A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [114]
Marcus glanced over his shoulder, deciding if he ought to step out and throw on some clothes or stand his ground. He didn’t want to give the stowaway a chance to escape. Brushing aside his modesty, Marcus braced his hands on either side of the door, then cleared his throat. She straightened, then turned and faced him, her face registering mild surprise. Her gaze slowly raked the length of his body, resting a long moment in the area of his crotch. “Good morning,” she murmured, a smile twitching at her lips.
She didn’t seem to be concerned about his lack of clothing—or hers, for that matter. He tried to avoid looking at her breasts, but he couldn’t help himself. Her body was perfect, long-limbed and slender, with a tiny waist that flared out to lovely hips. His eyes drifted back to her breasts and he lingered there for just a moment, wondering how it might feel to touch her, to cup each perfect breast in the palm of his hand.
“Are you finished?” she asked. “Or would you like to take a closer look?” She held up her arms and slowly turned in front of him, offering him yet another glimpse of her backside.
Marcus’s gaze darted back to her face, taking in the wide green eyes, high cheekbones and lush mouth now curved in a wry smile. Hell, this was every man’s dream, the stuff of fantasies, stumbling on a nearly naked woman. Marcus swallowed hard. If he didn’t find something to cover his crotch, she was going to see exactly what kind of effect she was having on him.
“Excuse me,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and hurried toward his cabin.
“Is there coffee?” she shouted, poking her head out of the galley.
Marcus cursed softly as he dug through his clothes looking for a clean pair of boxer briefs. In the end, he tugged on baggy surfer shorts and made a quick stop at the head to brush his teeth. When he returned to the galley, she was still rummaging through the cabinets in the same state of undress. He cursed to himself, wondering why she hadn’t taken the chance to put on some clothes.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” he said.
“Coffee,” she muttered impatiently. “Is it too much to ask that you start a pot of coffee in the morning?”
He stepped inside, moving past her. Her body brushed his, her breasts soft against his chest. He focused on the coffee, determined not to let her rattle him. The bag of beans was tucked behind a canister of sugar. Marcus pulled it out and dumped a healthy measure of the beans into the grinder. As the grinder whined, he glanced over his shoulder to find her perched on the counter, her hands braced at her sides, her long legs crossed at the ankle. He groaned inwardly, fighting back an impulse to reach out and touch her, just to see if this was all just a very vivid dream.
He dumped the ground coffee into a filter, then popped it into the coffeemaker, grateful for any distraction. Grabbing the pot, Marcus passed it over to her and she filled it with water from the tap. They both watched until a stream of coffee began to drip into the pot. Then she reached around her back and found a coffee mug.
“I can’t wait,” she murmured, nudging his shoulder with the cup.
He filled her mug and handed it back to her, keeping his attention firmly fixed on the coffee. “How did you get on board?” he asked.
“I swam,” she said. “I left my clothes and my bags on the dock. Maybe you could take the dinghy over later and get them for me?”
“Yeah,” Marcus muttered. “Maybe.” He’d put that little task off for as long as possible. It wasn’t every day he got to enjoy the company of a naked woman, especially a woman who seemed more comfortable out of her clothes than in them.
“You’re new,” she said. “You’re a bit older than the boys Daddy usually hires. Are you here to take over for that old barnacle Captain Davis? Please tell me he’s finally retired to the Crusty Old Sailor’s Home. Or was he swallowed by some accommodating white whale on his last cruise?”
Marcus bit back