Chapter 27

While Athena gathered her few possessions and washed their coffee cups and tided the cottage, Russ left in search of Rick. He wanted to talk to the caretaker and make sure the guy repaired the broken window in Athena’s family’s old house. With the recent storms, he was concerned about water damage. It was nice he cared about the place, but she wouldn’t return. Never again would she walk through that familiar door and step into the past. The memories were too painful. She had to move on with her life and put the past behind her.

Yeah. Sure. Like that was going to happen. She swiped at the sudden dampness in her eyes. She couldn’t move on until she knew what happened to her parents. Hopefully, Russ would be able to help her find answers.

She’d pulled herself together by the time he returned.

He locked up the cottage, and she followed him down the path to the beach where they’d left the rubber dinghy. The last rays of the setting sun lit the top branches of the tallest cedars on the headland in a golden glow. The ocean rose and fell in rhythmic, gentle waves.

“What did Rick say?” She slipped on a fluorescent-yellow life jacket.

Russ shrugged into a salt-stained PFD. “He won’t let any strangers on the island, and he promised not to talk to any reporters.”

“Do you think he’s figured out who I am?” She tightened the waist strap.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. But it’s only a matter of time.”

Russ was right. Her physical appearance had changed in over twenty years, but she still possessed her distinctive red hair. In his research into the O’Flynn family, Rick would come across a photo of her from a newspaper article or television newscast and make the connection. Once he did, the proverbial cat would be out of the bag. And then her life would once again become a circus. Heart thudding, she helped Russ lug the rubber raft to the water’s edge.

He held the raft steady while she jumped in, scrambled to the stern, and sat on the small bench seat facing the bow. He shouldered the raft into the surf and settled on the middle seat. Hefting the oars from the oarlocks, he used quick, sure strokes and rowed the small boat through the breaking surf to the calmer waters of the small bay.

The raft rose over the crest of a wave and sank with a thump into the following trough. Gripping the canvas straps on the gunnel, she held on tight. Leaving the shores of Shelter Island filled her with mixed emotions. She’d hoped revisiting her old home would answer the questions that had plagued her for so many years. Instead of peace of mind, her brief time on the island had raised even more unsettling issues.

Russ had shoved the sleeves of his long-sleeved T-shirt over his elbows. The tendons in his tanned forearms bulged, and the muscles in his biceps flexed. A look of intense concentration was fixed on his handsome face, as with each powerful stroke, he dug the oar blades deep into the blue-green water, shooting the little raft ahead.

“Here we are.” He shipped the oars. “Hold on until I secure the raft to the ladder.” Grabbing the painter, he slipped the coil of rope through a metal cleat on the Minerva’s shiny hull. With quick efficiency, he tied a bowline. “Okay. You’re all set to board.” He held the raft steady as she struggled out of the bobbing dinghy and clambered up the ladder to the Minerva’s deck, wincing as her knee protested the awkward movement.

Minutes later, he climbed aboard and secured the dinghy. Moving about the boat, he worked with calm efficiency, preparing to set sail.

She settled on the padded bench seat in the stern, resting her injured leg, and stared out at the deepening dusk. So much had happened in the past two days. Her entire foundation had shattered. Facts she’d held to be true were no longer her reality.

Angus Crawford is my father.

The shocking refrain echoed through her brain on an endless rerun, but no matter how many times she repeated the words, they were impossible to accept. That tall, remote man wasn’t her biological father. Her mother didn’t have an affair with him. The letters weren’t real. They were part of some sort of elaborate hoax.

Deep down she knew the awful truth. Angus Crawford was her father. The question that haunted her was why did her mother move to Shelter Island? Did she still have feelings for Angus? Was that the reason? Had her father known the truth about Athena’s parentage? She crushed her hand to her stomach in a futile attempt to ease the painful cramping. Stars popped out in the clear velvet night sky, the rising moon a distant glow on the horizon. She inhaled the fresh sea air, fighting for calm.

Russ stood at the helm, feet braced against the boat’s gentle rolling, his hands commanding the wheel. Under the reflection of the lights from the control panel, his cheekbones stood out stark and hard as if carved from granite in his tanned face.

She’d known him all of two days, but they’d been through so much, their time together felt longer. But she couldn’t forget who he was and why he was helping her. They had an agreement. He wanted Angus’s money, and she wanted his help in finding answers to her parents’ disappearance.

Sure, there was an attraction. She grimaced. An attraction? More like an explosion of lust. She couldn’t keep her hands off him. Just looking at him heated her blood. When he caressed her—or God forbid, kissed her—the rational world vanished in a blaze of desire. The previous night in the luxurious cottage, they’d almost made love, would have if the situation had been different. If she spent any more time alone with him, the inevitable would happen. And sex would be a complication. Her life was messy enough. She didn’t need more problems.

It was time she went home. She missed Otis. He had to be wondering where she was. When she’d dropped him at the kennel, she’d promised she’d be back that night. For the past three years, it had been just the two of them. He was always there for her, ready to cuddle or offer his silent, unconditional love. Just thinking of him penned up in the kennel brought the sting of tears.

The red and green running lights of other vessels moored in the bay reflected on the calm ocean waters as the Minerva sailed into the small marina. Russ steered the craft into its slip and secured the lines, his movements swift and precise.

“Thank you for taking me to Shelter Island. I…I want you to know that nothing’s changed. I’ll have the lawyer send you the paperwork to forfeit my share of Angus’s estate. Let me know if you find anything about my parents in his files.” She headed to the ladder, desperate to get away before she did something stupid, like kiss him.

“Athena, wait. Please.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she halted.

He sauntered toward her with an easy, lithe grace. “Where are you going?”

“To…to my car.” She swallowed, pinned by the hunger blazing in his eyes. “I…I have to get home. My dog’s waiting.”

The toes of his boat shoes bumped her sneakers. The heat from his body filled the two inches of air separating them. He slipped a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering, toying with the curl.

“I thought—” His strong, tanned throat worked. “—I thought you might stay.”

“Stay?” The word came out as a croak.

“Yes. Stay the night.” He pointed at the boat. “Here. With me.”

Her throat closed tight, and even a single word failed her. All she could do was stare into his heated gaze.

He grazed the pad of his thumb over her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips. “Don’t think. Don’t analyze this. Just say yes.” His warm breath washed over her.

The rasp of his callused touch sent shivers rocketing through her.

Just say yes.

Was it that easy? Nothing in her life was ever easy. But maybe just this one time, with this man, love could be that simple. “I…”

He grinned, as if he sensed her weakening. “Say yes.” His grin faltered. “I mean…I…I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to, but I think you do want this…us.” He trailed his fingers along her skin, raising goose bumps.

She glanced at the parking lot. It was the weekend, and the small lot was full. Her rental car was jammed between a black SUV and a white four-by-four pickup truck. All she had to do was walk away from temptation and get in her car, and drive.

His face was expressionless, but the heat of desire sparked in his golden eyes.

Once she stepped off the boat, reality would set in, and the situation between them would never be the same. But here on this sailboat, they existed in a protected bubble, separate from the rules and expectations of normal life. She inhaled a deep breath and took the plunge. “Okay.”

He stilled, and his eyes widened. “Okay?”

“Yes.” She stared into those hazel irises and trembled. “I think so.”

“You think so, or you’re sure?”

“What’s the difference?” Why was he asking so many questions? Why wasn’t he kissing her?

“A lot.” He backed up a step. “You don’t have to do this. You get that, right? I’ll help you no matter what.”

She rose on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his mouth. Fire flamed to life, her analytical brain shut down, and a desperate ache took over.

He groaned deep in his chest.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and she opened, welcoming his taste.

Their breaths mingled.

His hand settled on her hip, and he tugged her closer. His other hand cupped the back of her head.

The world spun in a dizzying spiral, and she shut her eyes. They’d kissed before, but those kisses were like hot chocolate on a stormy evening, or crisp autumn air. This kiss was different. Hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. For the first time in forever, her mind was locked in the present. She wanted the kiss to last forever.

His callused hands roved over her body, awakening a raging hunger. He drew back, and she opened her eyes.

Swirls of emotion reflected in his handsome face…lust, desire, and something else, something softer, something she couldn’t identify. “Athena.” Her name lingered on his lips as if he savored each letter. “Please tell me this is what you want.”

Her heart fluttered. She could trust him. He’d stop if she told him to. No questions asked. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not a chance. “I hope you were telling the truth about those condoms.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “You bet I was.” He claimed her mouth again with a ferociousness that staggered her.

She was gasping for breath when he broke off the kiss.

Without a word, he slid his arms under her hips and lifted her, holding her close to his chest. He strode across the gently rolling deck and along the companionway to the hatch. With surprising ease, he maneuvered down the ladder and carried her past the tiny galley into the cabin. He set her gently on the double berth.

She mewed in protest at the loss of his warmth. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her heart raced like she’d run a marathon.

He flicked on the bedside lamp, and the cozy space was bathed in a warm, golden light. Locking gazes with her, he tugged his T-shirt over his head. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed as he undid the metal snap on his jeans. He unzipped the zipper and shoved his jeans over his lean hips. They pooled at his feet, and he kicked them aside. His boxers were next.

She licked her parched lips, but she didn’t look away, couldn’t, not even if the world around her erupted in a nuclear explosion. His tall, athletic, masculine body with his sculpted pecs and taut abdomen, and the hunger radiating from his blazing golden eyes set her blood on fire. She lounged back on the bed and opened her arms. “Come here.”

He stretched his long body beside her, and his heated gaze raked her. “You’re overdressed.” His voice was low and husky.

“I’d better fix that.” Her fingers trembled as she struggled to tug her shirt over her head.

He brushed her hands away. “Let me.” Once her arms and head were free of the clinging cotton shirt, he wadded it into a ball and tossed the shirt on the floor. He grasped the waistband of her leggings and slid them over her hips. They met the same fate as her shirt. He undid the clasp on her bra and slid the silk straps off her shoulders.

She shimmied out of her panties.

“You’re so beautiful.” His heavy-lidded gaze was scorching. He groaned and drew her against him and kissed her.

Her tongue fluttered against his. She writhed with a deep, aching need and crushed her swollen and aching breasts against the hair-roughened skin of his chest. An ache built throughout her body, centering between her thighs.

She tasted his skin, slid her hands down his body, pressed the full length of her bare skin against his, and shivered at the contact. Yet it wasn’t enough. The feel of him, the taste of him… She needed him closer, against her, above her, inside her…everywhere. Right now. Right this instant.

He raised his head and licked her dark, swollen nipple, taking the turgid peak between his teeth and tugging.

Gasping, she arched, but just as the pleasure became too intense, he shifted his attention to the sensitive skin on her neck. She released a throaty moan.