by Jayne Rylon
Could putting up with his lechery really be worth it to her?
“Why the hell do you want this job?” he barked at her.
She didn’t retreat despite the things she knew he was capable of. The military had hardened her.
Or maybe he had.
“Because I’ve earned a cushy gig after risking my life for my country this past decade?” She didn’t sound a hundred percent convincing when she said it, but he was willing to let it slide.
“Just tell me one thing.” He stared at her fingers as he asked. He’d seen her rubbing the hem of her polo between her thumb and forefinger earlier. Right when she’d revealed herself. A classic Waverly tell. He’d know if she lied.
“What?”
“Are you doing this only for the money?” He swallowed hard, downing some of his pride to make as many amends as he could. “You know I’d have Banks write a check right now from the Foundation with as many zeroes as you tell him to add if that’s what you’re after. It’s yours. Anything you need. Or hell, even if it’s just what you want from me. No reason to make us both suffer.”
The only thing her fingers did was curl into a fist at that last bit. He was liable to end this conversation with a well-deserved shiner if he wasn’t careful.
“I think you’ve lost your mind. Yeah, I took a job for money. That’s how most people do things. But…that stuff, about the kids. That means more. I would have liked to have been part of something generous, compassionate, and consequential. Whatever’s happening here, though, it’s not worth it. You know what? Fuck this. And fuck you.” She turned as if to leave.
Archer reached out without thinking. His fingers wrapped around her upper arm to stop her. To turn her to face him. Something.
No matter what his intentions were, they were asinine.
He would have to learn to suppress his instincts around her if she stayed.
He had no right to touch her. Ever again.
So why did electricity arc between them when he did? And why didn’t she shrink from the contact?
Archer could no longer figure out if he wanted her to stay—or wanted her to go.
Then he realized he was screwing up again. If she was okay with this, who was he to punish her further by denying her a pretty damn sweet job?
He owed her.
If this was what she called her debt in for, he would make it happen, even if it meant he would be driven insane with remorse and guilt before their first tour was complete. It wouldn’t come close to paying for what he’d done.
At least she didn’t seem afraid of him. If she had shrunk away, or whimpered, it would have killed him.
Hopefully he could convince her that he would never hurt her again.
Never would have the first time either, if he’d realized what was happening.
Not that it was any excuse.
He was a man now. One intent on doing the right thing, no matter how hard the universe seemed to try making that for him.
“Take your hand off me,” she snarled.
Why was he still holding on to her? Part of him was scared she’d storm away and he’d never have the chance to set things to rights. This could be his shot at redemption.
Archer released her. His fingers splayed, palms perpendicular to the floor as he backed away step by step. “I’m sorry, Waverly. It won’t happen again.”
He hoped she realized he was talking about more than that single stolen touch.
She dusted herself off as if he’d given her cooties then stood straight, defiant, and committed.
Banks stepped between them then, breaking their line of sight and whatever insanity seemed to have overtaken them both. “I have to admit, I’ve got no idea what’s going on here.”
“That makes two of us.” Waverly threw her hands up.
“Three,” Archer growled.
“So why don’t we try this? The guests will be here shortly. Call a truce. Go to separate corners of the ship for a while. Tomorrow you can hash things out like adults.” The steady calm with which Banks outlined his plan had Archer unwinding slightly. Enough to see the wisdom in his suggestions. “If either of you decide then that I’ve royally screwed something up, there will be plenty of flights back to the States from Curaçao. For Waverly, or me, or both.”
“No one’s getting fired.” Archer wanted to bang his head on the wall. “But if you want out, either of you…”
“I never intended to upset you. Or Waverly. But I clearly have stepped in it this time.” Banks frowned. “There should be repercussions for poor judgment.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Archer said, thinking this might be payback for his own errors.
Anything he added would take them right back into their argument.
So they left it at that.
For now.
Nine
Waverly slid her dark sunglasses into place as she wound her way to the bottom level of the yacht and into the divemasters’ realm. Not only because it was as if someone had taken the sunlight from Charleston, where she’d been stationed the past eighteen months, and cranked it up about a hundred notches. But also because she needed shielding from Archer’s piercing gaze, if yesterday was any indication.
It was sort of like barging into some sea monster’s lair. She was determined to plow ahead, though. Shrinking from her fears was not something she believed in doing anymore.
Her fingers trailed along the curved chrome handrail as she descended the final gorgeous staircase that led to the enormous staging area and dive platform. Though she’d never been on a boat this size intended solely for recreation, she was fairly certain these facilities were over the top and custom designed.
Wet suit racks and lockers lined the back wall near the entrance to the interior of the ship. Benches with tank holders and individually assigned milk crate bins tucked beneath each place to keep everyone organized. In the center of the wide-open area, a high counter held camera equipment. There were even a couple of tables being used as desks next to a whiteboard. Tosin appeared to be teaching a handful of guests, who either weren’t already certified or were maybe taking an advanced course toward earning a specialty.
Miguel was over by the compressors, refilling tanks. They must have taken a group out far too early for her this morning. Sleeping in was a rare treat. So she’d indulged. Who knew what today would bring? Might as well make the most of what time she had here.
Waverly kept searching, only one person on her mind at the moment.
When she spotted him, bending over in a damn near scandalous pair of white swim briefs that revealed almost all of his fine form, she was even gladder for her cover. Daaaaaaamn!
On display, his ass looked entirely too grab-able. Powerful thighs, and his back—lean and muscled—made her pray he would turn around soon so she could catalog the rest of his killer features.
There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him anywhere.
“Ahem.” Miguel cleared his throat, winking at her as he gave his friend a head’s up that she was standing here watching the Archer Show.
When he caught sight of her, he didn’t bolt upright. Nope. He finished what he was doing, then gracefully unfolded himself, dropping a dozen or so snorkels and masks into the rinse tanks. The view from the front somehow managed to rival his spectacular buns.
Archer’s hair stuck up, wet from his earlier plunge. In sexy disarray, it made her palms tingle with the urge to finger comb it. Then again, she might be distracted by touching the scruff of his light beard—which he definitely hadn’t had the last time she’d kissed him—or following the smattering of dark fur over his chest and tight abs down to that skimpy suit hugging his hips.
Thankfully, the rinse tank kept her from eye-fucking his package.
That might have gotten embarrassing. Sunglasses to the rescue.
Especially since she was fairly sure she looked like an owl with her eyes about to pop out of her skull.
Tosin paused his class for a moment, peeking between he
r and Archer. Great, an audience. Just what she didn’t need if things went to hell like they had the day before. She swallowed hard and mentally measured the distance between herself and the staircase. Still, she refused to run.
“Good morning,” Waverly said quietly as she approached Archer.
“Morning.” No good from him.
At least he didn’t seem like he was about to explode again.
“Want some help with those?” She picked up the gallon jug of dish detergent he was about to disinfect the gear with, poured some onto one of the rags nearby, and began to scrub before he’d agreed.
“What are you doing, Waverly?” He gazed at her, pitching his voice low when he asked, clearly inquiring about a lot more than her scrub job.
She followed his lead, keeping their discussion as private as could be given the people surrounding them. “Do you think we could start over? Just pretend yesterday—hell, our whole lives before right now—never happened?”
It would simplify things, she figured.
“Can you really do that? I think it would be harder for you than for me.” He scrubbed his face. “Even if you can, should you? I don’t expect you to let me off easy.”
She thought she’d called him on his shit pretty thoroughly yesterday. What else did he expect her to do in retaliation for losing his temper? Cane him?
An entire career spent in the midst of mostly men had conditioned her to dealing with their methods of communication or the avoidance thereof. “Um, sure. Everyone screws up. I’m not the kind of person to harp on it once amends are made.”
Nor did she want to get mired down in a rehash of yesterday’s bewildering argument. She didn’t think she’d understand what had set him off even if he tried to explain. When she’d thought over it as she tried to fall asleep, all she could come up with for sure was that the two of them still had the capacity to affect each other deeply.
That didn’t seem like a horrible thing to her.
Eventually, Archer caved. “You said make amends. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Let me tag along with your snorkel group. It’s been a while since I swam in tropical water like this.” She’d even put on the modest one-piece suit Banks had issued as part of the uniform beneath her shorts and polo, just in case.
“Sure, I guess that’s a start, though I’m certain the punishment doesn’t fit the crime in this case. I thought about it a ton last night and I realized it would be even more of a dick move for me to dictate how you should feel about it.” He seemed far too serious when he stared down at her. “So, I’m not joking here—whatever you want, you get.”
Waverly found it odd that he kept treating her with such kid gloves. After yesterday, she didn’t want to rock the boat, though. Since she wasn’t pissed anymore, and he seemed to have gotten over whatever had swum up his ass, she didn’t see any reason to prolong their discord.
Their arms brushed up against each other as they worked, distracting her for a moment. She stuck out her sudsy hand and said, “Truce?”
Archer swallowed hard, as if she’d given him something much more valuable than simple forgiveness. “I don’t deserve that. But, yeah. Truce. Thank you.”
For a while they worked together in silence, except for the squeak of their fingers on clean plastic. It wasn’t awkward or strained, though. Waverly spared a few moments to take in the surroundings. They’d cruised overnight to their next destination. The beautiful beaches of Curaçao stretched out before her. Anchored a ways offshore today, they had stayed closer to prime diving locations.
Some of the guests had taken tenders to shore to explore the island. No one had plans to use the chopper. Except maybe Miguel, if he requested his ride later.
“Of all the crew, I have the fewest responsibilities.” She thought about spending some quality time catching up on her reading and tanning. That would probably rock for a while, but sitting idle didn’t suit her much. “I can help you out when I’m not flying. With this kind of stuff. Diving, too. Another set of eyes never hurts when you’re down there.”
“You’re certified?”
“Want me to run down to my cabin and bring you my PADI card and logbook?” She smirked. “Of course. I traveled to a lot of excellent destinations and used leave to explore where I could. Egypt was probably my favorite. Took the Navy courses for non-diver personnel, too. Which means I’m qualified to assist dive teams or aid in search operations, though let’s hope we never need one of those. Could probably blow some shit up down there in a pinch if necessary.”
He blasted out a laugh. “It’s so weird to me, thinking of you like that. I’ll keep it in mind if we ever find ourselves in need of an explosives expert.”
Waverly beamed up at him, glad that although he hadn’t thought of her that way before, it didn’t seem to make him like her any less. If anything, his smile and head shake led her to believe he was kind of awed. Or maybe even impressed.
By the time they’d finished the batch of gear, people had begun to wander into the staging area to prepare for their snorkel tour. Some had obviously never tried it before. So she busied herself calming those who exhibited nerves by demonstrating techniques and promising to stick close by until they got the hang of it.
Archer and Miguel were outfitting everyone with fins, masks, and snorkels, plus pool noodles or cameras or inflatable rafts, whatever they needed to feel safe and have fun. A couple of the more experienced passengers were staring longingly at the sea, getting antsy, when someone shouted, “Look, dolphins!”
Waverly rushed to the edge to ooh and ahh along with the rest of the folks gathered nearby. Sure enough, they were darting around near the ship.
“Mind if I get in? Take anyone who’s ready with me before the dolphins swim off?” Waverly asked Archer, a little louder than she’d intended as excitement coursed through her.
He seemed unsure at first. “If you’re comfortable…”
“I am.” Would he trust her?
“Okay, go ahead. Holler if you need help.”
She grinned as she stripped off her shirt and shorts then dashed over to the neat stack of equipment she’d prepared for herself. Right about then, she realized he was appraising her just like she’d done to him earlier. Hopefully he liked what he saw as much as she had.
Except when their gazes caught, he looked away, guiltily, whereas she’d only stared longer.
Then thoughts of Archer and the havoc he was wreaking on her libido vanished.
Waverly slipped on her gear and leapt into the ocean. She told the rest of the guests, “Whenever you’re ready, join me.”
It was a rush being in the water with animals as intelligent, agile, and predatory as dolphins. They weren’t the cute cartoons most people envisioned. She was mindful of that and kept her distance, absolutely transfixed when one of the undomesticated creatures buzzed past her, whistling and clicking to its friends.
A couple of snorkelers made it in with her, chattering excitedly as they observed the pod passing by. Waverly divided her attention, making sure each of the swimmers seemed at ease with their apparatus. The salt water made it easy to stay afloat even without clutching the pool noodles some of them leaned on. Still, sometimes it could be intimidating to jump off a perfectly good boat into endless water. She remembered the first open water swim she’d participated in on an aircraft carrier. Talk about isolation. Nothing but empty horizon in every direction she had looked.
And yet the entire ocean was their swimming pool.
Neat and terrifying at once.
Someone coughed. Waverly spun around until she identified the struggling guest. She put her face in the water and swam, cutting through the baby waves with an efficient breaststroke.
Archer must have heard the sputtering, too. Without hesitating, he executed a perfect dive off the platform and headed toward her target. The woman wasn’t really in any danger. Still, instincts could sometimes trigger panic when water unexpectedly splashed you in the face or you got a swall
ow of it down the wrong pipe.
And that could kill you.
Panic, that is.
Waverly wrapped her arm around the thrashing snorkeler. “Hey. You’re all right. I’ve got you.”
She grabbed the foam pool noodle that had slipped from the woman’s grasp and returned it to her. The guest clung as if it were a lifesaver.
“Tilt your face up a little, out of the chop, and take a nice deep breath,” Waverly coaxed the woman.
By the time Archer emerged and shook the water from his eyes, she had the situation well under control.
He didn’t try to overrule what was obviously working. Instead he floated nearby, ready to assist if needed, and let her do her job. Well, actually, he let her do his job. Somehow that was even more satisfying.
“I missed the dolphins.” The woman sighed, then put her snorkel in her mouth, cleared it properly, and leaned forward, peeking through her mask once more.
“They may come back.” Archer said, trying to cheer her up. “Besides, there are lots of other cool things to see.”
He raised his hand and called the rest of their charges over to him now that the excitement was over. “We’re going to split into two groups. If you just want to stick around the boat and take it easy, you’ll be with Miguel. If you want to check out the reef and are up for a little swim, grab a noodle and come with me.”
Waverly floundered, debating what she should do.
“Would you mind joining me?” he asked her. Then he repeated what she’d said before. “Never hurts to have another pair of eyes. Or another very capable guide.”
She smiled at the compliment, then agreed.
Ten
Floating beside each other, kicking lazily, the pack of snorkelers skimmed over the reef. Archer noticed things she never would have seen from this far away, making sure to draw everyone’s attention to the highlights.
Waverly couldn’t wait for her next opportunity to dive. Once she’d experienced SCUBA, snorkeling didn’t cut it. Not when you wanted an up-close, full-immersion experience. It was fun, just not the same.