for pulling me out of the ditch.”
For a moment he didn’t react, then his gut clenched, remembering. “Don’t mention it.”
Dave climbed the stairs out of Freedom’s Price and strode across the dock to the parking lot, determined to put some distance between him and the woman occupying his yacht. Now would be as good a time as any to retrieve her motorcycle and hide it, under the cover of darkness and the Devil’s Shroud.
Later he’d come up with a cover story for the woman living with him on his boat.
Great, he’d just broken the three rules he’d imposed on himself since leaving the Special Forces.
Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved.
He was now up to his neck in involvement.
Nicole climbed into the tiny shower, trying not to imagine the bulky, well-muscled man who’d carried her to his truck when she’d been out cold as she fit herself into the confined space. It was hard enough for her to turn and rinse, how did a guy that big manage?
Her body heated at the thought of Dave standing naked in the shower. She dropped the soap and bent to retrieve the bar, thinking how it was too bad the unit was too small for two.
As soon as the idea entered her mind, Nicole jerked upright, banging her head on the shower nozzle. “Damn!” Already dizzy from lack of sleep, she didn’t need to knock herself unconscious again. Dave would have to fish her off the shower floor, naked and wet.
Molten hot blood thrummed through her veins at the thought of Dave’s rough hands on her naked thighs, possibly skimming the sides of her breasts. She was weak from pushing too long, too far and on too little food. That had to be the reason for the ache building deep in her core.
Dave Logsdon was nothing to her. So what that he’d pulled her out of a ditch? His truck had put her there.
You ran the stop sign.
Arguing with herself only made her angrier and she was entirely too exhausted to care. Her whole world had been ripped apart. She hadn’t felt this off balance since she’d been shamed out of the FBI. Now the only person she truly trusted, Royce Fontaine, had been apprehended and was being held by some government entity.
What the hell was in that data she’d stolen from Ryan Technologies?
The water turned cold, forcing her out of her musings and the shower. The old yacht probably only had a five-gallon water heater. She finished rinsing the soap out of her hair and turned off the water. The towel Dave had given her was thick and fluffy and completely covered her. She stepped out onto a bath mat and dried off, her gaze shooting to the door, half expecting it to open while she stood naked, half disappointed when it didn’t.
Her leather pants and jacket lay on the floor, too dirty from road grime for her to want to put them back on. She ducked her head out the bathroom door, her hair dripping on the wooden floor. “Logsdon?” she called out.
No answer.
She ventured out farther, poking around the other doors leading off the small cabin. Dave was gone.
Well, at least she had privacy. She rummaged through a drawer and found a T-shirt that smelled a lot like Dave. He must leave clothing onboard for when he took the yacht out to sea.
When Nicole put it on, the shirt covered her from shoulders to midthigh.
Perfect for a nightshirt.
A yawn struck her. Too tired to think past at least four hours’ sleep, she went in search of a mattress and pillow, finding them in the forward berth. A queen-size bed covered in a clean, white, down comforter took up the entire space.
Nicole crawled across the top and dropped face-first onto a pillow. Less than a minute later she was sound asleep.
Minutes, or maybe hours later, a noise disturbed her, dragging her out of a nightmare about running through a large building with no doors to escape.
Nicole rolled over and tried to drop off the side of the bed, but there were no sides to roll off of. She scooted to the end of the bed instead and slid down, crouching low in the oversize T-shirt, blinking the sleep from her eyes and the fog from her brain. She was so tired she found it hard to keep her eyes open.
Another sound forced her eyelids upward.
When a large figure appeared in the doorway to the forward berth, a rush of adrenaline hit Nicole’s body and she launched herself at the intruder, knocking him backward and flat on his back.
He landed with a grunt, taking her down with him.
Too late. Nicole realized the man she now lay on top of was the same one who’d rescued her and given her a place to sleep.
Dave grasped her arms in his big hands and demanded, “What the hell?”
“I thought you were an intruder.” When she tried to move, his grip kept her in place, long enough to recognize the hard ridge of his denim fly pressing into her belly. Wearing nothing but a soft, old T-shirt, there wasn’t much between them, leaving her vulnerable to him and her own traitorous desires.
Tazer had learned long ago, when in doubt, go on the offensive.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded with as much control as she could muster, considering she was naked under the shirt.
“I live here.” He sat up, pushing her to the side.
“Live here?” She glanced around the cramped interior of the boat. “All the time? Or just when this old tub is out to sea?”
“All the time.” Dave rose, leaving her on the floor to get up by herself. Anger burned off him like steam.
Nicole couldn’t fathom why he’d be so mad and ready to pick a fight. She scrambled to her feet, still tired but not one to back down from an argument. “Then why did you let me stay?”
He snorted. “If you recall, I didn’t want you to stay.”
She stood, straightened the shirt hem to cover her bare bottom, feeling more exposed than if she’d been completely naked. “I understand. The couch at Creed and Emma’s will have to do.”
When Nicole made to pass Dave, she had to squeeze between his solid body and the wall. He didn’t make it easy. No, he didn’t allow her to pass at all.
His brows pushed down low as he stared at her chest. “Is that my T-shirt you’re wearing?” he asked, his voice low, gravelly.
Nicole tipped her head back. “I found it in a drawer.”
“Give it back.”
“Fine.” She reached for the hem, dragged it up over her head and tossed the shirt into his face. “It was too long anyway.” She moved past him, naked, her head held high.
His eyes widened, the dark brown turning almost black. He reached out and grasped her arms.
