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“With my brothers. They jointly own a boat that’s moored at the other end of the marina.”
“Ah, these brothers of yours—are they big guys?”
A neat little frown furrowed her forehead. “Big enough, I guess.”
“And are they real protective of their little sister?”
The tiniest smile threatened to curl her lips. “A little.”
“Guess that means I’m gonna have to be on my best behavior, huh?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded, but the threat of a smile became a reality, and her whole face brightened, her green eyes dancing with mirth. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for their behavior if they thought a man was trying to take advantage of me.”
“I understand. Perfectly.” With his free hand, he took her duffle, which he assumed was filled with the rest of her scuba gear. “Why don’t you let me show you around my boat? I can even point out useful items that could be used as a weapon if I get fresh with you.”
Still smiling, she fell into step beside him. “I doubt that will be necessary. I’ve taken a couple of self-defense classes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped her gear onto the deck of the boat, then offered her his hand to help her onboard. For a scant instant, she hesitated before placing her hand in his.
Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined, her fingers slender and delicate. For a moment he was tempted to raise her hand to his lips and kiss her palm, then thought better of it. She was skittish enough. No sense rushing her.
But like most of the women he dated, he knew sometime soon—very soon, if he had his way—he’d have her in his bed. If she was willing, and if he could find a way to let her know he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy.
THE TWENTY-FOUR-FOOT cabin cruiser sped over the calm water outside the harbor, cutting a foamy-green wake. Belowdecks, where Kristin had stowed her gear, she’d found a small galley and a stateroom in the bow that would sleep two if they didn’t mind being cozy and claustrophobia wasn’t a problem.
On the bridge, Mike was at the wheel, one hip propped on the captain’s chair, looking for all the world as if he were king of the sea. He was dressed to impress in cut-off shorts and a faded T-shirt, and Kristin couldn’t help but notice his hair-roughened legs, the flex of his calf muscles and rock-hard thighs. He was certainly making an impression on her, one she didn’t want to admit to.
“You want to drive a while?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No, you’re doing fine, Captain.” Besides, in spite of herself, Kristin was enjoying the view. There was something very sexy about a man who didn’t wear socks with his deck shoes.
“I thought we’d go out around the point. There’s an old wreck there that’s interesting to explore.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“When I’ve got more time, I like to go out to the Channel Islands, but that’s a little far for a one-day trip.”
Kristin hopped up on the passenger’s chair and made herself comfortable. “Have you had your boat long?”
“A couple of years. I met a guy who had just bought a thirty-five-footer and needed to get rid of this one. I got a good deal on it. Amazing how many friends you acquire when you’ve got a boat.”
Kristin smiled at that. “Fair-weather friends, according to my brothers.”
“You’ve got that straight.” He chuckled. “Your family from around here?”
“Born and bred. My dad was in construction here during the boom days of the eighties and nineties when they couldn’t build houses fast enough to keep pace with the demand. He just dabbles at it now, and my brothers have taken over the business.”
“Lucky them.”
“They think so.” The boat caught the top of a swell and rocked back and forth. Kristin steadied herself on the bulkhead. “How ’bout your family?”
He glanced in her direction. “The fire department is my family.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Speaking of families,” he said, ignoring her unspoken question, “did you ever find where that kid—Randy—belonged?”
“No. I had to put him in a group foster home. It’s a temporary placement until I can find a more satisfactory arrangement.” One that would take a dog.
“Great. That means he’ll get jerked around one more time.”
Kristin winced at Mike’s sharp tone. “Can’t be helped. We’re always short of qualified foster families, and unless Randy lets us know he’s got a grandmother or aunt or some other relative who’d be responsible for him, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.”
Mike didn’t seem pleased with her explanation. People outside the department rarely understood how difficult it was to find good homes for children or how tightly her hands were tied by the rules. She was frequently as frustrated by her job as the critics were of the system, but she and her colleagues were often all the kids had standing between them and being on the streets. Even children as young as Randy.
Off Point Buchon, Mike slowed the boat near the site of the old wreck. He really wished Kristin had some other job—waitress, nurse, teacher, it wouldn’t matter. But he had a lot of bitter memories of social workers who hadn’t given a damn about him or any other kid. Painting her with the same brush might not be fair, but it was hard not to let his past influence his feelings.
Not that any of his social workers had come close to looking like a Technicolor fantasy with vibrant red hair, deep green eyes and a complexion kissed by tiny freckles.
He idled the engine and the boat settled, bobbing in the swells.
“Can you handle the anchor?” he asked.
“Aye-aye, Captain.” She gave him a quick smile as she hopped off her chair and headed for the stern.
“It’s not very deep here,” he called after her. “Maybe forty feet.”
She waved to him. “I got it.”
With admirable efficiency, she released the catch on the anchor rope and let it slide into the sea. Apparently she’d been on boats enough to know how to handle herself. Mike hoped she was equally at ease under the water. Diving with an inexperienced partner was always a little risky.
Killing the engine, he joined her at the stern of the boat. “You want to eat something now or dive first?”
“Let’s dive first. That’s why we’re here.”
Actually, there were a bunch of reasons besides doing a little diving—the winning bid at the bachelor auction only one of them. The fact that she was a social worker didn’t change his primal reaction to her. But if he had been looking for a long-term relationship with a woman—which he wasn’t—he knew she wouldn’t be the one. Too much of his own personal history to overcome.
While Mike hoisted the flag to warn other boats that scuba divers were in the water, Kristin went below-deck to put on her gear. She’d be glad to cool off underwater. Somehow being in close proximity to Mike had heated both her blood and her imagination.
When she came back on deck minutes later, he was set to go. It struck her as totally sexist a man could look so damn good in a wet suit when she felt like she’d been stuffed into hers with a crowbar. Not that she wanted to look sexy for Mike, she reminded herself.
He gave her a swift appraisal that took in every bulge from the top of her head to her bare toes.
“Very nice,” he murmured.
Her ego cheered hooray! while her pride demanded she not let him see how pleased she was with his approval. He certainly knew what a woman wanted to hear, even if it was a lie. “Let’s go take a look, huh?”
“You got it.”
It figured he’d go into the water the macho way. Adjusting his face mask, he did a back flip over the side of the boat.
Kristin was more cautious. Using the swimming ladder he’d lowered, she eased into the water. The cold was a shock initially, but then her body heat warmed the water that was caught between her skin and the wet suit.
She swam to Mike’s side. He gestured for her to follow him down.
It was oddly intimate beneath the surface, just the two of them gliding side by side downward, their only companions an occasional sea perch and a puffer who objected to their visit. Except for the sound of her own breathing apparatus and the rush of water past her, the silence was intense.
Mike moved as gracefully through the water as if he’d been born to the sea, his flippers barely moving as though he was making sure not to get too far ahead of her. He turned his head and gave her a thumbs-up. She returned the signal.
They reached the wreck and hovered off its bow for a moment. Kristin could make out the wheelhouse of what used to be a freighter. She should have asked when it had—
She drew a quick breath as though the one before that hadn’t filled her lungs. The next one didn’t do the job either. Fighting a sense of panic, she checked the meter for her oxygen tanks.
Empty! Her damn tanks were empty! How could that be?
She whirled, propelling herself upward. Toward the surface. Toward air!
Something snared her ankle. She kicked and flailed against whatever had captured her. Her lungs were burning, ready to burst. She had to get to the surface, but she was being dragged down—
Eye-to-eye with her, Mike banged on her mask to get her attention. He took his mouthpiece from his mouth and offered it to her. He looked so damn calm, so under control as he tugged her mouthpiece away and replaced it with his.
Buddy breathing! Of course, she’d practiced it once in a swimming pool with her brother, but she’d never had to actually do it in a crisis.
She drew in a welcome breath of air. Oh, God…Nothing had ever tasted so good. So sweet.
With patience worthy of a saint, he tapped her hand asking for the mouthpiece back. She sucked in another deep breath before releasing her grip.
Behind his mask, she saw him wink at her as he inhaled. Then he signaled they’d go up together and handed her the mouthpiece again.
He controlled their ascent, keeping her calm, even pointing out a school of passing herring as if this were a walk in the park. She clung to his arm and to the mouthpiece even when he was getting a much-needed shot of oxygen for himself. She was like an octopus wrapped around him. A scared octopus!
They broke the surface together.
Kristin ripped off her mask and dragged in all the air her lungs could handle, one breath after another.
He perched his mask on the top of his head. “Easy, honey. You don’t want to hyperventilate.”
“Oh, God. I couldn’t breathe. I was so scared!”
Treading water, he pulled her into his arms. He was all muscle and strength, as gentle with her as he would be with a baby. And that’s what she’d been. A baby!
“I’m so sorry. I panicked. I shouldn’t have—I know better—”
“It’s okay. You’re all right now. Just relax.”
“Easy for you to say.” She tried for a laugh, but it came out little more than a choked sob. Her whole body was trembling, inside and out. “Have you always been a hero, or is that something they teach you in firefighter school?”
With an easy kick of his feet, he propelled them toward the boat. “Let’s see, when I was about ten I rescued a neighbor’s dog who got her head stuck in a fence. Cost me about ten stitches.” He held up the back of his hand to show her the scar—ragged teeth marks. “She didn’t understand I was trying to help her.”
She shuddered at the injury he’d suffered trying to be a white hat. “I promise not to bite.”
A wry grin lifted one side of his mouth and his dark eyes gleamed with a wicked glint. “I wouldn’t object to a little nibble when you’re feeling up to it.”
She sputtered, took in a mouthful of salty water and came up coughing. The man was an incorrigible flirt. But the real problem was her own reaction, the temptation to take him up on his suggestion.
“Right now my preference would be to get my feet on solid ground as quickly as possible.” And to get away from Mike Gables as fast as those same feet would take her.
They reached the boat, and he followed her up the ladder. Still shaking, she stood on the deck dripping water onto the teak flooring, counting every breath she took as a blessing.
“Let’s get your tank off, and I’ll take a look at it.”
“I checked it this morning.” Though obviously not carefully enough. “I’m sure I had enough air. My brother Colby makes sure the tanks are full after we dive.”
Mike helped her shrug out of the tanks. “How long ago was your last dive?”
“Last summer, I guess.” She dropped her weight belt to the deck.
“Things can happen. Valves get stuck. I should have checked your tanks before I let you go down.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t make the zipper on her wet suit work. “I should be responsible for my own gear.”
“Here, let me.”
Before she could object, he’d set the air tanks aside and turned her around to face him. The back of his hand brushed against her throat as he reached for the tab, and he slipped his other hand inside her suit so the zipper wouldn’t pinch her. His knuckles grazed her skin as he lowered the zipper. An intimate touch. Flesh to flesh. The hum of the zipper like the rushing of blood through her veins.
She swallowed hard. His lips were only inches from hers. Kissable lips that were slightly full but not so thick as to give one of those messy, juicy kisses she didn’t like. Not that she’d been kissed at all lately. And she shouldn’t be thinking about that.
His eyelashes were dark semi-circles, unfairly long for a man. His cheeks smooth-shaven. Caressable. His jaw strong. And his lips…
The zipper reached the middle of her chest, the backs of his fingers perilously close to her breasts. He stopped and cleared his throat.
“You do, uh, have a swimsuit on, don’t you?” His deep voice came out breathy as though he’d run out of oxygen too.
Her response caught in her throat. “Yes.”
“Good.”
The zipper resumed its slow descent, the pressure of the skintight wet suit easing on her breasts, releasing them as the links separated. The sensation was as erotic as if he were undressing her right down to her skin. Her breathing turned shallow, her mouth dried and her heartbeat accelerated. She was as unable now to draw a decent breath as she had been only minutes ago forty feet under the water.
This was not good, she told herself. He’d just rescued her from drowning, her panic-driven adrenaline was still racing through her veins, and she was in a susceptible mood. Vulnerable.
She clutched his wrist. “I can get the rest.”
He glanced up and their eyes met. The heated look she saw sent waves of desire burrowing into her mid-section. The sensual movement of the boat beneath her feet, the gentle rocking, added something elemental to their contact. Something compelling.
Something she didn’t dare explore.
“I think—” She moistened her lips. “I think we’d better go back to the marina.”
