Deep,DarkandDangerousSMASH

  Deep, Dark and Dangerous

  By Sydney Allan

  Copyright © 2011 by Sydney Allan

  www.risingphoenixbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Rising Phoenix Books production: August 2011

  Chapter One

  To Kath Lewis, v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n was a four-letter word, at least the kind that involved travel by land, sea, or air. This week she'd be forced to endure not just one, but all three.

  It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, the kind most women her age–last month she'd celebrated her twenty-ninth birthday for the eighth time, but who's counting?–and financial status could only dream about. Kath Lewis, a secretary who made peanuts working for a bean counter, was about to sail the Caribbean on a luxury yacht.

  Sunscreen? Check.

  Bathing Suit? Check.

  Seasick medicine? Check.

  Grumbling to herself, she set her checklist on top of her suitcase, settled her rear end over the whole shebang, and sat, hoping her one hundred thirty pounds–or thereabouts, depending upon the time of day, the time of month, and how many carbs she'd consumed in the past twenty-four hours–might convince the front and back of the over-stuffed suitcase to meet.

  Not even close. She sighed.

  "You are the most miserable vacationer I've ever seen," her lifelong best friend and more recent roommate, Marie, said as she poked her head through the doorway. "You're going on a cruise. On the Caribbean! What's wrong with you? I'd give up chocolate for a whole month to go on a trip like that. Heck, just having the chance to visit someplace with daytime temperatures above forty degrees would be worth it."

  Never one to ignore opportunity when it fell at her feet, and thus in the pickle she now found herself, Kath offered, "You don't have to give up your favorite crutch for a single day. I know what that would do to you. Take my place. If you hurry, you can make the flight to Florida–"

  "Gladly but I'd feel guilty as heck for the rest of my life." Arms lifting as she gathered her shoulder length chestnut hair into a ponytail, Marie stepped into the room.

  "No, seriously, you'd be doing me a favor. I'm not crazy about boats. For one thing, I can't swim. And I can't ride a bumper boat at the carnival without getting seasick. Did I tell you I hurled on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World when I was fifteen?"

  "At least a hundred times." Marie secured her hair then checked her face in the mirror on top of Kath's dresser. Clearly not pleased with what she saw, she scowled.

  "It was a very humiliating experience. All those pirates saw me," Kath added, not sure her friend understood how traumatizing that particular experience had been.

  Marie dug through the basket holding Kath's cosmetics and opened a small jar of eye cream. "I'm sure it was terrible but you've got nothing to worry about. First you're–"

  "Watch it!" Kath warned with a smile, sure an insult of one kind or another was about to come out of her friend's mouth.

  "You're...a little...older now." Marie finished as she applied the white cream around one eye, then the other. "And you got seasick pills from the doctor." After a shake of approval at her new and supposedly improved reflection, Marie turned around to face Kath and crossed her arms over her chest. "Nope. You're not going to miss this. It's going to be the trip of a lifetime and you're gonna have the time of your life, despite yourself. But I will help you with that suitcase..." She settled all ninety pounds of her petite Italian frame onto the suitcase's top and bounced a few times. The springs of Kath's bed squeaked reminding Kath of how long it had been since she'd heard that sound produced by an entirely different kind of bouncing, the fun kind. Her nether-regions had been sorely neglected for over a year. "There. Latch it," Marie said, looking triumphant, despite the four-inch gap between the top and bottom.

  "You'd need to gain another ninety pounds if you're going to help. Nice try, though. Thanks anyway." Kath silently asked Marie to remove her dainty self from the suitcase with a tip of her head so she could sort the vitally necessary from the mostly necessary. It wasn't like she was a heavy packer but trying to cram enough stuff for three weeks into one bag would challenge the most seasoned traveler. Thank God she was going someplace warm. Packing three weeks worth of wool sweaters and heavy slacks into her puny luggage would be impossible.

  "Give it up and take a second bag," Marie suggested, shaking her head. "You need pajamas." She picked up the lightweight nightgown Kath had removed from the pile and put it right back where Kath hadn't wanted it.

  "No, I don't. I can sleep in my undies. It'll be warm at night anyway." She took the nightie out and lobbed it in the general direction of her dresser, knowing Marie wouldn't want to expend the energy required to walk across the room to get it. Life was so unfair. The girl ate everything in sight, including enough chocolate to supply a roomful of kindergarteners, and considered the gym the fifth level of Hades, but still she maintained a lean body the likes of which Kath hadn't possessed since she'd hit puberty. "It's only going to be my brother and me aboard. I refuse to check a bag at the airport. Every time I do, the airline loses it."

  "You're exaggerating. That's only happened to you once." Marie went to Kath's closet and flipped through the hung clothes.

  "Twice," Kath corrected.

  "Twice? That hardly qualifies as every time," Marie said, still searching through Kath's clothes. "I'm sure you've been on a plane more than twice in your life."

  "Fine. You're right. Now, would you please quit ribbing me and let me finish here? My plane leaves in three hours. Then again, if I missed my flight..."

  Marie slung a few selections over her arm, including Kath's favorite man-hunting dress, a hot, clingy red number, and turned to give Kath one of her well-used you'd-better-listen-to-me glares as she walked to the dresser. "I'll drag you to the airport kicking and screaming before I'll let that happen so hustle up and get that bag packed. You don't know what humiliation is until you've been dragged through the airport by a screaming dego–"

  "Okay, okay!" Kath chuckled as she removed several more pieces of clothing. "Almost done." She tested the suitcase to see if it would close then removed a couple more things, zipped it shut, and stood it up.

  Marie stuffed the camera that had been in Kath's top dresser drawer into her hands. "Please, try to have fun?"

  "I'm going on a cruise. On the ocean. With a family member I haven't seen in over ten years. He's practically a stranger–"

  "He's your brother."

  "Half," she corrected. "Steven's my half-brother."

  "And he's single and filthy rich, which is good for me. Take lots of pictures of him, preferably half-naked. Speaking of half-naked, here." Marie stuffed an envelope into Kath's hand. "Here's a photo of me so you don't get homesick. Put it in plain view and tell him all about me–all the good stuff though; you can forget about the bad–will you?"

  "Sure enough." Kath inspected the contents of the envelope, finding the photograph of bikini-clad, tanned Marie she'd snapped last summer when they'd gone to the beach, and slipped it into her oversized purse. She made no effort to fight as Marie half-shoved her out of the bedroom and through the living room. She paused just long enough to put her long woolen winter coat over her flirty flowered skirt and short sleeved top then pulled open their apartment's front door. "You behave yourself while I'm gone."

  "Will do."

  "No parties," she warned sternly, fully expecting Marie to ignore her.

  "Of course not." Marie fluttered her eyelashes, proving Kath's expectations were right on target.


  "Liar. Please, no getting yourself arrested. Again."

  Marie rolled her big brown eyes. "You won't ever let me live that one down, will you? I swear, Brad looked at least nineteen–"

  "Maybe with half a fifth of tequila in your gut. I was sober and in my opinion he looked–"

  "It was New Year's Eve. Would you just forget about me? There's no need to worry."

  "If I don't worry about you, no one will."

  "That's why I love you so much. You're so altruistic." Marie patted Kath's shoulder as she set the heavy suitcase outside the doorway in the building's main hall. "But it's time for you to cut the apron strings, go out, enjoy life! I'll be fine."

  "I'll call you when I land–"

  "Don't. Just concentrate on relaxing. I swear, if you don't slow down, you'll drop dead of a heart attack at forty. It happens you know. I have a friend whose aunt's neighbor's sister-in-law's daughter had a heart attack. She was a secretary too, for an accountant even." Marie gave Kath a healthy shove toward the doorway.

  "I can walk on my own, brat." Kath stepped outside then turned to give her pushy friend a few last minute warnings.

  "Bye. Love ya!" Marie slammed the door before Kath said a single word.

  "That's one heck of a parting. Love you, too." Shaking her head, Kath lugged her suitcase out to her car, her sandals skidding on the ice-coated driveway, scraped a small iceberg off the windshield, and settled in the driver's seat. She shivered as she started the car and waited for the sub-zero air blasting from the heater vents to warm.

  It was hard to imagine that in a few short hours she'd be trading blistering cold temperatures, rutted roads, and snow flurries for sunny skies, mid-seventies, and a salty sea breeze. She only hoped the tropical paradise wouldn't prove to be hell.

  * * *

  Morgan Hawk stretched his arms overhead and glanced at the western sky. Storms were coming. The meteorologist on the news with his state of the art Doppler radar equipment was wrong. Nothing beat a pirate's bones for predicting the weather, not even radar.

  The weather was in the wind, not fancy pictures.

  He secured the maiden fifty-seven foot Navigator Rival, a beautiful lady named Caribbean Heat, docked for the night. Tomorrow, they were setting out on a three week tour of the islands south of the Florida Keys. He was content to spend his final night on dry land in the arms of a willing woman. And he knew just where to find her, or so he assumed. His favorite local playmate wintered a couple of blocks away, in a rented condo decorated in deep jewel tones and rich woods that reminded him of home. The woman herself--soft, feminine, and appeasing in all the right ways--did the same. So few women were like that anymore. It was a shame.

  In the quest for equality they'd lost so much of what had made them appealing.

  He chose to walk the short distance to her home, rather than drive. In the mood to run, to feel the hard, hot ground pounding under his feet and his heart thump heavily in his chest, he broke into a run. The sensation was exhilarating. He relished the burn in his lungs, the sting in his legs.

  Thanks to this world's luxuries, his body didn't see a tenth of the physical strains it once did. That was not good either. All around him he saw the effects.

  Weak. The men were weak of body, weak of spirit. It was no wonder the women felt they had to be stronger.

  He found Janice's vehicle parked in front of her home as expected. What wasn't expected was the second, a sleek black sedan parked next to it. Janice had company. He or she would have to leave.

  Morgan closed the distance to her front door in a short sprint then punched the button that sounded the doorbell. He paced back and forth across the low covered porch as he waited for her to answer.

  She took a very long time, longer than usual. When she did finally open the door, she was dressed in her bathrobe.

  It was very late to be still in a bathrobe, or very early to be retiring.

  She looked surprised as she pulled the door open the span of two hands. "Oh, Morgan. Hello. I...um...didn't know you were in town."

  "I just got in. The boss sent me to pick up the new lady, get her all ready for her maiden voyage, a short trip down the Keys. I'm here for the night and–"

  "I...can't talk right now," she interrupted, her face a mask of tension. "It was good seeing you though. Maybe another time." She nodded.

  It wasn't looking good for his night in a woman's arms, at least not Janice's. As disappointed as he was, this world's code would not allow him to do what came naturally. Obviously another man had gotten there first. He would simply have to accept it. "I see. Goodnight." Battling the temptation to storm into her house and demand the bastard show himself, he walked away. He considered a visit to the nearest bar in a quest to locate an acceptable substitute but decided against it. He'd learned long ago that the average American woman failed miserably at pleasing him.

  Tonight he was not in the mood for bad sex.

  Entertaining his only consoling thought, of the lusty woman waiting for him at his next port, he strolled back down the street toward the docks.

  Chapter Two

  Kath poked her head into the limo parked in front of her hotel room, expecting to see her baby brother. But the leather-clad interior was notably devoid of all human inhabitants. She glanced back over her shoulder at the driver. "This is Steven Schafer's car, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Ma’am."

  "He isn't here."

  "No, Ma’am. His flight will be arriving in a little over an hour. I am to deliver you to the boat and then pick him up."

  "I have to wait on the boat by myself?" she asked, still not fully inside the vehicle.

  The driver looked a little impatient. "No, Ma’am. You won’t be alone. Mr. Hawk will be there."

  "Mr. Hawk?"

  "The yacht captain. He arrived yesterday to ready the boat."

  "I see." She slid into a seat and let the driver close the door. With her mind's eye, she tried to picture the yacht's captain. Clueless of what to expect, she imagined a salty old man with a wild white beard and bowed legs. The image amused her but didn't settle her jittery nerves.

  Worse yet, thanks to the seasick medication she had taken before checking out of her hotel room, she was also bothered by a mouth as dry as the Sahara. An investigation of the limo's mini-fridge scored her a cold bottle of Evian, which she swallowed in a chain of thirsty gulps. But like the pirates in her favorite movie, the water did nothing to diminish her thirst. Moments later, her mouth was dry as dust again.

  Thankful that at least she didn't seem to be suffering any other side effects, she rapped on the window dividing the passenger area from the driver and asked him to stop at a gas station where she invested in a large bag of mint gum, hard candies and bottled water. Granted, her brother's fridge on the boat was probably well-stocked with beverages but at this rate, she'd probably consume her share in a single day. Who knew what kind of water she'd find on those little tropical islands they planned to visit on their voyage.

  About a half hour later, the car pulled into what looked like a parking lot. To one side, long docks stretched like fingers into the water. On each side of the wooden docks bobbed boats of varying size and shape. Small, large, sails and no sails.

  The driver opened her door then went to the back to retrieve her bag from the trunk. He led her down to a beautiful white boat with the words Caribbean Heat painted on the rear.

  As they neared, the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen stepped forward. One foot next to hers on the dock, and one foot on the boat, he offered a hand to her as she stepped over the small but intimidating gap between the dock and the bobbing boat.

  Somewhere in the distance she heard someone introduce her to the stunning man.

  His name was Captain Morgan Something. And Captain Morgan Something was tall, dark...and dangerous.

  At least six foot three, he had dark hair, longer than she usually liked, that the wind stirred into sexy waves and curls. His jaw suggested a strong will and his lips spoke of thin
gs she hadn't enjoyed in a long, long time. A tight white tank did nothing to hide the bulges and planes of a body sculpted into perfection. Deeply tanned skin shimmered with a coating of oil scented with coconut.

  Little tingles and giddy tickles zipped up her spine, making her break out in an instant sweat. Even more troubling, she found herself breathless when the boat bobbed slightly and she lost her balance. She fell against him, and her breasts pressed against a chest that felt like it was forged from solid stone.

  As she scrambled to find her footing, she became painfully aware of his gaze as it scanned her body slowly, winding down her torso and legs before traveling back up to her face. Instinctively, she tipped her head back to look him in the eye.

  That was not a good thing to do, considering her unsteady footing. Her knees felt like marshmallow and her heart felt like it was racing out of control. Buckets of sweat dribbled along her brows and down the sides of her face.

  She was an absolute mess.

  But that was nothing compared to the shock she felt when she realized why his gaze had dropped once more and had yet to return to her face.

  Her flirty lightweight skirt, the one that had seemed so cute and appropriate when she'd dressed this morning, had been picked up by the wind. It was now blown up flat against her stomach, revealing the new black lace panties she'd bought on a whim at Victoria's Secret.

  It seemed that Captain Tall, Dark, and Dangerous had an appreciation for black lace. That revelation created a stir inside and in a heartbeat made the cotton-lined lace panel between her legs mighty damp.

  "I'm uh..." she stammered, not able to speak for a number of reasons, the most significant one being that the blood had to have stopped flowing to her head ages ago and was settled below the waistline. "...sorry? Don't have my sea legs yet, I guess," she joked as she quickly righted her skirt. More embarrassed than she ever remember being, she reached behind her, and finding a railing, clung to it with one hand. She fished in her purse with the other, located her camera and snapped a picture.