by Meghan March
But Dane had already turned around and had me secured in position as he hauled us both out of the water.
In my possibly concussed and still inebriated state, I marveled at his strength. But who was I kidding? I’d do that sober.
“Damn, man. You dived off a moving boat like you’ve done it a hundred times. It was some Baywatch shit.” The captain’s tone took on a hint of awe. “Didn’t realize we had such a serious badass on board.”
Dane crouched down until my feet hit the deck before spinning around to enfold me in his arms. “I’d throw myself into a volcano to save her.”
“Oh my God, that might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” a woman with a Southern drawl said from a few feet away. “Newlyweds are so damn sweet.”
“We’re not married yet,” I said, the words coming out louder than I’d anticipated.
She tilted her head, her mouth dropping open in shock. “Honey, you better lock that man down as quick as you can. They don’t make many like that.”
Dane’s arms tightened around me. “With all due respect, ma’am, she’s the one who is irreplaceable and definitely one of a kind. Luckiest man in the world to have her. I’ll be putting a ring on her finger before the week is out.”
The woman sighed again and pressed a hand to her heart. “So sweet.” Her gaze sharpened on me as Dane turned us toward the bow to find a seat, and she mouthed marry that man.
The captain returned with towels, and Dane wrapped me up.
“My hero.”
He looked down at me, his dark eyes shining. “I’m no hero, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Love you, baby.” Dane lowered his head and pressed his lips to my forehead.
Chapter 16
Kat
Present day
Dane follows approximately two steps behind me as we head down the dock to the catamaran, ready to spring into action at any moment in case I accidentally trip on the dock and pitch myself into the ocean.
It turns out that the dock isn’t the problem. The deckhand reaches out to help me into the boat, and my cute gold flip-flop slips on the fiberglass step.
Shit.
For a moment, I’m one hundred percent certain the next thing I’ll feel will be the warm water of the Caribbean. But instead of another less-than-graceful tumble into the ocean, I’m saved by Dane’s capable hands gripping me under the armpits and hauling me back onto the wooden surface of the dock.
He spins me around to face him, his fingers digging into my sides. “Jesus, babe. You okay?”
I nod, more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m fine. You know me.”
“Ditch the sandals first. I’ll help you on so we don’t have any mishaps.”
We both turn, and the deckhand who was offering his assistance to me apologizes profusely.
“So sorry, ma’am. I—”
“Don’t worry about it. All my fault.”
“But—”
“No, really, I could probably injure myself watching paint dry. It’s okay.”
Dane helps me aboard, carefully and safely, and the deckhand is still smiling at my comment.
“I’m Fedor. I’ll be your tour guide and deckhand today, along with Captain Tisdale.” He indicates the man standing at the helm, who gives us a short wave.
Dane holds out a hand. “Dane. This is Kat.”
“Wonderful to have you aboard Sweet Girl. Today we’ll be sailing around the cayes and stopping at some favorite snorkeling spots. If you’re interested in a beverage, we have plenty of drinks on board, and I’ll also be your bartender. Can I get you anything to get started before we depart?”
Dane looks to me. “Kat?”
“Do you have something fruity?”
Fedor smiles at me. “We have Belize’s favorite fruity cocktail, the Panty Ripper.” He shoots me a wink.
“What’s in that?”
“Pineapple juice and coconut rum. Perfect for a morning out on the water.”
I’m not sure whether it’s because of the suggestive name or despite it, but the drink sounds delicious. “I’ll have one of those.”
“Excellent. And for you, sir?”
“Do you have Bloody Mary mix?”
Fedor nods. “Indeed we do. Homemade from the resort. I’ll get your drinks, and Captain Tisdale will tell you about the safety features of our vessel.”
The words safety features are clearly directed at me.
Captain Tisdale spends five minutes telling us about the life jackets, paddles, and restroom on board before Fedor returns with our drinks. We settle onto a padded seat as the two men prepare to depart.
Just as Fedor is tossing off one of the dock lines, a familiar voice shouts from the dock.
“Wait! We want to come!”
Anya.
Footsteps pound down the wooden pier until her swirling hair and long legs come into view. She pauses to catch her breath. “They just told us you were going out. We want to come too.”
Captain Tisdale smiles brilliantly. “Of course, ma’am. We always have more room for a beautiful woman.”
Apparently she’s his type. Whose type wouldn’t she be?
Both Fedor and Captain Tisdale hurry to assist Anya in climbing aboard with her giant beach bag. My plan to avoid being anywhere near her while she’s in a bikini seems to be failing in spectacular fashion.
“Vander is coming as well. He refuses to run anywhere, so it was up to me to make sure you wouldn’t leave without us.”
For some reason, hearing Anya say this makes me like her a little more.
“I’m coming. I just didn’t want to risk breaking my neck for a sailboat ride,” comes Vander’s bored tone. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
So much for a quiet day out on the water for just the two of us.
It’s going to be fine, I tell myself.
Vander crosses to the cushioned bench where we’re seated. “I hope you two don’t mind the company. Anya’s never turned down a chance to go on a booze cruise. She’s always the life of the party. You’ll see.”
Apparently we have no choice.
“Of course we don’t mind. The more the merrier.” My response sounds less than sincere.
Anya drops onto the bench on the opposite side of Dane. “As long as it doesn’t turn into one of those three-hour tours like Gilligan’s Island, you know?”
“We’re already trapped on an island together, so it’s not like much else would change,” Vander says, and Anya giggles predictably.
About thirty minutes later, Fedor drops the anchor at our first snorkeling spot. Dane hands me my mask and snorkel out of the mesh gear bag he brought, and I get a pair of fins from Fedor along with Vander. When Fedor holds out a snorkel and mask to Anya, she makes a little moue of disgust.
“Not only am I not putting my mouth on something someone else has used, this swimsuit isn’t really meant to go in the water.”
She stripped down about ten seconds after we pulled away from the dock, revealing a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition cover-worthy bikini in bright raspberry shimmery fabric with the teeniest top I’ve ever seen. When she relocated to a seat in the sun, I got a full view of her booty, courtesy of the thong bottoms.
“You mean to tell me that you raced down the dock and forced me to hurry, all so you could lay in the sun, which you could have easily done on the island?” Vander sounds slightly annoyed, but more exasperated.
Anya shoots him a smile. “You can pretend you’re annoyed, but I know you and boats. The more you’re on one, the happier you are.”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s probably trying to soften me up to buy her a new car.”
“You know that the new Porsche was just announced, and I look so good in anything German.”
They’ve joked and bickered for the last thirty minutes while Dane and I have watched the Vander-Anya show.
Maybe this is what we’re missing in our relationship? We don’t just . . . talk. When is the last time we joked around? Whe
n did everything get so heavy all the time? Maybe that’s what we really need to get back—starting today.
I’m lost in contemplation when Vander strips off his shirt in front of me. He’s fit, with a defined chest and flat stomach, but he’s got nothing on Dane’s carved physique.
Vander catches my absent gaze and shoots me a wink.
Crap. I turn away and yank my mask over my head. The last thing I want is to encourage him.
We’ll just pretend that didn’t happen.
Chapter 17
Dane
After forty-five minutes in the water following Fedor as he points out fish and coral I’ve seen a hundred times, something interesting finally swims into view.
A motherfucking shark. The long, smooth gray body cuts through the water efficiently, moving closer every second.
I’m not a shark expert, but given the dark marking on its fins, I’m guessing it’s a blacktip rather than a nurse shark.
I lift my head from the water to do a quick scan of the surface. The catamaran is less than a hundred yards away, but there’s no way in hell we can outswim the shark if it decides to attack. Kat’s irrational fear of sharks will paralyze her in the water.
Logically, I know that it’s just curious and hopefully not a threat, but Kat won’t see it that way.
My choice is made, and I feel no guilt over what I’m about to do. I’ve kept things from her since the day we met, all in the name of protecting her, so I might as well add one more thing to the list.
I reach out and tap her on the thigh. She turns to me, all pink-masked and cute as hell, and I lift my face out of the water, trying to keep the body of the shark within my line of sight at the same time.
“Let’s go get some water. Take a break.”
She nods enthusiastically and mumbles something through her snorkel. Fedor and Vander are another thirty feet away, and this may be a dick move, but they’re both men who can fend for themselves. Right now, my only concern is my wife and her safety.
The blacktip swims deeper into the valley between corals as I motion for Kat to swim ahead of me.
Could I defend us both against a shark? Probably. I’ve got a knife in the pocket of my shorts, and short of that, I’m not afraid to put my body between her and its teeth. Up ahead, Captain Tisdale sees us swimming toward him, away from the tour, and I check for the blacktip behind us. It’s about twenty yards out to the right. If it decides we look like prey, there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to make it the rest of the way before it reaches us.
We’re fifteen feet from the ladder when Tisdale spots the fin. He points, and catches Kat’s attention.
I can tell the moment she spots the shark fin. Her eyes go huge behind her mask. Her gaze cuts to me, fear etched in her features behind the rubber and tempered glass.
Fuck.
Chapter 18
Kat
Holy shit.
Oh my fucking God.
Shark.
Shark.
Shark.
Every curse word in the English language reverberates through my head as my eyes lock onto the fin heading for us. Ice freezes solid in my chest, and I start to shake.
Dane’s dark eyes meet mine, and I know in that instant he didn’t want a freaking drink of water. He saw the fucking shark and was trying to get me to safety.
“Go!” he yells, pointing at the catamaran as Captain Tisdale waves me forward and shouts at Fedor and Vander.
Shaking off the paralysis, I paddle as hard as I can. Like when you’re a kid and you jump off a raft in the middle of the lake but swim back to the ladder as fast as humanly possible because you’re afraid of what might get you before you climb out. Or maybe that was just me.
But there was never a shark in the water before.
Sharks can sense fear, right? If that’s true, it’s guaranteed he can sense mine right now because I’m about to lose my shit.
My splashes become more violent, and I hope I don’t look like a wounded seal. Jesus. I’m going to die.
I’m not ready to die.
Oh my God, what if it gets Dane?
I will murder it and make shark steaks and a shark purse and shark slippers.
I’ve officially lost my mind, but when my hands hit the metal of the ladder, I reach down and rip my fins off and throw them at Captain Tisdale, not caring if they actually make it aboard.
“Come on! Come on!”
“I’m coming!” I scream through my snorkel, so it sounds like gibberish.
I scramble up the rungs like the fires of hell are after me. But nope, just a motherfucking shark.
I yank my mask off and scream at Dane. “Hurry! Oh my God. Oh my God.”
I drop onto my knees over the ladder and reach for him, trying to haul him out of the water faster.
His gaze meets mine as he tosses his flippers over the side and climbs up. “It’s okay, baby. I’m fine.”
I throw myself into his arms, shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my fucking God, there’s a fucking shark out there.”
Dane squeezes me tight. “It’s okay. It’s fine. They’re not usually aggressive. Just curious.”
I pull back and stab a finger into his chest. “You knew! You saw it. That’s why you wanted to get me in. How could you not tell me?” My tone shifts a tad toward accusatory from terrified.
Dane grabs a towel and wraps it around me. “Shhh.”
“Do not shhh me right now! I will not be shhh’d. There’s a motherfucking shark out there. What about the others? Oh my God.”
My husband, who apparently doesn’t fear sharks or bogeymen or those little geckos that sneak up on you in the showers in the tropics, just wraps his arms around me again. “They’ll be fine.”
My attention cuts to the water, where I’m anticipating a giant cloud of blood to form any moment when the shark tears them into tiny shreds like in Jaws.
Captain Tisdale finally cuts in. “Fedor is trained. He will not panic. And Mr. Cross is correct—they are not usually aggressive. Usually we only see nurse sharks, and very rarely anything else.”
“I saw the blacktip, so I figured it was a good time to move out.”
Tisdale’s eyes narrow on Dane. “I’m surprised you were able to identify it so easily. You must have spent a lot of time in the ocean in order to do so.”
Chapter 19
Dane
Tisdale is looking at me a little more intently than I’d like, but I’m not about to give him the rundown of the two times I’ve tangled with sharks that were more curious. Once was a hammerhead off the coast of Nicaragua, and the other was a blacktip another time in Belize that decided it was pissed off at the world.
We all watch the fin as it moves away from the catamaran and Fedor and Vander.
“What’s going on?” Anya carefully walks down the side of the deck, returning from the bow where she’s been sunbathing. She holds a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.
“Oh, nothing,” Kat says. “Just Dane spotting sharks in the water and not mentioning it to me while I swim to safety.” She glares at me. “I don’t know whether to thank you or strangle you.”
“A sh . . . shark?” Anya stutters, and her voice breaks. “Are you fucking serious?” She scans the water, looking for Vander, I assume. “And you just left them behind?”
Captain Tisdale, probably sensing the fit she’s about to throw, places a hand on Anya’s shoulder. “It is unlikely the shark will come any closer. The worst thing you can do in a situation like this is panic. They sense fear.”
Fedor and Vander turn toward the catamaran and make their way back at a leisurely pace.
Captain Tisdale steps back, and Anya screams. The pitch is so high, my eardrums protest. It takes a moment before I realize she is screaming a name. Strangely, it doesn’t sound like Vander.
His head pops up from the water and turns toward us. Anya starts waving her arms and pointing in the direction where we last saw the fin.
“Shark!”
Fedor lifts his head and looks around, searching the surface, before he goes under to no doubt try to see it from beneath. Vander surprisingly doesn’t panic like his girlfriend. Instead, he follows Fedor’s lead and does a scan before increasing the pace of his strokes on his return to the boat.
“Please, ma’am. Just stay calm. I’m sure it will be fine, and you’ll all be able to laugh at this memory in the very near future.”
But the cloud of fear surrounding Anya is palpable. There will be no laughing at this in the near future for her or for Kat, I have a feeling. She’s still shaking, wrapped in a towel in my arms.
Anya turns to me. “How could you possibly leave them there? What is wrong with you?”
I give her a hard look for daring to question my actions. “My priority—first, last, and always—is keeping my wife safe. They’re men. They can handle themselves.”
“That’d be sweet if I wasn’t worried about Vander being torn to shreds and eaten,” Anya snaps.
The men are within a dozen yards of the ladder, and there’s no fin in sight. We all breathe easier when they climb on board.
Vander shakes the water out of his blond hair. “That sure got the blood pumping, didn’t it?”
Anya wraps her arms around herself, her boobs in jeopardy of popping out of her top. “Oh, thank God.”
Fedor laughs. “I only saw it for a moment. Looked like a blacktip.” He looks to me. “You get a better look?”
“Blacktip, for sure. Sorry for leaving you hanging with no warning.”
I didn’t need to explain to him why I did it. It’s clear when he looks at Kat and nods. “Not a problem, sir. It is our duty to make sure you both get home safely.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Kat shifts in my arms.
“Would it have helped you get out of the water faster or slower?” I ask.
“I don’t know! But the next time you know there’s a shark in the water, I feel like I deserve to know. That’s not the kind of thing you keep from someone.”
Oh, baby. If you only knew. And how the hell am I going to tell you?
“I think this calls for a round of drinks,” Captain Tisdale announces, and the tension-filled moment lightens.