Free Captain's Paradise by Kay Hooper Page A

whispered. “It didn’t stop you.”
    “No. And it won’t stop you. You doubted yourself and your abilities in the beginning, and that’s natural. But you seem to keep misinterpreting your own reactions to danger. The point isn’t that you’re afraid. The point is that it doesn’t stop you.”
    “What if it does one day?”
    “It won’t.”
    “How can I be sure of that?”
    The hands on her shoulders gentled. “Robin, you should be sure of it now. You’ve already faced dangers most people never encounter. You just have to accept that fear is two-o’clock-in-the-morning courage.”
    Feeling very shaken, she murmured, “Is that a quote?”
    He smiled a little. “Paraphrase. Look it upsometime. Because that’s the kind of courage you have. The rarest kind.”
    Robin drew a breath, aware suddenly of the quiet of the marina, of the gentle rocking motion of the boat. Of him. His long fingers were moving on her shoulders, almost absently probing; his eyes were darkening. And she couldn’t look away from him. She had an abrupt memory of jumping off that yacht, of sinking into dark waters, alone and afraid.
    “What is it about you?” he murmured, clearly puzzled. “I’ve talked more in the last twenty-four hours than I usually do in a month.”
    “You’re … very alone, aren’t you?”
    “Except for Lisa.”
    Robin shook her head slightly. “That isn’t what I meant.”
    “I know.” His eyes were searching her face now, still puzzled, as if he were looking for something. “Professionally I rarely work with a partner. Personally I suppose I never thought it was fair to begin a relationship that couldn’t last.”
    “You mean friendship? Or a lover?”
    “Both. My life would strain any kind of relationship.”
    Robin was trying to concentrate, trying to keep her mind off the slow, inexorable awakening of her body and senses. “But you must have friendships. Dane, for one.”
    Michael tilted his head slightly, listening. “Maybe it’s your voice,” he said absently, then responded to her comments before she could react. “Dane? No, Dane isn’t a friend. We don’t know enough about each other for friendship. I’m secretive; he’s enigmatic. He’s too good a card player for my peace of mind. And even though I’d trust him with my life—and have in some situations—I’m not so sure I’d turn my back to him.”
    She felt a sudden pang, remembering what he had said about having been betrayed by those he’d considered friends. “You two seemed to know each other so well. And yet you still feel suspicious?”
    One of his hands lifted from her shoulder andbrushed a strand of auburn hair from her face, then lingered warmly against her neck. “I’ve always hedged my bets, Robin,” he said quietly. “Because sure things sometimes stumble, and the long shots can get you killed.”
    “Which am I?” she heard herself ask unsteadily. “The sure thing? Or the long shot?”
    “I don’t know.” His hand slid around to the nape of her neck, and he began drawing her toward him. “But for the first time in my life … I don’t know if I can hedge this bet.”
    Against her conscious volition, Robin felt her hands lifting to touch his chest, felt her legs parting so that as he drew her closer she was heavily aware of the warmth of his body in the hollow of her thighs.
    “I don’t think … this is a very good idea,” she managed to say almost inaudibly.
    “Of course it isn’t,” he said huskily. “What the hell does that matter?”
    Robin forgot her objections the moment his lips touched hers. She forgot everything but him and the violent surge of emotions rushingthrough her. She had never felt anything like this, and the force of it shocked her. It came from him, that force, but there was an equally strong response from deep inside herself, and that stunned her; she had never before felt such power.
    Her arms went up around his neck as he pulled her fiercely against him, and she felt