Stranded With Her Ex

by Jill Sorenson

  “Where was I?” Elizabeth asked.

  “‘Flashing teeth,’” Daniela supplied, eyes cast downward.

  “Oh, right. The tourists come for the sharks as well. Boatloads of gawkers cruise by every weekend. I mean, this is supposed to be an animal sanctuary. Last Sunday they all but ruined my chances at seeing two blue-crested warblers mate—”

  Her rising voice shut off like a switch as she lost her footing. Quick as lightning, Jason caught her by both arms and hauled her against him, saving her from a nasty tumble down the side of the cliff.

  She stared up at him, wide-eyed and short of breath.

  “Like I said,” he murmured, letting her go. “Watch your step.”

  “Sorry.” With a trilling laugh, she glanced back at Daniela. “I tend to get overexcited, talking about my causes.”

  “No need to apologize for being passionate,” Daniela said, intrigued by the subject matter. Not to mention the byplay between Elizabeth and Jason. “How close do the tourists get?” she asked as they started down the hill again. “I thought the waters here were too treacherous for recreational boaters.”

  “Oh, they are,” Jason replied. “But a cage-diving operation comes during shark season. They dock a couple of hundred feet offshore, drop the cages and throw out chum.”

  Daniela was shocked. “They chum? Near the islands?” The practice of throwing out shark bait, a noxious mixture of blood and fish parts, was looked down on by scientists. It changed the animals’ natural behavior and made them less wary of humans.

  “Yeah. It’s not illegal.”

  She arrived at the base of the slope, where the ground was more stable. “I can’t imagine getting in the water here. Even with a steel cage for protection.”

  “Crazy thrill seekers,” Jason said, winking at Elizabeth. Obviously, his profession as a shark researcher put him in the same category. “Daniela is here to observe the Steller sea lion. She’s from the Scripps Institute in San Diego.”

  Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Excellent. That’s a top-notch organization.”

  “Oh, yes,” Daniela said, unable to contain her own excitement. “We’re collecting the necessary data to keep the Steller on the endangered list. I hope my work here makes a difference.”

  “So do I,” Elizabeth said kindly.

  “We’ve got an awesome crew this season.” Jason shifted the weight of her duffel as he approached the front door of the house. “Brent Masterson is here, filming some footage for his documentary. Taryn Evans is one of the most enthusiastic interns I’ve ever met. And although Dr. Fitzwilliam had to back out at the last minute, his replacement is a name I’m sure you’ll recognize. We’ve snagged the leading shark expert in the Western Hemisphere—”

  Daniela’s stomach dropped as soon as he opened the door. For, standing behind it was a man she recognized very well, indeed. The leading shark expert of the Western Hemisphere had his hands all over a gorgeous blonde, laughing as he tried to wrestle her to the ground.

  “—Sean Carmichael,” Jason finished, gazing upon Daniela’s ex-husband with hero-worship in his eyes.

  Chapter 2

  Sean disentangled himself from the young woman quickly, his face going slack. The football the pair had been grappling over dropped to the threadbare rug with a solid thud.

  Still laughing, the girl picked it up off the floor and straightened, running a hand through her long, wavy hair.

  Daniela hated her immediately.

  “I’m Taryn,” the girl said, a dimple appearing in her sunny cheek.

  “Daniela,” she murmured in response, managing a limp handshake. She felt bloodless, as though her spirit had been drained from her, sucked out by the island wind and taken far away, across the turbulent sea.

  Why was Sean here? He was supposed to be in Baja California. She’d checked.

  An uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the ticking of a clock on the far wall, seemed to stretch out into an eternity. Jason looked back and forth between Daniela and Sean, puzzled by the tension in the room. “Do you two know each other?”

  Sean recovered first. He’d always been quick on his feet. “She’s my ex-wife,” he said, explaining their relationship in the same tone he’d have used to mention a vague professional connection. He gave her a polite nod. “Hello, Daniela.”

  Although it took an effort, she inclined her head, acknowledging him in the same detached manner. “Sean.”

  Taryn nibbled on her lush lower lip, as if trying to figure out if Daniela’s presence meant her fun and games with Sean were over.

  Jason also seemed to be considering the ramifications. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes,” Sean said.

  “No,” said Daniela at the same time.

  Jason frowned. “She doesn’t have a restraining order against you or anything, does she?”

  Sean shot him a dark look, insulted by the suggestion that a woman would require protection from him. “Of course not.”

  Accepting the answer without question, Jason turned his attention back to Daniela, a hint of regret in his eyes. Being a lowly seal researcher, rather than a leading shark expert, she was the more dispensable of the two.

  Her mood plummeted. She didn’t need a weather diagram to know which way the wind blew on Farallon Island. Sean was a superstar in this field, and his unscheduled visit here was a coup. Compared to him, she was nobody. Jason Ruiz wouldn’t care how pretty she was if Sean wanted her gone.

  She forced herself to meet Sean’s eyes. “Can we talk outside?”

  “Sure,” he muttered, grabbing a jacket off the dilapidated couch in the living room. On his way out, he exchanged a glance with Taryn, conveying a silent, intimate message that cut Daniela to the quick.

  Taryn watched them depart with undisguised interest.

  Daniela walked about a dozen steps from the house and stopped, hugging her arms around her body. Because the island was covered by sharp rocks, kamikaze seagulls and 5,000-pound elephant seals, it was no place to take a leisurely stroll.

  At least the wind would make their conversation impossible to overhear. It blew her hair in every direction, whipping the shoulder-length strands against her cheeks.

  She stared out at the horizon, collecting her thoughts. Although she disliked being at Sean’s mercy, she’d have to suck it up and make nice. There was so much riding on this project. Her career, the cause…her peace of mind, even. In a way, she’d come here to find herself.

  She’d been lost for so long.

  Spending time on a deserted island with her ex-husband wasn’t going to be easy, but she was a survivor. She’d lived through worse than this. Compared to some of the other challenges she’d faced in her life, his presence was a minor roadblock.

  They’d been married for more than five years; surely they could put up with each other for a few short weeks.

  “You look good,” he said, after a long moment.

  Surprised by the compliment, she turned to face him.

  “Your hair is longer,” he added unnecessarily. “And you seem…” His gaze dropped to her breasts, which were impossible to hide, even in a boxy windbreaker. “Healthier,” he muttered, a flush creeping up his neck.

  If he meant to flatter her, he was off base. After the accident, she’d cropped her hair short, and in the following year she’d lost a lot of weight. She’d overheard him telling his best friend that she resembled a scrawny boy.

  One careless remark, never discussed, never repeated, but it had damaged their already strained relationship. The last thing she needed was a reminder that he liked long, luscious hair and generous curves.

  Sexist pig.

  He was looking a bit rawboned himself, but she didn’t say that. Lean or not, he was the picture of health. Shedding a few pounds only made his shoulders appear broader and his face more angular. Underneath his clothes, she knew he would be perfectly cut, all lovely muscles etched into sun-bronzed flesh.

  Beautiful bastard.

  His hair
was longer, too, curling at the edge of his collar, as if he’d been too busy to have it trimmed. He hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days, either. His whiskers appeared thicker than ever, but she knew from experience that they would feel soft to the touch. Her fingertips tingled at the memory of exploring his stubbly jaw and hard mouth. Both were deceptively rough-looking.

  She resisted the absurd longing to lift her hand to his face. “I need this,” she said in a low voice.

  Sean shook his head. “You don’t belong here, Dani. It’s too harsh, too volatile. You’re…not equipped.”

  “That isn’t fair,” she said. “You haven’t even seen me since—”

  “When’s the last time you had an anxiety attack?” he interrupted.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she studied the horizon instead of him. Breathe, she reminded herself. Just breathe.

  “A month ago? A week?”

  “I can handle it.” He’d witnessed her worst breakdowns, so she couldn’t blame him for being concerned. She could, however, resent him for treating her like an invalid, and for thinking she was weak. “I’m stronger now.”

  His eyes wandered over her face. “Are you?”

  “Yes! You really think that teenybopper you were playing full-contact with is tougher than I am? After all I’ve been through?”

  “She’s twenty-four.”

  Jealousy burned within her, hot and bright. “Did you interrogate her this way, too? Make sure she was mentally fit?”

  “I didn’t have to. She’s very…easygoing.”

  Daniela choked out a laugh. Nothing he could have said would hurt more. Compared to her, everyone seemed easy. “How perfect for you.”

  He didn’t disagree.

  She pushed the pain of his betrayal aside, searching for the right words to convince him. “I’ve been on the waiting list for over a year, Sean. Don’t take this opportunity away from me because you came out here on a whim. Please.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, his face taut. “There’s been an incident.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  “Someone skinned a seal pup.”

  The breath rushed from her lungs. “When?”

  “A few days ago. We found it on the north side.”

  Daniela blinked a few times, struggling to understand. “The body washed up?”

  “No. It was fresh.”

  “That’s impossible! The island is virtually inaccessible.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. “Virtually.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “Maybe a disgruntled fisherman, or a member of the cage-diving crew. Either way, it’s been damned odd around here lately. We’re all on edge. The last thing I want is for you to come across some crazy…anti-environmentalist.” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  A lump rose to her throat. She swallowed hard, thinking she’d much rather deal with his criticism than his tenderness. “I won’t,” she promised, her voice huskier than usual. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t run away at the first sign of trouble. I need to face my fears, Sean. I came here to move on.”

  His eyes darkened with a sharp, indefinable emotion. She knew the situation was difficult for him, too. Much of what had gone wrong between them had been her fault; she’d given up on their marriage long before he had.

  And when she realized her mistake, it had been too late.

  The radio under his jacket crackled with disturbance. “Shark attack, southwest side. Near Skull Rock. Looks like a big one.”

  It was a man’s voice, one she didn’t recognize. Sean unclipped his radio and responded with an affirmative, glancing up toward the lighthouse. Beside it, there was a lone figure, waving his arms in the direction of the attack.

  Jason flew out of the house, a digital video camera in his hands, his open jacket flapping behind him. There was no more time for negotiation. “Who’s with me?” he said, heading toward the landing.

  It went without saying that Sean was. He lived for this.

  He started after Jason, following him away from the house. Daniela had to jog to keep up with his long strides. The man at the lighthouse tower also hurried down the path, eager to accompany them.

  “Sure you want to see this?” Sean asked over his shoulder. “It’s a bloody mess.”

  As soon as he spoke those words, she was assaulted by images from another disturbing scene. Shrieking metal and shattered glass. The warm, wet rush of blood and the agonizing pain spreading through her belly.

  “Yes,” she said anyway, fighting to clear her mind of memories. This was a test, like jumping from boat to boat, and failure was not an option. Heart racing, she scrambled along behind him, her feet seeking purchase on the rocky soil.

  He should have checked the roster before signing on.

  It had never occurred to Sean that his ex-wife would be on the list of researchers. Southeast Farallon was the last place on earth she should be.

  He was glad she’d decided to return to the world of the living, but this wasn’t it. In fact, native Californians had called the Farallones “The Islands of the Dead.” The conditions were too extreme for someone who’d gone through what she had.

  It was like tossing a soldier with PTSD into a battle demonstration. Only, this was no demonstration.

  Maybe after witnessing a twenty-foot shark decapitate an elephant seal, she’d go back to the mainland on the next charter. He hoped so. It wasn’t as if he didn’t wish her the best. It was just that the best thing for her was to be somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful.

  She didn’t need to rub her face in carnage to prove to him, or anyone, that she could handle the sight of blood again.

  When they all loaded into the whaler, Jason passed the handheld camera to Sean and got behind the wheel. Brent, who’d managed to grab his own video equipment, settled in across from Daniela, and Sean took the space beside her.

  Elizabeth operated the crane, lowering them down to the surface of the water.

  “You must be Daniela,” Brent said, offering her his hand. “I’m Brent Masterson.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Although her smile was bland, he scanned her face with undisguised interest, recording every line and angle. Sean knew he was thinking that Daniela would look great on camera. Her big brown eyes and captivating features made her spectacularly photogenic.

  As soon as the boat touched the surface, Jason unhooked the chain and revved up the engine, speeding toward Skull Rock.

  Sean passed the handheld camera to Daniela. “Film.”

  Her cheeks paled. “What?”

  “I tag,” Sean said. “Jason drives. You and Brent can film.”

  “You’re going to tag it?”

  He nodded. “I need my hands free.”

  Tagging was a quick, easy process, and Sean could have filmed himself, but getting Daniela behind the lens would be good for her. It was a task to focus on, a small insulation, one step removed from the horror.

  “B-be careful,” she mumbled, lifting the video camera to her face.

  Even in a state of shock and uncertainty, she was breathtaking. Being with her again was a jolt to his system, as powerful and disturbing as the first time he’d set eyes on her. He remembered that day with perfect clarity.

  She’d been hurrying toward the parking lot at San Diego State, a stack of textbooks under one arm, a sleek leather tote bag in the other. With her stylish clothes and arresting good looks, she was a world apart from the granola girls he usually gravitated toward.

  One glimpse of her, and his heart had stalled in his chest.

  He was a post-grad student, teaching his first class, and if he hadn’t already been late he’d have followed her. As it was, he’d turned to watch her go, ogling her in a way that was gauche and obvious and embarrassingly impolite.

  Maybe it was fate, because she showed up in his classroom a few minutes later. Apparently, she’d forgotten th
e syllabus and had gone back to her car to retrieve it.

  He was sure he’d babbled nonsense for most of the hour, but she hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, she’d approached him after, claiming to have enjoyed his lecture. Every time the class met after that, she sat closer to the front of the room.

  During the final exam she’d been in the first row, wearing a low-cut top so distracting he’d stuttered whenever his eyes tripped over her.

  That was ten years ago.

  He didn’t know how they’d arrived at this painful juncture, and it hurt too much to retrace the steps. Trying to live without her the past year had been agony for him, but it hadn’t been as bad as living with her, watching her slip away.

  Was she truly on the mend?

  He hadn’t lied when he’d told her she looked good. She was lovelier than ever, to be honest. The new hairstyle worked for her, framing her heart-shaped face and feathering out against her cheeks, drawing his attention to her mouth.

  He wished he didn’t remember all the things she’d done to him with it.

  Pulling his gaze away from her, he searched the horizon, looking for a seal carcass or a boil on the surface of the water. The tearing motion great whites used while feeding, tails whipping back and forth, created a unique disturbance.

  Skull Rock, the islands’ most striking natural feature, loomed in the near distance. While most of the rock formations were jagged, jutting toward the sky like a row of wicked teeth, the Skull had a rounded shape and two distinctive, cavernous indentations. One went all the way through to the other side, giving the impression of a gaping eye socket.

  It was a fitting place for a kill.

  Jason saw the body before he did. “Starboard side, twenty meters,” he said, cutting the boat’s speed to a crawl.

  Daniela turned her head, doing a visual sweep of the area.

  Sean placed his hand on her shoulder. “There,” he said, pointing her in the right direction. She was trembling, and that would affect the video, but it hardly mattered. He’d taken some shaky footage himself.

  A certain amount of fear was normal. Hell, if you weren’t scared of a lightning-quick predator with razor-sharp teeth and the striking power of a Mack truck, something was fundamentally wrong with you.