The Deeper the Passion...

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Don’t pretend you don’t remember! Keep them close as ye row seven score strokes east-southeast. That’s one hundred and forty.” She didn’t have to tell him to hurry. He’d already shifted the boat and pulled hard on the oars, and the boat seemed to leap across the water at his touch. Timing was crucial. A minute too late and the sun would be in the wrong place as it hit the oar to point to the shipwreck.

  “One thirty-nine... One forty!” He spun the boat again to stop its forward momentum, sending her lurching against the hard wood. “Hold up an oar.”

  Jack hoisted the dripping piece of wood into the air, bracing it with his arms against the bottom of the boat. Its long black shadow pointed right at Vicki, making her scoot to the side, rocking the boat. With her out of the way, it tapered over the edge of the boat and pointed its long dark finger toward the land.

  “Do you suppose that means it’s right here?” Vicki peered into the murky depths over the side. Deep and dark, the ocean revealed no secrets.

  “Unless they’re playing a joke and it’s actually buried on the island.” Jack peered at the now-distant palm-fringed shore. “We’ve never looked right here, though. The other map said it was about half a mile to the south.” His face wore an expression of intense concentration mingled with barely controlled excitement. “There’s something compelling about the way it uses points on shore to line us up. It feels like the way a seaman would think.”

  Vicki glanced about. Nothing but shimmering ocean in every direction. “How do we mark our position so we can find it again? We can’t exactly plunge a stake in.”

  He pulled a black contraption from his pocket. “GPS. I’ll plug in our coordinates.” His fingers worked the buttons. “We could mark it with a buoy, but no need to put a big shiny X on the spot for everyone else to see.”

  “I like the way you think, Cap’n Jack.”

  His quick grin caused her blood to heat. Or maybe it was just excitement that they might be right over the wreck of the sunken ship. “Do you think there are skeletons down there?”

  “Undoubtedly.” His grin broadened with a hint of menace. “How are your scuba skills?”

  “Rusty.” She didn’t like breathing underwater at the best of times, but especially not if she was sharing space with a bunch of barnacle-covered dead pirates.

  “Maybe we should forget the whole thing and go lie on the beach.” He peered at her under a lock of sun-streaked brown hair.

  “No way!” She shoved him slightly, causing the boat to rock, and both of them to laugh. “I’m afraid to leave, though, in case we can’t find our way back to this spot.”

  “Don’t worry. I have it programmed into my seafaring brain as well as my GPS. I could find my way here in the dark. Let’s go back and get the gear.”

  Jack rowed back to shore, describing the moment he’d found the last wreck he’d pillaged. How they’d seen one end of an anchor poking out of the seabed, then the encrusted end of an old cannon. It wasn’t until they were back on dry land that Vicki realized she’d never even thought about being seasick.

  * * *

  They returned under the steam of Jack’s powerful outboard motor, carrying scuba diving gear. When they reached the spot indicated by the directions in the fresco, Jack killed the engines. “Let’s look around.”

  “We just jump right in?” She peered into the murky, featureless depths.

  “Nope. We’ll let the sonar do that for us.” He lowered a line over the side of the boat, bearing a piece of equipment he called a towfish. “Now we trawl along real slow and look for something interesting.” Up on the bridge, they stared at a wishy-washy black-and-white picture on a monitor as the boat moved. Vicki stared at the screen, but to her, it all looked like a bowl of undersea oatmeal.

  “Hold up.” Jack peered at the image. “Something’s down here.”

  “That was easy.”

  “Don’t get cocky. It could be an old car.” He maneuvered the boat around. “Let’s go in for a closer look.” Vicki squinted at the wavering gray image, willing it to be the shattered remains of a great wooden vessel. Jack punched buttons and moved with effortless calm to bring the boat around while scanning the surrounding area. “Can’t see much, but in my experience the distention of the surface makes it worth exploring.”

  “What does that mean in English?”

  “It’s bumpy, so there might be something under the sand.”

  “Let’s get our shovels and pails and get to work.”

  “My sentiments exactly, but don’t dive in just yet.” He swung down from the bridge and strode to the rear of the boat, where he maneuvered two big cylinders down into the water. “These will blow the prop wash down onto the sand, and hopefully move it, so we can get a better look at what’s under there.” The engine roared and the water around the boat turned murky with churned-up sand as their wake streamed down the tubes.

  “How are we supposed to see anything in this water?”

  “We have to wait for the sand to settle.” He winked.

  “Won’t it cover everything up again?”

  “Maybe.” He switched off the engine, then with a pleasant smile he stretched out on the deck, torturing her with the sight of his chiseled chest. Why couldn’t they be somewhere cold and miserable so he’d have to don a wetsuit? She turned the other way to distract herself. She’d worn dark sunglasses so she could stare right at him without his knowing, and the aftereffects of a morning’s ogling were wreaking havoc on her sanity.

  A sleek white vessel sat still in the water out toward the horizon. “Is that a fishing boat?”

  “Sometimes.” He hadn’t even looked. “Sometimes it’s a party boat. Owned by Iago Knoll.”

  “The corporate raider? What’s he doing down here?” She squinted at the boat, looking for the tall, arrogant silhouette she knew well from New York.

  “Same as everyone else. Looking for some fun in the sun.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which was covered in SPF 50 sunblock and a T-shirt over her swimsuit.

  “Not yet.” He flashed that wicked grin at her again. “But we’ll give you time.”

  “No way. I’m far too much of a New Yorker to enjoy lazing around in the sun.”

  His deft fingers checked the connections on his scuba equipment. “Who said anything about lazing? Surfing, sailing, kayaking, deep-sea fishing—no need to be a deck-chair potato down here.”

  “Sounds exhausting. I’d rather be pounding some hot pavement.” She jerked her eyes from his hands to her own scuba equipment. Jack had already checked it over and she trusted his judgment more than her own. “All this sun and salt air is making me dizzy.” And you’re not helping. The water around the boat was clearing. “How long until we can jump in?”

  “Anytime you like. Sometimes it’s fun to be down there as the mist of sand recedes and reveals what you’re looking for.”

  “A cup base sticking up out of the sand like Excalibur.”

  “You think it’s the base?”

  “It’s not the stem because Sinclair has that. So it’s either the cup—the most exciting part, and probably the easiest to find—or the base. So I’m guessing it’s the base.”

  “Calculated pessimism. That was never your style.” He heaved his tanks onto his back.

  “I’ve learned from experience.”

  “Apparently you’ve been having the wrong experiences.” He peered over the edge of the boat. “The sand is settling.”

  “I’m going in.” Might as well get the first dive over with before she lost her nerve.

  “Go for it.”

  The warm, eerie silence of the underwater world enveloped Vicki as she plunged beneath the surface. Her flippers propelled her lower, and she reminded herself that it was okay to breathe. She heard, or rather felt, the impact as Jack slid into the water behind her, flipped and dived for the seabed.

  The sun above brightened the water, and she looked around, trying to ga
in her bearings in Neptune’s unfamiliar kingdom. But she needed to go down into the murky depths where the sun barely filtered through the water. She held a flashlight in one hand, and a pointed steel rod in the other. Jack said that was the best tool for rooting about in the sand. She supposed it would also work as a deadly weapon should the need arise.

  He had a metal detector and something that looked like a claw, and he was already a good ten yards below her. She pumped her legs trying to keep up, as she didn’t fancy being lost and alone down here in this blue underworld. Jack’s strong thighs powered him effortlessly through the water, but she was almost panting into her respirator by the time she neared the ocean floor. He scanned the sand with the detector, and she peered around for a place to start poking her ridiculous stick.

  The propeller wash had carved out a shallow irregular bowl in the sand, and as her eyes accustomed to the dim light—and she figured out how to turn on her flashlight in underwater slow motion—she saw an item over to the left of the indentation.

  Must be the cup base, she teased herself. Down here in the vast, dark water, the idea of finding one single three-hundred-year-old artifact seemed ludicrous. She’d anticipated a little rummaging in Jack’s attics and then her work would be done. This situation had spiraled right out of control.

  She approached the object and poked around it gently with her stick. It didn’t budge, and with a little determined burrowing she discovered that it was large and the rest was buried beneath the surface. The mysterious item was encrusted with barnacles or other sea life, but there was definitely something solid underneath them. Probably a 1967 Chevy.

  She flashed her light at Jack in the agreed-upon signal and he swam over. He ran his metal detector over the object a number of times, then turned and gave her a thumbs-up.

  If only she’d learned American Sign Language when she had the chance. They dug around together and the more they dug, the deeper the object got until Jack gave her the signal to surface.

  Rushing toward the light felt like coming back to life after a sojourn in the underworld. Once afloat, she pulled up her mask and took off her respirator. Jack popped up beside her and pushed his respirator aside to reveal a big grin. “Damn, girl, you’re a magic charm!”

  “You think this is it?”

  “It’s a cannon.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “See one, you’ve seen them all. Looks like the right era, too. I think you’ve finally found the lost treasure of Macassar Drummond.”

  Maybe it was the excitement shining in his eyes or maybe it was the scuba gear, but he suddenly looked exactly like the Jack Drummond who’d stolen her heart and left it in pieces. She struggled to ignore the mess of sensations running rampant inside her—while staying afloat in the water by paddling her flippers. “It’s a shame you have such a boring name when your ancestors have such good ones.”

  He grinned. “Isn’t it? I’m going to make sure my son has a name you can really hang your hat on.”

  “How can you be sure you’ll have a boy?”

  “The Drummonds always have a boy. That’s why we’re still here. If we had girls they wouldn’t be Drummonds.” He seemed to float effortlessly in the water despite the heavy tanks.

  She wished she could turn and stride smoothly away, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Guess there’s too much testosterone in the Drummond blood.”

  “Too much something, for sure.” The sun gleamed off his bronzed face. “But maybe you’re about to find the cup and change all that. Let’s get back on deck and do some more digging electronically.”

  He went back to the sonar and used something called a magnetometer to zero in on places to dig. There were several pockets of matter that showed up on the equipment, begging to be investigated. They dived again and turned up two broken glass bottles and an almost-intact plate, all encrusted with sea life but clearly recognizable.

  “My God, we’ve found it, haven’t we?” Vicki gasped for air as they surfaced again. The sun was setting behind them over the land, casting its burnished glow over the sea.

  “You found it, babe. I’d never have done it without you. That map would have stayed hidden up there for another two hundred years or more if you hadn’t had the bright idea to chisel away at the ceiling above my bed.”

  They climbed back on the deck. Jack was too excited to go back to the house. He insisted on making dinner on the boat so he could dive by moonlight overnight. Vicki protested until he showed her the cornucopia of goodies inside his fridge. After a dinner of chilled shrimp with mango salsa and coconut rice, they sipped Jack’s special “diver cocktail” made of pomegranate, orange and lemon juice. She suggested that because she certainly wasn’t heading to the briny depths in the dark, she should be allowed a cold beer, but he explained that because alcohol and diving didn’t mix, he didn’t allow booze on board.

  So she couldn’t even blame alcohol for what happened next.

  Six

  “Damn, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you.” Jack lolled against a floatation device on the deck. Water drops still glistened on his tanned stomach, although his high-tech trunks looked dry.

  The moon cast a lazy silver glow over the whole scene and the warm evening air caressed Vicki like a hug. Which wasn’t helpful because she was already battling a sensual languor at the end of their long, high-octane day. “You missed being bossed around by a crazy broad?”

  “Sure, who wouldn’t?” His lips cracked to reveal those ridiculously white teeth. “And when she’s as crazy beautiful as you, it’s impossible to resist obeying her commands.”

  “What if I command you to take us to Monte Carlo?”

  “I’d be delighted.” His sleepy gaze challenged her. “Though we might run out of fuel on the way.”

  “Excuses, excuses. What do you do for fun, Jack Drummond?”

  “I’m doing it right now. Lazing on my beloved boat with the woman of my dreams.”

  She laughed, but his words plucked at some long-forgotten string inside her. Then she reminded herself he was just teasing her. “With treasure sparkling away hidden in the sands below us.”

  “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “I guess you’re an easy man to please.”

  “Or I’ve managed to organize the perfect life for me.”

  She envied his contentment, and damn, it made him attractive, too. “I intend to organize the perfect life for me when I get back to New York.” She could already picture her apartment, maybe with a view of the water or of Central Park, once she made her first few big deals. Well-heeled clients would visit her tastefully decorated pad to discuss trophy items they needed to add to their collections—a Matisse, perhaps, or a small Rodin for the garden.

  Jack jolted her from her thoughts by lifting himself from the deck and joining her on the deep, upholstered bench with its view over the silvery water. The skin of her thigh sizzled slightly as he sat down right next to her. “So why aren’t you there right now, making your dreams come true?”

  “I need to find the cup first.”

  “I know you’re trying to convince me that you’re hell-bent on saving the Drummonds from a future of misery, but I don’t think you’re that charitable. You told me you want the reward, but it’s small change in the grand scheme. Unless you really, really need that small amount of money for some reason.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned toward her.

  Her stomach clenched, partly at the ugly realization that he now suspected she was strapped for cash, but mostly at the blood-heating closeness of him.

  “I know your dad died, and I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” She was getting more flustered by the minute. This was way too personal.

  “But that should mean—and I apologize for being crude—that you’d be rolling in it by now. Did something happen to the family war chest?”

  Vicki’s mouth was stuck half-open. No one knew about her personal financial ruin. Nobody. All the lost money had been hidden
in an offshore interest, which made it impossible to prove or claim back once it had been swindled away. She’d spent the past eighteen months hustling to maintain the friendships and contacts she had without letting them know she was living from hand to mouth.

  “You’re very quiet, Vicki Sin-cere. I’m beginning to suspect that you’re flat broke.” His eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and genuine concern that ate at her insides like acid.

  What could she say now? She couldn’t lie to Jack. He’d see right through her and laugh his ass off.

  So she leaned in—it was only a few inches—and covered his taunting mouth with her own. Their lips locked instantly, and a rush of fevered confusion, desire and long-forgotten passion roared through her like a flash flood. Her arms wound around him, and she felt his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her close.

  A sigh fled her mouth, into his, and she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop the kiss either. It took on a life of its own, powering her entire body, as she reeled from the force of his desire striking hers and making sparks that rained down over both of them.

  Her nipples thickened beneath her swimsuit and goose bumps flashed over her thighs. She clung to him, inhaling the fabulous scent of Jack Drummond—sea, salt air and that indefinable dash of raw healthy male that made him utterly irresistible.

  Their kiss deepened and she found herself sitting in his lap, lips still locked to his. His big hands squeezed her backside, making her squirm with pleasure. Her chest rubbed against his, her hard nipples rasping against his washboard abs and sending hot flames of arousal leaping through her. He tasted like heaven, rich and warm and oh so familiar. The years since their last kiss evaporated as if they’d never happened.

  As if she’d never said I love you and ruined everything.

  That thought stilled her tongue inside his mouth and sent a stark clarity shooting through her brain. She pulled back just enough for their lips to part, which felt agonizingly painful.