She refused to open her eyes. “Yes.”
“You’re not getting sick on me, are you?”
If only it were that simple. “No.”
“How soon is the storm coming?”
That did get her to look at him. Lounging back on that bed, lean and male and magnificent, even with those unfocused eyes and all the bruising and abrasions starkly set against too-pale skin. “What?”
He smiled, as if it would help coax the information free. “When was the next storm expected?”
Distracted, Lilly took a look out the window, where the sun was sinking in a red haze to the west. So instinctive was her adjustment to the feel of the increasing swell beneath her that she hadn’t even noticed it. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Tonight sometime. Maybe early morning.”
“You mean you can’t read the waves or anything? I thought you said you were Hawaiian.”
She spun on him, ready to snap, only to see the glint of humor in his eyes. Here he was injured, held captive, and he was trying to make her feel better. She could fall in love with a guy like this.
Good thing she knew better.
She managed a none-too-enthusiastic grin. “We Kokoas have the distinction of being the only Hawaiians ever to sink our outrigger.”
“A fine one to be making cracks about us haoles.”
She wanted to giggle. The problem was, if she giggled, she would never stop. Her hands were shaking, and she wanted to vomit. And he was the one with the head injury.
“My Portuguese ancestors, on the other hand, landed on Hawaii during a storm just like this one... well, they didn’t land so much as smash into the shore.”
“Quite a family tree.” His grin was still light and easy, and Lilly wanted to play along. Until his next declaration. “I figure we can use the storm to get free.”
Lilly had been all set to clean his leg. That brought her attention sharply back. “We can what?”
That grin again, brash and fearless, as if he weren’t darn near horizontal from the last try. “Well, it worked before. Why not again?”
“It did not work before,” she retorted. “You’re right back where you started. Only this time you’re working on only one leg and half a brain.”
“Ah, that’s okay,” he assured her. “I have a feeling I’ve never worked on more than half a brain before anyway. What kind of distraction can we provide?”
That brought her to her feet, balled fists on hips. “Don’t do this,” she insisted. “We should wait here. Find out what’s going on. Wait until the ransom is paid, and then we’ll be released.”
She tried very hard to face down his skepticism. It didn’t work.
“Is that how the movie came out?” he asked gently. “The one where I’m kidnaped? Did the kidnapers let the president go after the ransom was paid?”
Lilly stared out the window. “It was just a movie.”
Biting back an oath at the effort it took, Cameron launched himself up to sit, his legs hanging off the side of the bed. “I may not remember much, Lilly,” he told her, his eyes empty of that mad sparkle, “but I think I remember that if a kidnaper is going to let his victims go, he generally tries really hard not to let them see his face.”
Well, that made her feel better. “I know.”
“Then you know we have to get out of here.”
That brought her head up. “How?”
He looked around as if he could actually focus. “I don’t know. Let’s check out the room and see if we find anything. Who knows? Maybe the ship’s computer system goes through here and I can reprogram it.”
“This isn’t a movie, Cameron.”
He smiled. “But I do know computers,” he said. “Find me one, and maybe I can do some damage.”
“You sit down,” she said. “I’ll look.”
He shook his head and got unsteadily to his feet. “No. We’ll both look.”
Lilly took a look as every inch of his more than six feet uncoiled before her and found herself struggling for breath. “Well, would you at least put some clothes on first?” she demanded. “It’s really hard to be serious about this when the only thing you’re wearing is Daffy Duck.”
She saw the real confusion in Cameron’s eyes when she said that. He looked down, as if trying to remember what he would find. “I could probably use a good mouthwash and a shave, too, couldn’t I?” he admitted ruefully.
Lilly almost laughed. His head couldn’t be so banged up that he didn’t realize how stop-traffic-on-a-six-lanehighway-gorgeous he was. Pecs and a six-pack, her sister would have said. The Impossible Dream, was how Lilly saw it. And topped off with a face that only seemed more roguish with that stubble of beard he was affecting. Gentle and wise and rare.
And she wasn’t even going to consider his feet.
So she turned around and began searching the cabin.
The room would have been huge even if they’d been on land. It was also clean. No, not clean. Almost sterile. Devoid of little musses and dropped objects that signified real occupation. Empty of personal photos or comfortable clutter.
“Don’t you know anybody well enough to hang their picture?” she asked.
There was a pause. “I don’t know.”
Lilly flinched. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Well, we won’t get any hints about the real Cameron Ross in this room. I don’t think he lives here.”
She got another pause, this one longer. Lilly turned to see Cameron standing in the bathroom, balancing himself with his hands against the sink, his consideration on the man in the mirror.
“Familiar?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept staring. “I don’t ever think it occurs to anyone that he won’t recognize the face he sees in the mirror.”
Lilly didn’t even realize she was moving until she stood next to him in the bathroom door. “You mean it?”
She should have sounded less afraid. She shouldn’t have reached out to touch him. But when he turned, she was right there, her hand on his arm. And he smiled. A smile that only hinted at the turmoil that must have been going on behind those sky-blue eyes.
“Kind of silly to be this afraid of somebody I’m supposed to know pretty well.”
Lilly was a toucher, just like her tutu had been, and hers before her. So her natural instinct was to touch. To offer comfort. Without a qualm, she just rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around him.
And he held her, too, curling around her as if she were his last hold on sanity. As if he were reassuring himself with her reality to bolster his own.
“It’s going to be okay,” she insisted in a whisper, her cheek against his chest. “I promise.”
His instinctive laugh was a rumble against her ear. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, young lady.”
Lilly pulled her head back and smiled for him. “But I can keep them,” she said. “My ancestors were kahunas. The keepers of the secrets, who knew magic and medicine the likes of which we’ll never know again. They knew things the world has lost, and in my dreams they share them with me. I know what’s going to happen, and I know what isn’t. And I know you’re going to be okay.”
She