a tree!"

"Shane, don't-" She listened to words of blue origin for a moment, then murmured, "-pull his tail."

"Robyn, I'm warning you-!"

"All right, all right!
I'll get him down."

When she wasn't saving George from the jaws of death or becoming an accomplished sailor, Robyn spent most of her time trying to learn how to work the stove in the galley. Shane had fixed breakfast- and very well, too. Lunch had been sandwiches, but supper had to be cooked. Robyn was elected.

The stove was a gas model, and the pilot kept going out. Being just a bit wary of fires on boats at sea, Robyn kept yelling for Shane to come down and light it for her. After his fifth patient trip below deck, Robyn noticed a somewhat frantic gleam in his eyes, and she decided prudently to handle the stove by herself from then on.

She pulled out all the stops with supper, determined to give Shane the best meal he'd ever had on land
or
sea. The boat was anchored in a small cove near Long Key, and Shane was topside getting everything ready for night, so other than stepping over George every time she turned around, Robyn was able to work undisturbed.

She delved into her memory for Marty's cooking lessons and produced a meal that even that stern critic would have praised. Ruthlessly making use of all the fresh vegetables Shane had stocked, she fixed a savory stew, the heavenly aroma of which made her mouth water. She took advantage of the cook's privilege of "tasting" and managed to stave off starvation while completing the rest of the meal.

The stew was to be accompanied by creamed corn, a crisp green salad, and biscuits made from a special southern recipe. She also found a can of apples and managed to make an apple pie in spite of the oven's recalcitrance.

She was hot, tired, and smudged with flour by the time she yelled for Shane to come and get it. The expression of surprise on his face, however, made up for her weariness. But she became more than a little irritated by his unflattering astonishment when he tasted the first bite.

"My word.
She can cook!"

"Well, you don't have to look so surprised."

"How was I to know? You seem to be a lily of the field when it comes to everything else."

Robyn picked up her fork and glared at him. "Can you walk on water?" she asked with deceptive mildness.

"No," he replied, eyeing her warily.

"Then you'd better quit while you've still got a boat underfoot."

"Sorry." Shane bent his attention to the meal and was silent for a few moments. Soon he began murmuring, "This is terrific... I haven't eaten a meal this
good
in years... spices and everything... Is that an apple pie I smell?"

Robyn finally looked up at him with laughing eyes. "All right, you can stop now! I've been suitably mollified. Besides, I didn't rave like that over your bacon and eggs."

"Those weren't worthy of raving. This is." He grinned at her,
then
stood to get himself another helping of stew.

After the pie, they shared the cleaning-up chores, which soon became a comical enterprise in the cramped quarters-particularly since George insisted on getting into the act. George retired to the cabin, however, after Shane stepped on his tail for the second time.

By the time the last dish was washed and put away, Robyn was beginning to feel more than a little breathless at Shane's nearness. Aloud, she blamed the stuffiness of the galley and quickly climbed the steps to the deck for some air.

She stared out over the sea, listening to the gentle slapping of water against the hull and the night sounds coming from the tiny island a few yards away. When Shane came up behind her and pulled her back against him in a gentle embrace, she didn't resist.

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I've enjoyed today," he murmured softly, as though reluctant to disturb the peace all around them.

Robyn smiled into the darkness.
"Even George?"

"Even George."
He pulled her a bit closer,
then
added whimsically, "Do you know that you have a smudge of flour on your nose?"

"And you're just now telling me about it?"

"I think it's cute.
Adds a certain something."

"I'm sure!" Robyn reached up to wipe the smudge away, but Shane turned her around to face him.

"No, let me."

Robyn looked up at him, able to see him now in the glow from the huge yellow moon rising over the horizon. She felt the tingling shock of his fingers softly brushing over her nose, and she became suddenly, painfully aware of a churning emptiness in the pit of her belly. Without conscious volition, her hand lifted to rest lightly on his chest, feeling the springy softness of curling hair exposed by the opening of his shirt.

Shane's brushing fingers began to caress, tracing the curve of her cheek, the trembling softness of her lips, finally cupping her face warmly. His free hand lifted to her hair, raking through it gently and freeing the heavy mass from the pins she had used to keep it out of her way.

"I want you so much," he breathed huskily.

Robyn was sure the fingers lightly touching her throat could feel her pounding pulse, but she didn't care. "You made up the rules," she whispered. "You have all the good intentions."

"Would you have come with me if I hadn't decided on the rules and the good intentions?" he asked roughly.

"I... don't know," Robyn answered honestly. "But I think I would have."

Shane's hand slid down her back abruptly, pulling her lower body against his and making her all too aware of his pulsing desire. "Robyn, you're driving me out of my mind!" he groaned hoarsely. "How can I keep my hands off you when you say things like that?"

Robyn was very tired of conversation. She slipped her arms up around his neck, standing on tiptoe to mold her body against his. "I don't know," she murmured. "Tell me."

"Robyn..." His mouth unerringly found hers in a fierce kiss of driving need. It was like that first night, when nothing seemed to matter but their mutual desire, their need to touch and go on touching because it was something they couldn't fight.

Along with the excitement fluttering through her veins, Robyn felt a sense of triumph and exhilaration. She was tired of playing by Shane's
rules,
and more than a little dissatisfied with the platonic relationship he had imposed on them. Unwilling to make a commitment, she was still fiercely determined to be in his arms, to feel his touch on her reawakened body. She wanted him.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, her mouth echoing his demand with a heat that matched his own. Shane's hands moved up and down her back unsteadily, shaping her willing flesh and pulling her closer until their hearts seemed to beat with a single pounding rhythm.

Robyn threw her head back, shivering, as his mouth finally left hers to press hot kisses against her throat. Through half-closed eyes, she stared up at the stars, thinking dimly that they had never seemed so close. She could almost reach out and touch them.

"Robyn, you're playing with fire," Shane warned hoarsely, his hands defying the protest with increasingly demanding caresses.

She gasped when one hand closed around a sensitized breast, forgetting the stars for more earthly things. She could feel his thumb probing through the material of her knit top, and she managed to say fiercely, breathlessly, "I hope I get burned!"

Quite suddenly, her upper arms were gripped in steely hands, and she was held nearly a foot away from the body she wanted so badly to touch. Shane was staring down at her, his jaw taut, his eyes a glittering neon green in the moonlight.

"But
I
don't want to be the one to burn you. Don't you understand that?" he asked hoarsely. "I don't want to wake up in the morning and find you gone because you only needed one night. I need
more
than one night,
dammit
! And until I'm sure-"

Robyn broke the grip of his hands and took a careful step backward. For the first time, she was furious with him.
Utterly and completely furious.
He was trying to back her into a corner, and she didn't like it one damn bit!

She was only dimly aware that there was a curious role reversal in the situation. She was taking the "traditional" male attitude, insisting on no strings and no complications. She wouldn't make a commitment while the threat of his hobby haunted her. But Shane wanted more.

Robyn didn't say a word as she turned and made her way to the top of the steps. There she spun about abruptly to face him. "Tell me something," she
requested,
her voice amazingly mild under the circumstances. "How many times do I have to throw myself at you before you catch me?"

With his back to the rising moon, she could make out nothing of his expression. But his silhouette was stiff with tension, and she could see that his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. When he answered her question, his voice was a hoarse rasp in the darkness.

"As many times as it takes.
Until you get it right."

Robyn's smile showed most of her teeth but was not meant to be taken as amusement. "I'll keep that in mind."

She turned back to the steps, making her way down them to the hall. Going into her cabin, she flipped on the light, shut the door with unnatural care, and then looked around for something to throw across the tiny room. The only thing she found was her pillow, and that made a disappointingly quiet thump against the wall.

She ducked under the top bunk to sit on the lower one, leaning against the wall and staring with brooding eyes at the small chests containing her and Shane's clothing.

How, she wondered vaguely, did one go about seducing a man?

Oddly enough, she had never had the opportunity to employ such tactics, and she hadn't the faintest idea how to go about the thing. And there was no one to ask advice of. She couldn't very well radio the Coast Guard and ask them to find someone to give her a verbal crash course in the art of seduction.

She should have asked that blonde...

The thoughts and speculation that sailed lazily through Robyn's mind during the next hour surprised her. She was tired of playing Shane's games, but her determination to play a game of her own struck her as being not only odd but also potentially dangerous. It would be much simpler to just go up to Shane, announce that she was ready to make a commitment, and then attack him.

Robyn chuckled as that scene played out in her mind's eye, then she sobered. She couldn't do that. Maybe because she wanted to put off facing what had to be faced-his damned
racing.

In the meantime, however, her nerve endings were shrieking at her, and she had a feeling she wouldn't sleep tonight. Her body cried out for Shane. Slightly less than a week before, he had shown her delights she didn't want to have to do without.

Yet for some reason, she was determined to have what she wanted without having to commit herself. Perhaps it had something to do with Shane's calling her "selfless."

For once in her life, she was going to be selfish.
So all right.
She chewed on a knuckle thoughtfully. Intuition told her that if she wandered up on deck stark naked and started talking casually about the weather, she would probably accomplish what she wanted.

That, however, would hardly be subtle. In fact, it would be downright blatant.
Even if she could find the nerve for it.

She slid from the bunk and stepped over to her chest, opening drawers and taking out an item now and then. Funny... she might almost have had seduction in mind when she'd packed for this nice platonic trip. And even if Shane suspected what she was up to, there wasn't very much he could do about it. So she had until Sunday night to accomplish her "task." By Monday afternoon, they'd be back in Miami, and Shane would be on his way to Daytona.

Three days...

When Robyn entered the galley on Friday morning, Shane was busily making pancakes and George was sitting beneath the tiny table with an aggrieved expression on his furry face.

"You've been stepping on George's tail again, haven't you?" Robyn demanded in lieu of a more traditional good morning.

"He got in my way." Shane cast an irritated glance at their feline mascot. "That's probably how his tail got to be crooked in the first place." He half turned to look at Robyn, and his eyes widened almost comically as they swept her petite figure, which was clad only-apparently-in a dark green button-up shirt that belonged to him.