“Yeah, Melinda brought up a spoon.”
“She’s a good diver. The best. Treasure what you’ve got.”
Roc stood. Three years had been a long time. Davenport had changed. So had Melinda. And so had he.
“Thanks for calling,” Roc said, setting a hand on Davenport’s back.
Davenport grinned and nodded. “The best of luck.”
“With the treasure? Or your daughter?”
“If you haven’t seen yet that she’s the real treasure, then you’re searching in the dark, my boy.”
Roc laughed. “I’ll take that to heart, Jonathan. Good night.”
He left the bar behind, anxious to return to his room. To the beautiful view, the clean white sheets, the cool air …
His wife.
If she forgave him. He’d been seeing only the awful vision of himself on the floor—the great whirlpool empty, the bed a haven of nothing more than ice for him.
At least they’d had a little time together before …
Before he’d acted like a Neanderthal, he admitted to himself, striding toward the elevator.
She might still be angry. Unwilling to forgive him.
But then, apologies weren’t so hard. He’d just learned that from his father-in-law.
There was a sudden tapping on his shoulder, and he spun around. All the warmth that had been flooding him abruptly turned glacial.
Eric Longford. Very tall, beach-boy blond. Face knotted in an ugly grimace.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Trellyn!” he grated furiously.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Longford,” Roc began. Then he saw that Melinda was not waiting for him upstairs. She was standing just behind Longford.
His heart sank anew, and his temper flared.
“Take a hike, Longford,” he said, and started to turn. Melinda could go wherever she damn well pleased. He started toward the elevator.
“Not on your life, Trellyn!”
The hand hit his shoulder again, spinning him around. He tensed and ducked just in time to miss Eric’s flying right fist.
“Damn it, Longford,” he snapped, but Eric was swinging again.
That was the end of the line for Roc. He ducked and came up with a fast right hook himself, catching Eric right beneath the chin.
The big blond fell cleanly backward, out cold.
“Roc!”
It was Melinda, furious, falling to her knees by Longford’s side. “Roc, this is no way—”
“Let’s go,” he told her, reaching down and catching her hand.
He dragged her to her feet. A crowd was milling, but luckily, most of the assembled people had seen Eric taking the first swing.
Someone else could pick up his nemesis. Melinda damn well wasn’t going to do it.
He strode into the elevator with her. They were alone. The door closed.
Melinda spun on him. “You didn’t need to knock him out! Hitting a man never solved anything—”
“He swung at me.”
“You—”
“Twice! And you—what the hell were you doing downstairs with him?”
“What? Oh, all right, you idiot. I was down there trying to give him the most exact directions I could on right where I found the spoon!”
“Were you?”
She took a wild swing at him, but he caught her, holding her tightly in his arms. “Anyone would try to hit you!” she cried out furiously.
“What were you doing?”
“I wasn’t even with him!” she cried out, struggling in his arms.
The elevator door opened. He kept a firm hand on her while he fumbled for his key, found it, then ushered them both through the door.
He leaned against it again. “So, what were you doing downstairs?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. Your behavior just keeps getting worse and worse!”
He crossed the room toward her, and she tried to back away. “You keep your distance from me. I mean it!”
But he came closer, and she backed around the big whirlpool tub.
“You have no right!”
“I’m just asking!” he told her, coming relentlessly closer. He had to touch her again. They just couldn’t waste such a great room.…
“And I—” she began.
He caught her upper arms and pulled her against him. “What?” he asked.
“Connie called up and told me you were in the bar with my father!” she cried furiously. “I came down to make sure you were both all right!”
Tears glazed her eyes. Suddenly his mouth ground down on hers as his long strides brought them to the bed. Together they fell to the mattress, and it seemed as if they sank into an embrace of softness.
Her hands pressed against his chest. “Roc, you can’t do this to me. It’s not fair. It’s not right. It’s—”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“What?” Her eyes were very wide, so beautiful with their damp glaze.
How had he lived without her for so long?
He kissed her lips lightly. Caught her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he told her.
“But you’ll be suspicious again—”
“I’ll try not to be. Melinda, you just suddenly appeared back in my life when I’d nearly managed to get over you. My manners aren’t great, and I might act like a bastard again.”
“Then sorry isn’t enough!” she charged.
“Melinda, damn it, I love you!” he cried. “Isn’t that enough?”
She was silent. Not breathing. Then she whispered. “Oh, my lord …”
“Well?”
Her arms wound around his neck. Her lips touched his. Her tongue circled them, then dove into his mouth. She kissed him heatedly, passionately.
But he broke away from her, staring down at her. “Well?”
“It’s enough!” she cried. “It’s enough!”
His lips found hers once again.
And later, much later, she whispered softly to him, “Roc?”
“Yes?”
“I …”
“Yes?”
She rose above him, hair wild, eyes dazzling, her naked flesh warm to his touch.
“I love you,” she told him. “I never stopped loving you. I tried, I tried so hard, but …”
His arm slid round her, and he swept her down beside him, then kissed her forehead.
Davenport was right. He would keep looking for the Contessa, of course. But he already held treasure in his arms. It was just a matter of keeping her now.
Chapter 11
“All right, get ready now.…”
Melinda looked at Roc, ten feet to her left, then at Joe, ten feet to her right. Connie was another ten feet to Joe’s right, and then Bruce was about ten feet away from his sister, and they were all treading water, waiting for Marina to give them the go sign.
“We’re ready!” Roc called out, exasperated.
“Eh!” Marina cried, lifting her chin. “I am the starter here. Now, you men, mind you! The first one to touch the boat is the one who wins, eh?”
“We’ve got it, Marina!” Bruce called. “But we’re all going to turn into prunes out here if we don’t—”
“Go!” Marina cried.
Bruce, of course, was left to gasp in a breath before he could shoot through the water with his first stroke, already giving the others an advantage.
Melinda knew she was fast, but she wasn’t quite as fast as Roc. She started out just a hair ahead of him, and she swam for all she was worth. She knew she was well past Connie and Bruce—she was even level with Joe Tobago—but just as she neared the boat—right when she was nearly touching it!—Roc pulled ahead strongly, beating her.
Gasping for breath, he held on to the ladder to the bow, shaking a raised fist in the air and letting out something like a victory cry. Melinda clung to the other side of the ladder.
“Beat you!” he told her.
She shrugged, grinning.
“R
ight! You beat your ninety-pound wife!” Marina chastised from above them.
“Oh, Marina, she’s way more than ninety pounds!” Roc said, crawling out of the water.
“Hey!” Melinda protested.
“All right, maybe not way more.” He leaped into the boat, offered her a hand and helped her aboard.
Joe crawled up behind her. “Ah, well, the lady has put me to shame!” he said, shaking his head and grinning.
Melinda smiled and reminded him, “But I didn’t dive today, and you did.” It was their first day back over the old World War Two wreck since they had left Nassau. They hadn’t gotten out nearly as early in the morning after their night’s stay as Roc had intended—partially because neither he nor Melinda woke until nearly noon, and then, since no one had bothered to inform them about the time, they proceeded to squander a lot more of it.
It had been nice squandering, Melinda thought.
But once they were up, Roc still had to see that provisions were brought aboard. There were lists to check and double-check, and it was dusk when they finally managed to leave Nassau Harbor behind.
This morning she’d been tired. But it didn’t matter. For the moment she was content to merely cherish this time. She didn’t know what her father had said to Roc—she hadn’t had a chance to see Jonathan again. She was certain, of course, that her father felt just fine about the way events were occurring, though. If he hadn’t, he would have been tearing down hotel walls. He and Roc were an awful lot alike when it came to their protective, macho habits.
She hadn’t really said much more to Roc about the past, either. Maybe he still didn’t trust her completely.
Or her father.
But though she thought it was understandable that she had taken her father’s side on that long ago occasion, she had to admit that she had done so instantly and completely—she had never given Roc a chance at all. Maybe it took time to come back from something like that, although it seemed that at least they now had time on their hands.
He was still after the Contessa. Naturally. But he seemed to have slowed down just a little bit in his pursuit. They seemed to dally longer over breakfast, lunch, dinner. They stayed out on deck, staring up at the stars. They still woke with the dawn, but they didn’t quite manage to rise with it, and the whole of the Crystal Lee seemed to be more relaxed.
Maybe there was still a barrier between them, though. Roc didn’t talk about the future. No matter how close they were becoming, he was keeping a certain distance.
She might still be his wife. And she might be sharing his life, his bed and now, his work. But she didn’t know what would happen when they found the Contessa—or failed in their attempt.
“Hey! How about a hand here?” Connie called, climbing up the ladder.
Roc quickly responded, then helped Bruce aboard behind her.
“I think we need a rematch!” Bruce complained.
“I think I had better start supper,” Marina said.
“I think,” Peter called from the helm, where he had been surveying the nearby waters with binoculars, “that it’s time for a beer!”
Melinda grinned at him, then noticed that, despite the lightness of his voice, something seemed to be bothering him.
He came down a second later and joined the rest of them as they tramped into the galley, popping soda and beer cans, pretending to help Marina but really getting in her way.
“Melinda,” Marina called to her. “Do you mind slicing some fresh vegetables?”
“Just tell me what you want sliced and diced,” she said cheerfully. “Other than the captain, of course,” she added sweetly.
Roc offered her a warning frown, which she ignored, but as she sliced a carrot, she looked out the window and saw that he was standing beside Peter, staring out into the coming night with the binoculars.
Darkness seemed to fall swiftly that night. The sun had been setting while they’d been in the water, and then boom—it was dark. Melinda squinted, trying to see through the galley portholes. There seemed to be a light out on the water.
She arranged the vegetables on the platter Marina had indicated, left Connie and Bruce setting the table and Joe Tobago marking one of the maps they were using for their dives.
Marina looked at her as she started out, and Melinda promised to be right back.
“Everything is nearly ready,” Marina assured her. “Take your time.”
Melinda nodded and went out on the deck, shivering a little as she came up behind Peter and Roc. She hadn’t had a chance to shower and change yet, and the night air had quickly become chilly.
They were murmuring together, but they fell silent, turning as she reached them.
Roc’s jaw was tight, a sure sign that though his words might not give him away, something wasn’t to his liking.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Another boat,” he told her.
She didn’t like the sound of his voice. It had an edge to it. She felt a chill sweep over her, and she was instantly defensive.
He had no right to keep doing this to her.
“How amazing,” she said coolly. “These are temperate, beautiful waters! Why on earth would anyone want to sail around here?”
Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on Roc, who cast her a quick, warning glare.
“Well,” Peter said, “she’s keeping her distance now. Nothing more than a dot on the horizon for the night. We’ll see what she does in the morning, eh, mi amigo?”
“Si,” Roc agreed. He had been in South Florida and among the islands constantly enough over the years to pick up both Spanish and island French. Then he said something else to Peter in Spanish—which Melinda didn’t understand. He hadn’t meant for her to understand, she realized angrily.
She gritted her teeth. She had been on the boat alone today for a while. Even Marina had joined the divers since Hambone, their dolphin friend, had made another appearance.
So here she was. Guilty again. No matter what. Roc was obviously thinking that she had climbed to the radio in her first moment alone. And summoned …?
Someone. Her father. Eric.
She swung around, having nothing else to say to either of them, though the sympathetic glance Peter had given her seemed to tell her that he was on her side.
Well, she didn’t need anyone on her side. Because she wasn’t guilty.
She started walking down the deck. “Melinda!” Roc called to her sharply. “I’d like a word with you.”
“Later,” she said coolly. “If you don’t mind. I’m freezing, and I think I’ll shower quickly before dinner.”
She marched into the cabin, rummaged through one of Roc’s bottom drawers for the strange clothing collection she was acquiring, grabbed a towel and stepped into the tiny shower.
She was grateful for the blast of hot water. She lifted her face to it, then nearly screamed aloud as the shower curtain came crashing open.
He was there, of course, cobalt eyes narrowed, hard.
“What was that all about?” he asked her.
She reached for the shower curtain, trying to wrench it back. His fingers remained tightly around it. “Do you mind?” she inquired tightly.
“I do,” he assured her. “Why did you stomp off like that?”
“There’s a boat out there. Of course I must have summoned it, right?”
“There’s a boat out there. And I think it’s your father’s.”
She gasped aloud, then tugged harder on the curtain. “You’ve spoken to my father since I have!” she said angrily. “Remember? I couldn’t be trusted to talk to him!”
“But you two are very close,” he reminded her.
She swore at him as he stepped into the shower with her, still clad only in his swimming trunks.
“Don’t do this to me!” she charged him. “Roc, I’m warning you—”
The water splattered both their faces as he drew her into his arms, then took her lips with a very wet, hot kiss. His hands slid erotically over her body along
with the water, cupping her buttocks, drawing her close to his half naked body.
She broke away from his lips, feeling the pounding of the water between them. “You don’t accuse someone one moment—”
“I haven’t accused you at all,” he told her huskily. She heard a splatting sound and realized that he had dropped his trunks to the floor and she was suddenly in his arms again.
“You just said—”
“I said I think it might be your father’s boat!” he told her firmly, cobalt eyes fiercely on hers.
“Because—”
“Because he’s out there!” he exclaimed, aggravated. The water was still deliciously warm, cascading over them. He leaned her back against the wall, his kiss openmouthed, demanding. Both his touch and the falling water were instantly arousing, and she found herself breathless, still trying to argue, but forgetting what she was arguing about.
Suddenly his hands were on her hips and he was lifting her, then bringing her swiftly down on his sex, urging her to wrap her legs around him. Dizzy with the sweet sensations, she obeyed instantly, her arms wrapping around him as well, fingers digging into the wet thickness of his hair, then grasping his shoulders. A soft moan escaped her as he thrust swift and hard within her, again and again. He very quickly drove her wild, his speed and movement suddenly a tempest, one that burst upon her in a sweet, sudden, shattering moment.
Then she felt him easing her down against the length of him. She felt the water beating against her face and breast again. Her knees were steady, but that didn’t matter; he lifted her out of the shower, wrapping her in a towel and holding her tenderly.
A moment later he glanced at his watch. “Damn,” he murmured softly.
Her face had been burrowed against his chest. Now she looked up. Teasing eyes touched her own.
“I think we’ve missed dinner.”
She grabbed his wrist, staring at his watch, and groaned, unable to believe that she had walked out of the galley to find him on the deck nearly a full hour ago.
“You seem to have a thing for making me miss meals,” she told him.
“Pardon?”
“You did drag me away from my dolphin oreganato in Nassau,” she reminded him, toweling dry quickly and trying to step around him.
“We weren’t eating, we were dancing then, remember? And you were about to dance off with Longford.”
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