Her Secret Treasure

Sandra was none of those things. One look at her perfect manicure, designer clothes and movie-star smile and any man with half a brain knew immediately that she was complex, complicated, demanding and self-centered. In Sandra’s world, everything revolved around her. And the last thing Adam would ever be was a planet in someone else’s orbit.

2

FAINT STREAKS OF PINK and gold painted the underside of low clouds the next morning when the dive boat anchored a short distance from the wreck site. Adam and his helpers carefully unpacked the equipment they’d need to begin mapping the shipwreck—grids, GPS unit, cameras and measuring sticks. The plan this morning was to begin documenting the debris field, measuring and photographing the area and plotting every possible artifact.

Adam, Tessa and Sam made the first dive, Adam leading the way toward the underwater canyon where the Eve had lain for over three hundred years. His heart raced and his breathing was loud and rapid in his ears as he swam toward the site he’d last seen ten months ago. Last night he’d dreamed he’d arrived at the canyon and the Eve was gone.

He kicked harder, rushing forward, Tessa and Sam on his heels. The three of them shot out over the canyon then floated, hovering over the remains of what Adam hoped to prove had been the Eve.

To the untrained eye, there was nothing remarkable below them—a pile of rocks, oddly shaped chunks of coral and protruding bits of rusted metal. But to the treasure hunter, these were the signs of a shipwreck. The wooden hull of the vessel had long since rotted away or been eaten by shipworms, but the rocks were the cobblestones once used as ballast in the ship’s hold, the metal was the remains of anchor chains and keel bolts and the coral hid no telling what manner of treasure.

Tessa looked at him, eyes wide with excitement. Adam grinned and nodded that he understood. The thrill of touching a part of history never faded for him, even after all this time. Sam headed down toward the wreck and the others followed and set to work. They sank grids into the ocean floor, carefully brushed sand from artifacts and took dozens of photographs.

Adam was soon so absorbed in his work that when Sam tapped his shoulder, he jumped. He glared at the older man, who merely pointed across the canyon. Three dark figures hovered just above them.

He blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him in the murky water. But the figures swam closer and now he could clearly make out Sandra with two men. One held a massive spotlight, the other a camera.

He handed Sam his own camera and went to intercept Sandra and her crew. Grabbing her shoulder, he motioned for her to surface with him so they could talk. She frowned and shook her head, but he nodded and once more pointed up.

As soon as they broke the surface of the water, Adam spat out his regulator and pushed down his mask. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m filming. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“I know that, but there’s nothing to film yet. We’re doing our preliminary measurements and photography.” He had counted on having a few more days before he had to deal with her constant, distracting presence.

“My intent is to chronicle the salvage process,” she said. “This is part of it, isn’t it?”

He forced his eyes away from the top of her wet suit, where the zipper strained across her breasts. The suit fit her like a second skin, emphasizing every curve. If he had to look at her like this every day for the rest of the summer, he might very well go mad. “Since when do you dive?” he asked.

“Since now. I took lessons in preparation for this trip.” She leaned toward him, one hand on his shoulder. “I take my job very seriously, Adam. And I’m sure my viewers are interested in seeing every aspect of your work.”

“There’s nothing to film right now,” he said again, the awareness of her touching him making him more loquacious than usual. If he could find the right words, maybe she’d leave him in peace. “This is the most boring part of the whole process. Though most of it’s boring, really. Measuring. Sifting dirt—things like that.” He gained confidence with every word. “In fact, what you should probably do is wait until the treasure is all up top. It will look much better up there, especially after it’s cleaned up.”

To his astonishment, she smiled—a dazzling smile that made him feel light-headed. “I know what you’re doing,” she said. “And it won’t work. You won’t get rid of me that easily. I’m staying for the entire salvage operation.”

He was defeated. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. “When the salvage operation truly begins, I promise you’ll get footage for your documentary. Until then, you’re wasting film. Even I think this part is dull, but it’s necessary.”

She studied his face, her blue eyes searching, her lips slightly puckered, as though she were about to kiss him. The memory of other volcanic kisses they’d shared had him breathing hard—and his wet suit was getting uncomfortably tight below the waist.

She must have decided he was telling the truth. She took her hand from his shoulder and retreated a little. “When does the exciting part of the work begin—when will I be able to show actual treasure to my viewers?” she asked.

“Several days at least. Maybe as long as a week.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Her tone was cool, all business.

“I don’t know. Explore the island. Work on your tan. This is a tropical paradise. Take advantage of it.”

“I didn’t come here for a vacation,” she said. “I came to work.”

“So did I.” He made a show of checking his watch. “And I’d better get back to it.”

He started to fit his mask over his eyes again, but she put out her hand to stop him. “I’ll leave you and your crew alone for now on one condition,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“You have dinner with me tonight and fill me in on your progress so far. And provide a similar report every day until the actual salvage work begins.”

He had a sense of how the fly felt when invited for tea by the spider. “I don’t have time for that,” he protested.

“We have to work together, Adam.” She rested her palm flat against his chest and leaned closer still, her mouth next to his ear. “So make time,” she whispered.

Stunned, he watched as she pushed off and swam away, toward the Zodiac anchored nearby. In a moment the cameraman and his assistant surfaced also and the trio left. Sandra sat in the stern and waved as they motored away. “See you tonight,” she called.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. If he believed in nonsense like witches, he’d say Sandra was one. She’d clearly cast a spell on him. He credited himself with being smart enough to avoid obvious hazards, including the wrong women. He couldn’t think of a woman more wrong for him than Sandra, but he wasn’t having any success in avoiding her.

“What was that about tonight?”

He looked behind him and was startled to see Sam treading water. “How long have you been listening?” Adam asked.

Sam smirked. “Long enough. Looks like our sexy reporter has the hots for you, you lucky dog.”

Adam refused to take the bait. “What are you doing up here?” he snapped.

“Time to switch out crews.”

Tessa joined them and they returned to the boat. Charlie, Brent and Roger went down to resume the work.

Adam was in the bow, changing his air tanks when Sam joined him. Adam glared at the older man. One word about Sandra and I’ll punch that smirk right off his face. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Just one question.” Sam crouched in the bow beside Adam. “Do we know for sure this is the Eve?”

Adam knew what Sam was getting at: any number of ships reportedly sank off the coast of Passionata’s Island, the victims of either storms or attacks by the female pirate’s gang. Adam was relying on a combination of research, hunches and instinct that told him this was Passionata’s flagship. But instinct and hunches didn’t carry much weight in the scientific community, and the research materials available were few. In his search for funding, he’d been careful to emphasize the historic nature of the material they were likely to find, while never stating that he was absolutely sure the wreck was that of the Eve.

“We don’t know for sure what ship it is,” he admitted. “That’s one of the things I intend to find out.”

“You think Ms. Newman will pitch a fit if she’s gone to all the trouble of bringing a film crew down here and it isn’t the Eve?” Sam asked.

“I don’t give a damn what Sandra Newman thinks,” he said. “And don’t you go stirring up trouble by saying anything about it. As far as she’s concerned, we’re salvaging the Eve.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Sam saluted, then rose and sauntered away, whistling under his breath.

Adam turned back to the task of fitting his regulator to the new tanks. Yes, Sandra would no doubt create quite a scene if she thought he’d deceived her about the nature of the wreck. But as far as he was concerned, he had found the Eve. He’d felt it with a certainty that had been unshakeable ever since he’d first laid eyes on the debris scattered across the ocean floor, as if something in him had recognized the vessel. Call it instinct or memory or a sixth sense; it wasn’t scientific or logical and he’d have never breathed a word to a soul that he harbored such thoughts. But he couldn’t shake free of the belief. Like his fascination with Sandra, it hung around his neck like an albatross, a seaman’s curse he’d have to learn to live with until he was proven right or defeated in his quest.

SANDRA FASTENED the necklace and stepped back from the mirror to check her outfit. The red silk gown draped softly over her breasts, nipped in at the waist, then fell in smooth gathers to the floor. A tiny golden globe glinted from its gold chain at her throat, and simple diamond studs glittered at her ears. The look was simple, elegant and sexy. She dared Adam to ignore her tonight.

She’d tried relating to him as a businesswoman and professional, but that clearly wasn’t working. The air around them crackled with barely suppressed desire whenever the two of them were together. They might as well clear the air and give in to temptation. Some no-strings-attached hot sex would be just the thing to allow them to concentrate on their work—while passing their off hours in a most enjoyable manner.

It was just as Passionata had written in her autobiography, Confessions of a Pirate Queen: if a woman wanted to control a man, she should use all the gifts in her power, including her sexuality. The pirate queen had certainly done well following this philosophy, if even half of what she’d written was to be believed. And since Sandra and Adam were visiting Passionata’s Island, well, when in Rome…