by Cherry Adair
A nerve jumped in Rydell’s jaw. “Suit yourself.”
“I always do.”
“If your insistence on staying, despite the storm, and aside from Addy’s obvious attraction, has anything to do with what the Nicolau Coelho was carrying, may I remind you, you’re a guest on board, and therefore will have no claim on the salvage.”
“Rydell!” Addison said, appalled. “That’s unconscionably rude, even for you.”
“I do not need your salvage profits, Case,” Naveen said smoothly. “I assume Addison will receive her share as part owner of Tesoro Mio?”
“That’s between my wife and myself.”
“She’s not your wife,” Naveen pointed out.
“She’s—right. She’s not. Our financial arrangements are still none of your business, Darshi.”
The air in the room crackled with hostility. Barely civilized, yet poised on the precipice of disaster. Addison was glad they were having fish for dinner, which meant there were no sharp knives on the table.
She did not enjoy seeing Naveen through Rydell’s critical eyes. The fact that she also found Naveen’s superior tones annoying, annoyed her.
This was the man she was considering marrying.
Rydell had only annoyed her after their divorce.
I will not be a bitch.
The mantra was starting to wear on her taut nerves. Maybe she should let it rip and let the chips fall where they may. The thought was tempting. She resisted. A declared war in such close confines wouldn’t just punish the main players. Everyone on board would be affected. She bit her tongue.
“The curry is unpleasantly hot, and why are we having two curried meals one after the other?” Naveen asked her, ignoring Rydell’s jibe, his annoyance evident as he reached for his wineglass and drained it.
Since she suspected he was more pissed at his old rival’s remarks and tone than about the spicy heat of his dinner, she merely shrugged. “I like both dishes, and I requested the chef serve them as our first meal.”
Rydell hated curried … anything. Give him the spiciest Mexican meal, however, and he loved every bite. Addison considered serving hot curry at every meal for the duration. Kevin leaned around Naveen to see Addison. She jerked her chin at Rydell. “Our boy here isn’t a fan…”
Addison gave Rydell an innocent look. “You don’t like curry? I forgot.”
“Not a problem,” he responded, still leaning back in his chair. Damn it, with his lower body hidden by the table it looked as though he was completely naked. It was disconcerting, and he knew it. She didn’t expect formality for meals on board, but it would’ve been nice if he’d dressed.
He shot her a small smile. “I suspect I’ll learn to—if not like it, at least tolerate it after this trip.”
Addison wiped her mouth on her napkin to hide a smile. Touché. He knew her well.
Kevin knew Rydell better than Addison did. They’d been together longer than she and her ex had. The thought of Rydell and Kevin in a clinch made an ugly swirl start up in her stomach. Not jealousy. Merely the slight pitch of the ship. But once her thoughts went there, they continued, as she glanced down the table and got a glimpse of his biceps, chest, and brawny shoulders.
Geo, Italian and movie-star gorgeous, was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. With bright white teeth and a swarthy complexion he was far better looking—not to mention more charming—than Rydell would ever be. Ten years Kevin’s junior, he was so in love with her he could barely keep his eyes off her. Addison had never understood why Kevin didn’t just admit to herself that she was just as much in love with Georgeo as he was with her. She was a stubborn woman.
Addison liked that about her.
The two women, the only females aboard the Sea Dragon, had been good friends once. Seeing Kev again, Addison realized how much she’d missed their easy conversations and laughter. Peri and Callie, her ex-sisters-in-law, were always traveling. It was hard to maintain a friendship over the phone.
Sophia’s death had ripped apart more than just her relationship with Rydell. She’d lost all her friends because she’d never wanted to see anyone who’d witnessed her at her lowest point. They, in turn, had been uncomfortable, not knowing what to say and so eventually not saying much at all. Avoiding people, of course, didn’t include Rydell, who’d been away at the time. He hadn’t been there when she needed him the most.
But seeing the team tonight, Addison realized it wasn’t hard at all. In fact, it helped. For the first time in a very long time she caught a glimpse of who she used to be despite the testosterone-fueled negative energy rolling off Naveen and Rydell.
Maybe there had been other women for Rydell since the divorce—or hell, before the divorce? God only knew, and so did she, that he had one hell of a sex drive. There was no way he’d been without for an entire year. Hell. Her stomach twisted.
Maybe there was a someone. One someone. Addison mulled that over until the thought of Rydell with another woman, someone important to him, made her favorite curry dish taste like dirt. She reached for her wineglass and sipped what she knew was a fine Chardonnay. It, too, tasted off. Sour. If the man would just put on a damn shirt, maybe she could think straight and not lose her appetite.
God only knew she wanted to move as far away as she could from her past and get on with her life. Instead, her past and future were sharing a meal.
“Think this is gonna get worse?” MoMo asked, jerking his chin to the weather outside even while he had his fork raised to his lips.
“So Captain Seddeth says.” Rydell stabbed a piece of curried fish with his fork, clearly trying to pretend to his taste buds that it was a slab of rare steak.
Good luck with that, Addison thought.
“There’s nothing to be concerned about, however,” Rydell placed the loaded fork back on his plate. Clearly pretending it tasted like something else hadn’t worked. “He’ll take us around as best he can, and if not, Tesoro Mio’s displacement hull is state-of-the-art. She’ll cut through the seas with strength and elegance like a knife through butter.”
Addison heard the pride in his voice, and wondered how hard it must’ve hit him to hand his labor of love to her in the divorce, sight unseen. But then, for Rydell, Out of sight out of mind was a motto. Perhaps it was merely avarice and vanity rather than any real emotion that had affected him. She’d never know. She wished to hell she didn’t care.
Nine
Addy rubbed two fingers across her temple. She had pretty hands, and favored a spicy ginger nail polish. He wanted her hands on him, and hurt from the lack of physical contact. God, it was jarring to see her without her wedding ring. Dropping her hand, she resumed eating the spicy fish curry.
Addy knew how much he disliked curry. In any form. That’s my girl. Hit me where it hurts. My stomach. Ry grabbed another dinner roll and slathered butter on it. He already had heartburn.
Hell, heartburn. Heartache. Heartbreak.
Just looking at her made his chest torque with the pain of missed opportunities. Damn it, Addy, when did you learn to hide in plain sight?
Her hair, the glossy color of ripe apricots, was coiled in a deceptively simple knot at the base of her slender nape. It didn’t matter what she wore, she always looked polished, elegant, and expensive. Tonight was a simple dress the color of ripe eggplant. The deep purply-aubergine color highlighted her smooth, lightly tanned skin, and made her hair more gold than red. The dress left her arms and shoulders bare, and showed nothing more salacious than her clavicle. Her collarbone turned him on. Her shoulders turned him on. Christ, who was he kidding? Everything about his wife turned him harder than stone.
Starting to bring the roll to his mouth, Ry realized if he ate anything on top of his regrets and pain, he’d choke. He tossed the crumpled roll back on his plate just as the chef walked in.
Dressed in spotless white shorts and white crew shirt, chef Patrick O’Keefe’s bitter-chocolate skin showed his mother’s African heritage, but his attitude and accent were pure Bosto
n Irish. “And how’s the food then?” he asked easily, tenting his fingers on the table.
“The curry is probably far too hot for an unfamiliar palate,” the prince responded in his plummy British accent that grated on Ry’s nerves like fingernails scraping on a fucking chalkboard. Jealousy aside, the prince was an asshole. Entitled, arrogant, and leaning against Addy like she was ballast.
O’Keefe checked their empty plates with a sweep of his gaze, not missing a thing. “I’m pretty familiar with the palates of my guests,” he told Naveen politely. He glanced around. “Anyone else have a problem with the spiciness?”
There was a chorus of nos and sounds of appreciation.
“Let me know if you can’t handle the heat,” the chef told the prince with a straight face. “I’d be happy to provide a blander diet if you have dietary restrictions.”
Kevin, sitting across from Ry, choked back a laugh. Even though his expression didn’t change, Ry noticed that Darshi’s fingers closed around the back of Addison’s hand in a hard, annoyed clamp. “The heat didn’t bother me.”
“Excellent.” Chef O’Keefe’s expression remained the same, too.
Addy extracted her hand so she could pick up her fork again. It galled the living shit out of Ry that Darshi had had Addy first. Goddamn it, and was having her last, too. Had she been in love with the fucking prince while they were married? While he’d held her in her arms and loved her more than he’d loved anything in his life? Had she dreamed of the prince when she’d whispered to him in the night?
Ry caught his friend Kev openly giving the chef an assessing look. In her early fifties, Kevin looked twenty years younger, with a petite, compact body and short, tousled blond hair. She had the laid-back disposition of a California surfer, but beneath her flirty persona was a shrewd businesswoman with an uncanny ability for finding buried treasure at salvage sites. Kevin was one of Rydell’s favorite dive partners, and a friend he’d known pre-Addy.
Kevin had the smarts he liked, and the wit to make him laugh, and a sensuality that simmered just below the surface, which she didn’t bother to hide. But there’d never been any sparks between them. Besides, his friend Georgeo was crazy in love with Kev, if she ever took the time to notice him.
No. Kevin wasn’t the woman for him. Ry preferred sassy, grumpy strawberry-blondes, with long lean bodies and bee-stung mouths.
O’Keefe and Kev shared a smile. The chef was an interesting-looking guy, with a short, compact body, shaved head, and enormous hands; Ry liked him enormously. He’d hired him on before the christening of the Tesoro Mio. He and Addy had jointly hired the rest of crew.
She’d gotten all of them in the divorce. The plan had been to make Tesoro Mio their home, and the older, smaller Sea Dragon would be the start of their treasure fleet. With two ships he’d be in more of a position to thumb his nose at the Cutters, who were always trying to one-up him.
Now Sea Dragon was at the bottom of the Atacama Trench, 160 miles off the coast of Peru, and he was on board his dream ship, with his dream woman, in a nightmare of his own making.
Karma was a bitch.
“Chef, your meal is superb, I just love … hot. The hotter the better. If this is an example of what we’ll be eating in the next few weeks, I’ll be too happy to ever leave the ship.” Kev smiled, eyes sparkling as she gave the chef a thumbs-up. The dinner was the first time the dive team was meeting many of the ship’s crew, and Kevin was always interested in flirting with a new man.
Ry cast a sympathetic glance at Georgeo. His friend had been pining for Kevin for years, and despite every rebuff had never given up. He always watched her with a mix of adoration and frustration.
“Tell me what I’m eating.” Kev leaned into chef and lay her hand over his on the table between them.
“It’s meen gassi. Mangalore fish curry,” chef O’Keefe clarified, smiling back at the blonde. He’d picked up on the flirt but was too professional to act on it. Smart man. Kev would eat him up like chum. “A specialty there. All fresh ingredients. Mr. Patil caught the seer fish himself earlier this afternoon. Can’t get any fresher than that.”
“Unfortunately the meal was not a success with me.” Naveen inserted smoothly, indicating his half-eaten meal.
Yeah, dick, so you said already.
Addy rested her had warningly on the dickwad’s arm. He’d already insisted the dish was too spicy; now what? “Naveen…”
“No, Addison. A good chef remembers the likes and dislikes of the people he serves. He forgot that I’m allergic to onions.”
The prince neatly established he’d been on board often enough for meals that the chef knew his taste.
O’Keefe spared him a bland glance as Addison removed her hand. She looked as if she wanted to dig her nails into her boyfriend’s thick skin.
Excellent.
“There are no onions in your portion of the meal, Your Highness. I don’t forget.”
Ry leaned back in his chair, rotating the base of his empty beer bottle on the table mat as he toyed with crispbread he had no intention of eating. The visceral memory of the exquisite sensation of cupping Addy’s breast, and the flashing image of how his dark hand looked against her pale skin, gave him a full-body shudder. The bread he’d been holding as he watched all the currents swirl about the table crumbled between his fingers.
“Our dinner put up a good fight,” Rydell inserted before Darshi opened his mouth and regurgitated another complaint.
He was damn sure the small smile Addy shared with him was unconscious, but he cherished it just the same. God, Addy—her green eyes met his, softening for a moment at the shared memory. First mate Badri Patil was all of five feet tall, and weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Which he’d gotten as he valiantly battled the fish for tonight’s meal.
O’Keefe grinned. Patil’s passion for triumphing over his catches was well known to Addison and the crew. “That he did. Tough little bugger.”
“Fish or my first mate?” Addy asked. She shifted her shoulders as if releasing tension there.
Used to be Ry was the one she came to for release.
Crap. Was he going to have to listen to Darshi and Addy later? A crushing weight pressed against his diaphragm. Maybe he needed something stronger than a beer. No, he definitely needed something stronger.
“Both.” The chef straightened. “I’ll leave you to your dinner. Save room for dessert. We’re closing the galley in the next hour due to this storm.” He glanced over at the water speckled on the windows, looking like shimmering diamonds against the dark sky.
“Why aren’t we circumventing the storm?” Naveen asked, his tone just short of demand. He’d already complained that the curry was too hot, his wine not sufficiently chilled, and the service subpar; he’d bemoaned the nonexistent presence of onions in his meal. Through all his complaints Rydell had done no more than tighten his fingers around his utensils. A nerve ticced in his cheek as he held on to his temper by a thread, chewing the words he wanted to spew and swallowing them down, all for Addy’s benefit.
“You’ll have to ask Captain Seddeth that question,” the chef said evenly, sparing a fleeting glance at Rydell before nodding to the other man. “If we’re still going through the storm come morning we’ll serve a cold breakfast. Good night, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Kevin waited until O’Keefe left the room and the sound of his footfalls disappeared under the drumming of the rain. “Is he married?” She leaned forward, past Lenka and Naveen, to speak to Addison.
“It would be poor form to seduce a member of Rydell’s staff,” Georgeo said tightly, his Northern Italian accent thick with annoyance.
“Did I say I was planning to seduce him?” Kevin said, tone sweet, eyes hard as she glanced at him across the table.
“He’s not married,” Addison told her with a small smile.
Ry wanted to lick that smile. He wanted to run his tongue across the seam of her lips until she opened for him—fuckit. There were shit
loads of things he wanted. Wanted wasn’t getting. He of all people knew that.
The million-dollar question was how, and the universal answer was before it was too late. But minute by minute as he watched Darshi and Addy he felt his opening at redemption growing smaller and smaller.
Kevin grinned, teeth white in her tanned face. “Hmm. A girl needs a project. I wonder how he feels about midnight snacks?”
“It’s impolite to talk about seducing our boss’s chef, Hill,” Georgeo told her tightly.
“Oh, I’m not talking about it,” Kev said cheerfully, taking a slice of bread to mop up the last of the spicy sauce on her plate. “Any man who can cook like this must have even more tactile skills I’d like to explore.” She compounded Georgeo’s annoyance by eating the bread with delicate greed as she held his gaze.
Ry wasn’t sure whether to cringe or laugh at this added drama. It only underscored the tension between himself and Addy. Darshi compounded the problem of ever getting her alone. He didn’t like this balance on the edge of a razor blade that would cut no matter on which side he fell.
If he didn’t retrieve Nicolau Coelho’s treasure in two weeks he was fucked. Really fucked. Life was already not half worth living. But if he didn’t get the treasure he’d be free of that option as well.
Selling Tesoro Mio in Sydney would cut the last tie between himself and Addy. Once the sale was finalized, money in her pocket, she’d continue the rest of her life, Darshi at her side. After that there’d no need for them to ever set eyes on each other again, and then he’d be lost. The thought made his heart thump painfully against his breastbone, and his stomach churn. Belatedly he realized it wasn’t the curry so much as the company and anticipating a bleak future that soured his stomach.
With both Addison and Tesoro Mio gone, all his options would go to hell in a handbasket. Of course, with both gone, did he really give a flying fuck where he ended up?
The fathomless sea of darkness in which he’d been adrift since he’d learned of his daughter’s death would end up swallowing him. Without hope of seeing Addy, coupled with the loss of his ship, he’d have nothing to live for.
