deck where it was washed overboard.”
She just gaped at him, trying to understand.
“The oiler’s door on the starboard side was smashed in by a rogue wave, and some of the windows on that same side have been blown in as well. Is that enough?”
“There’s more?”
“We’re taking on water, and without functioning sails, we’re not in control of our direction. We’re off course, way off course. How about now? Enough now?”
She swallowed hard. “Are we drowning today then? Because if we are, I should schedule in my panic attack.”
“There is good news.”
“I’d like that please.”
He slid open a supply closet. “The storm is losing strength.”
She stared at his broad shoulders, shoulders that took on so much. “So are we drowning today or not?”
“Well, it’s not on my agenda, no.”
“Even without the storm, if we’re damaged beyond control…”
He turned back, acknowledging that with a slight bow of his head.
She drew a shaky breath and gave up on trying to get promises. There were none to be had, and she didn’t want false ones anyway. “Okay. Let’s-”
The boat jerked, nearly sending her flying against a wall, but Christian reached out, snagged her by the shirt, and hauled her to his side, saving her from more bruises and who knew what else. When she could stand on her own, he grabbed a bag and handed it to her, filling it with things she might need from his shelves: ice packs, Band-Aids, aspirin…
She watched him work quickly and efficiently, and when he caught her staring at him, he stopped. “What?”
She dug into the supplies he’d just given her for gauze, and then shifted close, dabbing at his lip.
He hissed out a breath.
“Baby,” she murmured.
His gaze slid to hers, surprised. “
“That’s right. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”
“Trust me, I can take anything you’ve got.”
Oh boy, if that didn’t start her engines. “Sorry, but you relinquished that right last night.”
“My loss.”
Did he really feel that way? The boat rocked, and she reached out to balance herself against him, her hand settling on his chest as if it belonged there. She found her fingers sort of stroking over him, and stared at the motion.
But beneath his T-shirt, he was warm, solid. Her fingers glided over his pec, a nipple. It pebbled, and she did it again.
“Playing with fire, Dorie?” he asked softly.
Lifting her head, she stared at him. Her heart had sped up. He could pretend he was unaffected, but she felt his heart do the same, thumping with increasing velocity beneath her hand. She opened her mouth to say so but he put his fingers over her lips, making them tingle, making every part of her tingle.
“Stick with Andy.”
She shook her head. “What?”
“You heard me. And you know why.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
Turning away, he took a few more things from the shelves, and dropped them into a backpack for himself. “You need to make sure they’re drinking plenty of liquids-”
The boat pitched again and she put out her hand to brace herself against the wall.
He simply spread his legs and remained steady. “They’ll need you to remind them to keep drinking. If anyone turns nonresponsive, come find me.”
She studied his broad shoulders, and the invisible weight there. He either didn’t want her, or didn’t want to want her. She voted for option number two. “You must get tired of this.”
“Being a doctor?”
“Babysitting passengers. Storms. Not having your own space.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Most people assume my job is the best job on the planet. Sailing for a living. Taking care of the occasional seasickness. Or splinter.”
She ignored that because he was most definitely
He turned away, but not before she saw the truth in his gaze.
Why did he do it? Why did he stay? “Did you mean it when you said I should be with Andy?”
“I mean everything I say. Always.”
TEN
Christian made it up to the deck, then leaned against the hull, eyes closed, body tight. His body had been tight ever since he’d first laid eyes on Dorie, but he could get over that.
What he couldn’t get over was the way she’d gotten inside him. Just looking at her, with those wide, expressive eyes, all that untamable hair, that sweet expression, which said she might be a little naive but was willing to try anything…
He wasn’t used to such conflicting emotions. There hadn’t been many in his life he’d let get to him. His mother, yes. She’d been the center of his universe, but he’d lost her so young he could scarcely even remember being held by her. After that he’d been sent from his native France to live with his father, who’d been a traveling medic, a man not much for warmth and affection. Later there’d been women, even a few Christian had found himself attached to, but no one who’d made him want things.
No, that was a big, fat lie. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, and his body.
And his tongue.
Even more unsettling, he wanted more, more than he’d wanted in a long time. She’d made him feel this way with a single glance of those soulful eyes, the ones that always gave her away; gave away her insecurity, her vulnerability, her sweet, loving nature.
Her attraction to him.
An attraction he’d all but told her to give to Andy instead. Definitely that was for the best. The two of them would enjoy their vacation, and then go on their merry way.
And Christian would still have one long year left in his own personal hell…
He could hear someone swearing-Denny. The winds and rain had lessened slightly. One thing in their favor. Now if they could survive the seas, limp into the next port, and get the passengers safe on land…
“Goddamn piece of shit scuppers, fuck me if they won’t goddamn work.” More from Denny, who was slapping at his instruments-those that were left. “Hell, fuck, shit-”
“You kiss your
Denny didn’t laugh, or make some smart-ass comment in return, which had Christian taking another good long look at him. They’d worked together a long time now, and though there was an ease, a familiarity, there was not a kinship. They were too different for that, but it didn’t take close kinship to see Denny was overly pale, and not pissed off as Christian had first thought, but something far worse.
