Stolen Chances (22 page)

She wasn’t going crazy. She wasn’t hearing voices. They’d found the damn ship. She should be elated, not freaking the hell out.

Nodding, she kicked and broke the surface just after him. And told herself it was nothing. Just nerves. She hadn’t actually heard a woman’s voice down there.

Sunlight glinted off his rugged face when he slipped off his mask. “It’s her.”

“It is.” Excitement over what they’d found trickled back in, and she smiled. “We found her.”

“You bet your ass we did.”

He grabbed her and spun her around in the water, a deep rumble of laughter echoing from his chest. She sank into him without thinking. His strong arms closed around her, pulling her tight against his chest. The rough stubble of his cheek brushed hers, and against her chest, she felt the rapid beat of his heart. Perfectly timed with hers. As if they were meant for each other.

She blocked out the sound of that voice, closed her eyes, and reveled in the feel of him. So familiar and new at the same time. Everything she’d been missing and longing for all these empty years.

Shouts echoed from the deck of the ship, interrupting her moment of bliss. Reluctantly she pulled back and turned to look over her shoulder. The entire crew stood on deck, eagerly awaiting their confirmation.

“I guess that means playtime’s over,” Thad said. When she turned back to face him, she caught the sparkle in his eyes. “Time to get busy, Blondie.”

Time to get busy…

Like a swift slap, the words pushed out all her enjoyment and reminded her why she was really here.

T
he next few hours were a blur of activity. There’d been a mini-celebration on deck with a six-pack of beer and a lot of dancing around, but then they’d gotten right to work.

Patrick had insisted on suiting up and seeing the cannons for himself. While he and Thad had gone down to record the pre-disturbance survey, Drummer had begun taking video and photographing the site.

Lisa and Maren debated excavation techniques. They’d be using an airlift, sifting through debris, creating trenches, and retrieving artifacts. Lisa was intent on not disturbing the sedimentary layers and wanted to work horizontally with a metal caisson to excavate stratigraphically, but at this shallow depth, barely sixty feet below the surface, much of what had accumulated over the past two hundred years would be changed due to tidal flows, storms, and currents. It would also be time-consuming and costly to use the metal caisson, and Maren finally swayed her friend toward her way of thinking.

When Maren found Thad and Patrick on the deck of the
Escapade
late that afternoon, her excitement over their discovery had regained momentum. It could be weeks, even months or years, before they found
La Malinche
—
if
the relic was even onboard the
Conquistador
, and that was still a big if. A possibility Maren was starting to think might not be a bad one in the long term. Mind spinning, she headed toward the bow of the ship where the two were in deep conversation.

Patrick scanned the water with his binoculars. “Word’s going to spread fast once we start excavating. Can’t hide the airlift or the cloud. Great big flag for anyone who’s watching what we’re up to.”

Thad took the binoculars and looked toward shore. “Treasure hunters and sightseers will get interested.”

Patrick rested a hand on his hip in the late fading sunlight and looked toward Thad. “You’re worried about Declan.”

Maren’s heart lurched into her throat, and her feet drew to a stop.

Thad lowered the binoculars. “So far he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in what’s going on out here, but that’ll change when he finds out we located the ship.”

Patrick spotted Maren, and his expression softened as he turned her way. “Ah, Maren. We were just discussing marking the wreck.”

Maren swallowed back the guilt lodged in her throat and crossed her arms over her chest.
Just stay away, Evan.
If they never found the relic, then she wouldn’t have to betray the people in front of her. Thad wouldn’t hate her. And she could go on pretending that the things he’d said to her last night might actually be real.

“Um, Lisa and I are just about done. She and Drummer are checking equipment and refilling tanks so we’re ready to go tomorrow.”

“Good.” Patrick smiled. “We’ll have a full crew on board tomorrow to work the artifacts and conglomerate brought up. We’ll let the grunts do most of the chip work, and you can oversee the cleaning and restoration.”

She nodded and glanced from her father to Thad. Unease settled over her. Thad was watching her with those intense, curious eyes.

Shaking her hair back, she worked up a smile she didn’t feel. “Well, I have a few more things I want to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Patrick.”

She turned for the salon, but Thad caught up with her, his hand on her arm stopping her. “Hey, everything okay?”

“What?” She didn’t stop walking. Knew if she did, she might break, and knowing she was spending the night alone with the man, she couldn’t break. At least not mentally. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Great, actually. We found the
Conquistador
. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

She ducked into the salon, leaving Thad standing on the deck. But before she disappeared, she was sure she heard him mutter, “So why aren’t you?”

T
had waited until the rest of the group headed back to camp before he went searching for Maren.

They’d sailed the
Escapade
back to shore and docked at the marina. After tying off the boat and making sure it was secure for the night, he stowed what was left of his gear and drew a deep breath.

A night with Maren. No storm, no explosions, and no crazy person. Just the two of them. Alone. Until morning.

Anticipation curled in his gut and spread through his limbs.

He moved into the cabin and down the few stairs in the main salon. Nerves in his chest and belly hummed when he found Maren sitting at the long worktable in the middle of the room, wearing cutoff denim shorts and a fitted ribbed black tank that showcased her curves. Her long blonde hair fell down her back, and when she tipped her head and glanced at the sketch pad in front of her, a lock fell across her face. She brushed it back and scribbled in her notebook, then looked at the slate to her right and went back to sketching.

God, she was beautiful. Slim. Fit. Curvy in places she hadn’t been before. And his. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d always be his.

As if she sensed him, she looked up and glanced toward the doorway. A nervous expression crossed her features before she went back to her notepad. And for some reason, it relaxed him.

“All done up there?” she asked.

“Yep.” He moved farther into the room. “Everything’s locked down for the night. It’s just you and me, Blondie.”

Her pencil paused, just a fraction of a second, but he saw it. And warmth bloomed in his chest. She was as nervous as he was. That was a good sign.

He moved behind her, stepped close, and peered over her shoulder at the sketch of the cannons she’d been working on. Her body heat and the sweet scent of pomegranates rose up around him. “I forgot how versatile you were with a pencil.” He sat next to her and flipped through the other sketches she’d done of the camp, the cenote, even the
Escapade
.

She shrugged. “It comes in handy.”

She didn’t make any move to stop her work, and though he liked that he knocked her off-kilter, he wanted her to relax some. Or just enough so he could knock her off her feet and rock her world later.

“You hungry?” he asked, lifting her beer as if it were his own and downing the last swallow.

She glanced over her glasses at him, and the look was so damn sexy, he nearly trashed his plan to take things slow and easy with her tonight. Several seconds passed before she looked down and shrugged again. “I could eat, I guess.”

He smiled as he pushed out of his seat and headed for the galley. Definitely nervous. He’d change that. Before the night was over, he wanted her panting.

He moved to the galley and searched cupboards and the small icebox they kept on board.

Minutes later, she sighed and dropped her glasses on the worktable. “That helpless look better not be a ploy to get me to cook for you.”

His grin widened. “I’m not a total loser. I do know how to work a stove.”

“Good thing.” She moved into the galley and sank onto the padded bench around the kitchen table.

“There’s just not a lot to work with,” he said, frowning into the icebox. “How do sandwiches sound?”

“Anything sounds good right about now.” She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn.

“You look wiped.” He retrieved bread and found cold cuts in the icebox. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

God knew he hadn’t slept. He’d kept replaying their dance, the way she’d tasted on the beach, all the things he’d wanted to do to her in that soft sand but had restrained himself from doing.

“If Patrick’s not working us to the bone, he’s not happy.”

There was definite truth in that. Thad slathered mayo on the bread, then slapped turkey, lettuce, and tomatoes on top.

“None of that red stuff on mine.”

He glanced over at her. “You don’t like tomatoes?”

“Ick, no.” She scrunched her nose in an adorable little way. “Too squishy. They just turn slimy between the bread. Tomatoes are fine in Italian food and salsa; otherwise, gag me.”

He chuckled, then dumped a can of chicken noodle soup into a pan and flipped on the stove. “See, I learn something new about you every day.”

She rested her chin on her hand as she watched him, and he found his own nerves easing. He’d missed this, the easy way they just seemed to fit together, no matter the situation.

“We’re making good progress,” she said. “Once we raise the cannons tomorrow, we’ll be in even better shape.”

Thad chuckled as he brought the soup and sandwiches to the table and slid into the booth across from her. “I’m glad we’re all meeting your standards.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said with a frown.

“It’s okay, Maren.” He licked his fingers and picked up his sandwich. “You’re a perfectionist. You always were. It’s why you’re so good at this whole gig. You’ve whipped Patrick’s grad students into shape. Even your dad’s impressed. Who knew they’d get a crash course in chemistry on this dig? I don’t think I ever learned the single replacement reaction for bronze disease, and I’ve been doing this for years. You sure taught me a thing or two.”

A timid smile curled her lips. Between dives, she’d been spending time with her father’s grunts, teaching them everything they’d need to know to clean the artifacts they’d bring up once they located the
Conquistador
. “Can you just see me in a lecture hall? My students would die of boredom.”

“Is that what you want to do? Teach?” He lifted his beer and studied her across the table while she took a bite.

She shook her head and swallowed. “No. I hated teaching when I was working on my doctorate. I’m happy doing this—research, recovery, recording.”

“Will you go back to the hotel when we’re done here?”

She looked down at her plate, and that same dark look he’d seen outside on the deck, when she’d interrupted his conversation with Patrick, crossed her features. “I don’t know. I think that’s up in the air at this point.”

She shook her head and reached for the beer he’d set in front of her plate. “What about you?”

“I usually play things by ear. I have a couple of guys I work with. They call me when things come up.”

“No responsibilities, no ties.”

The wistfulness in her voice belied the dark look that had crept back into her eyes. And in that moment, he had an intense, urgent need to prove to her he was willing to toss away everything about his old life for her if she wanted him to. “That doesn’t mean I’m not up for a change.”

Their eyes held. Electricity sparked between them. And her sweet blue gaze grew warm. Hot. Needy.

She looked back down, breaking the connection arcing between them. She did that a lot, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was holding her back. It was more than the past. More than his stupidity as a kid. Somehow, he knew it had something to do with the secret she was hiding from him.