“Don’t you have anything besides canned meat?” she asked, slamming one cabinet door closed and moving on to the refrigerator.
“I like canned meat. It’s convenient, and it’s not half-bad once you get used to it.”
After closing the refrigerator door, she leaned back against it. “No salad?”
“Not at the moment.”
She threaded her bottom lip between her teeth. “This is not a good thing. I’m a vegetarian for the most part, although I will have poultry on occasion.”
“Maybe you should consider diving for seaweed.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You are so amusing, Ahab.”
“Say what you will, but there’s nothing better than a big juicy rare steak.”
“Rare?”
“Yeah, the rarer the better.”
Lizzie’s hand suddenly went to her belly, her face as pale as the white galley counter. “Oh, gosh. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Jack rushed to her side and guided her up the companionway. She removed her hand from her mouth long enough to ask, “Where are we going?”
“To the deck,” he said. “I have a rule. Anyone who gets seasick has to do it over the side.”
“It’s probably morning sickness,” she muttered, her words muffled by her palm.
But it happened to be night, Jack thought. He guessed a little nausea was possible. After all, what did he know about pregnant women? Not a thing. He had a feeling he was about to learn more than he’d ever imagined.
When they reached the stern, he turned her toward the sea and held on to her from behind. “Go ahead.”
She glared over one shoulder. “I can’t do it with you watching.”
“You’re going to have to because I’m not letting you go. If you fall in, then I’ll have to go get you. And babe, I’m thinking that would be a bad idea. Rule one, stay on the boat.”
That brought her around in his arms. “I told you, I’m not a babe.”
“And I’m not Ahab.”
“It’s either that or Captain Hook since we seem to be following a fairy-tale theme.”
“Both my hands are intact.” Definitely so because they’d somehow made their way to her hips.
“I guess you’re right about that, so Ahab it is.”
He couldn’t hold back his smile. “Okay, Dorothy. Are you feeling better now, or do you still need to be sick?”
She drew in a deep breath, thrusting her breasts forward against his chest. Man, he didn’t need that.
“I’m not nauseated anymore, only hungry,” she said. “I just need something to eat.”
Jack needed to kiss her, badly. But he sure couldn’t do that at the moment, or anytime for that matter. He took a much-needed step back but kept his hands clasped loosely around her waist should she decide to pass out. “Look, I have some Oriental noodles with vegetables. Will that do?”
She grinned. “Perfectly.”
How little it seemed to take to please her. Jack wondered if that held true in all endeavors, including lovemaking. Slapping the thoughts from his brain, he released her completely. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“And Hank,” she added.
Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Jack laughed. For the first time in months.
The man kept staring at her. Oh, he’d tried not to be too obvious about it, but four times now Lizzie had caught Jack watching her mouth.
Egad! She probably had a Chinese noodle hanging off her chin. Her fingertips immediately zipped to the area, but thankfully she found no strings. Just in case, she grabbed a napkin and swiped at her mouth to remove any latent residue.
He glanced up from his bowl again and this time his eyes homed in on her breasts. Lizzie immediately looked down at her chest, expecting to find a nice brown blob smeared on the borrowed T-shirt. She always seemed to miss her mouth, very odd since it was a more than adequate size.
Nope, no blob. Just cotton. Fairly transparent cotton that didn’t come close to hiding the fact she was still a bit chilled.
Sheesh. Is that what he’d noticed? Well, if so, she’d just have to cover the evidence.
Sitting back in the chair, Lizzie folded her arms across her breasts. “That hit the spot. Not exactly my favorite, but I feel much better now.”
“Good,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to his food.
“I’m really not that opposed to meat unless it’s beef. I love cows. My grandfather named his herd after the grandchildren. Then one day I learned we were having my cousin, Bernie, for Sunday dinner. Literally. Well, not literally. The cow named Bernie. That was the end of that. No more beef for me.”
Jack murmured something Lizzie couldn’t quite discern. Obviously he wasn’t too willing to join in the conversation. She wouldn’t let that stop her. “There are lots of replacements for beef, though. Take ground turkey, for instance. Have you had any?”
He glanced up for a moment then resumed pushing the last of his disgusting stew around in his bowl. “Not in a while.”
“Oh, so you have had some?”
“Of course.”
“Then I assume you’d agree that it’s not so different from having a regular hamburger.”
His gaze snapped up. “Huh?”
“You know, a big juicy hamburger with all the fixings. Yum, yum.”
He frowned. “That’s a weird comparison.”
“Why? When considering ground turkey versus ground beef, I’d say it was an accurate comparison.”
“Turkey? You were asking me about turkey?”
“Yes, what did you think I was…?” Reality dawned through Lizzie’s own confusion. This was so rich. “Wait a minute, you thought I was asking you if you’ve had any….” She couldn’t finish her sentence, or contain her laughter.
Jack didn’t laugh nor did he look at all amused. “I obviously misunderstood you.”
“Obviously. Did you really think I would ask you about your sex life?”
“My mistake.”
She leaned forward and propped a cheek on her palm. “Well, do you have one?”
He looked away but not before she saw discomfort in his eyes. “I don’t want to go there.”
Oh, but Lizzie wanted to. She wanted to know more about him since they would be sharing their time for a while, and whatever else they might decide to share. She was suddenly very warm. “I imagine a man like you has certain needs to fulfill. And I imagine there are plenty of women at your beck and call to take care of those needs. You know, a woman in every port.”
After pushing his bowl to one side, he clasped his hands in front of him and stared at her. “Think what you will, but I don’t care to discuss my love life.”
“Then you do have a love life.”
“Not anything to write home about.” He looked as if he’d regretted making that admission. Lizzie