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

done nothing wrong, but a bad guy is trying to make it seem like I have. I need time to figure out what to do before he catches up with me. And he works for some awful people. They’re after me too. It’s just a big, complicated mess. Like I said, I have to disappear.”

“How much time are we talking about?”

“I’m not even sure. I’ve been on the move and I can’t think straight.”

“What do you mean, on the move?”

“I rented a cottage on the beach. When I came back the other day I noticed the door was slightly open, and I know I’d locked it. I risked looking through a window, and I saw him. I kept a bag hidden outside just in case something like this happened. I grabbed it and took off, but I’ve been terrified of showing my face anywhere. Walking down the dock just now, I was freaking out.”

As the story had tumbled from her lips, her voice had cracked. The difficult, stubborn, independent young woman was vulnerable and close to tears.

“Can I at least pay you to stay overnight?” she continued. “I’m desperate for some sleep.”

The sun was already setting, and he wouldn’t deny her a bunk, but he needed a minute to process what was happening. Picking up his beer, he took a swig.

“Scott, please…?”

“You can use your old cabin below,” he began, “but if you expect me to weigh anchor and sail you out of trouble, I need to know why you took off without a word six months ago, who’s chasing you now, and what’s behind it. And Beth, if you decide to tell me, I want the truth—all of it,” he added sternly. “No bullshit. You can give me your answer in the morning.”

“Thank you, really, thank you,” she murmured earnestly, slowly rising to her feet.

He couldn’t help but notice her thin cotton sundress draping sensuously over her luscious curves.

The memory of her naked body next to his flashed through his mind.

It felt like yesterday.

He suddenly longed to whisk her down to his cabin and ravage her all over again.

“I’ll carry this,” he muttered, picking up her bag. “When I watched you walk down the dock, it looked like your arm was about to fall off.”

“It’s been getting heavier by the hour.”

Willing his cock to settle, he led her below and opened the door to the guest cabin, but as she walked past him, the tantalizing aroma of the coconut scent he remembered so well tickled his nostrils. Doing his best to ignore it, he placed her bag on the bed.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked, turning around to face her.

Like a seductive siren, she was temptingly close.

“Uh, yesterday afternoon,” she replied softly. “I’ve been afraid to show my face anywhere.”

“I’ll get us some dinner.”

“Please let me pay for it,” she insisted, reaching into her bag. “It’s the least I can do.”

Pulling out a couple of fifty-dollar bills, she stuffed them into the pocket of his shorts. Her fingers came perilously close to his stiffening member.

“I’ll lock up the salon when I go,” he promised, quickly stepping back. “If you hear anyone knocking, just ignore it.”

Hastily leaving and closing the door behind him, he strode back to grab his beer and take a last long swallow. He’d always been up for an adventure, but this was a first. Wondering just how shark-infested and murky the waters would be, he stopped into his cabin, pulled on a T-shirt, picked up his wallet and keys, and headed out.

* * *

It was a short walk to the Shady Shack, a nearby hangout that offered great food at reasonable prices. Though a popular spot, it was still early, and tables sat empty, though a few regulars nursed their drinks at the bar.

“Hey, Scott.”

Recognizing the voice of Jack Schmidt, the owner and a close friend, Scott turned and spotted him on the far side of the patio dining area. Usually a jovial guy, Jack appeared to be anything but. Standing next to him, a tall, mustached man with long black hair pinned back off his face looked equally grave. As Scott made his way toward them, an uncomfortable churning moved through his gut.

“Hey, Jack, what’s up?”

“Hi, Scott, this is Detective Dan Miller,” Jack replied. “Detective, this is Captain Scott Specter. He runs a sailing school and charter service.”

“I’ll get right to the point,” the detective declared brusquely, producing a photograph from his pocket and handing it over. “Have you seen this woman? Study it closely. She’ll be trying to find a way off the island.”

Before he even dropped his eyes to the picture, Scott suspected he’d be looking at Beth.

“Who is she?” he asked, staring at the fuzzy image of a girl with short brown hair and glasses, yet unmistakably Beth.

“Her name is Elizabeth McKay.”

“She’s cute,” Scott remarked, keeping a poker face, though surprised by the different name. “What’s she done?”

“Just answer the question,” the detective demanded. “Have you seen her?”

“I haven’t run across a woman with brown hair and glasses,” Scott replied, skirting the truth.

“Are you sure?”

Scott paused, realizing the detective might know Beth had purchased a charter from him all those months before.

“Let me look again,” he murmured, staring at the image. “I guess she looks vaguely familiar, but I meet a ton of people in my business. If I run across her, what should I do?”

“Call me right away, here’s my information.”

Reaching into the back pocket of his slacks, the man pulled out his wallet and produced a card, but as he handed it over, Scott noticed a Rolex Submariner wrapped around his wrist.

“What makes you think she’s here?” Scott asked, stuffing the card into his wallet.

“I have my reasons. Where’s that small hotel again, Mr. Schmidt?”

“Excuse me, I need to get something to eat,” Scott interjected, moving away. “I just docked and I’m starving. Catch you later, Jack.”

“Sure, Scott, later.”

Reaching the takeout counter, Scott turned and studied the man calling himself Detective Miller. His clothes were