Her Secret Treasure

“Just when our conversation was getting so interesting?”

But he didn’t answer, and she made no attempt to delay him further. She sat back in the chaise and sipped her drink, and pondered why her question about money had upset him so. Was it because as an academic he thought he ought to be above common greed? Did he make a habit of denying his vices—jealousy, greed…lust?

She sighed. It was going to be a long summer if he insisted on being so standoffish. As long as they were on this island together, no reason they shouldn’t enjoy themselves. Of course, there were other men here who’d be willing to amuse her, she was sure, but she wanted Adam.

ADAM LEFT SANDRA feeling more annoyed than he’d been when he arrived. Why did that damn woman always rub him the wrong way? She hadn’t been in the harbor an hour, and already it was happening—he ought to be focused on the salvage operation, and all he could think of was her.

He never should have let himself get involved with her last fall, but she’d caught him at a weak moment. He’d told himself this summer would be different. He’d be too focused on his work here on the island to let her tempt him. But five minutes in her company and she’d proved him wrong.

He hated complications in his life and in his work, and she was a big one, a diva who was clearly accustomed to men hopping when she said “jump.” He didn’t have the time or energy to waste on her, no matter how much his libido begged to differ.

Instead of returning to his own yacht, he steered his Zodiac to the Caspian. The 120-foot research vessel would serve as the main workboat for the expedition, as well as home to the interns and the Murphy brothers.

“Adam, I’m glad you’re back.” One of the interns, a twentysomething named Brent, who wore his black hair in a long ponytail, greeted him as soon as he stepped on deck. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What do you need?” Adam forced himself to assume a more pleasant expression. He liked Brent and the other interns, Tessa and Charlie. They shared his passion for history and were willing to work all summer for low wages and the chance to make a little history of their own.

“I’ve got some bad news. The magnetometer is broken.”

“What? It can’t be.” The magnetometer measured changes in the earth’s magnetic field that indicated the presence of iron and other minerals that could point to artifacts beneath the layers of silt and sand on the ocean floor.

Brent looked grim. “Afraid so. When we unpacked it this morning, we discovered the glass was shattered. We’ll have to send it back to Jamaica to be repaired. The captain of the Caspian already radioed for someone to come pick it up.”

“We can’t wait for it to be repaired. Send a message for the courier to bring a new one with him.”

“Sure. That’s a great idea.” Brent hesitated. “How should I tell them we’ll pay for it?”

“Charge it to Merrick.” Damian Merrick, a science nut who also happened to be the heir to the Merrick semiconductor fortune, had agreed to finance the salvage of the Eve. In exchange, Adam had reluctantly agreed to send regular reports of the expedition’s progress. He’d drawn the line at having Merrick as part of the operation. It was bad enough having Sandra hanging around. He didn’t need two amateurs to babysit.

Adam and Brent made their way to the stern, where Tessa and the Murphy brothers were sorting diving equipment and other gear. Roger Murphy looked up at their approach. He was a short, stocky figure with faded red hair that looked as if it had been styled with a machete. “Hi, Professor,” he said. “Checked the weather report?”

“No. Why?” Adam braced himself for more bad news.

“Looks good for the next few days, but there’s a low-pressure system building off the coast of Africa that could bring trouble later in the week.”

“Or it could be nothing,” Adam said.

“I make it a point to keep an eye on the weather,” Roger said. “I got caught in a hurricane off the coast of Haiti five years back and it’s not an experience I care to repeat. I was nearly killed and the expedition lost almost everything.”

“We’ll be fine,” Adam said. “When I was here last summer, it scarcely rained.”

“Yeah, well, that was last summer.”

Adam made no answer. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t concerned; his research had revealed that major hurricanes had hit the island in 1850, 1910 and 1941. Even a relatively minor storm would delay their operation by days, possibly weeks. But there was nothing he could do to control the weather, so he saw no profit in fretting over it.

“Any word on the water dredge?” he asked, changing the subject to a more pressing concern. “Is it here yet?”

“It arrived in Kingston today,” Roger said. “It should be here day after tomorrow.”

“We’ll have to start the survey without it,” Adam said. He addressed the interns. “Are you all ready to dive tomorrow?”

“I can’t wait.” Tessa, the only woman on the expedition, grinned up at him. “Just the thought of seeing the wreck up close makes me so excited.”

Charlie muttered something under his breath. Adam thought it was something along the lines of I’d like to get you excited.

“What did you say, Charlie?” Tessa glared at him.

Charlie coughed and reached for a weight belt from the pile on the deck. “Just that I’m excited, too. About the wreck.”

Adam rubbed his hand across his face in an attempt to wipe away a smile. He supposed he’d better have a talk with Charlie about sexual harassment, though the combination of raging hormones, scanty bathing suits and a summer in paradise almost guaranteed that various members of the crew would be hooking up. He only hoped the scarcity of women didn’t lead to fighting among the men. Tessa and Sandra were the only available women so far, unless Sandra had someone on board he didn’t know about.

“How’s our resident celebrity?” Sam Murphy spoke around the stub of an unlit cigar that was a fixture at the corner of his mouth.

“Celebrity?” Tessa raised a questioning look to Adam.

“That television babe, Sandra Newman,” Sam said. “That’s her yacht that just arrived. She’s here to make movie stars of all of us.” Sam laughed at his own joke, a harsh barking sound.

Tessa’s eyes widened. “For real? Sandra Newman? Here?”

Adam nodded. “She’s making a documentary about Passionata and her treasure. But she’s promised not to interfere with our work.”

“We’ll get to meet her, won’t we?” Tessa asked. “I saw her special on Art Collections of the Rich and Famous. She was awesome.”

“What’s she like?” Charlie grinned at Adam. “Is she as hot in person as she is on TV?”

Adam had the urge to wipe the leer off the kid’s face. “Stay out of her way,” he said. “She’s got a job to do, and so do you.”

Charlie executed a crisp salute. “Aye, aye, Captain. Didn’t mean to poach on your territory.”

“She’s not my territory!” Heat flushed his face. Sandra had made it clear last fall that she viewed him as nothing more than a pleasant diversion, a sentiment he’d shared. He didn’t have time for that sort of distraction while he was working, though he was having more difficulty putting her out of his mind than he’d anticipated. He didn’t need Charlie—or anyone else—reminding him of what he was missing.

“She’s not part of our crew,” he continued. “The less we have to do with her the better.”

Roger let out a low whistle. “I think we get the picture. So what did this Sandra woman do to get you so hot and bothered?”

“She didn’t do anything.”

Anything except throw him completely off balance from their second meeting. Their first meeting didn’t really count; he’d been high on pain pills, still reeling from a nasty encounter with a shark while he’d been raising a demiculverin from the Eve. He rubbed his thigh where the scar still glowed an ugly white against his tan. When Sandra Newman had sailed into the harbor last summer aboard her fancy yacht, he hadn’t known or cared who she was. He’d seen her as just one more interruption to his work.

But the next day, she’d shown up at his yacht when he was there alone, and the full force of her presence had hit him. From her gleaming fall of brunette hair to her red-painted toenails, Sandra Newman was a woman who screamed sex. Frankly, after a summer of celibacy watching his friend Nicole and the island’s other occupant, an Englishman named Ian Marshall, make eyes at each other, Adam had probably been more vulnerable than usual to Sandra’s come-ons.

“If you’re not interested, maybe I’ll row over and say hello.” Sam winked at his brother, who chewed on his cigar and smirked. “In my free time, of course,” he added.

“You’re not going to have any free time,” Adam said. “We start work first thing tomorrow.” He turned and headed for the bridge to let the captain know he wanted to be at the wreck site at first light. But the men’s laughter and comments about Sandra followed him.

The comments rankled because he knew more than mere lust lay at the root of his attraction to the beautiful reporter. When she’d wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, he’d felt a shock of recognition. As if he’d kissed this woman before. Many times. And liked every one of them very much.

Which was ridiculous. He’d never laid eyes on Sandra before they’d met on the island last summer, and she definitely wasn’t the type of woman he ever associated with. He liked simple, uncomplicated women. Women with whom he enjoyed quiet, low-key affairs until it was time to move on. Women who didn’t interfere with his work, who understood his devotion to both teaching and his treasure-hunting hobby.