Текст книги "The Man Must Marry"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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The bow of the boat suddenly dipped, sending a rogue wave splashing over the side and drenching them both. They slid off the bench and landed on the deck with a thud. Willa thoughtfully broke their fall with her body, though Sam did make a halfhearted attempt to keep from crushing her. The smile he gave her was not one of abject surrender.
In fact, it looked perversely triumphant.
“I’m giving you a choice,” he said, his voice guttural and his eyes sharp with desire. “Either you go below and put on a bra, or we go below together, take off all our clothes, and crawl into bed.”
If she acted affronted, he would likely smile triumphantly again, and if she showed even a hint of how disconcerted his offer made her, he would probably press his advantage and carry her below himself. But if she did what her hormones were screaming for her to do, they’d both be naked, right here on the deck, in front of God and the seagulls.
Dammit, her ex-husband hadn’t given her this much trouble.
Willa sensed the RoseWind rising on a wave and timed her move accordingly. At the exact moment the boat crested, she shoved Sam with all her might, using the boat’s downward dive to her advantage. Sam went rolling into the rail with a yelp of surprise when they hit the bottom of the trough, and Willa scrambled to her feet, ran to the steps, and simply grabbed the jamb and swung herself below. She turned to close the doors but stopped long enough to watch Sam try to get back on his feet as the RoseWind leaped into another swell. “Hey, landlubber,” she called to him. “Why don’t you see if you can remember how to rig the spinnaker while I’m changing? We’ve reached the open ocean, so we’ll let this beautiful lady run the wind.” She paused for effect. “That is, if you’re up for some real sailing.”
She closed the doors with a laugh and went hunting for some dry clothes—including a bra.
When he wasn’t scrambling, cranking, or hoisting his butt off, Sam spent his much-needed rests gaping
at Willa. He just couldn’t believe the woman he’d known for the last four days and the woman standing at the helm were one and the same. She appeared determined to push the RoseWind right to the edge of the boat’s limits, utilizing every last centimeter of sail. Sam was beginning to realize that his knowledge of sailing was just a footnote compared with hers. She hadn’t been boasting when she’d told him she was a damn fine sailor, and as soon as he got over his amazement, he would tell her so. They were both tethered with safety lines, wearing life vests and dressed in rain gear—not because it was storming but because Willa was attacking the swells like a woman possessed. Or a woman determined to redirect her passion?
She’d blindsided him with her response to his kiss. He’d only been trying to shut her up, and she had turned the tables on him. He hadn’t been bluffing when he’d asked her to go below and get undressed; he’d wanted to bury himself inside her so badly he’d almost taken her right there on the deck. Sam staggered to the helm and plopped down onto the bench in utter exhaustion. “This has been a hell of a run, but can we please call it a day, Captain? I’m bruised and beat and in need of sustenance.”
She looked down her cute little nose at him, smiled in satisfaction, and nodded toward the bow. “I’ll slack off the wind, and you haul in the spinnaker. Then you can go below and start supper.”
“You expect me to crew and cook?”
“I expect you to take orders like the stowaway you are.”
Sam braced himself against a giant swell that crashed over the side and drenched them both. Willa laughed with delight, and he violently shivered. The crazy woman was having the time of her life.
“Do you own a sailboat, Willa?”
“I do now. And she’s a beauty.”
“Does your father still own the schooner you grew up on?”
She didn’t look at him. “No, the Cat’s Tail went down in a violent squall a hundred miles off St. Maarten seven years ago. The crew survived, but my mother and father didn’t. The first mate told Shelby and me that Daddy died trying to save Mom.”
“I’m sorry. I would have liked to have met Captain Kent and your mom. So,” he said, gritting his teeth against the pain of standing up, “do we sail all night or find a place to set anchor?”
“We sail. I’ll take the first watch. There’s a storm forming off theCarolinas and coming up the coast, and I’m hoping to ride this wind ahead of it and be tucked into Keelstone Cove before it hits.”
Sam staggered to the spinnaker winch. Another day like today would surely kill him. He doubted he’d be able to get out of bed in the morning, much less hoist a sail. He called up the very last of his reserves, released the spinnaker line when he felt the sail slacken, and started gathering it up as it fell to the deck, fighting the wind for control of the cloth.
Mutiny was beginning to look like a viable option.
But another mind-blowing kiss might be equally effective. It would definitely go farther toward gaining Willa’s affections than setting her adrift in a lifeboat.
Chapter Eleven
Yesterday’s kiss must havebeen even more mind-blowing than he realized, because he was having one hell of a dream. Sam actually stopped breathing, afraid the naked woman crammed into the small bunk beside him, running her fingers through his chest hair, would disappear if he woke up. Either this was really wishful thinking, or it had been way too long since he’d been laid. When she started licking his nipple, Sam sat up with a shout of surprise, only to slam into the bulkhead and fall back onto his pillow with a groaned curse.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” his naked dream woman said in an amused whisper. She brushed her fingers lightly over his temple. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“Willamina?” Sam choked out. “What are you doing?”
“Accepting the offer you made. I don’t like wearing a bra if I don’t have to, so I decided to take off all my clothes and crawl into bed with you.”
Had he died jumping out of the helicopter, and this was heaven? Or had he landed in hell? She definitely was naked, and he burned to accept her offer, but he worried that making love to Willa right now might actually hurt their chance of having a future together.
“You’ve changed your mind,” she said, her voice suddenly distant. She started backing out of the bunk.
“Sorry. Go back to sleep. It’s half an hour or so to sunrise.”
“No, wait!” Sam said, sitting up and reaching for her. He managed to catch her wrist and pull her back on top of him. “I haven’t changed my mind.” He wrapped his arms around her when she continued to try wriggling away. “I’m just surprised, is all. I thought you didn’t like me very much.”
“I don’t.”
He smiled at that. “Then what’s going on here, Willa?”
“To put it bluntly, I’m using you. Sometime around three this morning, I finally made a deal with my hormones. I promised to give them free rein for the next four days, if they’ll go back into hibernation the moment we drop anchor in Keelstone Cove.” She shifted on top of him, sliding her naked breasts across his chest—snapping his hormones to attention. “I thought we could use each other for the rest of the voyage. I would put an end to my sexual drought, and you would finally rid yourself of this foolish notion of marrying me.”
“I see.”
“And then we’ll both be free to spend the next three months figuring out how to break Abram’s will.”
“Let me get this straight. You’ve decided that a four-day sex marathon will give us our fill of each other, and when we reachMaine , we’ll go back to…business as usual?”
“Right. You have a shipping empire to run, and I have caskets to make. But in the meantime,” she said,
trailing her fingers in maddening circles over his chest, “we might as well have a bit of fun.”
Nowwhat in hell was she up to? “I packed clothes and food in my dry sack, but I don’t believe I packed any condoms.”
Her fingers started dancing across his chest again. “No problem. I’ve got that covered.”
“You travel with a box of condoms?”
“No. I’ve simply taken care of it on my end.” She gave his chest hair a gentle tug. “Yes or no, Sinclair. My offer expires in exactly sixty seconds.”
A warning growl was the only answer he gave, rolling them over until she was lying beneath him. He captured her maddening fingers and pinned her hands above her head, then brought his mouth down on hers when she started to protest.
He was done trying to figure her out. The lady wanted some fun for the next four days, did she? Either he was the luckiest bastard ever born, or Willamina Kent was even more naive than she was cute. Whether she knew it or not, she had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire—and sealed her fate.
Sam used his knees to spread hers, nestling himself between her thighs, and dove his tongue into her mouth when she gasped at the realization that he was also naked. And ready. And willing. And definitely able.
It was all he could do not to slide inside her right then. She tasted sweet, of jam and peanut butter. Willa had obviously eaten a sandwich before she’d crawled into bed with him, apparently in preparation for the upcoming marathon.
Was there anything sexier than a woman who went after what she wanted?
Sam broke the kiss and rose onto one elbow, which was as far as their cramped quarters would allow. He moved his free hand over her body while gently rocking his hips into hers. She made soft mewling sounds, wiggling beneath him, and he wished there were more light so he could see her face. Giving her a taste of her own sweet torture, he traced a finger up her torso, first over one breast and then the other—paying particular attention to her nipples—and then up over her chin to her lips. She wriggled frantically, her breathing growing labored as she tried to position herself so he was poised to enter her.
“Patience,” he whispered.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, trying to tug free as she arched into him. “You’re one of those guys.”
His hand stopped. “One of what guys?”
“Methodical. Slow. All touchy-feely.”
Sam forced himself to relax. He had to remember that this was Willamina; anything could come blurting out of that mouth of hers. “Is there some sort ofMaine trick I haven’t heard about, where people can
make love without touching?”
Her chest rose on an exasperated sigh, causing her nipples to brush his forearm. “It’s been five years . Get on with it already, Sin—”
He kissed her to shut her up.
She tried to push his tongue out, apparently not happy with his kissing, either.
“Now what?” he asked, wondering if this was ever going to happen.
“I want you to stop kissing me every time you don’t like what—ooohhh.” She moaned as he eased inside her. “Oh, God, yes! Ohmygod, that feels so good.”
Finally, something she liked.
He rather liked it, too.
He released her hands to prop himself up on both his arms, which in turned freed her to touch him . Apparently, the no-touching rule only applied to him. She dug her fingers into his chest, arching her spine and throwing back her head on another moan of pleasure.
She was warm and tight, and she screamed so loudly when Sam started moving inside her that he went utterly still.
“Don’t stop!” she cried, lifting her hips and straining against him. “Move!”
He moved.
She screamed again.
He stopped again. It was taking a toll on him; beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. She actually punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t stop!”
“I’m hurting you!”
“No, you’re driving me crazy! Move , Sinclair.”
Okay, she was a screamer. He kind of liked that, as it gave him immediate feedback on how he was doing.
Apparently, he was doing quite well, because the moment he started moving again, Willa started in again, her unabashed cries of bliss bouncing around the cramped bunk. Sam started to grin, but his own bliss finally caught up with him, and he turned his attention to concentrating on how wonderful she felt beneath him. They fit together perfectly, her beautifully curvy body cradling his, her uninhibited passion making his heart race. He could feel her coiling around him, straining into each thrust, lost in the grip of her building release. It arrived on a tidal wave of convulsing heat, her inner muscles tugging Sam to the edge of restraint. He
thrust into her hard and fast and deep, gritting his teeth to hold off his own release for as long as possible. Willa carried on for what seemed like forever, and when Sam finally lost his control, he pulled out and came on her belly. He collapsed beside her with a groan of satisfaction, cupped her buttocks, and pulled her body snugly against him.
She stiffened, bringing her hands up to his chest, to push him away. Sam gave a long-suffering sigh. Honest to God, the woman’s moods changed direction more often than the wind.
“What?” he asked, refusing to let her wriggle away. “Is it also against the rules to cuddle? I thought women liked to enjoy the afterglow. You’ll have to give me a play book so I know what’s expected of me.”
“I have to go check the sails. They’re fluttering.”
He lifted himself up slightly and listened, then relaxed back onto the pillow. “They sound fine to me.”
“And that’s why I’m the captain, and you’re not.”
He splayed his fingers across her back, still refusing to release her, and toyed with the dimple at the base of her spine.
She immediately arched to get away from his touch—which pushed her beautifully plump breasts into his chest. Sam kissed the tip of her nose. At least, that’s where he’d been aiming, but he ended up kissing her hair when she ducked to bury her face in his neck. Her cheeks felt unusually hot, and he suspected she was blushing.
“You’re not fat, Willa.”
She muttered something against his throat.
“What was that?” he asked loudly. “Sorry, but my ears are still ringing.”
She popped up, glaring at him. “Look, I get a bit loud sometimes, okay? It’s not like we disturbed the neighbors or anything. You got a problem with a little noise, Sinclair?”
His aim was dead-on this time when he kissed her nose. “Nope,” He gave her lush behind a gentle squeeze. “I like that sort of noise. It lets me know I’m doing my job.”
She snorted, but when she buried her face in his neck again, Sam realized her blush had kicked up several notches. Maybe he shouldn’t tease her, but damn it to hell, she was driving him crazy. Ending her sexual drought didn’t seem to have done a damn thing to mellow her out. The RoseWind took a sharp dip into a trough, and Sam cupped Willa’s head to protect her just as his own head slammed into the end of the bunk. “Cuddle time’s over.” He rolled onto his hands and knees above her, straining to see her face in the first shafts of sunrise filtering through the portal. “I’ve never sailed at night before. It feels like driving with blindfolds on.”
“That’s why they put alarms on the navigational equipment. They would have sounded if we’d strayed off course,” she said. “You get dressed and go check that sail. I’ll be up in a minute.”
He bumped his head again, since the bunk was no taller than it was wide. “If I’d been expecting company, I would have chosen one of the bigger back bunks.”
There was enough light for him to see that Willa could sit up without her head touching. She had the blanket tucked under her chin, leaving only her tangled hair and her huge eyes exposed. He was just reaching for his dry sack when he heard her sigh.
“Do you know why they call it making love missionary-style?”
What in hell was she up to? One minute, she was sending him away; the next, she was suddenly chatty. It must have something to do with those hormones. “No, why is it called missionary-style?”
“Because in colonial days, young couples heading out to do missionary work often got married just before they left to sail abroad. Their bunks were no bigger than this one, and the only way they could consummate their marriages was in that position—thus, it became known as the missionary style.”
“Who told you that?”
“Shelby.”
“And who told her?”
“One of the crew Dad had hired for our autumn run down to theCaribbean .” She canted her head in thought. “She was eighteen, I think. I was twelve.”
“And you knew what she was talking about at age twelve?”
She lifted that cute little chin of hers. “I might have been home-schooled, but I had plenty of friends in town. And, I’ll have you know, I lost my virginity at fourteen.”
“You did not.”
Her chin inched up. “Well, I would have, if Dad hadn’t come below when he did.” She grinned. “Daddy and I were both surprised that Kevin couldn’t swim. Though I don’t think that would have stopped Dad from throwing him overboard in the middle of theGulfofMaine .”
Her eyes were focused not on his face but on his chest. He also noticed that her gaze dropped a bit lower every so often.
The little witch! She was sitting there covered up like a nun, telling him tall tales so she could ogle his body!
She must have realized the jig was up, for she frowned suddenly, her face bright pink. “I hear the jib flapping. You’d better go winch it down.”
“Before or after I dress?” he drawled, slowly reaching for his dry sack. Still facing her, he dug around inside the sack, found some clean underwear and pants, and, just as slowly, slid them on. He heard her sigh when he slipped a heavy jersey over his head and tucked it into his pants. He turned away so she wouldn’t see his smile and stepped over to the galley sink. He ran a cloth under the water, wrung it out, then tossed it to her. “Here, so you can clean up,” he said, turning to head up the
stairs.
“Wait.”
He stopped on the step and ducked his head to see her.
“Why did you pull out at the last minute? I told you I had the contraceptive thing covered.”
“Let’s just call me cautious, okay?”
She nodded. “So, you really don’t want to marry me and get me pregnant.” She sighed with obvious relief. “That’s good, because we both know it would never work, anyway.”
Sam turned to face her. “You don’t think so? Why not?”
“Because we don’t really like each other,” she said, sounding exasperated that he couldn’t see the obvious.
“I never said I didn’t like you.”
“Only because you’re too polite to come right out and say it.” She lifted her chin. “Since we’ve met, you’ve spent half the time laughing at me and the other half wanting to strangle me.”
He took a step toward her. “What about now, Willa? Can you sense which way I’m leaning right now?”
Her eyes grew huge, and she clutched the blanket to her throat. She suddenly pointed at the deck over her head. “Something is definitely wrong with that jib,” she said quickly. “Hurry, Sam! If you don’t get it winched down, we’re going to lose it.”
He hesitated just long enough to glare at her, then turned and slowly climbed the stairs up to the deck. Honest to God, if he didn’t strangle her before they reachedMaine , it would only be because he’d thrown her overboard instead.
Willa slapped the wet cloth to her burning cheeks. Sweet mother of God, was she suicidal? Crawling into bed with Sam Sinclair had been as bright as a four-watt light bulb. But who knew hormones were capable of throwing their weight around like that? She’d spent half the night sitting at the helm, dozing off and on, daydreaming and sleep dreaming about Sam’s mouth on her breast. All she’d been able to think about was his offer to go below yesterday. She knew he’d kissed her only to shut her up, but she never should have tried to prove to herself that she was immune to his…his chest.
She was in such big trouble. Maybe if she hadn’t been living like a nun for the last five years, she could handle a brief, casual affair. But jeez Louise, making love after such a long drought had felt unbelievably, wonderfully good. Hot and heart-poundingly fulfilling.
She couldn’t remember ever having an orgasm that intense before. It had been…it had…damn, she wanted to do it again right now. But she had to get through the entire day first, because she sure as heck wasn’t getting naked in the daylight, when Mr. Touchy-Feely could also see her. Next time, she intended
to cop a few more feels of her own, and not just of his chest, either. The guy had an amazing butt as well. That was, assuming there would be a next time. Maybe he wouldn’t be in such a hurry to get naked with her again. Willa knew she wasn’t any man’s idea of a dream lover; she was a tad loud, in a rush most of the time, and worried about her body to the point that the less a guy felt her up, the better she liked it. Willa scrubbed her face with the cloth, then reached under the blanket and wiped her belly. Imagine him not believing her about having taken care of the contraceptive. He knew she never wanted children, so why hadn’t he taken her at her word?
Unless he was only trying to make her think he no longer wanted to marry her and get her pregnant. Or maybe he’d been lied to before by women hoping to buy their way into the Sinclair empire with a baby.
“Don’t you dare start making excuses for him,” she muttered, crawling off the bunk. “Remember what he has at stake here. You’re only a means to an end.”
“Willa?” Sam called down. “You might want to get up here sooner rather than later.”
What was wrong? “I’m coming!” she called back, pulling on jeans and slipping a baggy sweatshirt over her head as she ran to the stairs, barefoot.
“What does that look like to you?” he asked the moment she stepped on deck and looked at where he was pointing.
“It’s a water spout.” She pointed to the east of it. “And there’s another one.” She studied them for several seconds to discern their direction of travel, a bit surprised to see the natural phenomenon this far north this early in the season. She smiled at the ocean’s version of a tornado, then headed below to find her socks and shoes.
“Wait!” Sam said. “What are we supposed to do?”
She held on to the sides of the hatchway and stared at him. “I thought you and your brothers sailed with Abram all the time.”
“In the sound,” he growled, glancing over his shoulder at the spouts, which were a good fifteen miles away. “And only in fair weather. The RoseWind was Bram’s and Grammy’s passion, not ours.”
She nodded. “Then I suggest you keep a close eye on them. That thunderstorm is traveling faster than we are, and if it suddenly decides to turn north, we just might find ourselves on some yellow brick road inKansas .”
His eyes narrowed, but at the sound of distant thunder, he turned to face the squall heading out to sea to their south.
Willa backed down the steps and went hunting for her shoes with a giggle. Man, oh, man, was this going to be a fun four days or what?
Chapter Twelve
As impromptu voyages went,Willa supposed this one had no more problems than could be expected; the nights were absolutely heaven, and her hormones definitely were getting plenty of exercise. But during
the daylight hours…Well, for her sailing-challenged stowaway, this was probably the voyage from hell. To begin with, Sam was always either eating or looking for something to eat. He was burning an awful lot of calories—both during the day and well into the night. But he’d already gone through the small supply of food she’d brought, as well as what little food he’d packed in his dry sack. They were still at least a day from home, and Willa figured she would have to start fishing. When he wasn’t eating, Sam was tripping over the rigging, slamming into the boom, or nearly falling overboard. He just couldn’t seem to find his sea legs. He had a small cut on his left cheek and a knot the size of an egg on his temple, and three of his fingers were taped together because he’d caught them in the mainsail winch yesterday.
If this trip ended up killing Sam, Ben and Jesse would be forced to draw straws to see which of them would have to marry her, and then she’d have to find a way to ditch each of them. Though she could claim it wasn’t her fault that Sam couldn’t sail his way out of a wet paper bag, she didn’t think she could explain three unexplained deaths. Four if she included Abram. After all, the old man had died while in her employ.
They’d all be buried in really nice caskets, though.
“How did you find that can of sardines?” she asked when Sam plopped down with a groan beside the wheel. “I hid it in the oven because I knew you’d already checked there. Did you think the food fairy had paid a visit since the last time you looked?”
He popped the top off the can and held it up with a smile. “She obviously did.”
“I was saving those sardines to use for bait.”
He snorted. “You can use the dead flesh hanging off me instead. I haven’t been this sore since Andy Simmons beat me up in kindergarten.”
“I hope you’ve noticed that I’ve refrained from laughing at your klutziness,” she said, working hard not to smile. He looked positively pathetic.
When he finally finished draining the last drop of oil from the can, he eyed her speculatively. “I just figured out why you’re always tripping over yourself. If the floor’s not moving, you can’t function. You grew up on a swaying deck.”
“The floor of my factory doesn’t move, and I’m not a klutz at work. I’ve never met anyone with such a huge appetite.”
“For food or…” His gaze dropped to her chest.
Willa immediately reached for her jacket. “We’re definitely in theGulfofMaine . It’s getting downright cold.”
“We could put the RoseWind on autopilot and go below,” he suggested, his deep blue eyes snagging her gaze. “And share our body heat.”
“The deal is we sail by day and share our body heat only at night.” Not that she wouldn’t love to see him naked in daylight. But that would mean Sam could also see her, and her mama always told Willa that a
smart woman kept the mystery alive in a relationship.
Not that she and Sam had a relationship.
He sighed and actually started licking the empty sardine can clean, a drop of oil glistening on his four-day growth of beard. “How far are we from Keelstone Cove?” he asked, eyeing the tin forlornly.
“We’ll be there this time tomorrow, if the wind holds.”
“Who were you talking to on the radio a few minutes ago?”
“ClarkKent.”
Sam blinked. “As in Superman?”
“He’s my cousin.” Willa smiled. “And when he’s not out saving the world, you’ll find him on his boat, the Lois Lane , hauling lobster traps.” She nodded at the expanse of ocean off their starboard side. “He’s fishing about seventy miles northeast of us.”
“What sort of twisted parents name their kid Clark with the last nameKent ? Your cousin must have spent his childhood having to live up to his namesake.”
“Not many people challengeClark . He was always big for his age and didn’t stop growing until his mid-twenties. He finally topped out at six-foot-three and two hundred and fifty pounds.” She shot Sam a smile. “He was a year ahead of me in school, and I had to go to his senior prom with him because the girls wouldn’t date him.”
“I thought high school girls liked big, strong boys.”
“They like jocks.Clark was like the fictionalClark Kent, only more so. He was shy, geeky, and, um…a bit of a klutz.”
“It runs in the family?” Sam drawled.
Willa shot him a glare. “Clarkfinally grew into his size his junior year of college and came home that summer a completely new man. That was also the summer his father died. He was forced to quit school when he inherited his dad’s federal lobster license and had to support his three younger sisters and his mother.”
“Did he ever finish college?”
“No. He decided he actually prefers fishing to veterinary work. He says lobster bites aren’t nearly as painful as getting kicked by a horse.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your cousin.”
Willa shrugged. “You probably won’t get the chance. He heads out before dawn and doesn’t get back until real late. He’s busy this week moving his traps to deeper water, and you’ll be heading back toNew York once we drop anchor.”
Sam shook his head, eyeing her speculatively. “This little trip has shown me that I’m long overdue for a
vacation. I thought I’d take over Bram’s remaining two weeks of rent on your cottage. From what I saw of it on the video tape, the place looks downright peaceful.”
Willa’s hormones immediately started doing a happy dance. He was planning on hanging around two more weeks? How in heck was she going to stop herself from walking over to that cottage in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with him?
“Oh, no you don’t. There’s only a few days of rent left, and the lease is nontransferable.”
“Then I’ll find another place in Keelstone Cove to stay. Maybe a bed and breakfast—that way I won’t have to do my own cooking.”
Dammit dammit dammit. “You will not! We had a deal. Five days of fun, then we both get on with our separate lives.”
“We didn’t have a deal, Willa. You set the rules for this trip, and I followed your orders. But once we dock, you’re no longer the captain.” He shrugged. “I was just hoping to see why Bram thought Keelstone Cove was a good place to die.” His gaze locked on hers again. “I don’t understand why my staying for a couple of weeks would be a problem for you.”
“You don’t understa—” She took a calming breath. No need to get excited; she just had to explain the situation to him. “We just spent the last four nights making love like monkeys, and you expect to live next door for two weeks and…and…” She threw up her hands when he gave her a blank look. “Dammit,”
she growled. “You can’t turn hormones on and off like a water faucet!”
“Then let’s keep them turned on for two more weeks.”
“No! We can’t sleep together once I reach home!”
He frowned at her obvious alarm. “Why not? Is there a local ordinance that says two consenting adults can’t share a bed?” He shook his head. “You Mainers have some really weird notions about lovemaking, you know that?” He gave her his infamous Sam Sinclair smile, which started her hormones dancing again.
“We just have to be discreet, Willa.”
“In Keelstone Cove?” She snorted and plopped down onto the bench beside him. She never should have fished him out of the ocean in the first place.
Sam immediately threw his arm around her, hauled her up against his side, and kissed her hair. Willa cringed. She was going to smell like sardines all day.
