Mariah Stewart Page 8

  Jeremy smi­led and po­in­ted to the left of the bow whe­re a do­zen or mo­re dor­sal fins bro­ke the sur­fa­ce of the wa­ter, all at the sa­me ti­me.

  "Oh, lo­ok at them!" Jody cri­ed, le­aning over the si­de of the bo­at to tra­il her hand thro­ugh the wa­ter.

  "Miss, try not to to­uch the dol­p­hin," the we­at­he­red old gu­ide told her. "So­me­ti­mes we hu­mans ha­ve sub­s­tan­ces on our fin­gers that can ca­use skin ir­ri­ta­ti­ons for them."

  Jody re­mo­ved her hand, but the rest of her re­ma­ined as it was aga­inst the ra­iling. The dol­p­hin swam so clo­se to the bo­at that she co­uld ha­ve to­uc­hed them, wo­uld ha­ve, had it not be­en for the war­ning. Much to the de­light of the pas­sen­gers on the bo­at, the dol­p­hin le­aped from the wa­ter, splas­hing the­ir audi­en­ce and pla­ying with gle­eful aban­don for ten or fif­te­en mi­nu­tes be­fo­re swim­ming off. Jody tur­ned to watch them, re­ali­zing for the first ti­me just how far they we­re from sho­re.

  "It's only a mi­le," Jeremy shrug­ged.

  "I fe­el bet­ter when I can ac­tu­al­ly see land," she told him, lo­oking down in­to the dark blue gre­en of the oce­an and won­de­ring just how far be­low the bot­tom might be. Then aga­in, she told her­self, the­re are so­me things we are bet­ter off not kno­wing.

  "The­re's a wha­le off the bow!" The sho­ut went up, and all forty pas­sen­gers rus­hed to the left si­de of the bo­at.

  "May­be now might be a go­od ti­me to go up to that se­cond le­vel," Jody sa­id ner­vo­usly as the bo­at se­emed to list to one si­de.

  Jeremy la­ug­hed as he to­ok her hand and led her up the nar­row steps.

  "The­re, now," he sa­id on­ce they re­ac­hed the top. "Fe­el bet­ter now?"

  "I do. It just se­emed a lit­tle too crow­ded for com­fort down the­re. Oh, Jeremy, the­re's the wha­le! Lo­ok at it! It's as big as a bus!"

  "Big­ger," he nod­ded, ad­mi­ring the cre­atu­re's agi­lity, in spi­te of its si­ze, as it tur­ned and di­ved. "Lo­ok, the­re's a se­cond."

  Her eyes fol­lo­wed his fin­ger to the right of the lar­ge mam­mal, whe­re a smal­ler one had sur­fa­ced. In awe, they wat­c­hed the two enor­mo­us cre­atu­res fro­lic be­fo­re di­sap­pe­aring be­ne­ath the dark wa­ters and ap­pe­aring aga­in so­me yards away, over and over, un­til fi­nal­ly they we­re far­t­her out to sea than Jody wan­ted to be. She was gra­te­ful to he­ar the bo­at's en­gi­ne as the cap­ta­in pre­pa­red to turn the ves­sel abo­ut and he­ad to­ward sho­re.

  Over­he­ad a gull swo­oped low to the wa­ter, se­ar­c­hing, she gu­es­sed, for a mid-mor­ning snack. The sun had bur­ned away the rest of the clo­uds, and she wis­hed she had worn a hat to ke­ep the sun from her fa­ce.

  A boy of abo­ut ten ran ac­ross the deck and sto­od atop the back of the bench se­at.

  "I don't think that's a very go­od idea," Jeremy told him calmly. "If the bo­at lur­c­hes, you co­uld get tos­sed over the si­de."

  "So what? I can swim." The boy sa­id ru­dely over his sho­ul­der.

  "Think you can out­s­wim him?" Jeremy po­in­ted to­ward the wa­ter, and the boy's li­ne of vi­si­on fol­lo­wed his fin­ger to the dark fin that had just bro­ken the sur­fa­ce of the wa­ter.

  Jeremy sto­od to grab the front of the boy's shirt to pull him down on­to the se­at and to sa­fety. The child lan­ded with a plop, his fa­ce whi­te and his eyes as big as sa­ucers. "That's a shark," he sa­id dumbly.

  "That su­re is." Jeremy ag­re­ed.

  "Bobby, the­re's a shark," the boy cal­led to the thin, dark-ha­ired boy who po­ked his he­ad out from the do­or­way.

  "A re­al shark?" Bobby ran to the ra­iling to see. "Hey, ever­y­body, a shark! A shark!"

  "So much for ten­der mo­ments," Jeremy grum­b­led as the shark cir­c­led aro­und and ca­me back to­wad the bo­at.

  "Hey, mis­ter! How big is that shark?" The boy in the stri­ped shirt as­ked.

  "May­be fif­te­en, six­te­en fe­et long. He's a big one," Jeremy told him.

  "Wow! If I had fal­len in…" his eyes wi­de­ned even mo­re at the pros­pect.

  "Shark ba­it," Jeremy nod­ded.

  The two boys ex­c­han­ged an an­xi­o­us glan­ce, then he­aded for the steps and ma­de a no­isy de­cent. Jody la­ug­hed. "You sca­red the be­j­esus out of them."

  "The­re are so­me risks not worth ta­king," he told her as he pul­led her clo­ser, min­d­ful of her sun­burn, "and the­re are so­me that are. You, Jody Bec­kett, are a risk worth ta­king."

  "What risk…" she ma­na­ged to ask be­fo­re his mo­uth, ever so gently, re­ac­hed her own.

  It was mo­re ca­ress than kiss, mo­re a ges­tu­re of lon­ging than ful­fil­lment, but be­ne­ath its ten­der­ness the­re was a pro­mi­se of so­met­hing mo­re, so­met­hing de­ep and po­wer­ful and to­tal. Jody won­de­red how long she wo­uld ha­ve to wa­it be­fo­re its pro­mi­se wo­uld be kept.

  Chapter 7

  "I can't re­mem­ber when I had mo­re fun," Jody la­ug­hed as she un­loc­ked the do­or to her mo­tel ro­om. "But, oh, man, that rol­ler co­as­ter is a de­mon! I tho­ught I was go­ing to pass out."

  "That's why they call it the Jer­sey De­vil," Jeremy clo­sed the do­or be­hind them.

  "Oh, but the worst was the Ser­pent! Who ever dre­amed up that ri­de sho­uld be tor­tu­red un­mer­ci­ful­ly!"

  "I co­uld tell you ha­ted it," he grab­bed her by the arm and pul­led her to him. "That's why you had to go on it fo­ur ti­mes."

  Jody's fa­ce was still flus­hed from that last rol­ler co­as­ter ri­de, her eyes still spar­k­ling from the ex­ci­te­ment of that last dow­n­hill spi­ral, her lips still to­uc­hed with the last bit of pa­le pink cot­ton candy. Jeremy co­uld not re­sist the ur­ge to re­mo­ve that tra­ce of spun su­gar from the cor­ner or her mo­uth. He lic­ked at it with his ton­gue, un­til she tur­ned her he­ad just slightly and par­ted her lips to me­et his ton­gue with her own and to in­vi­te him to tas­te de­eper and de­eper.

  Jody's arms had fo­und the­ir way to his chest, then to his sho­ul­ders, then to the si­des of his fa­ce. His hands slid down her body, then back aga­in, sen­ding war­ming wa­ves of ke­en sen­sa­ti­on to rip­ple thro­ugh her. Ever­y­w­he­re

  Jeremy to­uc­hed her, she se­emed to melt, skin and bo­nes. When his mo­uth mo­ved to her thro­at and tra­ced a hot swe­et li­ne to her sho­ul­der, the warmth shot stra­ight to her belly and lo­wer. She drew his mo­uth back to her own and drank him in. Jeremy's hands so­ught and fo­und the soft swells of her bre­asts and gra­zed them on­ce, twi­ce, three ti­mes, each suc­ces­si­ve pas­sing lin­ge­ring a lit­tle lon­ger to tan­ta­li­ze her eager flesh. She to­ok one slow step bac­k­wards, then anot­her, then anot­her, un­til she felt the ed­ge of the bed be­hind her. His hands slid down to her hips, dra­wing her body tightly aga­inst his own, his mo­uth pos­ses­sing hers.

  "J­ody…" he whis­pe­red in­to her neck. "Jody…" "Don't stop, Jeremy." She pul­led him on­to the bed with her. "Ple­ase don't even think abo­ut stop­ping…" In a he­ar­t­be­at, he was ever­y­w­he­re, his mo­uth was ever­y­w­he­re, his hands we­re ever­y­w­he­re, and Jody was lost on a tur­bu­lent sea that spun her aro­und and aro­und and tur­ned her in­si­de out. She shed her clot­hes, item by item, and Jeremy hun­g­rily de­vo­ured every inch of newly ex­po­sed flesh. Every bit of her ac­hed with wan­ting him, every fi­ber of her body cra­ved him. A soft mo­an es­ca­ped her lips, and she ar­c­hed her back, de­man­ding yet still mo­re of him, mo­re of the hot swe­et rhythm that spur­red her on. When his mo­uth fo­und her bre­asts, she all but scre­amed. When fi­nal­ly, he slid in­si­de her, she to­ok him in eagerly. When he be­gan to rock in­si­de her, she ur­ged him on im­pa­ti­ently. And when he had shat­te­red in­si­de her, she wan­ted him all over
aga­in. Jeremy, be­ing a gen­t­le­man, did not ma­ke her wa­it.

  The alarm on Jeremy's watch went off at fo­ur-thirty. A sle­epy hand slap­ped at the top of the bed­si­de tab­le, se­eking the so­ur­ce of the ir­ri­ta­ting so­und.

  "What ti­me is it?" Jody mut­te­red, her eyes still clo­sed.

  "Fo­ur- thirty," he told her.

  "Didn't we just go to sle­ep?" She grum­b­led.

  "Abo­ut an ho­ur and a half ago," Jeremy la­ug­hed.

  A few mi­nu­tes la­ter, she as­ked, "Why?"

  "Why what?" His hand stro­ked her arm gently.

  "Why did the alarm go off at fo­ur-thirty?" She snug­gled in­to his arms, com­p­le­tely at ho­me the­re.

  "Be­ca­use I ha­ve to run back to my ro­om and chan­ge my clot­hes, then get myself to the ma­ri­na be­fo­re fi­ve. I ha­ve a da­te with Cap­ta­in Hel­met." He kis­sed the tip of her ear. "It isn't too la­te, you know. You can still co­me with us."

  "Cap­ta­in Hel­met," she mut­te­red. "Oh. The de­ep-sea thing. No, no, thank you. I'll just re­lax on the be­ach whi­le you and Ahab cha­se the gi­ant whi­te tu­na or wha­te­ver's run­ning this we­ek."

  He pas­sed a lo­ving hand over her thigh as he swung his legs over the si­de of the bed.

  "I sho­uld be back by early this af­ter­no­on," he told her as he sto­od up and stret­c­hed.

  "If you catch fish, what will you do with them?" She sat up and ope­ned her eyes. "Ke­ep them in ice in the bat­h­ro­om sink?"

  "Hel­met will ha­ve yo­ur catch cle­aned, fro­zen, and pac­ked in ice when you're re­ady to go ho­me. That's part of his ser­vi­ce."

  "That Hel­met thinks of ever­y­t­hing." She flop­ped back on the pil­low, her hand re­ac­hing out to the warm spot next to her whe­re he had be­en.

  In the dark he pul­led on his je­ans, and in the fa­int light from the bal­cony she co­uld see him sli­ding on the shirt he'd worn the night be­fo­re.

  "Be ca­re­ful," she sa­id softly. "Don't fall over­bo­ard."

  "Not a chan­ce." He le­aned down and kis­sed her so­lidly. "I'm just be­gin­ning to re­al­ly enj­oy this va­ca­ti­on."

  "Me too."

  "Go­od." He kis­sed her aga­in. "I'll see you la­ter."

  When Jody awo­ke se­ve­ral ho­urs la­ter, she was hum­ming. She rol­led over, a smi­le on her fa­ce, and ran her hand ac­ross the pil­low whe­re Jeremy had la­id his he­ad. The smi­le wi­de­ned as she tho­ught back to the night be­fo­re.

  Endless kis­ses, en­d­less ple­asu­re, en­d­less joy.

  Had that re­al­ly be­en her, Jody Bec­kett, be­ha­ving in so min­d­les­sly wan­ton a fas­hi­on, do­ing things she'd on­ce blus­hed to me­rely re­ad abo­ut? What in the world had co­me over her?

  Jeremy.

  Swe­et, gen­t­le Jeremy, who had ma­de lo­ve as much with his he­art as with his body.

  Pas­si­ona­te, sexy Jeremy, who­se in­ven­ti­ve­ness and exu­be­ran­ce had kept her up al­most all night.

  Jeremy, who had stun­ned her with the in­ten­sity of his ar­dor, cap­ti­va­ted her with the depth of his ten­der­ness.

  And it had all be­en so right, so na­tu­ral.

  Well, she grin­ned as she sat up and stret­c­hed her arms over her he­ad, she'd wan­ted to be swept off her fe­et, and she had be­en. Com­p­le­tely. Mi­ra­cu­lo­usly.

  She glan­ced back at the dock. Ni­ne-thirty. Jeremy sa­id he ex­pec­ted to be back from his fis­hing trip by early af­ter­no­on. She'd ha­ve a le­isu­rely bre­ak­fast by the po­ol, then so­ak up so­me sun un­til he re­tur­ned. Still hum­ming, she went in­to the bat­h­ro­om, won­de­ring if to­nig­ht-if any ot­her nig­ht-co­uld pos­sibly be as won­der­ful as last night had be­en.

  The wa­ter in the po­ol had be­en war­med by a bla­zing sun un­til it felt mo­re li­ke bath wa­ter, but still, it was wet and much clo­ser than the oce­an that lay at the ot­her si­de of the bur­ning sand. Jody to­ok her se­cond dip of the mor­ning in a fu­ti­le at­tempt to co­ol off, then re­tur­ned to her lo­un­ge to lie on her sto­mach and re­ad her bo­ok. The big clock on the wall that sur­ro­un­ded the po­ol had told her it was now ele­ven. Jeremy wo­uldn't be back for a few mo­re ho­urs.

  The next ti­me Jody lo­oked up from her bo­ok, the clock sa­id no­on. She grab­bed a yo­gurt and a fru­it sa­lad from the po­ol­si­de ven­dor and tri­ed to re­su­me re­ading, but the mid­day he­at was stif­ling. She set the bo­ok asi­de, then wal­ked in­to the po­ol aga­in, whe­re she flo­ated aim­les­sly on her back, her fa­ce to the scor­c­hing sun. She duc­ked her he­ad un­der wa­ter se­ve­ral ti­mes to co­ol off a lit­tle be­fo­re she got out of the wa­ter and flop­ped back on her lo­un­ge. It wasn't yet one o'clock. She clo­sed her eyes and, lul­led by the sun, fell in­to a de­ep sle­ep. Jeremy wo­uld wa­ke her when he got back. Which sho­uld be so­on…

  "Hey! Sle­epy-he­ad!" The vo­ice se­emed to flo­at fre­ely thro­ugh her dre­am.

  "J­ody, wa­ke up."

  She ope­ned her eyes to see Jeremy le­aning over her.

  "Oh." She smi­led and stret­c­hed lan­gu­idly. "You're back. Did you catch an­y­t­hing?"

  "Big tu­na," he grin­ned and mo­ved her legs to one si­de of the lo­un­ge to ma­ke ro­om to sit be­si­de her. "Lots of big tu­na. It was an in­c­re­dib­le day, Jody. The tu­na we­re run­ning li­ke I've ne­ver se­en them run be­fo­re. That's why we're so la­te co­ming back in. No one wan­ted to le­ave. Hel­met sa­id they sho­uld all be cle­aned and re­ady to be pic­ked up by to­mor­row. I'm thin­king we'll ask the chef at the res­ta­urant he­re"-he ges­tu­red to the mo­tel-"if he can ba­ke a pi­ece of it for us to­mor­row night. Then may­be we'll ta­ke the rest back to the inn. We can sha­re it with La­ura and her gu­ests. What do you think? Hel­met says I sho­uld ha­ve abo­ut a hun­d­red and twenty po­unds af­ter it's cle­aned and cut up."

  "I think it so­unds won­der­ful." She ra­ised a hand to shi­eld her eyes from the sun. "I just hap­pen to ha­ve an in­c­re­dib­le re­ci­pe for tu­na."

  "So­me­how, I knew you wo­uld." Jeremy le­aned for­ward to kiss her. "Now, what wo­uld you li­ke to do for din­ner to­night?"

  "Wha­te­ver," she to­ok his hand in hers. "Wha­te­ver you want to do. We ha­ve ho­urs to de­ci­de."

  "Not so many ho­urs," he told her. "It's al­most fi­ve."

  "Fi­ve!" She shot up to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on. "How co­uld it be fi­ve?"

  "Now, don't tell me that you la­zed the day away," he te­ased.

  "I must ha­ve slept all af­ter­no­on," she sa­id, a to­uch of con­fu­si­on in her vo­ice.

  "Well, then, you must ha­ve ne­eded the sle­ep." He le­aned down and kis­sed her aga­in. "And my gu­ess is that you'll be up la­te aga­in to­night, so it's a go­od thing that you got lots of rest to­day."

  "What abo­ut you?" She dra­ped a lazy arm aro­und his neck.

  "I'm used to ke­eping er­ra­tic ho­urs in my work, so it do­esn't bot­her me so much. But I think I will go back to my ro­om, ta­ke a cat nap and get a qu­ick sho­wer. How 'bo­ut if we plan on six-thirty, se­ven, for din­ner? One of the ot­her guys on the bo­at to­day was tel­ling me abo­ut a gre­at se­afo­od pla­ce a few blocks in­to town."

  "So­unds gre­at. That will gi­ve us lots of ti­me to walk off our din­ner af­ter­ward and may­be still sne­ak in a rol­ler co­as­ter ri­de la­ter on."

  "Nah, to­night we're ta­king on Nes­sie." His eyes twin­k­led with mis­c­hi­ef.

  "What's Nes­sie?"

  "A brand- new, sta­te-of-the-art, gu­aran­te­ed-to-ter­rify new ri­de down in Oce­an City. I tho­ught may­be we'd ta­ke a ri­de down af­ter din­ner and check out the­ir bo­ar­d­walk."

  "I ha­ven't be­en to Oce­an City in a mil­li­on ye­ars. But wa­it." She grab­bed his arm. "Is Nes­sie one of tho­se
ri­des whe­re you stand up and get strap­ped in­to a har­ness-"

  "Yup." He le­aned for­ward and kis­sed her mo­uth. "Upsi­de down and bac­k­wards."

  Jody col­lap­sed back on­to the cus­hi­on and gro­aned.

  "We'll sa­ve Nes­sie for the end of the night," he la­ug­hed, "and you'll ha­ve the dri­ve back to the mo­tel to re­co­ver."

  "I don't think that the hu­man body was in­ten­ded to hang up­si­de down and spin aro­und at a high ra­te of spe­ed, Jeremy. At le­ast, I don't think that mi­ne was."

  He la­ug­hed aga­in and kis­sed the end of her no­se, then sto­od up to le­ave. He se­emed to sta­re at her for a long mo­ment, then re­mo­ved his sun­g­las­ses and ap­pe­ared to ta­ke a se­cond lo­ok.

  "J­ody, how long ha­ve you be­en out in the sun to­day?"

  "Sin­ce abo­ut ten or so."

  "Did you use sun­s­c­re­en?"

  "Yes. I put it on be­fo­re I even ca­me out. Why?"

  "How many ti­mes du­ring the day did you re­ap­ply it?" He le­aned clo­ser and to­uc­hed a fin­ger to her leg.

  "I don't know." She sho­ok her he­ad, trying to re­mem­ber. She had re­ap­pli­ed it af­ter co­ming out of the po­ol, hadn't she?

  "You lo­ok re­al­ly red, Jody."

  She lo­oked down at her chest. She co­uld see whi­te un­der the top of her bi­ki­ni, but she had be­en in the sun every day for the past few days.

  "I had a mild sun­burn from yes­ter­day," she told him, not par­ti­cu­larly alar­med. "I think I'll just ta­ke one qu­ick dip in the po­ol, then I'll go in and cle­an up for din­ner."

  "I'll stop by yo­ur ro­om in an ho­ur or so."

  "Gre­at. I'll see you then."

  Jody wat­c­hed him walk ac­ross the con­c­re­te pa­tio that sur­ro­un­ded the po­ol and sig­hed. Jeremy lo­oked gre­at from ab­so­lu­tely every an­g­le.

  She do­ve in­to the de­ep end of the al­most de­ser­ted po­ol and sur­fa­ced hal­f­way down the length of it. The wa­ter felt co­oler now, and she flo­ated, drif­ting for a few long mo­ments, then ho­is­ted her­self out of the po­ol, pon­de­ring what she'd we­ar that night.