Page 53 of Recipe for Disaster

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“You h-had me at t-towels.”

CHAPTER14

Griffin had to get her out of those wet clothes. Mostly to keep Marin from freezing to death, but also for his own sanity. Standing in the sailboat’s salon shivering in that damn translucent T-shirt and clingy shorts, she was a teenage boy’s wet dream. The vision was doing crazy things to his body and Griffin was long past an adolescent. Not only that, but he wasn’t sure they were out of danger yet. He needed to think clearly. And he wouldn’t be able to do that until they were separated by the closed bathroom door.

Digging through the closet where Ben kept the beach towels, Griffin pulled one out and wrapped it around her.

“P-please, tell me th-this is your boat.”

He shook his head. “It belongs to Ben.”

Her shoulders seemed to sag with relief. He almost laughed at her unflagging sense of right and wrong. She was worried about a little B&E when not more than two hours ago, she’d killed a man. Despite the fact that it was in self-defense, the act would likely haunt this sensitive woman for years to come. He hated that she’d been exposed to this nightmare just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he was going to make it right. He had to.

“Sit.” He guided her down to the bench seat. Kneeling down, his numb fingers struggled with the wet laces of her sneakers before he was able to pull one shoe off and then the other. He rubbed her shriveled feet with a towel.

“You need to dry off, too,” she said.

Just touching her skin was helping Griffin to warm up. He decided it was better not to mention that, though. He left her on the bench so he could reach into the small lavatory and turn on the water in the shower.

“There isn’t a separate stall,” he explained. “The whole room serves as the shower. But there’s a removable sprayer with plenty of hot water that you can use to wash yourself off and warm up. The soap and shampoo are on the shelf behind the toilet. Do you have enough strength to do it yourself?”

Please say you do,he silently pleaded. If Griffin had to get her naked, she’d never make it into the shower.

A faint blush spread from her neck to her cheeks. She nodded before standing on unsteady feet and walking into the bathroom.

“Just hand me your clothes and the towel through the door,” he instructed. “I’ll see if I can scare up an extra T-shirt of Ben’s for you to wear.”

When she closed the door, he began rummaging through the drawers in the sleeping cabin at the bow of the boat. He pulled out several pairs of board shorts, a Smashing Pumpkins concert T-shirt, and some old sweat pants of Ben’s that Griffin recognized from their days at West Point. At the sound of the bathroom door opening, he froze, imagining her body naked and pink from the cold water. The visual made him hard and hot. He heard her drop her clothes on the floor before the door closed again. The lock clicked. Griffin couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or insulted.Neither. He had work to do.

After he toed off his sneakers, Griffin peeled off his jeans and his boxer briefs. His T-shirt was next. He dried himself off before pulling on Ben’s sweat pants. Then, he scooped up Marin’s wet clothes and hung them along with his on a clothes line in the aft cabin. The water was still running and, if he was not mistaken, Marin had begun to hum quietly. Griffin dug into the fanny pack he’d bought on the Cherry Blossom. He needn’t have bothered; his phone was completely waterlogged. His service revolver, too.

Griffin then searched the cabinets for food. He found tea bags and immediately filled a saucepan with some water and set it on the stove to boil. In another cabinet, he found a box of Teddy Grahams, better known as Ben’s crack. They’d have to do for tonight.

While the water boiled, Griffin unlocked the cabinet beneath the charting desk and pulled out a burn phone and .35mm pistol Ben always kept onboard.

He powered up the phone and immediately texted Adam. “Great night for stargazing.”

He was loading the gun when the water shut off.

The bathroom door opened a crack. “Did you have any luck finding clothes?” she asked.

“Here.” He placed a dry towel and the T-shirt into her outstretched hand.

The burn phone chirped. “Sounds like a fun date. Meeting friends in Old Town tonight. Will bring coffee in the morning.”

Griffin relaxed a bit knowing his friend had the situation under control. Adam would secure the perimeter of the marina making sure he and Marin were safe on the sailboat tonight.

He responded back. “Grab me a couple of souvenir T-shirts while you’re out tonight, too.”

Marin emerged from the bathroom just as the water began to boil in the pot. When she reached up to adjust the towel she’d wrapped around her head like a turban, the T-shirt rode way up her toned thighs. Griffin’s mouth went dry. He must have made some sound because her free hand tugged the hem of the shirt down. His gaze refocused on the pink skin of her fingers still dotted with dried blood. She’d nearly scrubbed her hand raw trying to wipe off the bloodstains.

“Come here,” he said as he reached above the stove and pulled down the first-aid kit.

She stood before him and Griffin marveled at how Marin could still smell so femininely delicious after bathing with Ben’s obnoxious woodsy soap. He tried to ignore the painful tightening of his junk in the already snug sweat pants. Instead, he dug the petroleum jelly out of the kit.

He held his palm out. “Let me have your hand.”

There was a brief hesitation before she did as he asked. Using his thumb, Griffin gently rubbed the petroleum jelly over the bloodstains.


Tags: Tracy Solheim Romance