Awake In The Sun

  Wake Island, the Pacific Ocean, 1937. Liberated journalist Lynne LaRoche helps her new lover to trap the killer on his tail. When the Navy gets involved in the shape of rugged Lieutenant Greely, the heat level rises!

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  Awake in the Sun

  Copyright © 2017 A.J. Matthews

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-1104-6

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  Awake in the Sun

  By

  A.J. Matthews

  Dedication

  To My Better Half, with Love Always.

  Chapter One

  Over the Pacific Ocean, 1937.

  “Holy crap!”

  The man’s cry rose above the droning of the airplane’s engines. Startled, Lynne looked up from her magazine. Across the aisle, the handsome guy she’d eyed up all during the flight sat amid a growing cloud of smoke that appeared to be rising from his lap. With another cry, the man leaped to his feet and brushed a newspaper onto the floor. A burning cigarette rolled away from it. Small flames licked at the paper.

  At the head of the aisle the young steward stood frozen to the spot, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the rising smoke and flames. Shouts of alarm from the other passengers rose in the compartment. Exasperated by the steward’s lack of action, Lynne jumped up, grabbed the carafe of water from his tray and dashed it over the newspaper. Steam rose along with a stink of burned paper, but the fire went out.

  The man clutched Lynne’s arm. “Thank you!” he gasped. “Damn, but that was close.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lynne returned the carafe to the steward’s tray. “I think the gentleman would like a stiff brandy to help him over the shock,” she told the steward.

  The steward flushed and nodded before hurrying away to fetch the order. Lynne turned back to the man, who held out his hand. “We’ve been on this flight all this time and not been introduced. I’m Rob Katsaros.”

  “Lynne LaRoche.” I hope I’m not overdoing this act to appear like strangers, she thought. Rob is doing a good job disembling, like he’s not familiar with me, but can I pull it off?

  “Pleased to meet you, Lynne.” Rob looked down at the soggy mess on the aisle carpet and frowned. “I’m so stupid. I fell asleep with my cigarette still lit.”

  “These things happen. Come and sit with me until you’ve recovered.” Lynne took Rob’s arm, noting the firm muscles beneath the sleeve of his jacket, and guided him over to her own window seat on the port side of the airplane. Rob sank into it with a sigh of gratitude. Lynne sat beside him and turned the ventilator to point at his face. The steward returned with two fingers of brandy in a glass and handed it to Rob.

  Lynne watched him drink deeply. “Better?”

  Rob smacked his lips and smiled. “Much.”

  Lynne studied him. Rob appeared older than her by about ten years, with the sleek, well-fed look of a rich man, including shiny, wavy black hair, a refined accent, and clothes that gave the impression of wealth. His white tropical jacket, shirt, and slacks were all high-end ready-to-wear. She sensed more than a hint of stress behind Rob’s fine, dark eyes, the kind of stress a rich man seldom felt. It showed in the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the sallowness beneath the flawless olive complexion.

  A clatter of feet from forward announced the arrival of the pilot. He squinted at the dissipating smoke and then glared around the compartment. He focused his eyes on Rob, and the smut-stains on his jacket. “What’s happening here?”

  “There was a fire,” Lynne told him, pointing at the ruined newspaper. “It’s out now.”

  “Jesus.” The pilot kicked at the mess and then reached up to adjust the ventilators in the overhead. “We need to clear this smoke. Everyone, turn your vents on.”

  The other passengers complied, shock at the near disaster plain on their faces. Under the increased pressure of air, the smoke began to clear faster. The pilot nodded, then looked at Rob. “Are you okay, sir?”

  Rob waved his hand, embarrassment plain on his face. “Yes, yes, I’m fine now. I’m sorry to cause a panic.”

  “Yeah, well...” The pilot scratched the back of his neck. “If I had my way, smoking would be banned throughout the flight.”

  “You’re quite right,” Rob said meekly. “It’s a dangerous habit. If it wasn’t for Lynne here, I might well be seriously burned, if not dead.”

  “I’m glad you’re not, sir. Okay then.” The pilot glanced at his wristwatch, then at the steward. “We’ll be landing at Wake Lagoon in fifteen minutes. Clear this mess up.”

  The pilot disappeared in the direction of the cockpit. The dejected steward bent to his task.

  Rob watched the pilot go, then gave Lynne a wry smile. “I feel like such a scamp, nearly burning his nice airplane.”

  “It would’ve made the front page of my newspaper, sure.” She smiled and shrugged. “Trouble is, had we gone down I wouldn’t be the one writing the copy.”

  Rob’s finely-curved, dark eyebrows rose. “You’re a journalist, Lynne?”

  “Yeah, for the San Francisco Tribune. I’m heading home after a year on the Manila desk.”

  “I’m impressed.” Rob’s lips twitched. “You’re on an impressive expense account if your paper can afford a ticket for you on the China Clipper.”

  Lynne grinned. “No sir, not them. You should hear the accounts department grouch if I spend so much as a nickel on an unnecessary tram ticket. I’m paying my own way, but I figured I’d write about this new air route while I did so.”

  “Well, it’ll be tax deductible, then.”

  “Indeed.” Spoken like a true businessman, she said to herself. “Are you heading home too, Rob?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got plenty of reasons to head home and plenty of reasons to leave Manila.”

  She twitched an eyebrow. “That sounds intriguing.”

  Rob seemed to check himself as if realizing he was talking too much. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “If you say so. I won’t pry.” Rob’s attention seemed to be wandering, so Lynne patted his hand. “Lean back and close your eyes. We’ll be at Wake Island before you know it.”

  “I hope so.” Rob’s voice had grown weaker. “It’s been a tough enough time for me already without nearly causing an airplane crash.” He tipped his head back against the seat headrest and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he began to snore softly.

  Lynne left him to sleep and watched through the porthole as Wake Island came into sight ahead. At the Philippine Clipper’s three thousand foot altitude, the atoll resembled a battered wishbone cast down on a sheet of rippled teal-blue silk. St
rips of viridian green edged with bright coral sand denoted the islands. Within the circuit of the atoll, the waters of the lagoon shone a cool turquoise. Beyond the atoll the water shaded from teal to white where waves broke on the encircling reef. A slender T-shaped stick of brown showed where the seaplane dock thrust into the lagoon.

  The engine note changed. Lynne’s ears popped. She grew heavier, and her stomach floated upwards as the big Martin M-130 seaplane began its descent toward the lagoon. It seemed only a matter of moments passed before the water was racing beneath the seaplane’s keel. A slight bump, a rush of water along the hull and a sensation of deceleration announced their safe landing at Pan American Airway’s outpost in the Pacific Ocean. Palm trees waved in the breeze off the sea. The waters glittered as tiny waves broke on the coral sand. Lynne looked out the porthole and smiled. Wake’s the epitome of a desert island. What better place to get to know a gorgeous guy?

  The four engines roared and the sunlight streaming in through the portholes slanted and swayed with the motion as the seaplane made its way toward the dock. A crew waited there to accept the moorings as the aircraft edged toward the platform, its propellers kicking up a fine spray infused with rainbows. The sound of the engines died away, leaving Lynne’s ears ringing with the cessation of the near-constant noise. Lines were thrown and caught, and within seconds all movement of the airplane ceased.

  The PA crackled as the pilot spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Wake Island.”

  Lynne glanced at Rob, who hadn’t stirred through all the noise and motion, and shook him gently by the shoulder. “Wake up—it’s Wake.”

  Rob’s eyes fluttered open. A smile brightened his face as he looked at Lynne, who felt a sudden jolt inside. “Thank you. It’ll be a relief to be on solid ground after all these hours in the air.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Amen to that.”

  They collected their hand luggage and alighted from the seaplane through the hatch at the rear of the fuselage. Lynne felt solid wood under her feet, and the tropical air embraced her, its warmth welcome after the cool air of the airplane. A hot tropical sun beat down, and Lynne clapped her straw hat on her head. Rob retrieved a fawn-colored fedora from his luggage and donned it at a jaunty angle.

  The dock stretched away from the T-shaped end to where a pergola with a steep peaked roof stood above the tide-line among stubby trees. A uniformed member of the Pan American Airways staff stood ready to greet them. “Welcome to Wake Island, folks! If you’d like to come this way, we’ll take the short walk to the hotel. Your luggage will be brought ashore.”

  The dock echoed with multiple footsteps as the thirty or so passengers made their way to shore. Rob fell into step alongside her and slipped his hand through the crook of Lynne’s elbow. “If you don’t mind, I’ll lean on you for a while. I’m still feeling kind of woozy.”

  “Not at all.” Lynne didn’t mind. She felt concern for Rob’s health, both from his general appearance and the aftereffects of the scare with the fire. There was something refined about him, as if he might be too fragile for the rough and tumble of real life. He’s not like the newsmen I know, and that’s kinda nice. Besides, the feel of a warm human being close by was something she’d missed in the hectic weeks leading up to her own departure from Manila.

  “Now there’s a delightful specimen of manhood,” Rob murmured as they passed into the shade of the pergola.

  Lynne followed the direction of Rob’s gaze. A crushed coral path ran directly ahead of them, but the path to the hotel diverged at an angle off to their right. An anchor stood at the junction of the paths, and a man casually dressed in a short-sleeved white and red striped shirt and slacks leaned against it, peeling an orange with an air of casual concentration. His short, sandy hair ruffled in the sea breeze, the sun-bleached lightness of its color against the guy’s deep tanned skin making a striking contrast. Lynne noticed the way his muscles moved as he worked on the orange, an impression of controlled strength in his movements. “I think I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

  Rob’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “Of course.” Lynne suppressed a small stab of jealousy. Does Rob swing that way? And why should I feel so annoyed that he’s looking at a guy when he could be looking at me? The feeling didn’t last long as her journalistic instincts kicked in. “Now, if I can just figure out where it was I saw him...”

  A fellow passenger walked ahead of them, a portmanteau in his hand. As he drew level with the man by the anchor, he glanced at him. “You wouldn’t happen to have another orange there, buddy?”

  “Sorry, pal.” The stranger gave the man a lazy smile. His even, white teeth shone in the bright sunlight as he jerked a thumb to where low-lying flat-roofed buildings stood among the trees. “I have some up at the hotel. Come by later.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The man walked on up the path. They followed, and as they drew level with the man by the anchor, they smiled at him. He touched a finger to his brow in salute, and Lynne felt the keenness of the man’s steel blue eyes as he looked them over. She stroked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear and laughed inside as felt and she saw Rob stiffen and put a bit of a swagger into his gait. The man bit into a slice of orange and winked at them.

  “Well, that was an odd exchange,” Rob said as they walked out of earshot. “We’re only now come from the airplane. Why would the guy want an orange?”

  Lynne shrugged, although a suspicion began to grow in her mind. “Beats me.”

  They passed tennis courts on their right, the net fencing surrounding the area thick with climbing tropical plants. The hotel emerged from the trees ahead, the PAA flag flying proudly from a flagpole out front. Lynne had glimpsed the general outline of the building during the approach from the air. The reception area stood in the middle, the words Pan American Airways Hotel emblazoned above the doors. Two wings housing guest rooms thrust out either side, the tall windows glinting with reflected sunlight.

  “Shall we get adjoining rooms?” Rob asked as they entered the lobby.

  Lynne smiled, hearing a suggestive note in his voice. Her pussy gave a little twitch. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  It only took moments to arrange, and their luggage arrived in the interim. Smartly-attired Chamorros, the native people of the Mariana Islands, took them along the corridor to their rooms. “See you in a moment,” Rob said before entering his room.

  The bellhop showed Lynne the facilities. She was glad to see an en-suite bathroom with a shower. A wide veranda stretched along the wing, and she had her own porch. “This will do nicely,” she said.

  “Would you like a snack, ma’am? It’s a ways until dinner is served.”

  “If you could bring me a salad, that’ll be fine.”

  The bellhop departed, returning within minutes bearing a tray with the salad and a bottle of olive oil and vinegar. He set it down on the table. “My name’s Rafael. Anything else you want, ma’am, call me.” He accepted a generous tip and departed.

  Lynne picked at the salad, eating a few forkfuls. Rob appeared in the doorway to the room. “I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a shower,” he said. “I can still smell the smoke on my clothes.”

  Lynne looked up from her snack and gave him a quizzical smile. “I know what you mean, but doesn’t your room have a shower?”

  Rob shrugged. “Sure, but there’s something wrong with it. When I tried it the thing had a water-hammer like you wouldn’t believe.” He paused and gave Lynne a coy look. “Could I use yours?”

  Lynne hadn’t heard any noise like what Rob described. Looking at the man’s lazy smile and the way he cocked his head made her think Rob was merely looking for an excuse to use her shower. “You’re a very naughty man, Rob Katsaros. But then, you proved that back in Manila, didn’t you?”

  He flashed his even white teeth. “I like to think I make an impression.”

  “You certainly did.” She tried to appear casual, a
lthough her heart began to beat so hard Lynne felt sure Rob could hear it. “Sure thing. Go right ahead.”

  Rob’s smile widened. “Thanks.”

  He went through into the bathroom. Lynne sat in the easy chair by the window and looked out at the view. She could hear the soft movements as Rob undressed, then the steady murmur of water flowing in the shower. After a few moments, Rob’s voice sounded from the bathroom. “Would you like to scrub my back?”

  Lynne’s heartbeat sped up in an instant. Heat shot through her veins and pussy. She stretched, took a deep breath, and then got up from the easy chair. Sauntering into the bathroom in a way that she felt sure looked more casual than she felt, Lynne stopped and leaned on the doorjamb.

  Rob stood within the glass cubicle, gyrating slowly under the jet of hot water with his eyes closed in bliss. Lynne gave an involuntary gasp as she stared at Rob’s naked form through the water-smeared glass. What a casual observer would take for wiriness turned out to be a lithe and slender form with toned muscles. Rob’s body had a hint of femininity about it which she found oddly appealing. Her gaze drifted downward. And then there’s that monster between his legs... Her friendship with Rob was only a few weeks old, and she knew what he looked like naked. And every time it takes my breath away!

  He smiled at her. “Do you think the other passengers bought our little subterfuge?”

  “The idea that we only met on the airplane?” She nodded. “Sure. I don’t think they had any reason to doubt we’re two strangers who struck up an acquaintance on a long flight.”

  “I had my doubts. The American ex-pat community in Manila is surprisingly small,” Rob said. “I knew of you, Lynne, before we even met back there.”

  Lynne looked up from staring at Rob’s huge, pendulous cock. “What?”