With Valor And Devotion

It figured he’d go into the water the macho way. Adjusting his face mask, he did a back flip over the side of the boat.

Kristin was more cautious. Using the swimming ladder he’d lowered, she eased into the water. The cold was a shock initially, but then her body heat warmed the water that was caught between her skin and the wet suit.

She swam to Mike’s side. He gestured for her to follow him down.

It was oddly intimate beneath the surface, just the two of them gliding side by side downward, their only companions an occasional sea perch and a puffer who objected to their visit. Except for the sound of her own breathing apparatus and the rush of water past her, the silence was intense.

Mike moved as gracefully through the water as if he’d been born to the sea, his flippers barely moving as though he was making sure not to get too far ahead of her. He turned his head and gave her a thumbs-up. She returned the signal.

They reached the wreck and hovered off its bow for a moment. Kristin could make out the wheelhouse of what used to be a freighter. She should have asked when it had—

She drew a quick breath as though the one before that hadn’t filled her lungs. The next one didn’t do the job either. Fighting a sense of panic, she checked the meter for her oxygen tanks.

Empty! Her damn tanks were empty! How could that be?

She whirled, propelling herself upward. Toward the surface. Toward air!

Something snared her ankle. She kicked and flailed against whatever had captured her. Her lungs were burning, ready to burst. She had to get to the surface, but she was being dragged down—

Eye-to-eye with her, Mike banged on her mask to get her attention. He took his mouthpiece from his mouth and offered it to her. He looked so damn calm, so under control as he tugged her mouthpiece away and replaced it with his.

Buddy breathing! Of course, she’d practiced it once in a swimming pool with her brother, but she’d never had to actually do it in a crisis.

She drew in a welcome breath of air. Oh, God…Nothing had ever tasted so good. So sweet.

With patience worthy of a saint, he tapped her hand asking for the mouthpiece back. She sucked in another deep breath before releasing her grip.

Behind his mask, she saw him wink at her as he inhaled. Then he signaled they’d go up together and handed her the mouthpiece again.

He controlled their ascent, keeping her calm, even pointing out a school of passing herring as if this were a walk in the park. She clung to his arm and to the mouthpiece even when he was getting a much-needed shot of oxygen for himself. She was like an octopus wrapped around him. A scared octopus!

They broke the surface together.

Kristin ripped off her mask and dragged in all the air her lungs could handle, one breath after another.

He perched his mask on the top of his head. “Easy, honey. You don’t want to hyperventilate.”

“Oh, God. I couldn’t breathe. I was so scared!”

Treading water, he pulled her into his arms. He was all muscle and strength, as gentle with her as he would be with a baby. And that’s what she’d been. A baby!

“I’m so sorry. I panicked. I shouldn’t have—I know better—”

“It’s okay. You’re all right now. Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say.” She tried for a laugh, but it came out little more than a choked sob. Her whole body was trembling, inside and out. “Have you always been a hero, or is that something they teach you in firefighter school?”

With an easy kick of his feet, he propelled them toward the boat. “Let’s see, when I was about ten I rescued a neighbor’s dog who got her head stuck in a fence. Cost me about ten stitches.” He held up the back of his hand to show her the scar—ragged teeth marks. “She didn’t understand I was trying to help her.”

She shuddered at the injury he’d suffered trying to be a white hat. “I promise not to bite.”

A wry grin lifted one side of his mouth and his dark eyes gleamed with a wicked glint. “I wouldn’t object to a little nibble when you’re feeling up to it.”

She sputtered, took in a mouthful of salty water and came up coughing. The man was an incorrigible flirt. But the real problem was her own reaction, the temptation to take him up on his suggestion.

“Right now my preference would be to get my feet on solid ground as quickly as possible.” And to get away from Mike Gables as fast as those same feet would take her.

They reached the boat, and he followed her up the ladder. Still shaking, she stood on the deck dripping water onto the teak flooring, counting every breath she took as a blessing.

“Let’s get your tank off, and I’ll take a look at it.”

“I checked it this morning.” Though obviously not carefully enough. “I’m sure I had enough air. My brother Colby makes sure the tanks are full after we dive.”

Mike helped her shrug out of the tanks. “How long ago was your last dive?”

“Last summer, I guess.” She dropped her weight belt to the deck.

“Things can happen. Valves get stuck. I should have checked your tanks before I let you go down.”

“It’s not your fault.” Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t make the zipper on her wet suit work. “I should be responsible for my own gear.”

“Here, let me.”

Before she could object, he’d set the air tanks aside and turned her around to face him. The back of his hand brushed against her throat as he reached for the tab, and he slipped his other hand inside her suit so the zipper wouldn’t pinch her. His knuckles grazed her skin as he lowered the zipper. An intimate touch. Flesh to flesh. The hum of the zipper like the rushing of blood through her veins.

She swallowed hard. His lips were only inches from hers. Kissable lips that were slightly full but not so thick as to give one of those messy, juicy kisses she didn’t like. Not that she’d been kissed at all lately. And she shouldn’t be thinking about that.

His eyelashes were dark semi-circles, unfairly long for a man. His cheeks smooth-shaven. Caressable. His jaw strong. And his lips…

The zipper reached the middle of her chest, the backs of his fingers perilously close to her breasts. He stopped and cleared his throat.

“You do, uh, have a swimsuit on, don’t you?” His deep voice came out breathy as though he’d run out of oxygen too.

Her response caught in her throat. “Yes.”

“Good.”

The zipper resumed its slow descent, the pressure of the skintight wet suit easing on her breasts, releasing them as the links separated. The sensation was as erotic as if he were undressing her right down to her skin. Her breathing turned shallow, her mouth dried and her heartbeat accelerated. She was as unable now to draw a decent breath as she had been only minutes ago forty feet under the water.

This was not good, she told herself. He’d just rescued her from drowning, her panic-driven adrenaline was still racing through her veins, and she was in a susceptible mood. Vulnerable.

She clutched his wrist. “I can get the rest.”

He glanced up and their eyes met. The heated look she saw sent waves of desire burrowing into her mid-section. The sensual movement of the boat beneath her feet, the gentle rocking, added something elemental to their contact. Something compelling.

Something she didn’t dare explore.

“I think—” She moistened her lips. “I think we’d better go back to the marina.”