Author's Note: This was something floating around on my laptop for awhile and I finished it today so I'm putting it up. It's another story about an actor, like Hollywood Fairytale, and so I decided if I write about another actor/actress, I'll try to incorporate 'Hollywood' into the title and it'll be its own little collection of short stories. Anyway, I edited it briefly so there will probably be mistakes that prop up. I'm open to a beta reader if anyone feels up to the challenge of reading half-written stories that aren't completed until months later, if ever. As always, read, review and enjoy!

Hollywood Stowaway

The weather was gorgeous. The sun was shining, skies were clear, the temperature was high, but not too high, yet Florence Lockhart knew that this hellish day was far from over. She stared at the shrinking Californian shoreline in dismay as the boat she was on drove further and further into the Pacific Ocean. It took almost an hour for the people at the docks, and then the buildings to blur into an amorphous blob of land.

Behind her, she heard cheerful whistling. Of course, he was enjoying himself. The devil enjoyed the suffering of others so it would make sense that his hatchling would enjoy her suffering. Not that a six foot three, built man with dark hair and soulful hazel eyes could accurately be termed a hatchling, but Florence was sure that he had started out as a hatchling and then grew into the beast that he was now.

Even as she hated him fiercely, she was still entirely too aware of the fact that he was gorgeous. It was completely unfair. Dressed in baggy black shorts and half-sleeved, button-up white shirt left open to display his perfectly sculpted chest, he was mouthwatering. Until he opened his mouth, Florence thought darkly. She was also entirely too aware that she probably looked frumpy in her bathing suit and cover up compared to the women he would ordinarily take with him on this boat. Her shoulder length, straightened hair reacted to the water in the air by immediately transforming back into an uncontrollable mass of golden, frothy curls.

She didn’t turn around to face him. It wasn’t because she was afraid of him, she was slightly afraid because he was not what she expected. No, the reason she didn’t turn around was because she was afraid to move. Her head still ached something fierce from the last time she attempted to walk along the slippery deck with just her flip flops. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if she wore those ugly looking deck shoes, but she had only seen one pair and those were on his feet.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself so she could sit on the deck. She wished she had her cell phone. Florence guessed it wouldn’t have mattered if she did have it; it made sense that there would be no cell service in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but still, it would have been nice. If not to call for help, well then at least to inform someone where she was and who to prosecute in the case of her death. Florence stared glumly at the turquoise water which stayed pretty unlike the Atlantic Ocean which was more of a dark, ominous greenish blue hue except for the white caps of breaking waves, at least that’s what it looked like up north. If she lived through this, she would blame her parents, Florence decided.

They wouldn’t accept the blame. They were immigrants so anything Florence did that was positive was a reflection of their parenting skills, but anything negative was a reflection of American influences corrupting their daughter. Her parents worked hard for what seemed like most of their life and they expected her to repay them by being more successful than they were by tenfold. Her parents had immigrated to Canada from Scotland with almost nothing, but now ran a successful antique shop in a middle class neighborhood in Toronto.

Florence had worked in that antique shop both part time and fulltime until she graduated from the University of Toronto with a BA in journalism. She had always been more interested in writing fiction, but her parents were strongly opposed and demanded that if she pursued writing, then she should write serious articles in journals and newspapers. In a way, they had gotten their wish, but as a journalist in the hot new tabloid, GOSSIP, she was writing mostly fiction.

Her job pretty much entailed receiving a paparazzi photograph and making a juicy story to go along with it. If her story was good, her full article was included in the issue and she made more money. If it was not very interesting, then it was cut down to a caption consisting of sentence or two by the editor, Jason Larson, and she received not as much money. For awhile, Florence had been doing this from Toronto, but just last week, she had moved to L.A.

Although she had been working fulltime, she didn’t make as much as she could for the simple reason that too often her stories were considered not edgy enough. They wanted more interesting things, but how could Florence write about an actress’ drug addiction if the actress didn’t have one? The repercussions that the lie would have if spread usually stopped Florence from adding more false, but juicy details the editors were looking for.

However, living in LA was expensive, more so than living in Toronto. Florence needed money and so she began adding more of the details her editors were looking for. She mostly just hinted at possible pregnancies or pending charitable adoptions of kids from third world countries by mega-rich stars. She took two pictures of feuding actresses entering the same club (although on a different night) and wrote about the possible end to the feud since they were both apparently partying together. She took a picture of a once happy couple and wrote an article bashing the guy for leaving his wife to take care of their many children while he waltzed around Europe with a much younger woman, who was not the same woman he had left his wife for.

Lastly, she had hinted at an affair between two costars in an upcoming romantic comedy. The picture she had received was of a half nude, Calder Drake hugging the gorgeous Melody Wong. Florence watched so many of Drake’s movies, she loved him. The picture could easily be considered a friendly hug since both were laughing, but the article Florence wrote hinted at a torrid love affair since Wong was currently engaged. She thought, seriously, who would mind the idea of having an affair with Drake? Besides, tabloids had made larger false claims, like the president’s divorce. In addition, each issue of GOSSIP came with the disclaimer that not all stories were factual. Everyone knew that.

What made this story worse was the disintegration of Wong’s engagement that coincided with the printing of the issue that held Florence’s article. Suddenly, the entire world seemed to be paying attention to GOSSIP. Her editor, Jason Lars was in heaven! In every tabloid that covered the breakup, there was a reference to Florence’s article. Even Entertainment Tonight showed the article when discussing the possible reasons behind the breakup. With one article, Calder Drake went from onscreen romantic hottie to possibly being the sexy, but dreaded ‘other man’.

That week Florence, new to L.A., had her first interaction with a bonafide Hollywood star. It consisted of a message left on her answering machine at home because her voicemail was full. It was short, but definitely not sweet. Calder Drake spoke in tones she had not heard before in the various movies she saw him in. No, for her, his voice was low, succinct and mean. Mean also described the message he had left for after reaming into her for her lies and for being a vulture picking at the lives of others since she didn’t have one of her own, he ended with “I’m going to destroy you. Welcome to L.A.”

Florence wasn’t sure what bothered her the most; the threat or the welcome. No, it was most definitely the welcome because that alone was a threat. He wouldn’t have said that unless he had somehow learned that she had just recently moved to L.A. To have known that, he must have done some digging, and that alone frightened her into believing he would make good on his threat to destroy her.

When she mentioned the message to her editor, Jason wanted to put the message up on the GOSSIP website. Florence didn’t know Calder Drake, but she could very well envision Drake retaliating in unpredictable ways. Not to mention the retaliation would most likely be aimed at her, not GOSSIP. For that reason, she pretended to have deleted it. She hadn’t. If Drake ended up being some sort of psychopath and ‘destroying her’ was a euphemism for murder, then she definitely wanted that message to be used against Drake.

Of course, not that it ended there. Jason insisted on her writing another story about Drake. She didn’t think that was a great idea, but Jason thought he was brilliant. Knowing Jason, if she hadn’t agreed, he’d write one himself and put her name on the byline. Florence only agreed because she knew an article written by her would be far less inflammatory than an article written by Jason.

She was supposed to get back to Jason with an article by Monday. All day Friday, she thought of possible articles. She had handed Jason drafts of two, but they were too tame, he said. Obviously they were tame; she already saw the ramifications of adding the juicy details he wanted. That’s why on this glorious Saturday morning, Florence decided to go to the beach. She hadn’t been since she got here and decided she needed a break.

The powers that be clearly had decided she didn’t deserve a break. After lounging on the beach, Florence decided to go for a stroll which ended with her looking at boats in the marina. She almost didn’t recognize him when she saw him, but who else was loading things onto the small boat than Calder Drake. Florence wondered if she could make this her story. She shook her head. The truth wouldn’t be juicy enough for Jason. So what if Drake was going out on a boat? If there was a famous woman with him, a ton of cocaine, a cabin full of illegal immigrants, now that would be a story to satiate Jason.

Besides, whatever lie she told, it would only serve to infuriate a man already threatening her. Maybe she was taking the threat too seriously. Maybe that was commonly said in L.A. where directors could make or break the careers of budding actors and actresses. Maybe he was just blowing off steam by making threats and not planning to actually follow through. But Florence had never been threatened before. It was a novel feeling, an unpleasant one and she just couldn’t shake off the idea that maybe he was dead serious.

So this was her predicament: possibly further enrage a man who was threatening her or not come up with anything and possibly get fired. Not to mention that Jason would still write an article about him. If only she could find something interesting enough for Jason and something that Drake would want publicized. What would Drake want to be written about him? Florence straightened. She had an idea that was either brilliant or sheer madness. Who would know better about what Drake wanted written about him than the man himself?

She headed to the entrance to the marina. There was someone watching the entrance because it was a private marina, but she just said she was with someone. The guard looked at her without expression and demanded, “Who?”

It was a busy day at the marina, it was a nice day and a lot of people wanted to get out on the water. Florence waved in the general direction of the boats. Someone waved back. “I’m with her. You saw her waving.”

The guard shrugged and let her go by. That was the great thing about waving. No one thought twice about waving to a stranger. She looked back and saw the guard wasn’t paying her any attention. She smiled at the woman who waved and headed for the boat she saw Drake loading up with supplies, she supposed. Hopefully not with body parts of enemies past.

The strangest thing happened when she was a few metres away from the boat. Calder Drake was on the boat when he spotted her. A scowl darkened his face and he exclaimed, “You!”

Florence froze and had the sudden urge to look behind her. Surely he hadn’t recognized her. But apparently he had. She had a crazy desire to laugh. A Hollywood star had recognized her, a lowly tabloid journalist. That thought also sobered her up and reminded her that said star was very pissed off at this tabloid journalist. Apparently, angry with her enough to find out she had recently arrived in LA and to figure out what she looked like.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?” he demanded, leaping off the boat and onto the slightly swaying dock.

Florence took two steps back, but stood her ground. “Don’t be silly. I’m here with a friend,” she lied and gestured in the direction of the woman who had waved.

“Then why are you standing on my dock?”

He was yelling at her. Her face was red and she was flustered. No one yelled at her. A lot of her friends at her home thought her parents yelled at her all the time, but they just spoke loudly. This was an angry, yelling man and despite her crush based on his many roles, she was a little afraid of the man she was seeing, really for the first time.

Onscreen, his chocolate brown hair and stunning hazel eyes made him a heartthrob, especially in his last movie where he was angel watching over his living girlfriend, still deeply affected by his death, and he struggled throughout the movie with the knowledge that once she got over him, he would no longer be with her as he was then. Now, he could still resemble an angel, but he’d be an angel that was built like a warrior and carried a flaming sword. His face in the movies was soft, with a boyish charm. Standing in front of Florence, his face was hard, covered with stubble and he looked battle ready.

“Um, the thing is,” Florence began as she took another step back, “I thought that I pretty much have to, uh, write another story. That is, um, about you and so I thought that—”

“You thought what?” he practically barked, advancing to cover up the distance she was putting between them.

“That since you were so angry by the lie in the other article, that you could just tell me,” she blurted out.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure the message I left told you exactly how angry I was about the lie in that sorry excuse of an article you wrote for that rag.”

Florence took another step back while she cleared her throat. “Actually, I meant you could tell me what to write about you, for the next article, that is.”

His face did a good impression of a thundercloud. His hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him. She cried out, but for some reason looked behind her and realized she was only about a step away from falling into water. He captured her attention again by growling, “How about writing nothing at all about me?”

Florence faced him again and realized how close their bodies were to touching. She looked into his face and saw the impatience there, but still felt a frisson of awareness and heat at his proximity. She promptly forgot what he was saying and stared at him. He stared back and she was afraid what she was feeling must have been visible in her eyes because for a second there was an answering heat in his eyes. This time the sensation was like an arc of lightning running up between their bodies, electrifying every nerve to attention.

Florence gasped. Drake let go of her and stepped back. She remembered what he had said and shakily replied, “If I don’t write about you, someone else will be writing the article about you. In the end, there will still be an article about you and if it’s not by me, then I’ll likely be fired.”

“Not my problem,” he replied and without another word, he walked away. Florence stared at his retreating back as he jumped back onto his boat. He started the motor and disappeared out of view, off to one side of his boat.

Now what? She wondered to herself. The same voice in her head that told her to go ask him what he wanted written about him, told her to go convince him that this was his problem. It was. After all, the story would be about him. That made it his problem. She went to the opposite edge of the dock and carefully climbed onto his boat. Right away, she realized she was probably going to make a fool of herself.

The deck of the boat was slippery. She had gone to the beach wearing bright blue flip flops that matched her cover-up that was thrown over a black one piece swimsuit with blue and white racer stripes along the side. A black tote held her beach necessities, but proper footwear for a boat was not included. Clinging to the railing, side of the boat, anything she could hold on to, she made her way around the corner where Drake had disappeared.

What she hadn’t known was that Drake appeared from the opposite side of the cabin and untied the rope that held the boat to the dock so he could cast off. Florence was still making her slow progress around the cabin when the boat jerked and she fell flat on her back. Her head hit the deck, making her see stars. When the world stopped spinning, she stayed where she was, dazed and looking at the clouds. They were white and fluffy, but the clouds were moving fast, too fast. Florence jerked upright when she realized the boat was moving. The movement made her dizzy.

When the dizziness faded, Florence yelled and carefully got to her feet. She heard a curse and the boat slowed in the water. Drake came into her view like an avenging angel. “What the hell are you doing on my boat, woman?”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the railing she was clinging to. Florence lost her death grip on the railing and promptly slipped on the boat. Drake cursed, grabbed her and then half dragged her to a seat. He went back inside the cabin to turn the boat around, or so Florence thought. She waited for the boat to begin turning, but it didn’t. When they were a good distance away from the marina traffic, Drake shut off the engine and let the boat bob.

“Now that I think about it, you never did deny that you were stalking me,” he shouted, “Tell me again why I shouldn’t throw your ass into the water and let you swim to shore?”

“I’m not stalking you,” Florence argued, but didn’t yell because the yelling wasn’t helping her aching head one bit. “I’m trying to make you see reason. An article about you is your problem. Go ahead and throw me off the boat, I’ll just write about that for the article!” So much for not yelling.

He was seething and when he began yelling again; Florence put her hands on her head, as if to protect it from the noise. “You are certifiable. You want something to write about, fine. I’ll call the Coast Guard, have you arrested for trespassing on my boat and you can write about that experience. For God’s sake, why are you holding your head?”

“It hurts!” Florence snapped back, “and yelling doesn’t help. It’s your stupid boat’s fault. Isn’t there stuff you can put on the deck so people don’t slip and fall? When the Coast Guard comes, I’m going to tell them that I am suing you.”

“You see, when I invite people on the boat, I give them deck shoes. You don’t have a pair because you weren’t invited on the boat,” he growled.

Florence glared at him, staying unreasonably angry held the tears at bay. She always cried easily whether she was hurt or frustrated and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her tears. He’d enjoy them. He was nothing like the characters he played in movies, which made sense because Florence knew the movies were just fiction, but seriously, he was such an asshole. “Just take me back to the marina and I’ll be happy to get off your stupid, health-hazardous boat.”

His eyebrows arched at her command. Just like that, he was calm. He leaned against the rail and looked at her, with his arms and feet crossed. “Swim.”

For a second, Florence didn’t understand and then she did. Her eyes flashed and she felt herself flush bright red in anger. What an asshole! She was definitely losing that kindergarten crush she had on him. She looked out at the distance between the boat and land. It would serve him right if she did just that, just to prove she could and was that desperate to get away from him. As if she would ever stalk him!

The distance was too great. He probably knew that when he issued his counter command. She gave him a baleful look. “And you thought I was out of my mind?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone friendly as he shrugged. “If you want to get back to land, that’s the only way.”

She smiled her frostiest smile. “Or you could take me back. Is it because I didn’t ask nicely? Will you please take me back to the marina so I can get off your godforsaken boat? Pretty please?”

“Sorry, the paparazzi just arrived at the marina, so no, I won’t take you back,” he replied, cheerfully and dead serious. “Thanks to your article, I’ve been put smack dab in the middle of a huge Tinsel-town breakup and those jerks have been following me around nonstop. They don’t have their long range lenses on their cameras yet so that means I’ve actually given them the slip for the moment. There’s no way in hell I’m going back to the marina.”

“Fine.” Who said Florence couldn’t be understanding? She’d inconvenienced him with her article and now she was being inconvenienced. “What about another marina?”

He shook his head, eyes twinkling. Florence reminded herself she was so over him, twinkling eyes be damned. “No, I’m already behind schedule. Guess you’re in it for the long haul.”

Florence waited for him to stop joking. He went back to the cabin and started the engine. Again he maneuvered the boat away from the marina, away from the coast. Florence got up to follow him. She slipped only once. She didn’t fall, but she did catch the grin that slashed across his face when it happened. Inside the cabin, the floor wasn’t slippery at all.

“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed. “A few minutes ago you were going to call the Coast Guard on me, and now you are kidnapping me?”

“It’s not kidnapping when you get on the boat willingly,” he responded.

“I didn’t think it would move!”

He laughed in her face. “Yeah well, boats tend to do that.”

“Oh shut up! You know what I mean,” Florence snapped, regardless of her headache. “You know what, fine. Clearly, I’m stuck on this boat, but when I get home tonight, I am going to write the most scathing article about you. You will regret this. I may not be able to destroy you, but I can make your life damned uncomfortable.”

His threat drifted into her head. “Oh and I saved the message you left on my voicemail. I didn’t give it to Jason, my editor, because he was going to put it on the website, but I kept it. If you decided to throw me overboard, they’ll figure out eventually that it was you.”

She thought her threat was sound. He thought her threat was hilarious. When he didn’t stop laughing, she marched out of the cabin, only to remember the deck was slippery and she slowed down to move with caution. Now here she was, sitting down on the deck watching the Californian coast slowly disappear.

***

Calder Drake watched his stowaway sulk. Florence Lockhart was good at it. She had sulked well into the afternoon. Even now, as she was falling asleep, she still managed to radiate affronted dignity. He shook his head. He had no idea what madness had convinced him that he should kidnap her, but that was in essence what he was doing. He wondered how she would react when she realized they weren’t going back to the marina tonight.

She wasn’t what he expected. Not in looks or personality. Even after reading the information on Florence, he expected her to be a barracuda-type of female who didn’t care who they hurt so long as they got ahead. After meeting her in person, certain things made more sense. Her lukewarm success as a tabloid writer probably had little to do with her writing skills. She was a smashing success not only in the article on him, but the one that flayed a cheating reality TV husband alive.

Of course with a pushy editor and the move to LA had probably motivated her newfound career success. She had also taken his threat seriously enough and she was very wary to write another article, even with the risk of getting fired. Yet she still found the nerve to ask what he wanted her to write about him.

When he had looked at her picture, she was pretty enough with a blond bob type hair style and blue eyes, but she had looked bland. Calder decided she must not have been very photogenic because her picture hadn’t caught an effervescent quality about her that was so clear in person, especially when she was angered. Her big blues eyes sparkled, mostly with anger, and her bob had transformed into a golden halo of curls around her face. It was all he could do not to drag her down on that deck and kiss her until she just agreed with everything he said.

He set the boat’s autopilot on and moved back to the small, but efficient galley of the ship. He rummaged through the drawers until he found aspirin and grabbed a water bottle. Nothing like a peace offering before he angered her again. He had left her spitting mad when he took away her cell phone, citing she’d sic her paparazzi buddies on him if he let her keep it. She tried to take it back which considering her lack of deck shoes was laughable. He caught her as she fell, again, and rolled his eyes while he mentally noted that she was warm and soft in all the right places. He walked away whistling with her cell in his pocket.

He sat down next to her and held up his offering when she gave him a baleful look. She looked suspicious but took the offering. Her head probably hurt something fierce. Calder watched her tip the bottle upwards as she eagerly consumed the water. She must have been parched, but she hadn’t said anything. Sitting under the hot sun probably wasn’t helping. Calder sighed and stood up.

She was watching him warily when he knelt down to her, but she must have not realized what he was going to do because when he picked her up, she yelped and squirmed in his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded, clearly aghast. “Put me down!”

“Why?” he asked her frankly, “You are going to slip and I’m going to have to hold you anyway. I thought we’d skip that part of the equation.”

He led her through the pilot cabin, the galley and down a narrow flight of stairs to the lower cabin, the bedroom. “I can walk here without deck shoes,” she was saying until she saw where he was taking her. She stiffened. Calder knew he shouldn’t play on her fears, but she was the one responsible for all his troubles. He still couldn’t believe that she actually had the nerve to ask him what she should write about him and to get on his boat to confront him.

He tossed her on the bed that was tucked into a corner and lay down on the bed himself, blocking her from getting off the bed. He smiled at her. She glowered at him. “If you even think for a second,” she threatened darkly.

He tilted his head and gave her a confused expression. “Think what?”

She stared at him silently and it reminded him of their confrontation on the dock. She had been about to walk off the edge of the dock when he grabbed her and then she nearly brought him to his knees with lust. Just from staring into her eyes and seeing her fear and embarrassment morph into desire. She narrowed her blue eyes. “You’re toying with me, aren’t you? I’m a human being, not a toy.”

“Yet I’d really enjoy playing with you,” he replied without thinking, his voice husky.

He saw he flustered her, but she quickly hid her reaction. “I don’t think so.”

Calder grinned and got up. “We’ll see how long that lasts. You can sleep more comfortably on the bed. Up top, you’ll probably roll off the deck and you’d be ‘sleeping with the fish’. By the way, if anything does happen and you fall in the water, just know that I won’t be coming after you.”

Florence glared at him. “Likewise.”

He laughed. “I don’t think we have to worry that I’ll slip off the deck.”

“But you could be pushed,” she threatened.

He laughed again as he reached for her. Pulling her toward him, he buried his hand into her halo of curls and tilted her head up. His mouth came down on hers hard, warm and persuasive. It was over before she had time to protest, or to participate. He pulled back, his face only inches away from hers. “I’m shaking, Flor,” he murmured, in reference to her threat. He gave her quick kiss again before he released her and left the cabin.

***

When Florence woke up, the sun was low in the sky. She felt very well rested even though she had only napped for a few hours. She wasn’t entirely sure because she didn’t have a watch and saw no clock in the dim room, but if the sun was only now setting, then she couldn’t have slept too long. The boat was bobbing, but not moving. Maybe they were already docked. She stretched and her calf brushed against something hard and warm.

Florence turned to find Calder deep asleep next to her. Sleep did little to soften his hard features. He was sleeping on top of the covers she had slept under. At east he had the good sense not to make a move while she was sleeping. That was just sleazy. However, that act of a gentleman also allowed her to see almost every inch of his body as he had slept in only his boxers. Florence looked her fill and decided with disgust, that he was still so damned attractive even in his sleep.

Florence decided that since they had already docked, there was nothing that kept her on the boat. She would be long gone by the time he woke up. She also realized that she had a pressing urge to go to the bathroom and no way of getting off the bed without either waking him up or crawling all over him. Since she was already savoring the thought of him waking up to find no trace of her, she opted for the latter choice. If she was careful, maybe she wouldn’t even touch him.

She thanked God that she had packed an extra outfit in her black beach bag. Before her nap, she had changed out of her bathing suit and into a white tank top with blue cotton shorts. She crawled to his side on the bed. Florence froze when he muttered something and rolled onto his side, facing away from her. She slowly and very carefully placed a hand on the mattress in front of his chest. She then moved one of her knees onto that side as well, so she was practically astride over him. She refused to acknowledge any of the feelings that position incited in her.

He muttered something again and turned to once again lie on his back. Since he was broader this way, his shoulder knocked into her arm, causing it to buckle. She almost fell on top of him, which would have been horribly embarrassing, but she supported herself on her elbow. She stayed frozen, expecting any minute for him to grab her and laugh at her.

When he didn’t she slowly raised herself off her elbow and pushed off with her hand so she was on the other side of him. She sat there for a moment, surprised she had succeeded. So there was a good reason for all those yoga classes, she thought. Remembering her urgent need for the bathroom, she quickly grabbed her bag and to be perverse, his deck shoes and left the bedroom.

Calder watched her leave, gritting his teeth against the desire she had set ablaze in him. She would be back soon enough, a sparkling sight to behold in her rage. Until then he closed his eyes and imagined her reaction if he had arched up while she had been astride him. How she would react when she felt his hard arousal pressed up against her? He imagined watching her blue eyes widened and glaze over with lust when he rolled them over, pulled down those barely-there shorts and thrust so deep inside her, again and again until she never remembered what it was like when he wasn’t there.

***

Florence relieved herself, grabbed her bag and slipped into Calder’s deck shoes. They were too big, of course, but she managed. The sun didn’t seem as low in the sky as she had originally thought. Something bothered Florence about that, but she was immediately distracted by the fact that although they were docked, they were not back at home. As far as Florence could tell, they were tied to a rotting wooden dock that emerged from a small island that looked inhabitable and was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of empty ocean that surrounded it.

They were nowhere near home. It was going to be dark soon. What was the purpose of this boat ride? Why would Calder take a nap with her? That’s when an awful notion blossomed into a sense of certainty. She looked at the sun to double-check. Yes, it was on the wrong side. The sun was not setting. It was rising! Florence swiftly recalculated and figured it was probably five or six in the morning. That son of a bitch!

She marched back through the galley and stopped when her stomach rumbled. She went back and grabbed a granola bar from her bag. She wasn’t going to eat any of his food. Well, not yet at least. The granola bar wasn’t going to tide her over forever. He didn’t even feed her! He could have at least have given her some bread and water. That was standard fare for kidnapped people. After washing the granola bar down with water, she resumed her angry march down the stairs.

She paused when he came in view. He was still on the bed, but he had disposed of his boxers and lay completely nude. He was also completely aroused. Florence felt her heart start hammering in her chest and her blood begin to boil and she drank in the sight. She managed to eventually meet his eyes and the burning desire and fierce intent there dried up her mouth.

She gave an award-winning impression of an unimpressed woman. “Oh my! Am I supposed to be so swept away with desire that I am supposed to forget the fact that it is morning and we are not at home?”

He was equally unimpressed with her ire. He raised an eyebrow and reached fro something on the night table. It was a condom. Oh God, there was a big pile of condoms on the table. “I’m guessing my line is supposed to be ‘of course not’.”

“You’ve got that right! This is enough, Calder Drake. I don’t know who you think you are but, enough is enough. Where are you taking me?” Florence demanded. It was hard to stay focused though, because as she ranted, he ripped the foil packaged with his teeth and withdrew the condom.

“Stowaways don’t get to ask questions.” The words didn’t matter because his husky voice was like a caress.

Florence rallied her mental processes and replied, “I stopped being a stowaway when I wanted to get off and you wouldn’t let me. Then I became your kidnapped victim.”

“And then you got Stockholm syndrome and made love with your captor until your knees were weak. Again and Again.” As he made this outrageous statement, he rolled the condom unto his engorged manhood.

Ordinarily, she would have laughed, but Florence’s knees were already weak. If she had panties on, they would have been wet, but she’d be damned if she let him know that. “You wish,” she said.

“No,” he corrected. “I wish I hadn’t let you crawl all over me to get off the bed. Although I did like the crawling all over me part and I think you did too. You were so caught up staring at my body; you didn’t even notice my eyes were open. It took all the restraint I had not to grab you, to bring you down on top of me, to thrust so hard into you until you screamed with pleasure and begged me for more.”

Heat washed over her. “Stop trying to distract me? I’m trying to be outraged here!”

That was a mistake. His eyes lit up and he sat up. “Trying to be outrage? Trying, because you aren’t actually outraged? We both know what is going to happen. Come here, Florence.”

She shook her head, but bit her lips as she ran her eyes over his body. He wanted her. It was so plainly written in his eyes that burned liquid gold, in his determined expression, on his hardened body. Florence felt her blood pulsing in response to that need. Knowing that he wanted her so desperately, it was such a potent aphrodisiac. Still, it wasn’t necessary that he know she wanted him just as badly. She knew what the outcome would be. She knew everything was happening too fast, yet her body ached more every second for the moment that he would fill her and stretch her in the most delicious ways.

She knew, but she still wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “Um… no?” she replied as he stood. “Stop, Calder! Don’t get up. We… we need to talk about the kidnapping and the… no, stay there!”

He, of course, ignored her. So she did what any smart female would when being hunted by a desirable male for mating, she turned and fled, knowing he would catch her and anticipating it eagerly. Running in oversized deck shoes was trying, but she imagined so was running while fully aroused. She made it to the deck and ran to the front of the boat, turning to see the triumph in those golden eyes when he realized she was cornered.

She turned just in time to see Calder rush out and slip on the wet deck. He fell with a satisfying thud and an explicit curse. Florence looked at him sprawled and naked on the deck and decided to be kind, smothering her laughter. She wasn’t entirely successful. He heard her giggle and sent her such a baleful look that she burst into full gales of laughter.

Calder’s cheeks were flaming red and he no longer looked amorous. In fact, he looked like he wanted to throttle her. He slowly began to climb to his feet, but his foot twisted underneath him and he fell back down. Florence was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes when he demanded, “Not to disrupt you, but since it seems I’ve twisted my ankle, could you pull yourself together enough to help me up?”

Florence stopped laughing, but continued to grin. She walked slowly back and stopped just out of his range. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

He grimaced with pain and sneered. “Your virtue is safe for now. Seriously, though, if you won’t help me up, could you at least get me the first aid kit? You won’t even have to come close to me, you could just toss it.”

Florence studied him. She knew he was an actor, but he seemed to be sincerely pained. She sighed and went over to help him up. He watched her suspiciously when she stuck out her hand to help him up. That’s when she saw the laughing gleam in his eyes. She snatched her hand back, but his injured foot lashed out at her legs and she was falling. He caught her and rolled him underneath him.

The deck was so cold and wet against her back, but any discomfort vanished when she felt his aroused body press firmly into her groin. Her breath broke and she lifted her hips to grind herself against him. She heard him gasp and then he thrust against her a few times before he was able to control himself again. It had felt so good to Florence, but she wanted more. She wanted her shorts to disappear so he was thrusting inside her, deep and hard.

His hand delved under the waistband of her shorts. He groaned when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties. He growled when he felt the slick moisture, proof of her desire. “You witch. Why would you say no?”

She gasped as he inserted a finger into her. “To make you work for it.”

He nipped her neck and inserted another finger. Florence was so ready, a few strokes with his hand and she was so close to climax. Instead of pushing her over the edge, he withdrew his hand. “Calder!” she cried out.

“No,” he denied her, “now you’ll have to beg.”

Her lips found his. A kiss could not describe the passion and the intimacy that felt so right and resulted from their melded mouths. His tongue thrust into her mouth, an action that was mimicked by his hips. Fire engulfed them. Licks of white hot need ravaged Florence’s body. She moaned and writhed underneath him, trying to get closer. His hands ran over her body. They cupped her butt and lifted her up, pulling her closer, putting her in the exact position to meet the thrusts of his rock-hard penis.

“Calder,” she began as she broke the kiss. She would beg.

“Yes?” He was so smug, so triumphant.

“We should stop,” she found herself saying, still gasping for air. “We might roll off the boat and end up in the water. Plus, the sun’s almost completely up. I’d probably get sunburned.”

Calder looked at her with disbelief, but then smiled tenderly. Florence was immediately suspicious. “You’re right,” he said and then he rolled off her, stood up and walked away. Florence was shocked. She stared mutely at his back. He disappeared into the cabin and luckily for him, she was so surprised, and a little insulted, that she was in the same position he left her in when he returned on deck.

Florence realized this too and sat up as he headed back to her. She glared at him. “What are you doing with those?” she asked, motioning the jug of water, the tube of lotion and what looked like a fistful of condoms in his hand. He simply straddled her thighs, and though most of his weight was on his knees, he used enough of his weight to keep her from moving, without hurting her. He put the lotion and the condoms off to a side and Florence realized what he was going to do with the water.

“No!” she shrieked.

He had a buccaneer’s grin when he pushed her down on the deck and then emptied the entire jug on her torso. Her remark about falling into the ocean made him want to see her wet. Florence shrieked again at the cold temperature and arched to try to escape it. Calder chuckled and came down on top of her completely, once again, returning to the position of between her legs. His hands stretched the wet tanktop tight across her breasts. Her nipples pebbled with the cold water and stuck out, eagerly awaiting him.

His mouth closed on one breast while his hand molded the other. Florence cried out at the heat of his mouth, sucking the cold water from her shirt, sucking hard on the nipple. After a while, he switched to her other breast and drove her to the brink again. Once again, he slowed down. Peeling off her shirt, he blew gently on her distended nipples until they tightened almost painfully and then he soothed them with his tongue.

Tears leaked from Florence’s cheeks, though she was unaware of them. She begged him with her body since she didn’t want to with her words. Calder took her breast in her mouth and sucked hard, starting the whole process again. Florence cried out at desire so sharp it was almost painful. Calder pulled back again.

Florence took matters into her own hands. She held his head in her hands and kissed his mouth fiercely. They fought for control over the kiss until she relented. While Calder rejoiced and plundered her mouth, Florence wriggled out of her shorts. She pushed against his shoulders until he rolled onto his back and she sat astride on him. Unable to wait any longer, she positioned herself and took his member into her hot body.

He groaned as lust wracked his body. Florence rose up and sank bank down on him slowly. She rode him shallowly, working the head of his penis constantly. Calder gasped and shuddered. Never had lovemaking been so intense for him. “Deeper,” he told her, but Florence was too consumed in her own desire to pay attention to him.

“Florence, take me deeper,” he pleaded.

She came instead. Calder’s control snapped. He rolled them so she was once again beneath him and thrust as deeply and as hard as he had wanted to since she came on his boat. He thrust into again and again, driving her to another climax more intense than the last. Florence cried out for him, again and again. He came with a force that had him seeing stars before he collapsed on top of her.

Florence had found heaven on the boat she had consigned to hell the day before. As she floated back to earth, she kept caressing his shoulders and back, unable to not touch him. His face was turned away so Florence couldn’t see, but his body was utterly relaxed. She thought he may have drifted into sleep. He was heavy, but Florence enjoyed the feeling of his hard body on top of hers.

Still, she figured she should wake him so he wouldn’t burn. She bit down on the tendon between strong neck and broad shoulders and then licked the area to sooth away any pain. Her caressing hands ventured lower to his toned butt. He stirred, which was like a whole body caress to Florence. Calder raised himself on his elbows and smiled down at her.

“We should probably go into the cabin or we really will burn,” Florence suggested as her hands ran over her chest. There was no way of mistaking what she wanted to do in the cabin.

Calder’s smile widened into a grin as he reached over to grab the lotion he had brought out earlier. “I just happened to bring sunblock.”

They spent the next hour applying liberal amounts of sunblock on each other. Once they recovered, they devoured the food Calder had packed for his trip and headed for the island for some exploration. They returned to the boat covered in sand, having explored more of each other and less of the island. Monday afternoon, they knew they would have to head back since Florence was supposed to have been at work that morning.

Lying in the bed with Calder, Florence turned to him, unable to just enjoy the present. “What happens when we get back?” she asked, wanting to know if this had just been a weekend fling for him and she was getting ahead of herself by thinking of the future.

Calder, who had a tendency to drift off after incredible sex, rubbed her back and rumbled, “We’ll go back to my place and make love on my bed.”

Florence frowned at him, which he didn’t see because he hadn’t opened his eyes. “And after that?”

“Then we’ll go to your place and make love on your bed.”

Florence considered pinching him. “After that?”

He sighed heavily as if greatly disturbed. “Then, I guess maybe, we can go on a date.”

Florence pinched him. “Maybe?!”

He laughed, rolled on top of her and kissed the ire out of her. “We’ll definitely go on a date.”

Florence gave up pretending to glare up at him. “That’s better.”

“But of course, we’ll have to be careful,” he warned, his golden eyes glinting with laughter. “Paparazzi and tabloid writers are constantly following me.”

“What a hardship,” she sighed. “We’ll just put it out that only I get the exclusive interviews.”

“Is that right?” he asked, with raised eyebrows. “I don’t give interviews. What will you do to convince me?”

“I’ll be naked every time I interview you,” she promised sweetly.

“Sold,” he replied and then drove into her body. “Let’s start the interview now.”

Her laugher gave away to gasps of pleasure.

*** The End ***

And so it ends. Hope you liked it. I should probably also note that if anyone is willing to be a beta reader, message me personally instead of in a review, to make life easier. FS :)