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Frustration piled up, making her response more explosive than she’d meant. “For the love of all that is good and holy, stop calling me that.”
Knox considered her. His head tilted to the side and the tip of his tongue snuck out, slowly sweeping across the firm edge of his lower lip.
Avery’s stomach rolled and heat leaked into her veins, spreading unwanted desire like poison through her system. She should have stayed in bed.
She shifted on her feet, ready to turn away and admit defeat. Maybe she’d just put her earbuds in and hope for the best.
But Knox snagged her arm before she could move two steps. His fingers wrapped around her bicep, sliding against the silk covering her skin. “Ever heard the phrase, ‘if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em’?”
A low groan rumbled through her chest. Avery’s eyes slid shut as she asked for strength in dealing with the man. “Never mind.”
Knox shrugged, that damn grin twisting his lips even as his eyes began to twinkle.
Without asking he reached into a cooler and came up with a beer bottle. Water and ice slid down the smooth glass. Knox didn’t seem to care that it left a puddle on the floor at his feet.
He cupped his palm around her hand and sent a flame of awareness shooting up her arm. Slapping the bottle against her palm, he curled her fingers around the ice-cold surface. “You look like you could use this. If nothing else, it might help you sleep.”
Avery blinked at him, speechless.
Her brain, the thing that had faithfully served her for years, revolted. So her body took over, raising the bottle to her lips and pulling in a huge swallow. She didn’t particularly like beer, preferring cosmos and wine. Tonight, she didn’t even taste the liquid pouring down her throat.
Asher sauntered up to the two of them. Where the hell had he been a minute ago when she’d needed him?
He grinned at her, his eyes flashing mischief and mayhem. Whatever he’d sauntered over for couldn’t be good.
“Interesting wardrobe choice, Firecracker.”
Asher wasn’t the first person to give her that nickname. Her bright hair made it an obvious choice. Why couldn’t Knox have latched onto it instead of doc?
“Her beauty sleep was disturbed,” Knox said, his tone ripe with laugher. “Although I have to admit I like the robe better than the pearls, heels and business suit.”
Avery’s shoulders straightened and she wished she’d thrown on a pair of those heels so she could look him in the eye when she glared at him.
Being five foot four was often a hindrance, especially in the male-dominated field of nautical archaeology.
When she’d first started her career she’d wanted to eliminate at least one disadvantage when dealing with older male colleagues who tended to dismiss a young female out of hand. Heels and professional clothing had been her solution. And, over the years, had sort of become her signature. In her mind, projecting a competent, conservative image could never be a bad thing.
But apparently Knox McLemore didn’t see it that way.
“Hmm,” Asher murmured, taking a pull on his own beer. His gaze drifted down, lingering at the V where her robe closed. There wasn’t any heat in the perusal—it was more like it was a habit. “You do realize that just makes me want to find out what you’ve got on underneath, right?”
“Stop sexually harassing our employees, Ash. We’re going to end up with a lawsuit.” Knox frowned, his lips pulled into a tight, thin line.
A little-boy grin curled across Asher’s lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Avery realized Asher wasn’t playing with her, he was intentionally riling up Knox. Which was fine with her. The man deserved some of his own back.
Drawing another sip from her beer, Avery casually mentioned, “Technically, I’m not your employee.”
The corners of Asher’s eyes tipped up a little higher and his smile went to megawatt. “Does that mean I’m free to sexually harass you?”
Avery opened her mouth, but Knox beat her to it. “No, no you are not.”
“Doesn’t bother me,” she answered.
Asher chuckled, clinking the neck of his bottle against the one she still held in her hand. Then he winked and sauntered away. Avery watched him, not with lust, but fascination. She’d never had that kind of confidence.
“Stop staring, doc. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
“I didn’t...I don’t...” she sputtered, finally slamming her mouth shut.
Wrapping a hand around her arm, Knox led her through the room to the table he’d been propped against when she walked in. He settled his hips back against the edge. She did the same.
“Stay. Mingle. Have a beer. You’re going to be part of the team for the next couple weeks, Avery. It’s probably a good idea that you get to know the crew.”
The way he said her name, his low, smooth voice caressing each syllable, sent a jolt of something twisting through her. Was it the first time he’d actually used her name? She thought maybe it was.
She liked it a hell of a lot better than doc.
“I don’t need to braid hair, have a pillow fight or sneak beer from my parents’ fridge in order to bond with your team, Knox. I’d hope your crew is professional enough to do the same. No one has to like me in order to do their job.”
“No, you’re right. No one has to like you. It would make things easier, though. On everyone.”
They sat there, the weight of their silence, in contrast to the laughter and music surrounding them, pressing in on her until she had to say something.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be a part of the team. I’m not very good at bonding with colleagues.”
She should have felt anxious about making the confession. But there was something about Knox—while he usually made every muscle in her body tighten with tension, at the moment he’d somehow managed to put her at ease.
“That sounds...depressing.”
They sat there for several minutes. Avery watched as the people around them laughed. Why couldn’t she be that way? Why couldn’t she feel comfortable socializing like this?
Out of nowhere, Knox reached out and snagged a strand of her hair, running it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. “Something tells me you worry too much. I like your hair down.”
The unconnected thoughts had her brain spinning. Or maybe that was the beer.
His hand continued down, the backs of his fingers brushing against the edge of her robe.
“Ash isn’t wrong. I’m dying to know what you’ve got on under this thing. Want to hear my guess?”
Avery swallowed. She did and she didn’t. She could take Asher flirting with her because she wasn’t attracted to him despite his charm and good looks.
But she didn’t think she could take Knox messing with her. Already she could feel the tide of blood rushing to the spot where his finger had brushed against her skin.
Somehow she found the strength to shake her head. Unfortunately, for some reason, the word, “Yes,” tumbled out of her parted lips at the same time.
Something mischievous flashed through his dark eyes, joining the dangerous grin that tugged at his wicked mouth.
“Well, judging by the rest of your clothes, something silky. Lots of lace. Probably in some soft color like pink or baby blue.”
Her voice was breathy, but not nearly as shaky as it could have been, when she responded, “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m wearing cotton shorts and a Texas International University tank top.”
His grin widened. “Now why would you think that would disappoint me? Actually, I like the idea of that a hell of a lot better than the lingerie.”
He leaned closer, his lips near enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His scent welled up around her, a combination of musk and salt and man.
His low, quiet voice rumbled in her ear, “Gives me hope that deep down, beneath that perfectly polished surface you prefer to show the world, there’s a real woman.”
Breath caught in the back of her throat. Heat and longing flooded her system. Her fist tightened around the bottle in her hand, needing something to hold on to so that she wouldn’t reach for him.
And then he had to go and ruin the moment.
Knox murmured, “Sleep tight, doc,” before walking away, leaving her alone, breathless and seriously turned on.
Bastard.
3 (#u7ef07efe-a5d5-53bd-b4e1-5f8d1701b8de)
“YOU KNOW WE can’t trust her, right?”
Up on deck, the early-morning air seeped beneath his thin T-shirt, making goose bumps pearl across his skin. The sun, rising low in the sky, flowed off the smooth surface of the water surrounding them. It was funny how mornings like this could remind him of similar moments he’d spent in the desert, the light glaring off sand instead.
Knox, cradling a steaming mug of coffee in his hands, shot Asher a sharp glare. “Pretty sure I said that weeks ago, right after we interviewed her.”
Leaning against the railing, Asher raised a single eyebrow. “Yeah, but you said it because you have a problem with her. I’m saying it because something about this whole thing stinks.”
“Oh, you mean like McNair slithering out from whatever rock he lives under to claim the wreck isn’t really the Chimera?”
“He wants the gold. And apparently he’s got enough connections to make a play. I don’t trust McNair.”
No joke. The man was slick and charming. The kind of perfect that made you think the veneer could crack at any moment to reveal the truth underneath.
“Avery and McNair are connected.”
“So you noticed the inordinate amount of glee McNair was woefully inept at covering when we announced she’d been hired?”
“Oh, yeah. And the way, after weeks of delays, the Bahamian government agreed to the US court’s decision, letting the paperwork sail through the minute Dr. Walsh signed on to the project.”
Knox had put two and two together, coming to an answer he didn’t like. For multiple reasons. He’d called in several favors, but none of his contacts had been able to find a concrete connection between McNair and Avery. It was there, though. He just knew it.
The whole situation left him uneasy. As if he was walking into hostile territory with no idea which direction the bullets might fly from.
Something about Avery worked under his skin, itching and irritating until he wanted to pick at it. Pick at her. Annoying her could quickly become his favorite hobby out here on the open sea with nothing else to occupy his time and mind.
It was either that or crowd her against the closest hard surface and kiss the fire out of her. Something he’d nearly done last night.
That damn robe she’d been wearing was designed to entice a man. The way it had brushed against the tops of her bare thighs, clung to the curves of her breasts...and the fact that she hadn’t put it on for that reason only made the appeal more difficult to ignore.
He’d had a hard time reconciling the vision of the woman who’d shared a beer with him and the professional, put-together executive type who had walked on to his ship hours earlier.
Avery was competent, intelligent and good at her job. But last night he’d realized she was also more complex than he’d thought and surprisingly introverted.
He was still struggling with that revelation. Considering their first encounter had involved her yelling at him for his stupidity, he would have expected that to be the last adjective he’d ever use to describe her. There’d been nothing shy about her that afternoon.
And while he’d been attracted to the cool, collected Avery, something about the small chink of vulnerability she’d revealed last night made her even more appealing.
It had been difficult walking away from her.
Knox was blaming his reaction on the three beers he’d indulged in before she arrived. Although he hadn’t even had a decent buzz going.
From his vantage point across the room, he’d watched her walk out, the roll of her hips a metronome begging him to pursue. But he’d forced himself to stay put and enjoy the party with his crew.
Asher leaned against the railing, pulling Knox back into the conversation. Hell, the woman wasn’t even here and she was distracting him. This wasn’t good.
“All I’m saying is you should drag out those rusty surveillance skills to keep an eye on her. Or, hell, that charm you’re famous for. I’ve noticed it’s been decidedly AWOL since Dr. Walsh arrived.”
“There’s nothing rusty about my skills,” Knox said, popping Asher in the shoulder.
“Keep her close.” The twinkle in Asher’s eyes and his lifted brow clearly suggesting just how he thought Knox should accomplish that objective.
* * *
“WE’RE JUST RUNNING sonar to ensure the wreck hasn’t shifted since the last time we were down. Given what happened to Jackson the first time he entered the Chimera—”
“If she is the Chimera,” Avery interjected. Knox ignored her, although the way his eyes narrowed at the edges suggested her statement had registered.
“—there’s really no reason for you to come with me.”
He had to be joking. There was no way she was letting him close to that wreck without her. Who knew what the cowboy might decide to do if she wasn’t there to rein him in? He said he had no intention of going down, but once he was on that boat away from the ship, she had no guarantee.
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Suit yourself, doc.”
Avery refused to rise to the bait. He was doing it on purpose, but she was going to be the bigger person.
They loaded the sonar equipment on to one of the smaller boats the crew kept. A half an hour later they were heading out to the location of the wreckage.
And Avery had to admit to the bubbling euphoria rippling through her chest.
She loved her job. It was amazing to help recover and preserve pieces of history that had been lost for ages. She’d seen pictures of the wreckage, haunting as it stood silent and still beneath the water.
But there was no way the photos could be as impressive as the site itself. She wanted to see it. The need was a physical pressure inside her chest, that drive to be down there with the memories and history so perfectly preserved by the cold, dark water.
There was nothing like the peace she always found beneath the surface. Something that often eluded her up in the air.
The Amphitrite was anchored quite a way from the site for safety reasons. They wanted to be well clear of the wreckage so that they minimized the potential for disturbances, especially since she rested so close to the edge of the ravine and had already shown signs of instability.
They were going to have to get closer eventually, but for now protocol dictated they visit the area as little as possible. They approached the site, Knox throttling down as he turned the sonar equipment on and began to take readings of the seabed beneath them. She had enough experience to read the data spilling back at them and identify the dramatic depth difference where the rocky ledge the Chimera rested on dropped off.
