Her Very Strict Captain, Carpenter, Maggie [top 50 books to read TXT] 📗

throw off the lines, which should be any minute.”

“But I thought you wanted to know—”

“I do, and you will tell me everything,” he said steadily, fixing her with a determined gaze.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured gratefully, scooting to the end of the bed. “You have no idea what you’re doing for me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not putting up with any of the crap you pulled the last time you were on this boat.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“As soon as we’re underway we’ll sit down and eat, and you’ll tell me the story, all of it.”

Chapter 4

Watching through his binoculars from a secluded vantage point, Dan Miller scanned the area where Elizabeth was last seen. It had been early morning, and the storekeeper was sure the young woman he’d met was the girl in the photograph, but she’d been blonde.

Dan had silently cursed.

Elizabeth had tousled auburn hair.

He hadn’t given blonde girls a second look.

Though he had nothing concrete to suspect Scott Specter of hiding her, Victoria Sailing School was the company she’d hired six months before to scout out isolated islands. She was hot, and Scott was good looking, muscled, and self-assured. Dan could easily imagine the two of them hooking up, and it would be just like her to find him and ask for help. It was a vague lead, but it was the only one he had.

Moving his binoculars from the shopping area back to the catamaran, he caught his breath. The owner of the Shady Shack was on the wharf untying the boat’s lines. Scott was getting ready to leave.

He was the only person on deck, but the sunshades made it impossible to see inside, something Dan still found highly suspect, but as the yacht began to glide through the water, he broke into a smirk. Victoria Sailing School was written across the hull in big, bold blue letters.

Hurrying back to his car, he jumped in and raced back to the marina to rent a speed boat.

With the catamaran’s distinctive signage, it would be easy to spot, and if Elizabeth was on board she’d surface when she thought the coast was clear. He just needed to be in the vicinity. It was a long shot, but like the vague lead, it was the only shot he had.

* * *

Sailing out of the bay, Scott set the auto pilot and left the helm to join Elizabeth in the salon. She’d been waiting for him at the dining table, snacking on the chips and salsa Mandy had delivered. As she smiled up at him, her eyes carried a unique sparkle.

“These shades can come up now,” he declared, moving around the room and raising the window coverings.

“Where are we headed?”

“There’s a small island about an hour away with only a handful of residents. I have a house there, but first things first,” he said firmly, sitting down and opening up a container of pasta salad. “Why did you take off without a word? No note, no text, nothing.”

“Um, I’m sorry, Scott, but I can’t talk about it yet.”

Though bristling, he remained calm and dished out the pasta.

“We had a deal,” he reminded her, handing her a plate.

“I know, but I’m just too tired, and I had this weird dream. It’s left me feeling…” With a faraway look, she stopped speaking and picked up her fork.

“It left you feeling what?”

“The only word I can think of is unnerved,” she finally replied, after chewing the pasta with a thoughtful frown. “I felt I was actually living it.”

“A lucid dream? Sure, I’ve had those.”

“A lucid dream on steroids,” she exclaimed, “and it’s not fading. My clothes were old. I don’t mean tattered, I mean, it was centuries ago, and I could hear the creaking of the boat…” As her voice trailed off, she dropped her gaze to the plate in front of her and scooped up another mouthful.

“The creaking of the boat?” he repeated. “You were at sea?”

She slowly lifted her eyes.

“No, but the captain said we were leaving at first light. Those were his words. I can still hear him. It’s so weird. To be honest, there was something about him that reminded me of you, except he had a thick Scottish accent. Huh. Scottish, and your name is Scott.”

He laughed. “That’s a dream for you,” he remarked, “but the funny thing is, I’ve loved sailing and tropical islands since I was a kid. If there is such a thing as a past life, I’m sure I would have been a salty seaman,” he continued, hoping if they kept talking she’d open up. “I can easily imagine myself as a Scottish sea captain heading out of London on my way to parts unknown. This area has a colorful history. The English were here in sixteenth century. Maybe I was too.”

“Maybe we were here together,” she said with a giggle. “I swear, that dream was so real, except I couldn’t see the captain’s face very well, but like I said, he definitely reminded me of you.”

“I’m sure that’s because you’re back on my yacht,” he remarked, taking a swig of his beer, “but tell me more.”

His lucid dreams had been filled with decadent depravity on long voyages across vast oceans. The idea of sharing the sexy stories was immensely appealing.

“Uh, not much,” she said quickly. “This pasta is delicious.”

“You’re lying,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Your face is beet red. Hey, if you don’t want to tell me something, no problem, just say so, but don’t lie to me.”

“Or what, you’ll spank me again?” she retorted.

“You can always tempt fate,” he warned, recalling the many times he’d vigorously whacked a beautiful woman’s backside in his fanciful dreams. “Please, be my guest and find out.”

* * *

Elizabeth hadn’t meant to snap at him, but the dream had been embarrassingly salacious. She couldn’t possibly tell him about it. She needed to change the subject, and it had to be something that would grab his attention.

“Dan Miller stole