Night Swimming

by Laura Moore

  At the loss of contact, Lily’s head jerked, as if coming out of a trance.

  Sean stepped back before she could flay him alive. “You’re looking a little pink, Lily. I’ve got some zinc oxide in my bag. I’d be happy to put some on you. Especially on those hard to reach places.” He gave her a casual smile and pulled his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his T-shirt, ignoring the violent thudding of his heart against the cotton fabric. His hands shook, too, racked with tremors of need. Somehow, he managed to settle his shades across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, before shoving them deep into his pocket, out of sight.

  Damn Sean and his effect on me, Lily swore silently. He had only to bestow the paltriest of caresses and she nearly swooned. Even more galling was the fact that she was equally helpless before Sean’s verbal taunts. The thought of Sean’s hands, slick with lotion, gliding over her body in long, sweeping caresses had her pulse racing.

  Lily’s voice was filled with contempt—never mind that it was self-directed—as she spoke. “You know, you and John Granger should get to know each other. You could compare notes on really great pickup lines. By the way, Sean, your nose? Does it trouble you still? I hope so.”

  “Hi, Mayor McDermott. Guess what? Lily’s assigned me as your dive buddy.”

  “Hey, Karen. The name’s Sean,” he replied, opening his eyes to smile up at her. “That’s great. Have a seat.” He moved sideways along the red Naugahyde-covered bench to allow Karen some room. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is.” Karen dropped down beside him.

  After Sean and Lily’s flare-up, they’d both retreated to opposite ends of the boat, as far from each other as they could get without jumping overboard. Sean had helped John Granger cast off the moorings and then had staked his territory here, by the bench that ran along the front of the pilothouse. It offered a stunning view of the sun-dappled ocean, but even better, it made it impossible to track Lily’s doings.

  He’d spent minutes staring up at the sky, counting the gulls overhead, willing his body to relax—steadfastly ignoring the erection caused by one almost-kiss with Lily Banyon.

  To ensure no one else noticed his condition, he’d pulled on the lower half of his wet suit. The upper half, the torso with its long neoprene arms, lay doubled over his outstretched legs. As a result, he was broiling hot and his bare chest was beaded with sweat, but it was worth it. He was in control once more.

  The Tangiers had left the marina, navigating the narrow, bottleneck channel of the Intracoastal Waterway. Once on the open sea, Owen had set the Tangiers on a northeast course. Sean had heard Lily ask Owen to drop anchor a few hundred yards from the northernmost tip of the reef. By Sean’s estimate, they had about fifteen more minutes until they reached the spot where Lily intended to begin diving.

  His eyes drifted shut, lulled into laziness by the feel of morning sun mixed with the cooling mist of ocean spray against his bare torso and the steady throb of the trawler’s powerful engines.

  Next to him, he felt Karen shift, and opened his eyes a fraction. She’d stripped down to her bathing suit, a lime green and orange tankini. Her wet suit was folded over her arm.

  She must have noticed he was more alert, for she spoke. “Can’t wait to get out to the reef. It’s perfect weather for a dive: calm, good light conditions.”

  “Will you be taking photographs today?” he asked.

  “I never dive without my Sea&Sea.” Karen grinned. “I’ll probably shoot at least two rolls of film today, maybe more.” She broke off to stick her feet into the legs of her wet suit. Then, lifting her hips off the bench, she gave a series of hard tugs, pulling until it covered her lower body. With a happy sigh, she leaned back, adopting Sean’s relaxed posture and continued. “Besides, you can never bank on the weather, and Lily’s not one for wasting time. I want to do a great job here. I promised Lily I’d photograph every nook and cranny of this reef.”

  “She a good person to work with?” Sean tried to keep his tone casual.

  “The best. Every assistant at the center tries to get assigned to her.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, shifting so he sat a little straighter.

  Karen was silent a moment, then spoke slowly, as though choosing her words. “Well, I guess she’s kind of inspirational. She works incredibly hard and is totally committed to what she’s doing. When a person’s got that sort of energy, it rubs off. You really learn stuff on her team. Craig Stevens—he’s a research assistant who’s worked with Lily a lot—told me that when he dives with her, it’s as if his eyes are extra sharp, ’cause he’s looking at a reef the way she does.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Lily’s dived all over the world. She’s studied so many reefs that she has this incredible sense of what should be there, and what shouldn’t. Reef ecosystems are kind of like cities or countries—they have certain populations. If a reef’s biodiversity is out of whack, she picks up on it right away, then starts looking for the reason why—” Karen stopped abruptly. “Sorry,” she said with an abashed expression. “I get carried away. I probably don’t explain it very well. It’s complex—”

  “Don’t apologize, you explained that as clearly as the previous scientist we had working for the town. You’ve obviously learned a lot working at the center.”

  “Thanks.” Karen grinned. “It’s pretty cool stuff. I’m not quite sure what I want to do with my life, if I’ll ever go back to school, but the center’s an incredible place. And working with Lily is a huge break for me, even though this project is pretty minor—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, then smiled awkwardly. “Gosh, I didn’t mean that your reef study isn’t important or anything.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Karen, I know what you meant,” Sean said with a smile. “Although what happens to the reef is a big deal for a lot of people here. So do the most thorough cataloging you can. I’ll try not to stick my ugly mug in the way of your lens this morning.”

  “Better not.” Karen laughed. “I’d have trouble explaining to Lily why I was photographing guys instead of coral.”

  “Uh, where is she by the way?” It was imperative he maintain a safe distance from Lily. If they butted heads again, he might do something he’d truly regret. Like kiss her senseless.

  “She’s in the loo, suiting up.”

  “What? She’s getting on her wet suit down there?” He knew she had on her swimsuit; its outline had been visible through her ancient T-shirt. He’d nearly gone blind trying to see more of her through that tantalizingly threadbare shirt.

  “Yeah.”

  “Tight space.” He pictured the tiny toilet below. There was hardly room to turn around. It’d be like trying to change in a coffin.

  “Precautionary measure. She’s had some, uh, problems in the past with guys,” Karen explained in a voice filled with disgust.

  Sean coughed. “Go do your boss a favor,” he suggested. “Tell her Owen’s got seven kids and eight grandchildren.”

  “Owen’s not the problem.”

  Sean’s head whipped around and searched her expression. Had she somehow guessed?

  “No, not you, Sean.” Karen giggled. “You’re not that type of guy.”

  Sean’s eyebrows rose. He shifted on the bench, uncertain how to take Karen’s pronouncement.

  She didn’t appear to notice. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s John. He can be a real butthead.”

  Sean exhaled in relief. “That right?” came the automatic reply. Then Karen’s words penetrated. Unbidden, his mind conjured an image of John Granger spying on Lily, a lascivious leer on his face. Sean found himself as enraged as he had been listening to Ray’s and Frank’s moronic comments at the Rusted Keel.

  “Where’s Granger?” John Granger had just taken a fast trip to the top of Sean’s shit list. If he was anywhere near Lily—

  “Don’t worry,” Karen replied. “John’s dead to the world, using the stern ropes as a pi
llow.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s probably why Lily decided you and I should be dive buddies. So she could make sure he’s okay on the dive.” She shook her head, tucking a few braids behind her ear. “You’d think he’d wise up, especially after the lobster threat.”

  “Lobster threat?”

  “John tried to put the moves on Lily. She came real close to castrating him with a Maine lobster. I was there, helping one of the other photographers. Man, some of those suckers were big.” With a grin, she spread her arms to indicate the size.

  “I guess it’s a good thing for him lobsters in Florida don’t have those big claws.”

  “Oh, Lily’s smart,” Karen said breezily. “She’ll figure out how to keep John in line. Personally, I’d love to see her go at him with a sea urchin. There are some species here that have superlong spines.”

  “Ouch.” Sean crossed his legs protectively. “A little bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”

  Karen patted his neoprene-covered knee comfortingly. “Relax, Sean. Coral Beach lucked out when they got Lily Banyon—and me. John’s not so bad, either, just needs a shock to his system. The fear of having his favorite tool turned into a pincushion might be just the ticket,” she added, grinning gleefully. She stood, and a flash of gold winked back at Sean from her belly button.

  Wow, Sean thought, dazedly counting two more rings, one on either side of her tanned navel. Who’d have thought such intelligence—or such killer instincts—lay beneath that mass of cornrows and brightly colored beads? Karen was a hell of an impressive young woman. Maybe Dave should get to know her . . . after Sean had warned him about her enthusiasm for supplying the world with eunuchs.

  Around them, the steady rumble of the Tangiers’s diesel engines quieted and died. The boat slowed, gliding on momentum alone. Footsteps sounded, voices, too. “Wake up, John. You’ve got to get off the ropes so we can drop anchor.”

  Silence, then, “Okay, okay, I’m up,” came the grumbled reply.

  “Good. Go help Owen, then suit up. I’ll unpack the equipment.”

  Karen turned to Sean, her eyes bright. “Come on, Sean. This is where the fun starts.”

  “Lead on, partner.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Their equipment lay clustered in a neat circle by the Tangiers’ s stern. Lily was doing a final check to make sure nothing was missing.

  Karen was on her knees, fiddling with her cameras, lenses, and strobe attachments, in what Lily had come to recognize was a standard last-minute ritual for many photographers. Specially designed test tubes topped with red rubber stoppers were packed in a carrying case next to John’s bare feet. He also had his mesh bag, with his underwater notebook for sketching and note taking tucked away inside. A sudden noise made Lily glance up from the deck. John’s hand was curled into a fist while he stifled a loud yawn.

  Oh Lord, thought Lily with annoyed dismay. She was more than half-convinced that the minute John jumped in the water, he’d swim straight for the nearest brain coral where he’d curl up for his second nap of the morning.

  With an exasperated shake of her head, she bent down and retrieved the secchi disk. “Ready, John?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

  “Yeah, hold on a sec.” John kneeled and began digging through the pile of equipment by his bare feet. With a mutter of disgust, he gave up the search and walked over to one of the cardboard boxes by the pilothouse. He pulled out a notebook and pen. “Right, go ahead,” John said.

  “You got some nice toys here, Dr. Banyon,” Owen said. He and Sean had finished positioning the red-and-white dive flags and had joined them.

  Sean came to stand beside her. He was wearing his wet suit. The fit as snug as body armor, it accentuated the strength of his broad shoulders, his long muscled legs.

  Her mouth abruptly dry, Lily swallowed.

  “What’s that thing?” Sean asked, with a nod toward the metal disk Lily held.

  “This? It’s called a secchi disk,” she replied, grateful for the distraction. “It’s your basic no-frills instrument— we have a lot of them at the center.”

  “So does town hall.” Sean grinned. “We’ve only recently entered the computer age.”

  Lily looked up in surprise. Sean’s grin became a smile and she realized she’d never seen his eyes crinkle like that, with easy charm. Warmth seeped through her and she lowered her head, examining the black metal disk as if it were an object of profound interest.

  “So what’s it for?” he asked.

  “We use the disk to take readings of water clarity, our first step in data collecting. Here,” she said, “I’ll demonstrate how it works.” She walked over to the Tangiers’s railing. Sean and Owen followed, coming to stand on either side of her.

  “See this string?” Lily lifted the thin rope that was tied to the disk. “It’s premeasured. All I do is lower the disk into the water, and let it sink until I can’t see it anymore.”

  Lily leaned over the rail. As the men peered over the railing, the disk hit the water with a splash.

  The string slid through Lily’s fingers as she played it out. “Bottom reading, John,” she called over her shoulder. “Five meters.”

  “Got it.” Standing off to the side, John scribbled in the notebook, snapped it shut, and then dropped it back into the cardboard box.

  Lily began hauling the disk up, coiling the rope as she went.

  “So what’s a bottom reading mean?” Owen asked.

  “Today I could see the disk all the way down to the ocean floor—as you know, Owen, we’re not in deep water—so I got a bottom reading at a depth of five meters.”

  “That’s good, right?” Owen said.

  “Yes. Water clarity is vital because it allows the sun to penetrate. Corals need sunlight to feed and grow. Murky water blocks the sun. That’s—”

  “Bad,” Sean interjected with a slight grin.

  Lily inclined her head. “You must have been doing a lot of background reading.”

  “Only enough to pass the course.” Sean’s reply had Owen chuckling. Lily smiled and arched a brow.

  “Yet another underachiever turned politician,” she murmured dryly.

  Owen’s chuckle became a bark of laughter. “Oh, no, Dr. Banyon, Sean’s different. He works real hard for this town. Full of plans. This town’s changed a lot since he took office.”

  But has it changed for better or worse? Lily bit her tongue to keep from asking, but in any case, Owen’s attention had shifted to the rest of the equipment on the deck.

  “And what’s with this other stuff here?” he asked with a sweeping gesture.

  “Like the secchi disk, it’s pretty much standard issue, I’m afraid, but essential nonetheless. These,” she said, kneeling and pointing to the slates in the gear bags, “are our underwater notebooks. We use them to note the different species, sketch reef formations, et cetera.” She reached out and picked up a container with a colored flag attached to it. “This is a sediment trap. It measures the amount of sediment that settles in an area over a given period of time. The cylinders and test tubes in the case here are for core and water samples.” Lily sat back on her heels. “Once we’ve finished taking readings and collecting samples, we’ll plug the numbers and stats into a specially designed computer program. The program organizes all the information and numbers, and creates a 3-D map with visual overlays of the reef. All the different species of coral are recorded, as well as the condition of the reef as a whole. We can track where the areas of disease are, and whether other corals are threatened.”

  “So today you’ll be starting with the area closest to shore?” Sean asked.

  “Yes, with zone one,” Lily replied with a nod. “With this type of reef—a patch reef—I like to move in progression from one zone to the next. Patch reefs grow in strips or patches. Coral Beach has three that run parallel to each other, the last in the deepest water. Because of the different depths where they’re located, each zone has a distinct form dictated by the types of coral which can thriv
e there, and the kind of reef dwellers, plant and animal alike, which inhabit it.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of territory to cover,” Owen remarked.

  “The bigger the better, Owen.” Lily smiled. “But we have ways to cover the whole reef system as efficiently and thoroughly as possible.”

  “Such as?” Sean asked.

  “One way is to divide the whole of the patch reef into transects.”

  “Transects?” Sean repeated with interest. “Dr. Lesnesky never used that term in his presentations.”

  Lily shrugged. “That’s not terribly surprising. Everyone has his or her own favorite methodology. I prefer doing transect dives because they allow for the most complete sampling. At the end of a study, I know I’ve covered a segment of each zone at the same latitude.”

  Owen was scratching his chin. “Think I lost you there, Dr. Banyon,” he admitted ruefully.

  Lily gave an inward sigh. Okay, she thought. How could she explain this better? She looked around the deck and grabbed her mesh bag. “This might help make it clearer, Owen,” she said, pulling out her underwater slate. “Imagine these are your three reef zones.” Quickly she sketched three bands running parallel to one another, then made an X on the bottom edge of the slate. “This is us right here, at the northern section of zone one. On our next dive, we’ll do zone two, at the same latitude.” Lily made another X directly above the first. “With a reef this size, it should take approximately twenty to twenty-five dives to collect samples from the whole area.”

  Sean looked at Lily’s slate and envisioned a sweep of neatly regimented X marks covering it. It was startling— and a little disturbing—to realize that he’d learned more about scientific procedure in the past few minutes aboard the Tangiers than he had during months of listening to Lesnesky’s convoluted jargon.

  Dr. Lily Banyon was damned impressive.

  Sean was fully aware that this reef study wasn’t one of Lily’s pet projects, that she wouldn’t receive any kudos for it. Yet she was approaching the job with total dedication and an enthusiasm that was palpable.