would happen. “You’re such a comedian.”
“Then let’s go back to bed.”
They walked back to the room, and to his visible surprise, she slid off her sweat pants and crawled in the bed next to him without complaint. She might be stubborn , but she learned quickly. The combed -cotton tee shirt felt more comfortable than any pajamas she’d ever owned.
She closed her eyes and tried to deny the strange sensations that pulsed through her. Perhaps she should have changed. The shirt held the musky smell of him, disrupting her determination to remain the repressed little American he believed her to be.
She propped her head up on the palm of her hand. “Jack?”
“Umm.”
“I didn’t say it before, but I’m sorry about your friend, Stucky.” She didn’t ask to be kidnapped, but she felt responsible all the same. The explosion was meant to kill her, not his partner.
He eased his arm under her neck and cuddled her in the crook of his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Try to get some sleep.”
“Good night, Jack.”
“Good night.”
“Jack?”
“Shut up, Lilly.”
“Well, now you sound like a husband.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll start acting like one.”
Lilly decided not to push her luck. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore his presence. Now, if she could just shut out the soft sound of his breathing, close her mind to the masculine scent of him, ignore the feel of his arms holding her close. If she could just stop thinking about the feel of his arousal pressed against her, she might get some sleep tonight.
* * * *
Lilly spent the first few minutes of her day familiarizing herself with the compact galley. The cabinets were meticulously organized to utilize every inch of available space. Other than that, she found no difference in cooking for a ship’s crew or the farm hands back in Iowa during the harvest.
Since she hadn’t met any of the men the night before, her first introductions came at the breakfast table. Because they thought her a married woman, they carefully avoided any physical contact, even in the cramped area. They stepped over each other to avoid her so that no accident could be misconstrued in any way.
She spoke no Arabic, but Mustafa still kept a careful ear on the conversation. Any time he didn’t like the tone of voice, he bellowed at his crew. With Jack absent, Mustafa must have assigned himself the task of watching over her.
She walked around the table serving coffee. Most men mumbled or grunted their thanks, never once looking her in the eye. At the end of the table, a young boy of about sixteen was the only one to raise his head.
“It is the most delicious food I eat,” he said, proudly showing off his limited vocabulary.
She smiled. “You speak English.”
“Yes. Hello, pretty American lady. What is your sign?”
“No Trespassing,” Jack answered from the doorway. He waved his finger sternly at the boy, but with a trace of humor in his eyes. “She’s my wife, Sharif. You be careful how you speak to her, or I’ll use you for bait today.”
The taunting jibes from the others put an end to the harmless flirting. They filed out, congratulating Jack for finding such a wonderfully talented wife. At least in the kitchen.
Lilly took the opportunity to rest for a moment and sat down at the table.
“You sure can clear out a room, Mr. Murphy. Did you ever think about changing your brand of mouthwash?”
“They wanted to leave us alone so you can make your first breakfast for your new husband.”
She had no intention of returning to the hot kitchen to cook something special for him. “You should have come earlier when the food was fresh.”
“I wanted to make sure no one died of food poisoning first.” He took a piece of corn bread and sampled her culinary skills. “Not bad.” He sat next to her and leaned back in the chair. “So, feed me, woman.”
“With an ego as big as yours, it’s a wonder you have any
“Then let’s go back to bed.”
They walked back to the room, and to his visible surprise, she slid off her sweat pants and crawled in the bed next to him without complaint. She might be stubborn , but she learned quickly. The combed -cotton tee shirt felt more comfortable than any pajamas she’d ever owned.
She closed her eyes and tried to deny the strange sensations that pulsed through her. Perhaps she should have changed. The shirt held the musky smell of him, disrupting her determination to remain the repressed little American he believed her to be.
She propped her head up on the palm of her hand. “Jack?”
“Umm.”
“I didn’t say it before, but I’m sorry about your friend, Stucky.” She didn’t ask to be kidnapped, but she felt responsible all the same. The explosion was meant to kill her, not his partner.
He eased his arm under her neck and cuddled her in the crook of his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Try to get some sleep.”
“Good night, Jack.”
“Good night.”
“Jack?”
“Shut up, Lilly.”
“Well, now you sound like a husband.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll start acting like one.”
Lilly decided not to push her luck. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore his presence. Now, if she could just shut out the soft sound of his breathing, close her mind to the masculine scent of him, ignore the feel of his arms holding her close. If she could just stop thinking about the feel of his arousal pressed against her, she might get some sleep tonight.
* * * *
Lilly spent the first few minutes of her day familiarizing herself with the compact galley. The cabinets were meticulously organized to utilize every inch of available space. Other than that, she found no difference in cooking for a ship’s crew or the farm hands back in Iowa during the harvest.
Since she hadn’t met any of the men the night before, her first introductions came at the breakfast table. Because they thought her a married woman, they carefully avoided any physical contact, even in the cramped area. They stepped over each other to avoid her so that no accident could be misconstrued in any way.
She spoke no Arabic, but Mustafa still kept a careful ear on the conversation. Any time he didn’t like the tone of voice, he bellowed at his crew. With Jack absent, Mustafa must have assigned himself the task of watching over her.
She walked around the table serving coffee. Most men mumbled or grunted their thanks, never once looking her in the eye. At the end of the table, a young boy of about sixteen was the only one to raise his head.
“It is the most delicious food I eat,” he said, proudly showing off his limited vocabulary.
She smiled. “You speak English.”
“Yes. Hello, pretty American lady. What is your sign?”
“No Trespassing,” Jack answered from the doorway. He waved his finger sternly at the boy, but with a trace of humor in his eyes. “She’s my wife, Sharif. You be careful how you speak to her, or I’ll use you for bait today.”
The taunting jibes from the others put an end to the harmless flirting. They filed out, congratulating Jack for finding such a wonderfully talented wife. At least in the kitchen.
Lilly took the opportunity to rest for a moment and sat down at the table.
“You sure can clear out a room, Mr. Murphy. Did you ever think about changing your brand of mouthwash?”
“They wanted to leave us alone so you can make your first breakfast for your new husband.”
She had no intention of returning to the hot kitchen to cook something special for him. “You should have come earlier when the food was fresh.”
“I wanted to make sure no one died of food poisoning first.” He took a piece of corn bread and sampled her culinary skills. “Not bad.” He sat next to her and leaned back in the chair. “So, feed me, woman.”
“With an ego as big as yours, it’s a wonder you have any
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