Between Roc and a Hard Place Read online

  He came up behind her, stopping just an inch away from touching her.

  “Looking for something?” he whispered politely.

  A gasp seemed to choke her. On instinct, she started to run.

  On instinct, he went after her, catching her when she reached the ladder, pulling her down.

  She lost her balance, and he lost his.

  And they crashed together to the floor.

  Chapter 3

  Perhaps he should have felt some sympathy for her—despite his efforts to swing around as they fell, she hit the floor first, with him stretched out on top of her. And they landed hard, but she didn’t cry out. She simply stared at him, furious and outraged, in the strange green light from the sonar equipment.

  He should have felt some sympathy—except that she had been spying.

  He didn’t ease his weight completely off her, but he did slide to one side, resting an elbow comfortably on the floor while he smiled at her, his eyes slightly narrowed.

  “Isn’t this romantic?” he said softly.

  Her teeth ground together audibly. “Romantic? You’re breaking every bone in my body.”

  “Imagine. If you’d kept your bones where they should have been, they’d be in no danger of breakage now.”

  “Would you get off me, please?” Aquamarine eyes flashed with fury into his.

  His smile deepened as the rest of his muscles stiffened. Maybe he should move. He could feel her warmth, each subtle shift of her body. As furious as he was, he still felt the urge to throttle her being overwhelmed by the urge to strip her then and there and make love to her by the ethereal green light.

  “Spies have been hanged throughout the centuries, you know,” he informed her politely. “Tortured, and then hanged. Or maybe shot.”

  “I wasn’t spying.”

  “Oh, right. You were looking for the head.”

  Her eyes flashed again, and she shoved her hands against his chest. Determined, he didn’t move.

  “I could kick you!” she reminded him.

  “I know,” he replied. “Forewarned is forearmed.” He shifted his weight over her body in such a way that she couldn’t possibly move enough to do him any real harm.

  “Roc—”

  “Melinda.”

  She inhaled deeply, then exhaled on a long note of exasperation.

  “You’ve been spying, Melinda.”

  “I was picked up in your net—”

  “You swam into that net on purpose. You knew exactly what you were doing. You were fully aware that this boat was out here searching for the Contessa, and I’m willing to bet you even suspected it might be my boat. Of course, if it hadn’t been, I can just imagine the sweet smiles and wide-eyed innocence you would have given the captain—any captain, from a toothless old salt to a green-behind-the-ears young lad. Then you would have set to until you knew exactly what the crew had discovered, at which point you would have brought all the news back to Papa. Of course—”

  He broke off at her sudden flurry of motion, as he felt the sudden sting of pain and heard the crack of her palm against his cheek.

  He stroked his cheek, his eyes on fire as he stared at her.

  “Davenport must be getting pretty desperate!” he said softly. “He was willing just to drop you off in the middle of the ocean and assume that you’d make it safely aboard in a fishing net!”

  She was aiming at him again; he knew it. This time he caught her hand before it could fly. There seemed to be a glistening of tears in her eyes when she retorted, “This has nothing to do with my father! He didn’t let me out to swim into any fishing net!”

  “Oh, Melinda! I know you’re half fish, but don’t expect me to believe that anyone just swam this far out—”

  “I didn’t say that! I said my father had nothing to do with this. It was my idea.”

  “To come spy?”

  Every sleek muscle beneath him seemed to tighten. Once again, he could hear that furious grinding of her teeth.

  “You’re not going to have any canines left,” he warned her. “And if I remember correctly—”

  “I never bit you!” she lashed out.

  “Well, we do have different memories of our relationship, don’t we?” he asked politely.

  She surged against him in a sudden, strong fury. She was very slim, but wiry, and she nearly toppled him.

  Uh-uh. He wasn’t moving.

  “If you don’t get off of me …!” she raged.

  “What are you going to do?” he inquired. “Call Daddy?”

  “Off!” she demanded, grasping the bare flesh of his arms, nails digging as she shoved at him.

  He caught her wrists. Stared into her wild eyes. “How about asking politely?”

  “You are a hateful human being.”

  “That’s not asking anything, and it’s not in the least polite.”

  “I’m warning you—”

  “And I’m warning you, Melinda,” he said impatiently. “This is my boat. You’re a damned stowaway and spy, and I should have you arrested.”

  “I wasn’t spying—”

  “Well, there’s a head in my cabin, and the galley is on the deck above us. What could you possibly be doing down here?”

  “Looking for the radio,” she said.

  “Have to tell Daddy you’re safe?” he asked.

  She ignored that. “Would you please be so kind as to let me up?” she asked.

  He thought that one over. Anger wasn’t helping him. Maybe it was just making things worse. Being this close to her seemed to tie his muscles in knots, boil his blood and cause a definite rise in his libido.

  He couldn’t stay where he was much longer. Not unless he wanted her to know just how exactly and completely she was on his mind—and in his system.

  “That was fairly polite,” he acknowledged. He got swiftly to his feet and reached a hand down to her. She started to rise on her own, but he impatiently grasped hold of her wrist with a little growl and dragged her up. Maybe it was better; maybe it was worse. The twelve inches between them now didn’t seem like much at all. He wasn’t touching her, but his body could still feel the warmth where they had been touching. He was suddenly more aware of her sweet, clean scent. Connie’s soap and talc, he thought, but scents were different on different women, and this was all Melinda.

  “May I use the radio?” she asked.

  “No. But I will radio your father for you.”

  He started to walk by her. Maybe she had miscalculated; the radio was at the helm. Or maybe she hadn’t miscalculated. She had come down here to check out his progress before going to the radio.

  “Roc, if you’ll just let me call myself—”

  “I told you, I’ll do it.”

  “But I wasn’t with my father!” she cried softly.

  He had reached the first rung of the ladder, and he paused, hearing a note of desperation in her voice.

  And also a note of the truth.

  He stared at her.

  “All right. So just who did drop you off in the middle of the ocean, assuming that you’d be picked up okay?”

  She hesitated. “Does it really matter?” she finally asked softly. “If you’ll just let me use the radio—”

  “No, I just won’t,” he said flatly. He left the ladder and came back to stand before her. “Who were you with?”

  “It’s none—”

  “Who?”

  “Eric Longford,” she said in a rush.

  Longford.

  Great waves of heat and fury suddenly came sweeping over him, like a massive tidal wave.

  Longford.

  He hated the man. Eric Longford was a tall, tanned beach bum, in Roc’s opinion. He hadn’t ever had two thoughts of his own, but he somehow managed to be in the right places with the right people at the right time to make a decent living from the sea. Roc and he had always been civil to one another in company, but the tension had always been there between them. Roc had always considered the man dangerous. The type to crea
te huge waves right where the signs commanded No Wake! He was a careless diver, never gauging his time and oxygen. He was completely heedless of the delicate coral reefs around Florida and the Bahamas, casting anchor anywhere.

  And worst of all, he was a womanizer who had always had his eye on Melinda, and Roc would have thought she had the good sense not to become involved with such a man.

  “Eric Longford?” he repeated, trying to fight the fury that continued to wash over him. Had Longford already been in bed with his ex-wife?

  No, not his ex. His wife!

  He wanted to kill the man.

  She must have seen it in his eyes, because she backed away from him. “It isn’t what you think—” she began.

  “How do you know what I think?” he grated out.

  “Not that it matters!” she suddenly lashed back. “You walked out on me—”

  “No, lady, I didn’t walk out on you. You chose another man over me—it happened to be your father, but you made the choice just the same. And now—Longford!”

  Her hands on her hips, she stood very tall and straight and regal and faced him. “You’ve been sailing around for three years now without the least concern for my welfare, and I’m sure you have no intention of giving me an accounting of how you spent your time. For the moment, you’ve chosen to keep me a prisoner on this boat. Therefore, you owe me the courtesy of letting me use your radio.”

  “I owe you the courtesy?” he exclaimed, his hand clenching into a fist. He raised it, swore suddenly, then turned around and slammed his hand into the wall.

  His damned knuckles hurt like hell.

  “Yeah, let’s radio Longford!” he said. “The ass left you in the middle of the ocean, crawling into another man’s net, but by all means, let’s let him know that you’re all right!”

  “I told you,” she said very softly, and there was a note of pleading in her voice, “this was my idea.”

  “Maybe I was off before. Way off. Your father would never have let you pull such a dangerous stunt!”

  She backed away again. “Roc, please—”

  “Is your father somewhere out there, too?” he asked her impatiently.

  “I don’t—”

  “Bull! Is he out there?”

  She turned away, glancing at the sonar screen. “I, er, I think so.”

  “Fine. We’ll radio your father. He can call Longford if he wants.”

  He reached for her hand, unaware how angry he still was until she cried out at his touch. He forced himself to ease his hold on her.

  “Come on!” he commanded.

  “I am coming,” she returned stiffly. “Where else would I be going?” she asked with aggravation.

  “And shush up, will you? I have a hardworking crew, and they’re sleeping.”

  “You’re the one who’s shouting!”

  Shouting. He wanted to shout. Scream. Tear his hair out. Tear her hair out. Smash Longford right in his tanned jaw.

  He dragged her with him up to the living cabin, where she seemed to pull back.

  Maybe she could catch the delicious aroma of dinner, still in the air.

  Good. He hoped she was absolutely starving.

  He pulled her out to the main deck, then directed her to the steps leading to the helm. She climbed as quickly as she could, all too aware of the angry man behind her.

  He joined her a minute later, pushing her aside so he could take a seat in the captain’s chair and pick up the mouthpiece for the radio. He switched it on, found his frequency and identified himself as the Crystal Lee. He stared at Melinda. “What’s your father sailing on these days? I heard he just bought a new boat.”

  She was silent.

  “Melinda.”

  She sighed. “I believe he’s on the Tiger Lilly. But if you’d just let me do this myself—”

  “I won’t,” he assured her. He flicked the radio on, identified himself once again and called the Tiger Lilly.

  A few minutes later he heard Davenport’s fuzzy voice. “Roc?” He sounded puzzled.

  “Yes. I wanted to let you know I have something of yours. Over.”

  There was silence, then static.

  “Melinda? Is it Melinda? Over.”

  “She’ll be with me for a while. She’s fine.”

  He was startled when he thought he heard a sigh of relief. “So she is with you. Over.”

  “Yes. Over.”

  He looked at Melinda, waiting for Davenport to make some protest, to tell him that he would be motoring his way over in the dead of night to pick up his daughter. Instead, Davenport sounded relieved.

  “Melinda’s alone? Over.”

  “Yes. Over.”

  Another sigh of relief. Roc sat back, staring at Melinda. She was very tall, straight, still. Staring at him with her blue-green eyes glittering, her chin high.

  Then he realized something that almost made him smile. Davenport hated Longford almost as much as he did himself. Old man Davenport wasn’t upset that Melinda was with him, because it meant she wasn’t with Longford.

  Longford …

  Just thinking the name made his teeth grind together, his muscles tighten. He wanted to know just what she’d been doing with the man.

  No, he didn’t want to know.

  Yes, he did. He wanted her to tell him that it had been entirely innocent!

  “Melinda, what in God’s name—” Davenport began suddenly, and if he hadn’t been so angry himself, Roc might have found his old mentor’s outburst amusing, just as it was amusing when Melinda snatched the hand-held mouthpiece and shouted quickly, “I’m a grown woman, Dad!”

  She was still staring at Roc, who smiled. “Over,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a radio communication. You should know that. Tell him ‘over.’”

  “Over!” she snapped.

  There was still silence. Then some static. Then Davenport’s voice, amused again. “You’re after her, eh, Roc? Over.”

  “After her? Over.”

  “The Contessa. Over.”

  “Just searching around, like always. Over.”

  “Well, good luck, then. Until we meet again. Take care of her for me. Over.”

  Roc set the mouthpiece into its socket and studied Melinda. “Well, at least he isn’t too concerned.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said coolly, “it’s very late.”

  Her chin high, nose in the air, she swung around like nobility to slide gracefully away.

  He was still sitting in the broad captain’s chair. So she thought she was about to disappear? Not on her life.

  “Wait a minute!” He reached out, fingers curling around her wrist forcefully. “I did not excuse you!” With a flick of his arm, he dragged her back until she was directly in front of him, still standing, but between his knees.

  “What now?” she enunciated crisply.

  “I don’t trust you, that’s what. We’ll go down together.”

  She lifted her arm, indicating the bronzed fingers that remained wound around her wrist. “I can only go so far, you know!”

  He released her and stood so quickly that she jumped back, her temper growing.

  “I already know you’re carrying sonar equipment and that you’re looking for the Contessa!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “And even if I weren’t here and hadn’t seen anything, it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure that out! You were the one who always insisted that the Contessa was out here, remember? All I’ve done—”

  “Is come aboard to see if I’ve found her or not, and if so, get away fast enough to turn her over to your father—or Longford!”

  “How dare you?” she demanded furiously.

  He shrugged. “Mabye you’re in business for yourself now.”

  He knew Melinda. He should have been prepared. Maybe he was prepared; maybe he just wanted her flying into his arms.

  She did. Fists flailing, she was a whirlwind, striking out at him. He caught her quickly, crushing her against his body so
she couldn’t inflict any damage.

  Her head fell back. Aquamarine eyes touched his, glistening.

  Damage …

  Without moving a finger, she could inflict it. And despite the torture, he was glad to hold her. Glad to feel her crushed against him.

  “I’m not working for anyone!” She exclaimed angrily to him. “And if you weren’t such a great ape—”

  “You’d beat the truth into me?” he queried.

  He was startled by the sudden passion in her voice. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it. But you are an ape, and I’d appreciate it greatly if—”

  “Longford?” he grated out suddenly.

  “What difference does it make to you?” she cried in exasperation. “You walked away! You walked right out—”

  “No, it wasn’t exactly like that. Damn you, Melinda!”

  “You left me!”

  “No, you left me.”

  “I didn’t move!”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t have to move. You left me. Geography had nothing to do with it, did it?”

  She jerked away with such force that he found himself releasing her. Her back was to him, her head bowed, her hair streaming golden down her back in the moonlight.

  “It really is late,” she told him.

  He bowed, indicating the stairs. “Please, you first.”

  He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. She swung around, her head high again. “You aren’t planning on throwing me down the ladder?” she inquired coolly.

  “No. When I find some, I’ll just throw you to the sharks. Though I doubt if they’ll bite. Like recognizes like, you know.”

  “Really? Well, here’s hoping you do fall to them, Captain Trellyn. Sharks can get into a frenzy and feed on each other. I’m sure you know how that works.”

  He stared at her, suddenly sorry. What should he do? Should he tell her he was so furious about Longford that he couldn’t begin to be civil?

  No, he didn’t dare reveal that kind of emotion to Melinda.

  He lifted his hands. “You’re right. It’s late. How about a truce for what remains of the night?”

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  He sighed. “I’m serious. I apologize. I’m not tossing you down any ladder, or to any sharks. They might come down with massive indigestion. No, no, just teasing, honest! I wouldn’t want to let you go back to your father or Longford in anything less than the absolutely perfect shape in which you arrived.”