But Jessica was not through grilling her.
"All we really have are letters from two men who were deceiving King Philip, one of whom went crazy in a Spanish monastery. I don't know how much credence I can place in the ravings of this Captain Daré."
"Jessica," Alix said, leaning over the table and speaking as earnestly as she could. "The coordinates that I will present and which will tell El Primero's location are as much proof as we need."
"You don't lack arguments. But what you're showing us isn't necessarily proof." Jessica sat back in her chair, her hands steepled in front of her.
"I don't entirely agree with that assessment, Jessica," Martin said. "If Alix is satisfied that her coordinates show where El Primero went down, that's more information than we have for Santa Catalina. No one's sure where Catalina sank, except that she's known to have gone down on a certain reef. As navigator I'll vote to look for El Primero."
Ponce's glance traveled from Alix to Martin to Jessica. "I don't have a vote, but I'd have to agree with him," he said. "In searching for El Primero we also wouldn't have to contend with Luke Stallingrath, whom we all know is presently trying to locate Catalina. El Primero seems like a better bet all the way around."
"I don't have a vote either," said Jessica smoothly. "But as the corporate attorney I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't play devil's advocate here. I don't want to see you all borne away on a futile quest for the exotic legend of King Philip's jewels, that's all."
There was silence, and then Tom Clegg suggested, "It's time to take a vote."
"I'll leave you in private," Alix said. She forced a confident smile as she headed for the door.
But when she was alone in Ponce's office, her shoulders slumped. She hadn't counted on Jessica's out-and-out skepticism and attack, nor the confidence that the board members placed in Jessica's opinions and ideas.
She wasn't at all sure, despite her valiant pretense, that she'd convinced anyone of anything.
Chapter 5
As she waited uneasily for the board's decision, Alix helped herself to a soda from the refrigerator beneath the bar and listened for sounds from the conference room. A spirited discussion was taking place, that much she could tell, but the thick walls of the old house kept her from hearing the exact words.
She sighed. This was the crucial moment, and it would determine if her discovery had any value. It was nerve-wracking, waiting and hoping yet unable to do anything further to help her cause.
She leafed through a couple of familiar books, stepped out on the balcony and looked down at the few passersby on the street below. A whiff of honeysuckle wafted past the balcony, and she found herself thinking of Ponce. She whirled when the door opened unexpectedly and Ponce entered the room.
He looked jubilant, and when he reached the spot where she stood, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "They're for it," he said. His eyes remained on hers to share a moment of pure joy.
"Oh, Ponce, how wonderful!" she exclaimed, beaming at him, but he released her shoulders and held a hand up to silence her.
"We've taken a vote, and they'll agree to your demands—you'll get your salary as a diver, plus a bonus for your photographic work and twenty percent of the find. If there is a find. Jessica is preparing a contract, and we're all eager to see the last letter telling the location of the wrecked El Primero de Mayo. They've agreed that we'll spend only four weeks searching for the wreck. If we don't find it, they'll have both my hide and yours for wasting our time."
"You know how you have hunches? Well, I have them, too. I have a hunch that El Primero is right where Daré says it is in his letter." Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. She felt a partnership with Ponce; they had shared a hope, and between them they had convinced the board.
Ponce sobered momentarily. "Let's hope we're both right. It's a big ocean out there." He touched her cheek with one finger and then drew her close to him for a congratulatory hug. "Come along, let's get in there and get that contract signed."
When she entered the conference room the board members broke into spontaneous applause. She had expected their approval but not such wholehearted enthusiasm. It caught her off-guard, and she felt a rush of relief and gratification.
"Welcome to the team," said Stan, and she blinked away her tears. Their acceptance of her made her feel like one of the crew already. Jessica, who had loomed as her biggest obstacle, looked, if not enthusiastic, at least acquiescent.
"May we see the letter stating the location of El Primero?" asked John, who seemed barely able to contain his eagerness.
She showed them the second roll of microfilm, which provoked discussion about coordinates and position ending with all of them gathered around the conference table and getting their bearings with the aid of a marine topographical map. The consensus was that from the looks of the map the wreck appeared salvageable.
Ponce secreted the second roll of microfilm in the company safe along with the first one, and Jessica quickly and efficiently explained the contract to Alix. After she, Ponce, and the board members had signed it, Martin said, "This calls for a celebration!"
"Champagne!" someone shouted, and then Ponce spoke over the general hubbub, "Not here! At my house!" So Alix followed as they all clattered noisily down the narrow stairs and outside, then next door through the wrought-iron gate in the wall.
Ponce noticed her hanging behind the others and studying the construction of the house. He slowed his steps. "The blocks of coquina rock used to build this house are almost one-foot thick," he explained.
"I'm not familiar with coquina."
"We've used it as a building stone in Florida for over 400 years. The fort here was built from it, and so were a lot of other buildings. This rock was mined on Anastasia Island, not too far from where you're staying."
Alix placed her hand on the wall. It felt cool to the touch.
"The rock's covered with a coating of lime-base plaster," he told her, covering her hand with his. "Notice how cool it feels."
She felt the sounds of a party reverberating from within. A champagne cork popped, but Ponce's hand remained over hers, riveting her firmly to the wall.
They were in the side garden, shaded from the moon by leafy green branches which whispered sibilant half-syllables overhead. She moved to release her hand, but he caught it in his.
"Don't go in yet," he said, his voice low and intimate. "Stay for a moment." He drew her further into the garden where the balcony's shadows fell on his face. The stark lines across his features made her stare at him until he led her beneath the balcony where they seemed far away from the celebration going on inside.
He was so close now that in the narrow shaft of moonlight escaping the shadows she noticed the soft white down that grew on his earlobes—incongruous with his black hair.
She lowered her gaze, embarrassed at this observation. She shouldn't be noticing him in such great detail already; she'd only known him for two days, even though it seemed like much longer. And what was there between them? Only a few romantic kisses beneath a honeysuckle arbor, at which time she thought she'd made it plain that she was in no hurry to intensify their relationship.
"We should go inside with the others," she said quietly.
"Our celebration is right here. In private," he said, and with that he drew her close and pressed her against his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat and know that her own heart was answering in kind.
After a moment in which Alix told herself that this whole game was not going according to plan, her arms slid around him. They stood like that, interlocked, getting used to the feel of skin against skin, breath mingling with breath, until Alix willingly raised her face to his, knowing that he would bend his head in unison and that lips would find lips in the cool darkness.
"Talk about ridiculous," she said, when at last their lips parted. "We've only known each other for two days. By all rights this shouldn't be happening."
"By all rights," he said i
nto the hollow of her throat, "we should have known each other longer than two days. Why didn't you show up sooner?" And then his mouth was upon hers once more.
She was hotly aware of Ponce's body touching hers, and she pressed herself against him, wanting to feel every hard contour of him, every tensed muscle. There should be no space between them, they should meld together with their own unique blending of bodies. The clothing that kept them apart seemed suddenly stifling, and the thought of the two of them slowly undressing each other here, with the party inside so close, was unbelievably titillating.
With a shuddering sigh she let him release her lips. She felt him slide his urgent hands beneath her sweater, explore the bare skin of her back, find the tiny catch that held her bra. A quick snap and he had released it. His hands sought her breasts, felt soothingly cool against their heat and caressed them knowingly with just the right touch.
"Alix," he said huskily, and it was perplexing, rising up from her rippling depths, to figure out if he was calling her name in passion or delight or in warning.
She soon found out, though, because he quickly pulled her bra into place and snapped it together. He put a cautioning finger to his lips.
"Ponce!" someone called from nearby in the garden, someone who was approaching with quiet footsteps. She and Ponce leaped apart, Alix self-consciously smoothing her hair and wondering if their kisses had left her with any lipstick at all.
"Here!" called Ponce, taking Alix by the hand and leading her out of the balcony's sheltering shadows.
Martin hailed them heartily. "We have time for a toast, and then we all want to get a good night's sleep. No use in partying late when we need to feel alert tomorrow when we'll be getting Minorcan ready for action."
"Great, Troll," said Ponce, clapping the shorter man on the back. To Alix's inquiring look Ponce explained, "That's what we call him. You don't mind, do you, Troll?"
Troll grimaced. "Alix, you might as well call me Troll, too. Everyone does."
"Troll it is," she said. She had to admit that the little man, who couldn't have stood more than four feet nine inches tall in his bare feet, did look like the popular conception of a Scandinavian troll, with his round, rosy cheeks and chest-length beard. His impish grin made him look like a very droll troll indeed.
Inside, under the mellow glow of indirect lighting, Alix looked around at the furnishings, which were an eclectic mix, Spanish antique with modern, textured wall hangings facing heavy oil paintings of Ponce's Minorcan ancestors, thick, cushioned carpet juxtaposed beside shiny, handmade Spanish ceramic floor tile. The whole impression was one of softly lighted luxury and good taste.
Jessica, who had assumed the role of hostess, approached with a tray and distributed the champagne. Ponce raised his glass.
"To Minorcan—may she succeed on yet another quest! And, God willing, may it remain our secret!" he added, and several voices shouted, "Hear! Hear!" before glasses were clinked together and drained in short order.
Another round of champagne and again Ponce proposed a toast. The room grew hushed and quiet, and Ponce said, searching out Alix's eyes from across the room, "To Alix Pendenning. Without her, our new quest wouldn't be possible!" His penetrating gaze made her catch her breath before she unsteadily raised her glass to her lips.
Jessica turned to her, breaking the unspoken link between Alix and Ponce, a half-smile playing across her features. "I suppose you're excited about joining Minorcan's crew," she said. "I understand it's your first job at treasure salvage."
"Yes, it is."
"I wish you well. I hope you'll forgive me for badgering you back in the boardroom. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't ask hard-nosed questions. I have a reputation for being thoroughly professional about my work, and I'm proud of that."
Alix thawed to Jessica a bit. She could understand a professional attitude. Alix was dedicated to her own career, after all.
"You know, treasure hunters are a peculiar breed," Jessica went on thoughtfully. "They tend to get carried away by the challenge of the quest. I've always teased Ponce about treasure, telling him that he goes after it just because it's there, like Mount Everest. The excitement gets into the blood, and sometimes good judgment goes out the window."
Alix found it difficult to imagine Jessica teasing anyone, but she had to agree with her about the excitement of the quest. She felt a thrill of anticipation just thinking about finding the jewels. She could even understand, although reluctantly, Jessica's efforts to inject her own levelheadedness into board discussions that tended to become springboards of enthusiasm for whatever treasure-hunting scheme presented itself.
"Jessica," she said, "please don't worry about El Primero. I know it's out there, and I'm sure we'll find it." She wanted Jessica's confidence, not her animosity. Jessica could be a formidable opponent, and Alix wanted her firmly on her side.
"You'll find Ponce a difficult taskmaster."
"That's why I want to work for him," Alix said firmly. "Treasure salvage takes discipline and skill. There's no room for sloppy work when you're dealing with artifacts." Her eyes found Ponce, who was talking animatedly with Troll and Stan about preparations.
Jessica must have read something in Alix's glance, because she said in a thoughtful tone of voice, "You know, Ponce has a nice way with—people." She paused, and Alix realized that Jessica had been about to say that Ponce had a nice way with women, but had for some reason changed her mind.
"Anyway," continued Jessica, smiling at Alix with eyes that somehow managed to stay devoid of expression, "I'll give you some advice: Ponce is a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there."
Alix was spared having to reply when Troll interrupted to fill their glasses. She wasn't interested in Jessica's personal observations about Ponce Cabrera. She'd rather rely on her own.
Jessica's innate aloofness made carrying on a conversation difficult, but Alix did her best. She wanted to know this remote but intelligent woman who seemed so important to Ponce. No matter how hard she tried to establish a rapport, the other woman maintained her distance. Alix, who usually had no trouble making small talk, was left feeling totally inadequate as a conversationalist.
Finally, as the party began to break up, Jessica excused herself and went around the room collecting empty glasses.
Alix made her farewells, assuring the board members that she would soon see them on Minorcan and thanking them for their support.
Finally, when everyone had gone, Ponce closed the heavy, carved front door behind them and turned to her.
"Well, we did it," he said, looking down at her with an exuberant expression. "We convinced them. Come on, we might as well finish this bottle of champagne."
"I really should go home."
Ponce lifted his eyebrows and smiled his most winning smile. "One more glass, and then I promise I'll take you back to your apartment." He indicated a wide couch with down cushions. "Let's sit here. We seem to have a lot to say to each other."
Alix was touched by this compliment because men often made it clear to her that they were interested in nothing but her body. She sank down beside him, enjoying the ease with which they were able to communicate.
Her sunbath earlier in the day had loosened her tense muscles, but after the nerve-wracking wait to find out the decision of the board of directors, she felt so taut and high-strung that she might have been a tightrope. Ponce slid his arm around her shoulders and felt the knots of tension tightening in them.
"You're really wound up, aren't you?" he said.
"It's been an exciting two days." She sipped at her champagne, willing it to relax her.
"Let me massage those muscles in your shoulders," suggested Ponce. "Anyway, it's too hot to be wearing that jacket." She didn't resist when he slipped her jacket off. His hands rested on her shoulders, and then the long, tapered fingers began to move in lazy circles on her shoulder muscles.
"Move," he directed. "No, not that way, this way. Mmm-hmm, that's right." Her back was to h
im, her left arm resting on the back of the couch, her right hand in her lap. His fingers snagged her long hair; she reached up and flipped it forward over her shoulder.
Ponce was an expert masseur. His fingers caressed her shoulders deftly, with exactly the right pressure. She closed her eyes and gave in to it, tiny circles encompassed in larger circles, reaching out to include her shoulder blades and the hard ridge of her spine. It felt so good, making her feel so limp and light. His hands trailed along her upper arms, then back to her shoulders and the slow circles, circles upon circles along her back to the indented curve of her waist where his hands flicked inward then outward before resuming their meandering journey.
He rested his fingers at the back of her neck, testing the muscles on either side of her vertebrae. "You're still so stiff, here and here," he observed.
She had bent her head forward, but at his words she lifted it and rotated her head slowly, her hair swinging freely as she tried to ease the tension. "It's no use," she said. "I suppose what I need is a good night's sleep."
"I'll show you what you need," he said, rising from the couch and taking her hand to raise her to her feet. "Come with me." His voice had dropped a register.
Whatever Ponce had in mind, she was sure it wasn't sleep. Yet her fatigue left her powerless to do anything but follow. She admitted to herself, too, that the prospect of returning to her empty apartment after tonight's victory was definitely an anticlimax. She didn't want any more celebration—the party had accomplished that. But she did want to share her feelings about what the victory meant to her after all her planning and waiting.
And, she admitted to herself, the only one with whom she wanted to share those feelings was Ponce, because only he would understand.
Chapter 6
He led her through the darkened house into a fragrant courtyard. Here the balcony hung with teeming baskets of begonias, their bright colors muted by moonlight. The courtyard was floored in brick, but in a corner she saw a deck bordered with flowers and shrubbery and built of dark-stained cedar.
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 6
