Overhead, the whop-whop of chopper blades drummed a soulful tune. Ben’s flight was due in at dawn. Her heart pounded as the white and blue aircraft flew in and landed with a soft bump on the concrete helipad beside the wire-fenced tennis courts.
The blades whirred to a stop and two men jumped down then slung large brown army duffels over their shoulders. The first man jogged toward the wharf, his face hidden in shadow as he held a black cap in place. He hauled something from his pocket, jabbed at it then pressed it to his ear while the second man caught him up. The man who followed was impossible to misplace with his bronze Samoan skin and black curly hair cropped close to his head. Brigs. He wore long charcoal colored chinos and a black and white checked shirt, his favorite colors.
The sat phone trilled and she grabbed it off the bedside table. “That better be you, Ben Hammers.”
“I’m coming. About to board now.” He bounded from the wharf into the rear of the ship, his cap sailing free and smacking into Brigs’s chest as he jogged up the gangplank behind him. “Neither Brigs or I have been able to get through to you since we left Auckland. The satellite was down. Which floor are you on?”
“Ground floor, first door on your left when you hit the passage—”
Her door banged open and Ben strode in. He hung up, tossed his cell phone on the dresser and shut the door behind him. He was finally here. His windblown blond hair brushed his shoulders, the longer length always making her yearn to run her fingers through it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call. You haven’t been too worried, have you?”
“I’d like to say no.” She just wanted to haul him to her and hug him, not that he’d ever allow such a touch. Sleep deprived, she wobbled as she set the phone down.
“You knew I’d be here at dawn.” He shoved a hand through his hair, tossing those gorgeous locks around.
“That didn’t stop me from worrying.”
“Did you sleep at all?” He dropped his bag on the white leather couch along the wall, edged around the bed then brushed in behind her. “I don’t like those dark circles under your eyes. Lean back against me.”
“Are you sure? That would require us touching.”
“That’s an order, Miss Sands. Lean back.”
“Thank you.” She slowly relaxed against him. His solid presence, an instant balm to her senses, soothed her as nothing else could. She tipped her head back until it rested on his shoulder, and every tortuous second of the past few days she’d been without him slowly dissolved.
“Is that better?” He stroked her hip and she jumped at the touch then quickly jammed her hand over his.
“Yes, although I really must look like a mess for you to allow this kind of touch.”
“I’m not your bodyguard anymore, and those strict rules are gone. A little touch is allowed. Now, get into bed. You clearly need some sleep.”
“But you just got here.” She didn’t care to move, not when she’d lose this precious moment. She twined her fingers through his, and more of his warmth settled over her.
“I’ll stay for a bit.” He leaned forward, bending her at the waist as he lifted her tangled sheet. “Please. I don’t like seeing you this exhausted. You’re supposed to be on vacation.” Soft words, a whisper in her ear.
“That’s what Lydia said.” She crawled in and patted the space beside her. “Hop in. There’s loads of room for two.”
He pursed his lips then nodded. “I guess one more night in your bed won’t hurt.” He shut the pale blue blinds, toed off his black boots and tucked them beside the built-in caramel-painted drawers. As he unbuckled his belt, his gaze moved around the room. “That’s a nice fish tank. I wouldn’t have thought to bring the marine life inside.”
“Tyler’s mother decorated this yacht before she passed. I love it.” The cylinder tank, standing floor to ceiling in the corner, held an envious number of exotic fish. They darted in and around the pretty, underwater stone castle, rocks, and swishing reeds. Oxygen bubbles floated to the surface and popped along the top.
“Mrs. Whitehall was an amazing woman. So was Gabriella.” He slid open his black shirt’s top two opal buttons, hauled the snug cotton over his head and draped the shirt on top of the dresser.
His broad shoulders and heavily muscled chest had her mouth watering and fingertips tingling. She wanted to trace each ridged ab and defined pec and not stop.
“I’ve forgotten how hot the tropics are, and the day’s barely begun.” He slumped onto the bed in his black jeans.
“Take your pants off then.” Yeah, a needy request, but she didn’t care. “I promise not to pounce if I see more skin than usual.”
“I wouldn’t let you pounce anyway.” A twinkle lit his beautiful sky-blue eyes.
“And I’m curious to learn if you wear boxers or briefs.” She rolled onto her side, wrinkling her buttery colored sleep-shorts higher. With one elbow wedged up, she propped her head into her upturned palm. “Indulge me, Hammers.”
“Indulging would be dangerous. But it is hot.”
“Take them off. I know you could easily hold off little-old-me.”
“Sure, but close your eyes.”