“Give me five more minutes.”
This time when he looked at her, there was a genuine sparkle of excitement in his blue eyes; potent enough it made her breath catch.
“Perhaps your bad luck is finally wearing off,” he said. “We may have found the piece we’ve been looking for.”
Chapter Five
Energy zipped and sparked along Bella’s nerve endings. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. She grasped the mermaid pendant on her necklace and pulled it back and forth along the chain. Was this the breakthrough they needed? Was this their first piece of the Rapid?
She remembered way back to when she’d been so young that seated on the old davenport at her grand-mère’s house, her feet hadn’t touched the floor. The French-made sofa and chairs had been older than her grandmother even then. Bella recalled how, over hot black tea, she’d begged her grandmother to retell the stories over and over of their family history and the shipwreck.
Even as a child Bella had been fascinated and intrigued by the tales of daring and drama. Her grandmother’s stories spoke of great wealth and a family whose standing in the community was unrivaled. And even then—as young as five years old—she’d known that she’d be the one to find the Rapid and restore the family’s fortunes and good name. She’d never wavered. Her entire life felt like a giant arrow pointing to exactly this time and place.
Her heart pounded unevenly against her rib cage, and her eyes burned because she was afraid to blink and miss anything. The ROV circled, the lens zooming in on the raised ridge that was perfectly straight, but not flat. In fact, to anyone else it might have looked more like a blackened, bumpy, encrusted log that tapered narrower on one end.
“A cannon,” she breathed excitedly.
“Don’t get your hopes up. Reeves,” Tucker ordered into the mic. “Get me a magnetometer reading on the object.”
“Aye, Captain.” The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness before his voice returned. The ticking sound in the background increased until it became a steady hum. “Looks like metal, heavy iron content.”
“What’s your best guess given the reading?” Tuck asked.
A few moments of static on their mic had Bella on the edge of her seat. “Possibly a cannon, Cap.”
Bella shot him an I-told-you-so look.
“Can you use the blower on it to remove enough sediment and get a better reading?”
“No, it’s got too much buildup on it. Looks like we’ll have to clean it up before we can really see any detail.”
“Mark it, and we’ll haul it up after we get a full scan of the site.” His blue gaze connected with hers, and his lips thinned as he seemed to read her thoughts. “This could be a cannon from a different ship or not a cannon at all.”
Bella refused to let him dampen her hopes or the giddy sensations fluttering in her stomach. This was as close as she’d come, and she wasn’t about to give up before they’d even brought whatever it was to the surface.
“Why are you waiting for the full scan before you bring it to the surface?” she asked.
“I want to make sure this is a worthwhile site before I send down any more equipment.”
“It seems like a lot of work when you could just take the ROV down and start searching.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, this will go much faster and have better results if we take a scan of the site first, and if we find it has potential, get a photomosaic of the site. We’ll send out the sonar imaging on a non-disturbance survey of about 80 parallel transit line spaced less than a meter apart at a constant altitude of 2.5 meters over the site. In the end, we should have almost three thousand individual images that the computer will stitch together into one big mosaic. It’ll be like looking at a wallpaper of the dive site in total. We’ll be able to see where every item is sitting before we ever take the ROV down there.”
“And that photomosaic serves as our undisturbed record of the site before exploration.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Right.”
“But that’s brilliant! It’ll make the archeological record much more complete.”
“Now you can understand that there’s a method to my going slow. Sometimes patience is what you need to get the job done right.”
Bella’s stomach did an odd flip-flop, and she let go of the mermaid pendant. While she didn’t know Tuck well, she knew enough to sense he wasn’t just talking about the wreck but about the fragile new relationship between them.
There was a strong attraction, but he truly believed that if he went slow enough and kept at it, she’d give in. Well, if that was the case, then he didn’t know her as well as he thought. Once she dug in her heels about something, she rarely gave in. She was determined not to involve herself with a wealthy man ever again, and particularly not one from his family, no matter on which side of the blanket they were born.
On the surface, Tucker seemed like the type to let the good times roll. He was relaxed, almost leisurely, in the way he did things, and despite being a bit on the intense side when it came to her work, his lax attitude both intrigued and rubbed her the wrong way all at once. Sure, he didn’t have as much invested in finding the Rapid as she did, but he took his work seriously. Didn’t he?
She was beginning to wonder just how far Tuck would go to get what he wanted. And what did he want? Fame and fortune, he’d admitted. Certainly he wanted her in his bed. He’d made that plain enough with his flirting. But what else?
Only now was she beginning to suspect that the unruffled exterior he showcased under a spectacular tan and easy manner was not the whole story. Tuck might cast himself as a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, better with his hands than his head, but she knew better. His quick wit and keen intelligence still shown through, like light seeping through the cracks of a poorly constructed facade. So what was he hiding from her? And what would it cost her when she found out? Because Bella knew without a doubt, she would discover what Tuck was hiding. It was only a matter of time. And when it came to her family track record with men, whatever it was wouldn’t be good.
“What’s our next move?”
He swiveled in his chair to face her. “Our next move is to have a delicious dinner, and perhaps a bottle of wine or two.”
“I meant on the project,” she said, then realized her voice sounded a bit too stern, even to her own ears.
“The sun is setting. Tomorrow we’ll get results from the scan, pull up the tagged object, and see if we can confirm this is the Rapid, and if it is, then we’ll put acoustical transponders positioned around the site so we have exact measurements of a one-by-one meter grid over the site for the sonar to transverse while it’s taking pictures.”
“Well before that happens, I’d like to talk to the crew, to let them know what they should be looking for to help us in identifying this wreck.”
His eyes grew stormy. “Bella, I appreciate how much work you’ve done in pulling together the details of this wreck, but you have to stop trying to micromanage my crew. They know what they’re doing.”
“But I have the expertise—”
“And so do they. You let them do their job so you can do your job. Fair enough?”
Bella stood up from her chair and braced her hands on the top of the conference table. “None of you, not a single one of you on this ship, has as much vested interest in this operation as I do. If I seem nosy or bossy, I have a right to be.”
“You may want to be in charge of this, Bella. You may think it means more to you than to any of us, but the truth is we’re all in, every one of us. We don’t give less than our best as a team. And if you want our best, you need to give those men room to do their job without feeling like there’s someone breathing down their necks. I know them, and you don’t. Trust me.”
Trust me.
There were two words that never should be put together in the same sentence. Why didn’t he ask for the sun, the moon, and the stars while he was at it? Every man she had ever trusted, her own father included, had let her down in some
fashion. She pushed away from the conference table and turned to walk out of the conference room.
“Bella?”
She stopped for a moment and glanced back.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to change for dinner.”
“No, you know what I mean. I don’t want you harassing the crew.”
“Fine,” she said, her flip-flops squeaking against the floor as she spun around again to leave.
“You do realize this walking out when you don’t get your way is a habit, don’t you?”
She froze in mid-step, then looked over her shoulder at him. “What did you say?”
“Since the day I literally ran into you, you’ve been walking away. Which, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind, since you’ve got an amazing ass, but I can’t help but wonder why. What makes running away a better option than working things out, especially since you’ve got plenty of spirit to back you up?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s easier to walk away than say something I’ll regret.” Or worse, do something I’ll regret, she added silently.
“But haven’t you ever regretted not taking a stand?”
She thought about it for a moment. Yes. There were regrets. Didn’t everyone have those? It didn’t make her special or any different. She looked up to find he’d gotten to his feet and crossed the room so quietly she hadn’t noticed. He stood close enough that she could reach out and touch him.
“Stay. You don’t need to change a thing.” His voice was warm and enticing, his eyes a blue she could easily drown in if she let go. “Have dinner with me.”
“But the wreck—”
“Isn’t going anywhere,” he finished for her. “Besides, we can’t do anything about it until we get the surveys and photos we need completed, and the crew is already working on that.”
“Aren’t you eating with the crew like you usually do?”
“Not if you agree to have dinner with me.”
She glanced down at herself, the neon pink shorts and flip-flops and black T-shirt didn’t exactly scream dinner date. But if he didn’t care, why should she? This wasn’t really a date anyway. Just two crew members eating a meal together. Bella nibbled at her bottom lip as she considered her options and the potential consequences.
“You are still hungry, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes—”
“And there aren’t a lot of other dining options out this far in the ocean.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “True.”
He picked up the phone and called down to the galley. “I’d like dinner for two and a bottle of wine sent up to the top observation deck lounge area, please.” He set the phone back in the cradle. “See, wasn’t that easy?”
“For some people, everything seems effortless.”
He raised a brow. “You can’t be referring to me. I’ve got the scars and stubby, shredded fingernails to prove I clawed my way to where I am.” Tuck stroked his chin, dark with a five o’clock shadow that made him look even more disreputable, more alluring—almost pirate material. “And I’m sure you weren’t talking about yourself.”
She shook her head and laughed softly.
“No, life hasn’t ever handed me anything.”
Tuck looked around, took another step closer to her, and whispered conspiratorially, “Which means if it isn’t either of us, then it’s some other lucky bastard.”
He held out his arm to her. “Shall I show you to the upper deck?”
Bella curled her hands around his sizable bicep. Lord, the man was solid. Just being this close to Tucker was a rush she hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps in protecting herself from getting hurt, she’d also missed out on the opportunity for the heady sensations that only came with risk.
He led her to the steps, and they climbed upward. Even with as much walking as she’d done aboard the ship, she hadn’t come up here before. The lounge area was like a small outdoor sitting room with several chairs, a small sofa, a wicker and glass coffee table, and a table off to one corner with four chairs.
Bella leaned her hips against the ship’s rail and stared out at the view. The sunset was stunning. Yellow and orange fire shot outward from the horizon, shattering into a play of coral pink and deeper red on the few clouds that danced at the edge of the sea. Copper light danced on the waves looking like a treasure of new pennies boiling up from down below.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t compare,” Tuck replied.
She turned. “To what?”
He came up beside her, his eyes intent and focused on her as if there was no million-dollar view on display. Bella’s body pulsed with anticipation. His finger balanced beneath her chin and the pad of his thumb brushed her lips. “You.”
“Tuck, we can’t—”
“You’re right. I’m pretty sure this could be classified as fraternization.”
She spun around to walk away and slammed her shins on a low coffee table, almost catapulting across the top of it. He caught her and kept her from falling, his hands warm and heavy against her bare arms.
“You okay?”
Bella winced. “I think my pride is hurt more than anything else.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I told you running wasn’t the answer.”
“Maybe you’re right.” The pain faded quickly, replaced by something more insistent.
“Are you too injured to dance?”
“No, I think I could manage.”
He picked up a remote from the coffee table and the blues beat of zydeco music began to flow through the speakers hidden in the canopy, partially covering the lounge area.
Bella smiled. He held out a hand to her, and she placed her hand palm to palm against his. He pulled her in toward him and then spun her away in a swing-like move. Bella laughed, letting the music flow through her. They swayed together, and he caught both her hands in his, spun her around, still holding on to her, so that his arms were wrapped around her, her back pressed against his chest. The warmth rolling off him spiked a rush of heat in her. For a second, she had to remind herself to breathe.
He spun her back around so they were facing again. “You’re a very good dancer,” he said. His lips lifted at the edges, a knowing smile. “Good dancer, two doctorates. Tell me, is there anything you don’t do well?”
“I don’t cook,” she said.
“But you’re Cajun. Isn’t that a crime or something?”
A bubble of laughter swelled up in her chest. “Both Cajun and Creole, but I’m afraid my grand-mère was the cook in the family. Aunt Min has gotten better over the last few years, but nothing like my grand-mère.”
“You miss them, don’t you, your grandmother and your mom?”
“Every day. People tell you that it gets easier. It doesn’t. Not really. You just learn to live with the loss.”
“And let the good times roll when they come.”
“Laissez le bon temps rouler.” She smiled. “Exactly.”
He spun her in close again, and this time she felt the hardened ridge of him, hidden by the long edge of his T-shirt, pressing against her bottom. The song changed to a slightly slower rhythm.
She leaned against the hard plane of his chest, absorbing the solid heat he offered and softening against him. He brought his mouth close, his breath warm in the shell of her ear. “You smell so good, like sunshine on a lemon grove in the Mediterranean.”
“Good to know. Now I’ll know what to expect if I ever get to visit. I’ve never been outside of the United States,” she said softly.
His hands move to rest on her hips, and he slowly spun her around to face him. Maybe it was habit, maybe it was because it felt so natural to be in his arms, but either way, Bella wrapped her arms around his neck as they continued to sway.
“You know, I could take you there.”
She shook her head slightly as she got lost in the blue of his eyes. “I never stray too far from home.”
&nb
sp; “Maybe you should.” His hands slid from her hips to curve around her back, bringing them body-to-body, head to toe. Somehow all she could focus on was his very kissable mouth and the sensations flooding her system.
He leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. “Brace yourself, Belladonna Dupré. I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice low and husky. Her skin tightened in anticipation, and her lips tingled. He smelled of ocean and salt and sunshine, with a hint of peppermint on his breath.
“Do we dare?” she whispered.
“What have you got to lose?” His lips brushed against hers in a feather-light touch that set her afire.
Everything.
But it was too late. In that instant, nothing else mattered as long as he kissed her.
Every last remaining thought left her mind in a rush as he molded her body to his, and his lips pressed firmly against hers. The weight of his hands on her body and the way he held her let her know that he was totally focused on nothing more than the intimate connection between them.
The slick slide of the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips brought vivid images of his mouth all over her, the soft way he might nibble the dips and hollows of her body. Her breasts tightened, aching in response. The stubble that darkened his chin lightly abraded her face but wasn’t scratching the itch that went farther than skin deep. Bella wrapped her bare leg around his, cradling the hard line of his erection against her belly. She arched her hips into him, letting the hard surface of his thigh rub against her intimately to relieve the aching throb between her legs.
“Captain?”
Bella pushed away from him and turned from the crew member with the dark buzz cut and diamond studs in his ears who’d entered. She didn’t want Barclay to see her face, hot now with a mixture of both embarrassment and anger that mirrored the increasing red of the sunset.
What the hell had just happened? And how had she let it go that far that fast? She knew without a doubt that getting tangled up with the likes of Tucker McCormack was a recipe for one thing: heartbreak. Been there. Done that. He was a free spirit, and she was, well, she was rooted in the place her family had called home for generations. One didn’t walk away from a history, a lineage, like that. It was too much of who you were, ingrained like a pattern in your very bones.
Her Sworn Enemy (Men of the Zodiac) Page 6
