In Too Deep (3 page)

"Michael Wright." He took her hand, not with his right, but his left. His thumb brushed the back of her knuckles. Little zings of electricity shot up her arm. "You've got a few scrapes here."

Surprised, Tally glanced down. His hand was dark and so big, her pale fingers almost disappeared inside his grasp. Her knuckles were red and scratched. Probably from trying to cling to the hull of his boat. "I can't fee—they don't hurt." As lovely as it was standing there holding his hand, Tally gently extricated her fingers. The electrical charge went away. "I'm okay. Really." She took a deliberate step in retreat. "Did you see what happened?"

"Hard to miss," he said dryly. "Your boat went kaplooie."

Tally blinked at his easy dismissal of two lives and a million-dollar boat. "Is that the technical term for it? Did you happen to see if anyone else was thrown clear?"

"Nope. You're it. There isn't even a fish alive for a three-mile radius." He reached out and touched her upper arm. "You
were
hurt," he said roughly. "You're bleeding."

She twisted her shoulder a bit and glanced down. The sleeve of her white blouse was stained pink. She hadn't noticed it before, but the moment she saw the seeping blood, the wound stung like fire. "Damn, my stitches must've opened."

"I'll take a look when we're clear of this storm."

"It'll wait. The salt water was probably good for it."

"I'll check, anyway." He turned his back and started doing something to a rope and pulley nearby.

A take-charge kind of guy was exactly who she wanted to be with if she was with anyone in this weather. "Do you work for my father?" she asked curiously.

He threw her an amused glance over his shoulder. "Do I look like I work for anyone?"

She tilted her head, water dripping icily down her neck. "Looks can be deceptive."

"Can't they, though."

She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, chilled to the bone and shivering in earnest now. "My God, what could've caused the boat to explode like that? A leak in the engine or something?"

"No."

Hmm. "What can I do to help you?"

"Know anything about boats?"

"Other than one end is pointy? Nothing."

"Then stay out of my way."

"That I can do."

While the pirate heaved and ho'd, Tally's mind raced.

Arnaud was a wealthy man in his own right. He had hot and cold running peons to do his bidding wherever he went. Yet he'd taken the
Serendipity
out without a full crew—except for Lu, who'd remained below the entire time they were onboard. It wasn't until they were well out of the harbor that Tally had even noticed they were alone.

And knowing Arnaud, she'd immediately become suspicious. He'd tried to make a pass. Had he decided that if he got her out on the water he could force himself on her? To what purpose?

Tally frowned. They hadn't seen each other in years, and their last meeting hadn't exactly been stellar. She'd politely declined his proposal then, as she'd done his proposition today.

He wanted something from her. Something important enough to make him ignore the danger of a storm. But, what? Not sex. Sex was the package he wrapped things in to make them appear more palatable.

She shivered, and used both hands to pull at her shirt, which clung uncomfortably to her wet skin. She might never know what Arnaud had in mind.

The boat bounced hard on the waves. Reflexively, Tally shot out a hand to brace herself on the closest stable object.

She stared in horror at her own pale fingers gripping the front waistband of the pirate's shorts.

His purple Hawaiian shorts were now riding low, very low, on his hips, as the weight of her hand dragged the fabric down.

And down…

Chapter Two

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^
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Tally yanked her hand away and stuck it behind her back. "God. I am so sorry." She'd
touched
him. Felt the heat of his tanned skin, felt the crisp hairs at his groin… felt… oh, man.

"Nice try, but no cigar. Want to go for two out of three?"

Tally closed her eyes and blew out a breath. "Oh, this day just gets better and better."

"It's certainly looking up for me." With an amused glance, the pirate hitched his shorts back over the sharp angle of his hipbones. There'd been no sign of a tan line. "Hold on to the rail until I can get you hooked up."

With long, perfectly balanced strides, he went to the stern, where he lifted the top of a teak bench and dug through the contents.

Tally gripped the slick rail with both hands. "Can we go look for them before they drown?" she shouted to be heard over the pounding of the waves. She forced her gaze off the pirate's broad, tanned back and spread her feet for balance instead of sacrificing herself to Poseidon.

"No point." He returned and handed her a life jacket attached to a harness. "Put this on." He snapped something on the back of the jacket and connected it to a line running along the deck.

Tally was grateful beyond belief that he wasn't going to say any more about her grabbing on to his dipstick. "Of course there's a point. Arnaud and Lu might very well be trying to stay afloat as we speak."

"Doubt it."

"Oh, come on! I made it. Lu's lived on Paradise all his life. He must know how to swim, for godsake! And Arnaud's a much better swimmer than I am. That water's
deep
—they must be exhausted by now. We have to hurry."

"Lady, you're just not getting this, are you? Your boyfriend didn't make it. Consider yourself lucky."

"He wasn't my boyfr—who cares
what
he was. Is." The creak of torqued wood sounded eerily like a woman screaming. Tally hunched her shoulders. "I'm sure they were thrown clear just like I was."

"Didn't see anyone else thrown clear."

"Did you see me thrown clear?" Tally demanded, fastening the front of the jacket with numb fingers. The life jacket came almost to her knees and smelled faintly fishy. But it was dry, and it cut the wind. She felt the hum of an auxiliary engine beneath her feet.

"Yeah, I saw you."

"So Arnaud could've—"

"He didn't."

The possibility of Arnaud being dead refused to register. Just a little while ago he was at her side—strong, vibrant, healthy, invincible, unscrupulous, and lying through his perfect white teeth. Damn it. He was too oily to drown. He must be floating out there somewhere.

Tiny, stinging whips of wet hair blew against her cheeks. She shivered despite the jacket, and tucked the short strands of her hair behind her ears. A quick glance skyward showed how low the dark clouds had dropped. The wind howled. Waves pounded at the boat as if demanding entry.

Angry white foam danced along the lip of water, spraying across the teak deck. In the few moments she'd been aboard, the waves had grown and the wind had picked up. Sea spray sent needle-like stabs at her exposed skin. It was obvious, even to a landlubber, that they were in for a major storm. If the waves had been this high when she was in the water, she would have drowned.

Despite his words, she staggered over to the rail, leaned into the wind, and searched the sea for signs of life. Wind and waves had torn the remnants of the elegant yacht to shreds, then swallowed the pieces whole. The choppy water surged, drowning the flames still struggling in the wind. A dwindling flame garden of burning debris and whitecaps. The
Serendipity
was gone as if it had never been.

"Hey." Her host grabbed her by the back of the jacket and hauled her upright. "I'm not fishing you out again if you fall overboard."

Their eyes met. He wasn't kidding. "Not exactly a people person, are you?" she said.

He grimaced and released her. Tally turned back to the rail, oddly disconcerted by his touch, even through the jacket. She didn't lean as far out this time, but she strained to see in the growing darkness.

Tally suspected Arnaud's boat was probably Trevor Church's boat, and if that was the case, her father was not only going to be absolutely livid about the loss of property, he was also going to blow his stack if she didn't at least make an attempt to find Bouchard. Damn it.

"I'll pay you to help me find him," Tally said briskly, turning to face him.

An eyebrow rose. "Yeah? How much?"

"A thousand dollars." He didn't so much as blink at the offer. "Are you for real? Okay, two thousand."

"Only two? He couldn't've been very important to you."

She considered Bouchard a slimy turd, a necessary evil. On the other hand, the pirate wasn't going to risk life and boat if he knew she felt that way. "Five? Ten? Twenty thousand? How much will it take?"

"How much you got on you?"

She held her arms out. "Not a whole hell of a lot. But I have traveler's checks back at—I'll buy your boat from you." She narrowed her eyes when he didn't answer. This was nuts. She was standing out here in the middle of a typhoon negotiating with a pirate to save the life of a man she'd just as soon drown herself. "You rat. Okay. I'll pay you to captain it.
And
I'll pay you to help me find Arnaud."

He folded his arms across his massive, hairy chest. "Hmmm."

"Is that a yes?"

He paused for so long, she thought he'd gone into a coma with his eyes—
eye
—open. "Keep a sharp lookout. This is going to be fast and dirty." He strode past her, heading for the wheelhouse.

Fast and dirty, it was. While she doggedly clung to the railing in the prow, he guided the boat within feet of burning timbers and bits of the
Serendipity
, weaving in and around flotsam. There was nothing to identify the bits and pieces floating on the waves as a luxury, seventy-five-foot yacht.

She felt a chill that had little to do with the wind. If she hadn't been thrown clear, she wouldn't be alive to tell the tale.

It was obvious Arnaud and Lu were gone. Dead.

Her fingers tightened on the polished wood rail as she strained to check every piece of debris floating on the surface of the choppy water, anyway. Occasionally a sudden rebellious flare, or the smoldering glow of embers, or a lacy froth of phosphorescence broke the turbulent, black water, but there were no signs of life.

A relentless wave pounded the hull, then crashed around Tally's bare feet. She staggered, braced herself, and held more tightly on to the solid railing. Not only was it now almost fully dark, she realized she was out to open sea with a man she didn't know. And no one knew where she was.

Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire?

Had she had a choice?

The skies opened, releasing a torrent of rain that raced across the surface of the water like a thick gray curtain. Big, fat drops fell closer and closer together in heavy sheets. Tally lifted her face. The rain stung her skin, and tasted sweet on her tongue, making her feel gloriously alive.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bright light blinking, and turned to see Michael Wright in the wheelhouse aiming a flashlight beam at her as if she understood Morse code. She got the message. He wanted her inside.

Tally moved away from the rail. The swells had grown stronger, more erratic, more furious. It was as if hell had risen up from the bottom of the ocean and was now having a temper tantrum. She held on to whatever she could for the few yards she had to traverse, grateful for the line anchoring her to the deck as her bare feet slipped and skidded on wet wood.

The door to the wheelhouse flew open. Michael grabbed her arm and hauled her bodily inside. The wind slammed the door behind her.

"God Almighty, woman. Do you have a fu-fricking death wish or something? Unhook yourself and get below." He gripped the wildly vibrating wheel, then shouted over his shoulder, "Use whatever you can find. Tie yourself to the bunk. And
stay
there till I come for you."

The warm, stuffy air inside the wheelhouse contrasted sharply to the bite of the clean-smelling storm. A monstrously huge black cat lay curled on the instrument panel above the wheel. He opened one green eye and twitched a chewed-up ear at her.

"Hey, Cat."

Ears back, the animal hissed at her.

Lovely
. The pirate kept a pet demon.

Tally stared back at the beast until its eye closed, then concentrated on undoing the clasps on the front of the bulky jacket. Her fingers were stiff and clumsy. She swore under her breath and tried again.

Michael held out one hand and made a "come here" motion. "Turn."

Without taking his intense focus from the open sea ahead, he swiftly unfastened the safety harness, then swiveled her face front and worked the closures on the jacket. Cold air bathed Tally's wet clothing and already chilled skin. His fingers felt warm through the wet cloth of her shirt.

"Th-Thanks." Instead of feeling the cold, she felt a rush of heat and stepped away. All this fear and adrenaline rushing around inside her was screwing up her normal, logical self. Her response to the man was as unexpected as it was intriguing.

Apparently, by the look on his face,
he
hadn't felt anything. "Get below," he said, voice grim, jaw set. He moved about on bare feet. Moved fast, but efficiently.

"Should I take your cat with me?"

"Don't
have
a cat."

The black furry thing right in front of him blinked.

"What's that?"

"Snap to it, sweetheart. We've got about seventeen minutes before the tail end of that typhoon hits us."

Tally almost smiled at the precision. "Exactly
seventeen
minutes? How could you
possibly
know that?"

"Want to stand there and debate it with a stopwatch?"

"No. What can I do to help?" She had to shout, and even then she wasn't sure he'd heard her.

"Told you. Below."

Waves crashed violently over the deck, foaming and grabbing, as though trying to suck the boat down. Tally gripped onto a bulwark and held on. The boat did a dizzying lurch, then rocked unevenly as the water rose and dropped like a free-falling roller coaster.