by Jayne Rylon
Except she might have gotten in over her head. The onslaught of memories, none of them as precious as the ones Archer had made with her, threatened to suffocate her. It had all been downhill from there. She just hadn’t known it yet.
Cool, controlled, and skilled, she’d flown rescue missions the military wouldn’t entrust to anyone else. Why did it feel like this time she might be the one who needed some saving?
Waverly stared at her hot pink pedicure. A bold, feminine display since she traipsed around barefoot. In the Navy, she had kept her girly selections hidden in her boots. Another dirty little secret. She should have realized that everything about this job would be different than what she’d grown used to. The drastic shift—not to mention the rekindling of her inappropriate attraction—left her raw and exposed.
On the Divemaster, there was nowhere to hide.
“Everything all right?” Banks asked, startling her.
She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“It seems we’re both going to have to work on cutting that out.” The butler turned executive-agent-of-Archer’s-life slung an arm around her shoulder. Grateful for his warmth and support, she leaned into the affectionate gesture just a bit. “Archie gets cranky if you sir him.”
“Good to know.” She definitely didn’t want to piss him off.
Banks tugged on her braid. “And I am a simple servant. I don’t deserve the title.”
She slapped his gut with the back of her hand, making him oomph. “Bullshit.”
“See, you’re much tougher than I am.” He murmured, “Stronger than you think, I bet.”
If Waverly hadn’t sworn off crying for good, she might have been tempted to give in to the sting behind her eyes right then. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He gave her one last squeeze then released her. “Come on. Let’s feed you some breakfast and introduce you to the rest of the crew.”
She nodded, afraid of what her voice might sound like if she attempted to speak.
Within the lounge, she discovered a situation that was at least sort of familiar. A group of high-performing individuals gathered around bulk-prepped food, exchanging banter before things got serious. When she entered, many surreptitious yet appraising glances were aimed in her direction.
Nothing new there.
Their combined scrutiny didn’t impact her like the thought of a single glance from Archer did.
She hadn’t even made it all the way into the room when a man—slightly less than six feet tall, she guessed—set down his plate and made his way to her. He had brown hair dark enough that she might have thought it was black if the sun hadn’t shone through the windows onto it. Of course, it was also peppered with some gray that gave him a distinguished air. Gray eyes evaluated her from behind squared-off glasses that were both somewhat nerdy and very flattering. His goatee and mustache, an indulgence he wouldn’t have been permitted in the military, were close-cropped and neat. The unmistakable black stripe adorned with an anchor above four gold stripes made it perfectly clear who he was even before Banks completed pleasantries.
“Captain Alex, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Commander Waverly Adams.”
She returned his firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
He didn’t object to her formality. Banks had filled her in earlier so she knew he was a fellow veteran. No amount of cajoling would convince her to treat him differently.
“I’m glad to have you onboard. You came highly recommended by an old friend of mine—Commander Smith.”
As soon as he mentioned one of her mentors, they were off exchanging stories. She had no idea how long they’d stood there while Archer probably finished saying goodbye to his overnight guest, or untangled the other two divemasters—the only other missing staff members—from similar situations.
Long enough for her to polish off a ham, egg, and cheese croissant and forget about her nerves, though. She was chuckling at some antics Captain Alex related when everyone else went quiet.
Her laughter rang out in the silence, drawing the attention of her new bosses.
Waverly froze.
So did Archer.
Their gazes locked. She wondered for a moment if he might actually be Superman with a laser-beam stare. It nearly set her blood boiling.
Until the two guys dragging ass behind him crashed into his back, shoving him forward and severing their link.
She figured it was best to act as if she were on the first day of any normal job. One where she hadn’t repeatedly sucked face with the boss in another lifetime or fantasized about him far more often than was healthy ever since.
Waverly straightened her spine, assumed her best resting bitch face, and tucked herself into the corner of the room, behind a few other crew members. That seemed to work.
Archer glanced away to address the room in general. “I apologize for making you wait. Tosin isn’t exactly a morning person.”
The sleepy—and sort of hung-over—looking guy rolled his eyes, drawing an exasperated sigh from one of his partners. Clearly they were also best friends. They could practically finish each others’ sentences.
“Oh, I’m a hell of a morning guy. As I was about to demonstrate…”
Banks stepped in before they could deteriorate too much of the professional atmosphere he’d created for the staff. At least not on the very first day of the Divemaster Project. “Okay, everyone, today is show time. Our first batch of guests will arrive in just a few hours. The two dozen passengers have one thing in common. They are all family members of children who passed away unexpectedly. They chose to donate their loved ones’ organs and saved countless lives despite their own personal losses. Each person was nominated by the family of a transplant recipient who felt they deserved the vacation of a lifetime. For many of these people, significant stress is a constant part of their daily existence. I see it as our mission to help them forget their personal tragedies for a little while. Or if we can’t do that, at least give them some space to reflect in peace and quiet away from their obligations.”
Well, that sobered things up real quick.
Damn.
For the first time, Waverly realized another massive benefit of this position. It was one she’d loved about her time as a sailor as well. She’d be doing something to enrich people’s lives. Maybe make a small difference, like she wished someone had done for her in her time of need.
With that in mind, she swore to iron out any lingering weirdness with Archer and do the best she could for the beneficiaries of his organization. It would help if he didn’t keep ogling her, though.
When she caught him doing it again, he looked away.
Yet every few seconds he repeated the performance.
Was he trying to figure out who she was? Or was he hoping she’d take a hint and leave? Maybe he didn’t want to remember where they’d come from any more than she did.
One thing was for sure—he wasn’t leveling any smoldering, seductive stares in her direction. Intense, yes. Googly eyes, not so much.
Too bad. That might have been the only thing she missed about her old life.
Banks continued his briefing. “We’ve arranged vacation time and everything imaginable so that this group of guests can stay with us for the next three weeks. During that time we’ll visit each of the ABC islands, starting here with Bonaire, then moving to Curaçao and on to Aruba before venturing farther out to sea. There is a chain of uninhabited islands Archer, Tosin, and Miguel have visited briefly in the past that they’d like to explore. Depending on how that goes, we could also make a side trip over to Venezuela. We’ll adjust the schedule as needed to accommodate weather or other situations that arise. If there are no questions, I’d like to go around the room and have each of you tell us what you do here, your name, and anything else you’d like to share with our newcomers.”
The majority of the crew had worked on this ship for weeks as everything was prepared for their inaugural run. Nearly everyone had experience doing the same w
ork on other vessels before that, each experts in their duties. The Divemaster hadn’t had a helicopter before the renovations, so Waverly was one of the handful of newbies here today. A masseuse, Vanessa, had introduced herself earlier and stood nearby, along with Maria, an addition to the kitchen staff.
This was the first time the rest of the crew was meeting Archer, Tosin, and Miguel as well. That sort of took precedence, deflecting a lot of the pressure from her.
Waverly listened attentively, though she could feel the blast of Archer’s stare from time to time. She ignored him, or tried desperately to, memorizing the names and roles of each person on the team.
Staff was organized into a few main groups—officers, deck crew, engineering, and interior. She didn’t really fit anywhere. Along with the ship’s medic, massage therapist, and of course the divemasters, Waverly was lumped in with the other specialists. Since she’d been the last to arrive and was standing near the end of the line, she was the final person to run through her spiel.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m the ship’s helicopter pilot. I spent the last eleven years training with and flying Seahawks for the Navy.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Archer seemed to relax visibly as she spoke, so she tossed in a joke. “I promise I won’t fly like I have on some of my missions. Easy does it. Unless you ask for a wild ride.”
She risked a peek at Archer then, only to find his nostrils flaring.
What had she said…?
Oh, oops, she hadn’t meant it like that. Shit.
She would have tried to smooth over her gaffe if Tosin Ellis hadn’t shot his hand in the air, his eyes growing huge. He shouldn’t have bothered since he spoke before anyone could give him permission. “Hold up a second. If she’s a super sexy, badass helicopter pilot…does that mean we have a helicopter for her to pilot?”
“Yes, sir.” Banks nodded solemnly as a few other staff members attempted to disguise their snorts behind napkins.
“Hells yeah! I call first ride in the chopper, suckers!” Miguel fist pumped as he looked between Tosin and Archer.
The guys laughed along with their counterpart, but choked when Banks interjected, “Seems only fair then that Tosin and Archie take the maiden voyage in the supercars we have on board for shore excursions. I assume a Lamborghini and a Bentley will suffice?”
“Are you shitting us right now?” Miguel clasped his chest over his heart. “You wouldn’t joke about something like that, would you?”
“I shit you not, sir,” Banks replied with the perfect dose of feigned snootiness.
Waverly tried not to let a smile crack her stolid mask. It was impossible. They were so fun to be around. She felt herself wanting to belong already. A dangerous proposition.
Archer shushed Miguel as best he could. Then he nearly melted her insides when he turned his full attention directly on her. “Sorry, with this dumbass losing his mind over here, I didn’t catch your name.”
So he didn’t recognize her after all.
Her smile dulled, becoming forced.
Banks nodded at her, so she drew herself up and led with the bit she was most proud of even if technically she was retired. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Waverly Adams.”
Archer gripped his mouth then wiped his hand down his chin. The motion didn’t disguise the fact that his jaw had dropped. Flabbergasted, he practically gasped, “Holy fucking shit. It is you.”
Not in a Well, how about that! My long lost puppy love. What the hell have you been up to this past decade? So great to see you again! sort of way, either.
Color leached from his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Then color rushed back into his cheeks. This time it was an unhealthy shade of lava red instead of tan, though.
“Banks. I need to see you out in the hall. Immediately.” He marched off without another glance—steamy, intense, or otherwise—in her direction.
So…that hadn’t gone well.
Of course not. Since she’d just decided she hoped to stick around.
With everyone gawking at her in utter disbelief, she didn’t know what to say.
Or what to do.
After a couple tense minutes and muffled shouts, she had had enough.
“If I don’t come back, send a search party, would you please, sir?” she asked Captain Alex.
“I’m more worried about that idiot,” she thought she heard the man mutter as she stormed out the door, simultaneously humiliated and crushed.
And pissed off because of it.
Eight
Archer pivoted, swinging around to face Banks, trying not to bellow.
He failed miserably. “Why the hell is she here?”
“Because the lieutenant commander is highly qualified for the position. Overly so, in fact. I only hired the best for you, Archie.” Placid expression in place, Banks merely stared back, hands folded in front of his uniform. His ensemble consisted of khaki shorts and a navy polo instead of the full tux required by Archer’s asshole father. Somehow the cotton had been pressed and was perfectly crisp.
He clearly took this role no less seriously than he had his estate manager duties.
It was also painfully obvious that he’d endured far worse temper tantrums from Archer’s father. Though Banks didn’t flinch in the face of Archer’s ire—and, to be honest, pure terror—he did seem surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst.
Shit. This wasn’t the kind of guy Archer aimed to be. But…Waverly!
Seeing her had just about knocked him on his ass. Thinking about her sharing opulent, yet still limited quarters with him…
No. That wouldn’t work.
Because one look at her had him forgetting the promises he’d made to himself the night before. As she always had, she turned him on in a heartbeat. It must be some crazy compatible pheromone thing they had going between them. What else could explain this instant and insatiable lust?
It was even more inappropriate now than it had been back then.
When he was sixteen, he’d thought his guaranteed boner in her presence was…well, due to being sixteen and horny every minute of the day. When he was nineteen, he’d thought it was because she might be the one for him.
Though they’d never gotten a chance to find out before that possibility had been ruined.
Now that he was thirty-one, he had matured enough to be positive his attraction was driven by something a hell of a lot more potent. And more treacherous. Addictive, too.
Even now, like some creeper, he wished he could spy on her in the other room. See the thick braid of onyx hair that would make the perfect tether as he mounted her from behind and rode…
Damn it.
No!
Not after what he’d done to her. She’d never be down for that. And he did not blame her.
Disgusted with himself, he hung his head and tried to think.
Why would she sign on to the Divemaster?
Wasn’t seeing him as painful for her as seeing her was for him?
And…seriously? She was a kickass helicopter pilot?
Confusion battered him from a dozen directions at once. What the hell was going on here?
He’d never have assumed she’d have to work at all, let alone conquer something as daring and non-traditional as that. If he’d ranked every single job in the world he thought Waverly Adams might have in her lifetime, helicopter pilot would likely have fallen below fire breather in a traveling circus or rattlesnake venom milker or pet food taste-tester.
Had he been responsible for the complete annihilation of the playful, fuzzy bunny she’d been before that night?
If so, did it make him even sicker that this ferocious version of her turned him on even more than the softer side had?
How had she convinced her ultra-conservative, elitist father to allow her to enlist in the military?
She was obviously stronger willed than he’d given her credit for.
Add another black mark to his record with her.
Uncounted questions swirled around his brain,
paralyzing him.
“If you’d like me to release her and find someone else, I will.” Banks tipped his head almost imperceptibly. For him, that was as blatant a dissent as if he’d screamed. “I assure you, though, this wasn’t some nepotistic hire. She’s ranked at the top of her field. Has several commendations in her file. Besides, Archie, I remember how well you two used to get along. You asked me to keep an eye on her when you left. So I thought—”
“You couldn’t have known. But you thought wrong. Get her out of here. Please.” For the first time, Archer wished he’d done as Banks had requested and reviewed the staff applications. He’d have crumpled Waverly’s and thrown it in the trash.
Or maybe even burned that fucker.
Anything to keep her safe from him.
Because even now, he didn’t want her to go.
What kind of insanity was this?
“Excuse me?” Anything but contrite, Waverly stood a few feet away, her brows arched, her hands on her lush hips and her toes tapping against the teak.
Even pissed, she looked amazing.
Pure temptation.
Archer could hardly catch his breath, never mind think straight. Had she come here to demand an apology? If so, he would gladly grovel. It was just that he didn’t think acts of contrition would suffice. Words couldn’t take back what he’d done.
Or did she plan to haunt him?
His mind scrambled, trying to analyze the problem from every angle, starting with her perspective. The one that mattered most.
What if this wasn’t about him at all?
So far she hadn’t made it seem as if it was. Hell, she hadn’t even mentioned his sins when she could have outed him to a roomful of people.
If that was true, and she was here to prove something to herself, then he owed her anything she desired. If this position was it, he’d have to find a way to bury his attraction to her. Demonstrate that he had preserved some shred of a gentleman in him somewhere, despite his inherited evil streak.
Except he wasn’t sure he had.
Even now, he was finding it hard to pry his attention off her breasts and the way they filled out the Banks Foundation shirt she wore. Some part of him roared in satisfaction, seeing his name on her body.