Raven’s glance followed hers. He frowned as he saw the dense, blue-black wall of clouds advancing toward them on the back of a freshening wind. „Just long enough to get to the boat, if we’re lucky. Damn. What the hell was I thinking of? I know better than to turn my back on the sea.“

„No time for oysters?“ asked Janna, thinking of the small oyster bed they had passed on their way to the mouth of the inlet.

„I’ll get some. You go on to the boat and stay dry.“

„What about you?“

„Getting wet will teach me to keep my mind on the weather.“ And off how sexy your hipslook when you bend over and sort through the contents of a tide pool, Raven added silently.

„But you’ll run out of dry clothes,“ Janna said.

„I’ll wear a sleeping bag.“

„No way,“ she said, shaking her head firmly, making light flicker and run through her softly curling cinnamon hair. „I’ll wear a sheet and give you back your own clothes.“

The thought of Janna naked but for a dark blue sheet made Raven smile despite his promises to himself not to think of her in any way except as a friend or a sister.

Janna didn’t see the very male smile because she had already turned and started up the shore toward the part of the inlet where the Black Star was moored. Raven watched her for a few moments, admiring the quintessentially feminine swing of her hips. With a muffled curse he admitted to himself how much he itched to trace Janna’s graceful spine and the smooth, full curves of her bottom with his tongue and fingertips. She would feel so good, warm and firm, soft and womanly, filling his senses even as he filled her. Would she like that? Would she like being teased and tasted and finally taken by him?

The direction of Raven’s thoughts was rapidly making walking uncomfortable for him.

Cursing silently, he wondered how he was going to keep his hands off her for the two more days of rain and wind that the storm was predicted to run.

“Raven?“ called Janna.

He looked up and realized that he had stopped walking while he fought his unruly thoughts and hungry body. Furiously he swore beneath his breath. Selfcontrol had never been this much of a problem for him, even when he had been a boy in the first raw rush of sexuality.

„Is something wrong?“ Janna asked.

„No,“ he said, his voice almost harsh. „I was just wondering how much longer we’ll be shut up in this damned inlet.“

„Oh.“

Janna smiled brightly, meaninglessly. She turned and walked away from Raven as quickly as possible, all the pleasure gone from her day. She had been enjoying every instant of being marooned with Raven. It was deflating to realize that he was counting the minutes until the storm let up enough to permit them to leave. Deflating, but not surprising. If he had ever fantasized about being trapped in a deserted inlet, it would be Angel who filled his dreams, not a strange brunette with an off-the-wall sense of humor.

Raven, on the other hand, was the kind of man Janna had dreamed about long before he had fished her from the cold sea. His intelligence appealed to her as much as his strength, and his laughter made her feel as though she had stepped into a cataract of sunlight. The thought of being wanted by a man like that – really desired – made her tremble.

The squall line came ashore just as Janna scrambled into the boat’s cabin. The second log that Raven had lashed to the original mooring log made it easier for her to walk along the bobbing „dock“ to the boat without slipping. Even so, she was grateful that she wouldn’t have to attempt crossing the erratically moving surface in the rain.

She smiled almost sadly. It had been very thoughtful of Raven to round up another one of the old, weathered logs that lined the inlet and add it to the „dock“ just so that she wouldn’t risk a dunking every time she came or went from the boat. She had watched in fascination as he stripped to his waist and maneuvered the log into the water. The raw strength of Raven’s body had been almost frightening.

Yet she had wanted nothing more than to run her hands over that powerful flesh, savoring the male heat and strength, the textures both smooth and intriguingly furry. She wondered if his sweat would taste like the sea or would have the astringency of cedar. Or perhaps his taste would be a blend of salt and evergreen and man, a mixture as complex and elemental as Raven himself.

„He could taste like caviar and cherry pie for all you know or will know,“ Janna muttered to herself. „Or lightning and rain, or wine and – oh, the hell with it. Stop torturing yourself over what you can’t have and make some tea. He’s going to be wet and cold by the time he gathers a bucket of oysters for dinner.“

While the water heated Janna put out two mugs, each with its own tea infuser. She liked her tea fairly mild, with lemon peel and sugar. Raven liked his tea strong enough to etch steel. Then he added canned milk and sugar in the British fashion. Janna had tried it. She still wasn’t sure what it had tasted like. She knew what it had not tasted like, though. Tea.

As soon as the water boiled she poured it into the mugs, carefully leaving enough room in one for the generous amount of milk Raven would add. She stepped across the narrow galley aisle and sat at the custom-made dining table that filled one side of the small cabin. The table was larger than most ship’s tables because Raven was larger than most men. At night the table was lowered, fitted into a groove and covered with a custom-made mattress. Normally Raven simply left the bunk made up and ate his meals sitting on one of the padded seats in the stern of the boat. Since Janna had joined him, he had insisted on setting up the table every morning and taking it down after dinner every night.

Janna looked toward the small triangular cabin in the bow of the boat where she slept. There was a narrow bunk running down either side, leaving a wedge-shaped aisle in between. One look at the bunks had told her why Raven didn’t sleep there. He would have hung over everywhere. For her the bunk was quite comfortable. For him it would have been a bad joke.

Absently Janna tested her tea by pulling out the infuser and looking at the color of the liquid running back into the mug. Perfect. She cut off a bit of lemon peel with a galley knife. It was lethally sharp, as were all Raven’s knives. She was grateful. Only a sharp knife held by a skilled, strong hand would have been able to slice through the tough fabric of the life vest that had bound her to the sinking row-boat.

She shivered unconsciously and added a teaspoon of sugar to her tea. Carefully she re-wrapped the small piece of lemon that was all that Raven had had in his cooler. She had been grateful to find even that. Lemons on the Queen Charlotte Islands were a rare and exotic life form.

Restlessly Janna looked around the boat. Her glance fell on the small writing tablet and pencil that Raven had found for her so that she could make sketches. Even as she reached for the pad, she decided against it. The ruled lines would distract her, which simply meant that she was too edgy to sketch.

She went out to the Black Star’s stern. The canopy was snapped in place, keeping off both wind and rain, making another cabin out of the stern of the boat. The sound of rain was continuous, relentless. Normally she found it soothing. Now she just wanted to hear Raven’s voice. She leaned forward, staring through the clear plastic windows in the canopy. There was nothing to see but rain. It was coming down so hard that she could barely see the shore.

The boat rocked gently against the fenders protecting the hull from the logs. Janna closed her eyes. For a long time she listened to the rain and the wind and the restless sea. She was used to being alone, yet she was not used to being lonely. And that was how she felt right now. Lonely.

„Hello the Black Star! Oysters coming on board.“

Janna felt warmth flood through her. Even as she told herself that she was a fool for letting her heart and her hopes race, she set aside her tea and rushed over to unzip a section of the canopy. A bucket emerged into the opening, followed shortly by Raven himself. He fastened the canopy again and then turned toward Janna. He was as wet as a seal despite his waterproof jacket. He peeled off the jacket, shook it and hung it

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