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“No one’s as good as I am.” The words didn’t sound boastful or arrogant. They sounded resigned.
Poor Max. She could argue with him, try to convince him that he was being ridiculous. But she must have spent too much time pressed against him, absorbing his thoughts, because she could see the logic of his argument.
But how long did his responsibility extend? How many years did the obligation remain? Five years after he left? Ten? He wouldn’t be able to tell her, so she didn’t ask. She laid her head back down.
“Okay, so what would you do if you could do anything? If there were no repercussions to leaving the ship, what would you do?”
He was quiet for a long moment, and Chloe used the time to spread her fingers wide over his heart. His skin looked so brown against her pale hand.
“It’s boring,” he finally said.
“That sounds perfect for you. What is it?”
“I want to be a carpenter. Maybe a cabinet-maker.”
“Really?”
“Then I’d never have to see the ocean again. Or a boat. Or divers.”
“Are you good at that kind of stuff?”
“I worked for a carpenter in high school and college. I liked the precision of it. You were careful and you measured and, in the end, everything fit together perfectly. I was good at it. Before I gave it up for diving, I worked for a guy who designed custom furniture. The last time I was on leave I made a whole wall of built-in bookshelves for Elliott. It was so relaxing.”
“Could you make a living doing that?”
“It might take a while to be profitable, but I’m lucky enough not to have to worry about that.”
“Are you saying you’ve been hoarding treasure for all these years?”
His chuckle rumbled through her. “Exactly.”
“Wow. A carpenter.”
“Yeah, what do you think of the smell of sawdust?”
“Hot. Much hotter than old seaweed. You should… You really feel that you can’t leave the ship?”
He put his hand over hers and dragged his fingertips lightly over her knuckles. “No one in the industry has a better record than I do. How do I get past that? My shipmates are like family. How can I turn them over to someone I know isn’t as careful as I am?”
She didn’t know the answer to that. It wasn’t his responsibility to take care of these people for the rest of his life, except that for him, it was. The weight of it pulled his voice down when he spoke about the ship. It pulled him down.
She didn’t have an answer, so she just wrapped her arms around him and held him until they both fell asleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAX WAS IN HEAVEN. He woke slowly, aware that he was in a dark, unfamiliar room. No water sounds drifted to his ears. No crashing waves or lapping ocean. In fact, the only thing he could hear was an air conditioner whirring away somewhere to his left, keeping the room cold while a pile of covers kept his body warm. The round ass pressed against his dick was helping keep his body temperature up, too. Chloe.
He stretched slowly, careful not to wake her. She stirred enough to make him gasp, then settled back into sleep. This was what he’d been missing in his life. A sweet, soft woman and not one other person to think about.
Hard as he was, he didn’t do anything more than sneak an arm around her waist. She murmured something too soft to hear and curled her fingers over his to hold him tightly. Max closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to live like this. On land, in a tiny apartment, with Chloe.
He had no right to think such things, of course. His job would take him away soon, and Chloe wasn’t in a place that invited long-term commitment, but inside his own head, Max could think whatever he wanted to. Then again, he couldn’t think of much of anything when Chloe nudged her ass even tighter against him with a sleepy little sigh. Nice.
Fingers still covered by hers, he slid his hand up to cup her breast. Her hand tightened against his, pressing him into her. She was awake, and she wanted him.
Max made love to her more slowly than he’d ever made love to anyone. It seemed as if a whole hour had passed before he collapsed on his back, as exhausted as if he’d never even slept. But Chloe was wide-awake. She bounced up to her knees, making for a very nice, if sadly unlit view.
“It’s only six-thirty,” she said.
