Stranded with the Captain Read online

  What she wished for...and more!

  An adventure is exactly what Cat Sidran wants when she and two friends charter a boat for a sailing trip in the Florida Keys. Throw in a swarthy captain, and Cat has the perfect amount of excitement. Until pirates overtake them, and Captain Javi Rivas reveals himself to be an FBI agent.

  Working with Javi gives Cat a thrill like she’s never felt before. She can handle danger for a couple of days if it means saving her friends, but anything longer... She loves her quiet life; Javi thrives on adrenaline. She needs to forget her captain...if that’s even possible.

  Cat swallowed. Why was it so hard to breathe?

  “Having second thoughts?” Javi asked, his voice soft like a caress.

  “No.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, placed her palms on his chest and slid her fingers up to his shoulders, stepping so close that their bodies almost touched. She could smell the clean, salty ocean on him, the wine on his breath.

  He hesitated, dark eyes troubled, searching her face.

  The boat rocked slightly beneath her feet.

  She was again losing her chance to do something reckless, to live in the moment. Because she was afraid.

  She was always afraid.

  She met his gaze, relieved at what she read in his expression. No question the captain wanted her.

  Before he could ask something stupid like if she was sure, she placed her lips on his and closed her eyes.

  Dear Reader,

  Writing Stranded with the Captain allowed me to revisit one of my oldest passions: sailing! My first date with my husband was on a little Sunfish rented from Dinner Key Marina in Coconut Grove. Something about zipping along the water being propelled by nothing but the wind made me fall in love with Max and sailing and, before life got too complicated, we spent a lot of time on a beloved sloop named Spree. Some of our best vacations were spent exploring the clear waters of Biscayne Bay and the Florida Keys, although the original Spree wasn’t as large or as tricked out as the one Cat and her friends charter in Stranded with the Captain.

  We’ve moved to the west coast of Florida now and are looking for a new boat, probably a catamaran because of water depth. We have a new bay to discover, and life is always full of adventures. I’m hopeful—and fairly confident—that we won’t encounter anything as dangerous as Cat and Javi do in the Bahamas, but you never know. After all, Tampa Bay’s most famous festival involves a pirate named Gasparilla!

  I hope you enjoy Javi and Cat’s roller-coaster ride as much as I enjoyed writing it. And, please, if you get the opportunity, go for a sail. You just might discover a new love, too.

  Namaste,

  Sharon

  SHARON

  HARTLEY

  Stranded with the Captain

  Sharon Hartley has settled into her new home on the west coast of Florida. She’s found interesting places to volunteer, a new orchid club and loves her TARA (Tampa Area Romance Authors) sisters, who extended a warm welcome to the newcomer. But Sharon is now looking for new adventures. She hopes to sail Florida waters in the winter and travel the USA in an RV in the summer. Have computer (and yoga mat), will travel! There’s nothing like rambling to inspire ideas for fiction, so who knows where her next story will be set. Sharon loves to hear from her readers. Please visit her website at sharonshartley.com.

  Books by Sharon Hartley

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  The Florida Files

  The South Beach Search

  Accidental Bodyguard

  Her Cop Protector

  To Trust a Cop

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  This story is dedicated to all of my dorm and roommates from the University of Florida, including the “real” Joan and Debbie, two of the dearest friends ever. Such adventures we had!

  I learned as much from these classy ladies as from class.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EXCERPT FROM THE FIREMAN’S SON BY TARA TAYLOR QUINN

  CHAPTER ONE

  CAT SIDRAN CAME to a halt and admired dozens of sailboats bobbing in the water around her, one of which would be her home for the next week. The Florida sun warmed her shoulders. A stiff wind clanged rigging against tall aluminum masts, the sound a mysterious promise of adventure. She closed her eyes to listen.

  An adventure was exactly what she wanted, what she needed to pry herself out of a boring rut where she never did anything but work.

  Although she was safe inside her rut. And she did love her work.

  A siren—an ambulance or the police—drowned out the sounds of the rigging.

  “Hurry up, Cat. It’s hot out here.”

  Opening her eyes, Cat glared at the back of her friend Debbie McMillan, who hurried ahead down the long concrete dock. Deb had done nothing but complain since the start of this trip. When had she become such a whiner?

  “What’s the rush?” Cat asked. “We’re on vacation.”

  Debbie turned, shading her sunglass-covered eyes with a brochure. “I need to get out of the sun, and so does our food.”

  Joan Pastorini stepped beside Cat. “I got the extra sunscreen,” she said, holding up a plastic bag. “SPF fifty.”

  “Great. Now can we find Spree?” Deb used the brochure to fan her face. “I’m melting.”

  “Are you trying to depress me, Deb?” Cat asked.

  Debbie shrugged. “I’m depressed enough for all three of us.”

  “But you won’t be much longer,” Joan said. “We’re all going to chill and have fun for the next week.”

  “So you keep telling me,” Debbie said. “But I’m not sure there’s enough tequila in all the Keys for that.”

  Cat shook her head as Deb hurried down the dock. This adventure wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun if Deb’s attitude didn’t change.

  “What’s the slip number for Spree again?” Deb yelled back.

  “Was she always like this and I don’t remember?” Cat murmured to Joan.

  “I told you she’s changed since the divorce,” Joan whispered back.

  Cat watched her friend read the slip numbers. Or maybe this is why Brad left her.

  “Slip twenty-eight,” Joan called, catching up to Deb.

  “Here she is,” Deb said.

  Cat admired the elegant lines of a white-hulled boat floating with its stern toward the dock, allowing her to confirm the name Spree in flowing black script. Two aluminum masts sprouted from the deck, the one in the rear much shorter. To provide shade, the owner h
ad suspended a blue tarp over the opening that led below deck.

  “She’s even prettier than the photos,” Joan said.

  Cat silently agreed, her spirits lifting, for the first time actually believing Joan’s plan for this sailing charter might work. For the next week, she and her old college roommates planned to relax, catch up and reminisce on board this fifty-foot ketch. More importantly, she and Joan would try to coax Debbie out of the funk she’d been in since her divorce.

  “Wow,” Deb said. “Look at the size of the steering wheel.”

  The huge stainless-steel wheel in question stood in the center of the cockpit behind the largest mast, where people sat while under way. Cat smiled at her vision of standing behind that wheel with Spree skimming along aqua water beneath billowed white sails.

  She’d always wanted to learn to sail, which is how Joan had finally convinced her to participate in this voyage.

  “And damn,” Joan muttered. “Will you look at that.”

  A muscled male body, glistening with sweat, emerged into the cockpit from below. An almost naked muscled male body. Ragged denim cutoffs rode low on the man’s ripped abs and hips. Very low. If they were any lower... She jerked her gaze to the man’s face.

  He was tanned. Swarthy, like a pirate. High cheekbones, longish dark hair, dark eyes. Dark beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Even a small gold hoop in one ear.

  A delicious pull of attraction made her imagine something even more sensual than sailing a boat.

  The man turned and stood with his back to her, staring up the mast, the rear view as spectacular as the front. Clasping his hands, he stretched his arms high overhead, rippling the muscles in his amazing shoulders, completely unaware of her ogling.

  And here, likely, was Spree’s captain. Funny; she’d pictured their captain as an old salt with a British accent. She didn’t know where the accent came from, but the photo in the brochure had definitely been of such an older gentleman. Not this dangerous-looking buccaneer with a body that only came from spending a lot of time in the gym.

  Not that he’d worked his muscles to where they were too obscenely bulky and huge. No question this man was strong, but also wonderfully flexible.

  Flexible? Where is this coming from? Get a grip, Cat.

  “Ahoy there,” Joan shouted.

  Cat cringed. The man turned. Piercing dark eyes openly checked them out. He smiled, displaying perfect white teeth.

  “Can I help you, ladies?”

  “I hope so,” Joan said. “We’re your charterers for the next week.”

  The pirate’s expression morphed into a scowl. He moved closer to them. “You’re not due until tomorrow,” he said.

  “Well, I know,” Joan said, using what Cat recognized as her most wheedling tone. “But we hoped we could put our food aboard tonight.”

  “You bought your own provisions? I thought you were using the concierge service.”

  “We changed our minds,” Deb said. “And saved a ton of money.”

  Still frowning, the man placed a hand on a metal wire connected to the deck. “I hope you used the suggested list.”

  “Of course,” Joan said. “Are you the captain?”

  “Yes. And according to your contract, you don’t have the boat until noon tomorrow.”

  “But some of our food needs refrigeration,” Debbie said.

  Mesmerized by a bead of sweat sliding down the captain’s chiseled chest toward his low-slung cutoffs, Cat forced herself to listen to the discussion.

  “What would it matter if we just stored our food in the coolers overnight?” Deb asked.

  “Please,” Joan added hopefully.

  Appearing none too pleased, the captain hesitated, but shrugged. “Sure. How can I resist three such lovely ladies?”

  “Thank you,” Cat said, and was rewarded with another smile.

  The captain jumped from the deck of Spree to the dock. “I’m Javi Rivas, your captain.”

  “Joan Pastorini. What happened to Captain Bree?” Joan asked.

  “He had an emergency. Sorry about my appearance, but I wasn’t expecting you.” The captain shook Joan’s hand and turned to Deb.

  “I’m Debbie McMillan,” she said.

  “Cat Sidran.”

  When the captain shook Cat’s hand, he winked, and heat warmed her cheeks. Damn. He must have noticed her drooling.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s grab a dock cart to transport your provisions.”

  Telling herself to quit leering at the captain, Cat and her friends followed him down the dock toward land where he helped them transfer their grocery bags from the car into a wooden cart and wheeled the cart back to Spree, where they passed their provisions to the captain on deck. The process took three trips.

  Maybe they’d bought too much food.

  “Come aboard and I’ll show you where to stow your food,” the captain said with a glance at Debbie’s feet. “Tell me you brought deck shoes.”

  Deb looked down at her stilettos. “They’re in my suitcase.”

  “You have to put them on before you come aboard.”

  “Seriously?” Deb asked.

  “Didn’t you read the preboarding instructions?” Javi said.

  “Don’t worry about it, Deb,” Joan said. “We’ll put away the groceries. Go wait in the shade.” To Javi, she said, “She burns easily because of her fair skin.”

  “Then I hope she brought sunscreen. You, too,” Javi said to Cat, holding out his arm to help her aboard. “Redheads burn quicker than blondes.”

  Landing on deck, Cat silently moaned when she couldn’t stop heat from flooding her face again. The curse of a redhead. What was she, thirteen? He helped Joan onto the boat, then said to Cat, “Come with me.”

  She followed him into the cockpit, through the opening and down four steps to a cooler shaded area below deck. Wow. Spree was gorgeous, all varnished wood and neatly arranged pastel cushions.

  “This is the main saloon,” Javi said.

  “It’s lovely,” Cat said. Light flooded the area through an open hatch overhead and porthole windows on the side.

  “I’ll give you the grand tour once your food is stowed, but this is the galley,” he said with a sweep of his arm.

  “That’s the kitchen, right?” Cat asked.

  “Right. This is a top-loading cooler, which runs off the ship’s generator. Freezer is one side, refrigerator on the other.” He removed a hatch that cleverly folded to cover one side or both, and then moved to the front of the boat where there was another opening to the deck.

  A hatch, Cat reminded herself.

  “Start passing the bags through,” he yelled up to Joan.

  “Pack items you’ll use first last,” he instructed.

  After the perishables, he helped Cat and Joan store dry goods into overhead cabinets. Despite being out of the April sun, they were all sweating by the time they finished.

  Fanning herself, Joan plopped onto the sofa. “Is it always this hot down here?”

  “There’s not much air circulation in the marina, but under way, it stays fairly cool below deck,” Javi said. “When we’re at anchor, I’ll put up wind scoops on the hatches to help ventilate below.”

  “No air-conditioning?” Cat asked with a glance at Joan.

  “Just the wind,” the captain said.

  “Right. Let’s go find Debbie,” Joan said, avoiding Cat’s gaze.

  The captain nodded, and Cat followed him into the cockpit where they discovered Debbie waiting on the dock with her luggage.

  “What the hell is that?” Javi demanded.

  Cat followed his gaze to Debbie’s large, hard-sided suitcase.

  “What does it look like?” Deb asked.

  “Something that’s not co
ming on this boat,” the captain said.

  * * *

  “DID YOU EVEN bother to read your contract?” Javi demanded. Maybe he sounded sharp, but his thigh ached. He’d been on his leg too long helping the charterers load their provisions, something definitely not in the captain’s job description, but he’d wanted to smooth over the rough start.

  “The contract specifies soft-sided luggage only, preferably duffel bags,” Javi said.

  “But this isn’t any bigger than Cat’s duffel,” the blonde on shore protested.

  “A cloth bag can be stuffed into a small space, but not that thing,” Javi stated. “And it can’t stay out. If we hit weather, it’ll go flying and damage the boat.”

  “Is there any solution?” Cat asked softly. “Maybe lash it to the deck somehow?”

  Javi turned to the stunning redhead beside him on deck. She was trying to be reasonable, but he wasn’t in the mood. “For safety reasons, the less on deck, the better.”

  He watched Cat exchange a look with Joan, an equally beautiful dark-haired woman. Just what he needed. Three gorgeous and spoiled women to cater to for a week. Marlin, the boat’s owner, couldn’t afford to turn down any booking, but family charters were so much easier.

  “We bought a lot of large garbage bags,” Cat said. “Maybe Deb could stuff everything inside a couple and leave the suitcase ashore.”

  Javi nodded. “That would work.”

  “Where?” Deb asked, looking around the dock.

  “I’ll ask the marina office if they can store it for a week,” Javi said. And then he realized something else. The blonde—Deb was her name—had obviously planned on putting that ridiculous suitcase on board. “Where are you ladies staying the night?” he asked. “The Marathon Motel?”

  Cat and Joan exchanged another look. Deb sat on her suitcase.

  “Well, since our food is already on board,” Joan said hesitantly, “we thought maybe we could stay with it.”

  Did you, now? “That’s an option if you arrange it ahead of time,” Javi said, struggling to hold on to his temper. “But I didn’t see that in your contract.”