Lazily, with the sun a fiery red ball behind her closed eyes, she concentrated on her feelings. It seemed strange to be in touch with them again. Gradually the slap of the water against the barnacled bulkhead below her faded, and she no longer heard the drone of motorboats as they approached and retreated from the marina. The heat slicked her body, the breeze cooled it, and soon she wasn't conscious of anything but the sun burning into her eyelids.
Despite Ponce's observation that she hadn't let the world get her down, she knew she was still running scared. She felt jaded and disillusioned, and she'd often wished she could be more responsive to the world and all that was in it. But since she seemed to lack the ability to feel deeply about anything other than her career, she'd thought she was a hopeless case.
The fact that she had found herself capable of feeling after so long—both emotionally and sexually—perhaps proved he was right. Or was she deluding herself? Were her circuits overloaded by the attentions of this virile and desirable man? She wasn't ready to trust what she felt for him. After all, there was no denying that she had felt, even through her repugnance, a faint memory of her desire for Daniel.
Anyway, she was beyond the time in her life when she wanted pure romance. Now, in the maturity brought about by her only heartbreaking experience with love, she wanted more than anything a close, deep, warm, giving relationship with the right person. She wanted not only a lover but a friend.
As the sun slipped toward the horizon in the late afternoon sky, she gathered up her things to return to her apartment. Alix hadn't sunburned during her long hours in the sun—she was already too tanned for that. But she yawned; the heat of the sun had left her feeling sleepy.
She went inside, took a long shower, and washed her hair. She stood in the spray and let the warm water sluice over her body as she watched great ropes of shampoo suds slide down her shoulders, around her uplifted breasts, into the cleft between her legs.
After she rinsed off she wrapped herself in a bath sheet, tucking it between her breasts, and then wrapped her hair in another towel, turban-style. She was preparing to plug in her hair dryer when she heard the knock on the door.
"Who is it?" she called, thinking that of all times for the maintenance man to call, this was the worst.
"Ponce," said the voice unexpectedly and in her surprise the bath sheet slipped and she stood nude, dripping water all over the bedroom carpet.
She grabbed her robe, a cotton wraparound wildly ruffled in blue-edged white eyelet, and scooped the bath sheet from the floor. She blotted herself frantically for a moment. Great timing, she thought, but maybe he had good news. "Coming," she called, tossing the bath sheet in the direction of the shower rod.
She pulled on the robe and ran to fling the door open. Ponce greeted her with a glowing smile, which made him seem irresistible. The thin robe was beginning to cling to her skin in places that were still quite wet. Self-consciously, she pulled it tighter, which didn't help matters.
"I'm sorry to drop in like this," he said apologetically. A tentative smile hovered at the edges of his mouth. "You didn't answer your phone, and I texted you but you didn't reply. It's something so important—"
She felt a catch of apprehension in her throat. "Affecting the salvage of El Primero?" she broke in sharply.
"Perhaps. If I've interrupted—"
"No, no," she said, wanting to hear what he had to say. "Please sit down." She gestured at the couch, and when he had settled himself she went to one of the wicker chairs and sat primly on the edge, one hand fingering her turban, the other making sure that the wraparound robe did not gap open.
Ponce leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His expression was altogether serious. "I've checked you out—you're everything you claim to be and more. So I went ahead and called a board of directors meeting tonight, and—"
"Tonight?"
"The sooner the facts are presented to them the better. I want you to come with me, and—"
"Now?"
Ponce grinned. "If you'll stop interrupting, I'll explain," he said. "The meeting starts in an hour."
"Short notice. I'll need a few minutes."
"You've got them, but don't take any more time than necessary. I'll fill you in about what to expect at the meeting when you're ready."
Alix sensed his eyes upon her retreating figure as she closed her bedroom door.
She dressed quickly before deciding that Ponce might as well be telling her what she needed to know while she dried her hair.
She opened the bedroom door. He was leafing idly through a magazine and looking utterly bored.
"We can talk while I dry my hair," she said. "If you don't mind?"
"Well, sure," he said, getting up, walking in, and looking with interest around her bedroom. She continued on into the bathroom.
"There's no place to sit except the bed, and you'll have to talk loudly or I won't be able to hear you."
Ponce sat down on the bed. "Well, I'll start by naming the members of the board," he said.
"Uh-huh, go ahead," she replied, switching on the dryer. She could barely hear him with it shrieking in her ear, but at least some of what he was saying was coming through.
"John Abbott... marine archaeologist. Stan Buchholz, Tom Clegg, Vince Azeredo... three most experienced crew members, worked with me from the beginning... Martin Trowbridge, my closest friend." Ponce was speaking a little more loudly now, but he'd have to talk even louder. She didn't want to miss any more than was necessary.
"Would you mind speaking up a bit?" She bent over from the waist, sweeping her hair down with the brush. She stood up; Ponce was standing at her elbow, and she inadvertently directed a stream of hot air directly in his face. He winced.
"Oh, sorry," she said, momentarily flustered.
"And all the time I thought I'd be the one to heat things up between us," he quipped with a devilish gleam in his eye.
For that, she let the dryer shoot him another blast. "That's enough hot air out of you," she teased. "Now, let me finish my hair or we'll never make that meeting in time."
"Go ahead," he said, leaning on the door frame, his hands in his pockets, laughing at her. Finally he became serious again. "Then there's Kip Wallace, our film producer—you know we make our own films for television syndication? And he's the last member of our board. Of course, you'll meet Jessica Sligh, our corporate attorney. She'll handle the legal angles."
Alix switched off the hair dryer and the sudden hollow silence seemed to echo in the small bathroom.
Ponce's face was close to hers, his mouth beside her ear. "Well," he said, studying her image in the bathroom mirror, "the results were worth waiting for. And so," he added, turning her to face him and dipping his head toward hers, "was this."
Her heart flipped over, did a dive, found its rightful place in her chest. His head slowly bent and his lips gently touched her right ear, still warm from the dryer, his mouth cool and soft. Then he exhaled along the line of her jaw, found her lips, and kissed her long and lingeringly.
"I just wanted to do that before you put on your lipstick," said Ponce.
She turned away from him and fumbled around on the bathroom vanity for her lipstick as a knock sounded on the door.
"I'll see who it is," said Ponce, and he disappeared into the living room. She heard him let in the maintenance man.
She checked the second roll of microfilm, making sure it was still in her purse. It was the all-important documentation of the location of El Primero de Mayo. If the board voted in the affirmative, she'd produce her last and most conclusive piece of evidence. In case she'd need it, she tucked Fray Miguel's biography of Captain Daré in her portfolio.
As they rode to the meeting at the corporate offices, Ponce told her what to expect.
"Our meetings are usually friendly and informal. There's hardly ever any infighting, because we've all been together since I started out in this business. These are true professionals, Alix, and they know when to take a calculated risk."
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"I'll have to show them the letters between Captain Daré and Hoyo Solorzano, I assume."
"Yes, of course. If the mission meets with the board's approval, Jessica will draw up any necessary contract. Naturally, everything that goes on tonight must be absolutely confidential. We don't want Luke Stallingrath or anyone else to know what we're doing."
"Speaking of Luke, I met him yesterday."
"Why haven't you mentioned it?" Ponce threw her a sharp look.
Alix kept her gaze focused on the car ahead. "I didn't want to confuse the issue with you. It seemed in both of our best interests to concentrate on moving toward salvage of El Primero de Mayo. Stallingrath sought me out before my appointment with you. What puzzles me is how he knew about me."
"Oh, Luke has his ways of finding things out. I've learned never to be surprised at what he knows. But what did you tell him?"
"I turned down the job and I told him nothing. And I'd never work for him, you know that. I guess you could say I sent him packing."
They had braked at a stoplight; Ponce's gaze was penetrating, but then it softened. "Good for you," he said, smiling at her. Then, returning his attention to his driving, he said, "Stallingrath is always trying to steal some of my crew. It's one of his favorite methods of harassment."
"At the time I wasn't yet a member of your crew. It was rather a strange incident, really."
"Luke's the kind who prefers to erode morale on Minorcan by pulling sneaky tricks, like trying to hire my best crew members and offering twice as much money as they're making. It's all part of the treasure-hunting game for him." Ponce shook his head. "One of these days maybe he'll lose his obsession with my success. He simply can't bear the idea that I might find something important without his knowing about it."
"I'm sure he considers his discussion with me a complete waste of time," said Alix.
"Let me know if he bothers you again. I don't put up with any static from him. Ever." Ponce tightened his lips into an uncompromising line.
They drove up before Ponce's office in the house in San Agustin Antiguo, the old part of the city. "I like your office," she said impulsively.
Ponce turned off the motor and slid an arm around the back of Alix's seat, hugging her to him for a moment.
"I'm glad you like it," he said warmly. "It's part of a group of buildings that has been owned by my family for generations. I live in the house on the end."
Alix saw that he meant the large house on the corner, the one sequestered by the high pink wall with its crown of bright magenta flowers. He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, a spontaneous gesture of affection.
"A kiss for luck," Ponce insisted, leaning over and kissing her lightly on the lips. His eyes seemed to pull hers into their depths. For a moment Alix spun down into them, forgetting about El Primero, Minorcan, the treasure quest.
He kissed her once more, and when he released her lips Alix forced her lungs to operate in their regular rhythm and willed her heart to slow its pace to a steady beat. By the time she stepped from the car, Alix was feeling normal. Or at least as normal as she ever felt around Ponce.
The six men seated around the conference table looked as unlike a board of directors as Alix could have imagined. Except for John Abbott, the marine archaeologist, who wore a white shirt and a tie, they were dressed in an odd assortment of cut-off jeans, T-shirts, sweat shirts and tennis shoes.
None of them looked like the millionaires she knew them to be. One short, stocky fellow who turned out to be Martin Trowbridge, Ponce's closest friend, sported a chest-length beard. As soon as Ponce introduced her she felt instantly at ease. These were fellow divers, her kind of people.
And then there was Jessica Sligh. She arrived on a whirlwind, precisely on time. There was something in the way she and Ponce greeted each other that led Alix to believe that Jessica was more than his corporate attorney. The board members seemed to defer to Jessica, which might have been the result of her professional position or the result of a special relationship with Ponce.
Jessica tossed dark hair glinting with auburn highlights off her face, hair that was short enough to be chic but long enough to look sexy. She was tall and willowy and supremely self-confident.
She took Alix's measure as Alix took hers. Up close Jessica's face seemed to be a mask pressing tightly over marvelous bone structure. Alix found no warmth in her, but Jessica's eyes reflected a keen intelligence.
When everyone had found a chair around the big conference table with Ponce at the head, Jessica to his left and Alix to his right, Ponce quickly explained the situation. Alix was aware that each of the board members was scrutinizing her carefully. On some of their faces she read skepticism and doubt. But she was also aware of their respect and admiration for Ponce. He handled the meeting confidently. His voice, deep and resonant, set forth the details of Alix's discovery. A glance at Jessica, however, revealed that she, out of all of them, was the least convinced.
"So," Ponce concluded when it was clear that he had the entire board, if not Jessica, in the palm of his hand, "we'll adjourn to the microfilm machine so that you can see the evidence that Alix has found. I'm sure you'll all be as excited about these letters as I am."
With a confident smile he rose from his chair and ushered Alix ahead of him into the small room where they had read the letters last night. He quickly inserted the film into the machine, and the first letter flashed on the screen.
For the benefit of those who weren't well-acquainted with the archaic Spanish language, Ponce translated. Alix made a point to watch the faces of the men intently for reactions. They all seemed favorably impressed. Jessica's expression, however, remained skeptical.
"Well, what do you think?" Ponce asked after everyone had seen all the letters.
"I think we should discuss this in private," suggested Vince Azeredo, a tall, thin man with a genial smile. He shot Alix a slightly apologetic look.
"I concur," Jessica said.
Ponce placed a hand at the small of Alix's back and guided her into his private office. "Make yourself comfortable," he said. "Drinks are at the bar, and I hope we won't be in conference too long." He winked at her reassuringly and went out, closing the door behind him.
Alix clasped her hands behind her back and walked idly around the room, looking at the photographs on the wall. Here was a black-and-white glossy of Ponce laughing and holding up a handful of golden Spanish doubloons. And here was another picture of Ponce surfacing from a dive, raising aloft a gold crucifix set with what looked like a ruby.
She was familiar with the pictures along one wall—they had appeared in National Historic Magazine several years ago. Another wall was lined with photos of the crew members who were now the board of directors of Treasure Finders, Inc., taken many years ago when they were younger. And finally there was a picture of Ponce fastening a gold chain around Jessica's neck, with Jessica smiling up at him.
Tiring of the pictures, she sat down at Ponce's massively carved desk, an antique much like some of the museum furniture she'd admired in Spain. She spun around in his swivel chair and scanned the titles of the books in the bookcase.
All of them involved Spanish history, particularly the time period when Spain pillaged the New World for fortune. Alix was familiar with many of the titles, most of which she'd studied herself. Bookcases were revealing, she thought, often providing an insight into their owners' thoughts. And if that were true, Ponce ate, slept, and worked treasure, which was no surprise.
When the door opened unexpectedly, it startled her.
"Alix, we'd like to discuss a few things," Ponce said. "Join us in the conference room. He reassured her with a quick smile as she entered the room where the others sat around the table.
She tallied an imaginary straw vote in her head. Martin looked enthusiastic, and so did Vince. As for John Abbott, the marine archaeologist, his interest was reflected in his eager expression. She wasn't so sure about Kip, who looked as though he needed convincing. Tom and Stan appeared non
committal.
When Alix had seated herself next to Ponce, Jessica cleared her throat. "Alix, if we don't go after Santa Catalina now we may lose our chance. Luke Stallingrath's ship has already left Key West to search for Catalina, and in this business it's finders keepers. I'm sure you understand our concern."
"As I told Ponce, Catalina is supposed to have gone down on a gigantic coral reef that will make salvage difficult, if not impossible. To my way of thinking it's not worth risking Minorcan to salvage her."
Jessica's eyebrows flew up. "Oh?" She leafed through a sheaf of papers on the table. "I have a copy of the cargo manifest prepared in 1622 for the Santa Catalina. Cargo manifests typically didn't list more than half the treasure on board so that owners wouldn't have to pay the fifth of the treasure claimed by the king in its entirety, so we can assume that twice this amount of treasure was being shipped. Santa Catalina was a rich vessel. Treasure hunters must take risks, and in my opinion, Catalina is worth risking Minorcan."
Alix held Jessica's gaze. "I don't," she said firmly.
"Minorcan is not your ship," Jessica shot back.
Alix had to admit that Jessica would be a formidable adversary in a courtroom. Her attack was intimidating, to say the least.
"No," said Alix, "Minorcan is not my ship. And this decision—whether or not to search for El Primero—is not mine to make. I can only present what I know."
"We're fascinated by your information," interjected Kip. "But we know little or nothing about this Captain Antonio Daré other than what you've shown us in those letters."
"I can tell you more about him," said Alix quickly, pulling out Fray Miguel's biography of Daré. She briefly summarized its contents.
"Alix's reputation as an historian is without blemish," added Ponce when she finished. She flashed him a grateful smile.
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 5