“Better not.” Karen laughed. “I’d have trouble explaining to Lily why I was photographing guys instead of coral.”
“Uh, where is she by the way?” It was imperative he maintain a safe distance from Lily. If they butted heads again, he might do something he’d truly regret. Like kiss her senseless.
“She’s in the loo, suiting up.”
“What? She’s getting on her wet suit down there?” He knew she had on her swimsuit; its outline had been visible through her ancient T-shirt. He’d nearly gone blind trying to see more of her through that tantalizingly threadbare shirt.
“Yeah.”
“Tight space.” He pictured the tiny toilet below. There was hardly room to turn around. It’d be like trying to change in a coffin.
“Precautionary measure. She’s had some, uh, problems in the past with guys,” Karen explained in a voice filled with disgust.
Sean coughed. “Go do your boss a favor,” he suggested. “Tell her Owen’s got seven kids and eight grandchildren.”
“
Owen’s
not the problem.”
Sean’s head whipped around and searched her expression. Had she somehow guessed?
“No, not you, Sean.” Karen giggled. “You’re not that type of guy.”
Sean’s eyebrows rose. He shifted on the bench, uncertain how to take Karen’s pronouncement.
She didn’t appear to notice. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s John. He can be a real butthead.”
Sean exhaled in relief. “That right?” came the automatic reply. Then Karen’s words penetrated. Unbidden, his mind conjured an image of John Granger spying on Lily, a lascivious leer on his face. Sean found himself as enraged as he had been listening to Ray’s and Frank’s moronic comments at the Rusted Keel.
“Where’s Granger?” John Granger had just taken a fast trip to the top of Sean’s shit list. If he was anywhere near Lily—
“Don’t worry,” Karen replied. “John’s dead to the world, using the stern ropes as a pillow.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s probably why Lily decided you and I should be dive buddies. So she could make sure he’s okay on the dive.” She shook her head, tucking a few braids behind her ear. “You’d think he’d wise up, especially after the lobster threat.”
“Lobster threat?”
“John tried to put the moves on Lily. She came real close to castrating him with a Maine lobster. I was there, helping one of the other photographers. Man, some of those suckers were big.” With a grin, she spread her arms to indicate the size.
“I guess it’s a good thing for him lobsters in Florida don’t have those big claws.”
“Oh, Lily’s smart,” Karen said breezily. “She’ll figure out how to keep John in line. Personally, I’d love to see her go at him with a sea urchin. There are some species here that have
superlong
spines.”
“Ouch.” Sean crossed his legs protectively. “A little bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”
Karen patted his neoprene-covered knee comfortingly. “Relax, Sean. Coral Beach lucked out when they got Lily Banyon—and me. John’s not so bad, either, just needs a shock to his system. The fear of having his favorite tool turned into a pincushion might be just the ticket,” she added, grinning gleefully. She stood, and a flash of gold winked back at Sean from her belly button.
Wow,
Sean thought, dazedly counting two more rings, one on either side of her tanned navel. Who’d have thought such intelligence—or such killer instincts—lay beneath that mass of cornrows and brightly colored beads? Karen was a hell of an impressive young woman. Maybe Dave should get to know her . . . after Sean had warned him about her enthusiasm for supplying the world with eunuchs.
Around them, the steady rumble of the
Tangiers
’s diesel engines quieted and died. The boat slowed, gliding on momentum alone. Footsteps sounded, voices, too. “Wake up, John. You’ve got to get off the ropes so we can drop anchor.”
Silence, then, “Okay, okay, I’m up,” came the grumbled reply.
“Good. Go help Owen, then suit up. I’ll unpack the equipment.”
Karen turned to Sean, her eyes bright. “Come on, Sean. This is where the fun starts.”
“Lead on, partner.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Their equipment lay clustered in a neat circle by the
Tangiers’
s stern. Lily was doing a final check to make sure nothing was missing.
Karen was on her knees, fiddling with her cameras, lenses, and strobe attachments, in what Lily had come to recognize was a standard last-minute ritual for many photographers. Specially designed test tubes topped with red rubber stoppers were packed in a carrying case next to John’s bare feet. He also had his mesh bag, with his underwater notebook for sketching and note taking tucked away inside. A sudden noise made Lily glance up from the deck. John’s hand was curled into a fist while he stifled a loud yawn.
Oh Lord,
thought Lily with annoyed dismay. She was more than half-convinced that the minute John jumped in the water, he’d swim straight for the nearest brain coral where he’d curl up for his second nap of the morning.
With an exasperated shake of her head, she bent down and retrieved the secchi disk. “Ready, John?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“Yeah, hold on a sec.” John kneeled and began digging through the pile of equipment by his bare feet. With a mutter of disgust, he gave up the search and walked over to one of the cardboard boxes by the pilothouse. He pulled out a notebook and pen. “Right, go ahead,” John said.
“You got some nice toys here, Dr. Banyon,” Owen said. He and Sean had finished positioning the red-and-white dive flags and had joined them.
Sean came to stand beside her. He was wearing his wet suit. The fit as snug as body armor, it accentuated the strength of his broad shoulders, his long muscled legs.
Her mouth abruptly dry, Lily swallowed.
“What’s that thing?” Sean asked, with a nod toward the metal disk Lily held.
“This? It’s called a secchi disk,” she replied, grateful for the distraction. “It’s your basic no-frills instrument— we have a lot of them at the center.”
“So does town hall.” Sean grinned. “We’ve only recently entered the computer age.”
Lily looked up in surprise. Sean’s grin became a smile and she realized she’d never seen his eyes crinkle like that, with easy charm. Warmth seeped through her and she lowered her head, examining the black metal disk as if it were an object of profound interest.
“So what’s it for?” he asked.
“We use the disk to take readings of water clarity, our first step in data collecting. Here,” she said, “I’ll demonstrate how it works.” She walked over to the
Tangiers
’s railing. Sean and Owen followed, coming to stand on either side of her.
“See this string?” Lily lifted the thin rope that was tied to the disk. “It’s premeasured. All I do is lower the disk into the water, and let it sink until I can’t see it anymore.”
Lily leaned over the rail. As the men peered over the railing, the disk hit the water with a splash.
The string slid through Lily’s fingers as she played it out. “Bottom reading, John,” she called over her shoulder. “Five meters.”
“Got it.” Standing off to the side, John scribbled in the notebook, snapped it shut, and then dropped it back into the cardboard box.
Lily began hauling the disk up, coiling the rope as she went.
“So what’s a bottom reading mean?” Owen asked.
“Today I could see the disk all the way down to the ocean floor—as you know, Owen, we’re not in deep water—so I got a bottom reading at a depth of five meters.”
“That’s good, right?” Owen said.
“Yes. Water clarity is vital because it allows the sun to penetrate. Corals need sunlight to feed and grow. Murky water blocks the sun. That’s—”
“Bad,” Sean interjected with a slight grin.
Lily inclined her head. “You must have been doing a lot of background reading.”
“Only enough to pass the course.” Sean’s reply had Owen chuckling. Lily smiled and arched a brow.
“Yet another underachiever turned politician,” she murmured dryly.
Owen’s chuckle became a bark of laughter. “Oh, no, Dr. Banyon, Sean’s different. He works real hard for this town. Full of plans. This town’s changed a lot since he took office.”
But has it changed for better or worse?
Lily bit her tongue to keep from asking, but in any case, Owen’s attention had shifted to the rest of the equipment on the deck.
“And what’s with this other stuff here?” he asked with a sweeping gesture.
“Like the secchi disk, it’s pretty much standard issue, I’m afraid, but essential nonetheless. These,” she said, kneeling and pointing to the slates in the gear bags, “are our underwater notebooks. We use them to note the different species, sketch reef formations, et cetera.” She reached out and picked up a container with a colored flag attached to it. “This is a sediment trap. It measures the amount of sediment that settles in an area over a given period of time. The cylinders and test tubes in the case here are for core and water samples.” Lily sat back on her heels. “Once we’ve finished taking readings and collecting samples, we’ll plug the numbers and stats into a specially designed computer program. The program organizes all the information and numbers, and creates a 3-D map with visual overlays of the reef. All the different species of coral are recorded, as well as the condition of the reef as a whole. We can track where the areas of disease are, and whether other corals are threatened.”
“So today you’ll be starting with the area closest to shore?” Sean asked.
“Yes, with zone one,” Lily replied with a nod. “With this type of reef—a patch reef—I like to move in progression from one zone to the next. Patch reefs grow in strips or patches. Coral Beach has three that run parallel to each other, the last in the deepest water. Because of the different depths where they’re located, each zone has a distinct form dictated by the types of coral which can thrive there, and the kind of reef dwellers, plant and animal alike, which inhabit it.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of territory to cover,” Owen remarked.
“The bigger the better, Owen.” Lily smiled. “But we have ways to cover the whole reef system as efficiently and thoroughly as possible.”
“Such as?” Sean asked.
“One way is to divide the whole of the patch reef into transects.”
“Transects?” Sean repeated with interest. “Dr. Lesnesky never used that term in his presentations.”
Lily shrugged. “That’s not terribly surprising. Everyone has his or her own favorite methodology. I prefer doing transect dives because they allow for the most complete sampling. At the end of a study, I know I’ve covered a segment of each zone at the same latitude.”
Owen was scratching his chin. “Think I lost you there, Dr. Banyon,” he admitted ruefully.
Lily gave an inward sigh.
Okay,
she thought. How could she explain this better? She looked around the deck and grabbed her mesh bag. “This might help make it clearer, Owen,” she said, pulling out her underwater slate. “Imagine these are your three reef zones.” Quickly she sketched three bands running parallel to one another, then made an X on the bottom edge of the slate. “This is us right here, at the northern section of zone one. On our next dive, we’ll do zone two, at the same latitude.” Lily made another X directly above the first. “With a reef this size, it should take approximately twenty to twenty-five dives to collect samples from the whole area.”
Sean looked at Lily’s slate and envisioned a sweep of neatly regimented X marks covering it. It was startling— and a little disturbing—to realize that he’d learned more about scientific procedure in the past few minutes aboard the
Tangiers
than he had during months of listening to Lesnesky’s convoluted jargon.
Dr. Lily Banyon was damned impressive.
Sean was fully aware that this reef study wasn’t one of Lily’s pet projects, that she wouldn’t receive any kudos for it. Yet she was approaching the job with total dedication and an enthusiasm that was palpable.
“Looks like this is going to be a truly educational experience, Owen,” he observed mildly.
In the midst of slipping her slate back into her goody bag, Lily stilled. While she’d been explaining about the reef and how she planned to conduct the study, Sean had appeared truly interested. What if he’d actually been mocking her and her irrepressible enthusiasm for her work?
Suspicious, she glanced at his face.
No, Sean’s expression was open, his gaze equally so. And when he smiled, something tight eased inside her. Lily’s own lips curved in shy response.
She discovered she was eager to call a truce in their private battle of wills. After all, unless you were in a James Bond film, it was hard to fight underwater. And Lily desperately wanted to dive in, cool off her overheated body, and refocus her wayward thoughts.
Because smiling or not, Sean McDermott was looming far too large in her mind.
Lily inspected the group, her eyes alert as she scrutinized every article of diving gear until she was satisfied.
Head bowed, Sean was busy adjusting the weight belt slung about his slim hips, checking the release to ensure it opened quickly in the event of an emergency.
Lily’s gaze traveled up, to Sean’s buoyancy control device. The bulky vest camouflaged him, hid the impossible perfection of his body. For that, she was absurdly grateful. Sean’s mask rested on the crown of his head. The mouthpiece of his snorkel grazed his cheek, swinging backward as Sean lifted his head. Hazel eyes met hers, and Lily felt their intensity penetrate to the very core of her being.
Warmth unfurled inside her, spreading, and Lily suddenly felt as if she’d been transported back in time . . . back to when she was seventeen, discovering for the first time Sean’s dangerous allure. And how much she wanted him.
Renewed longing tore at her.
The
click
of Sean’s weight belt snapping shut saved her. It brought her back from the land of memories to the deck of the
Tangiers
.
Her bare feet gripped the fiberglass deck as the boat rolled over a wave. She needed to be underwater, she realized with a trace of panic, where she could clear her mind of everything except the job at hand, where she could be free of Sean’s terrifying power.
She coughed, hoping to rid her throat of any betraying huskiness. “Tanks on, everyone. It’s show time. Karen, you and Sean go first. I’ll pass your cameras down to you. John and I will follow. Owen, if you could hand us our equipment?”
“Sure thing, Dr. Banyon.”
“That’s it, then. Remember: Check your gauges frequently and stay in sight. Let’s do it; let’s dive.”
Lily loved water. Loved the feel of it over her, against her, surrounding her. Lulling, sliding, breaking, crashing, it could be rough or gentle, salinated or fresh. Immersed in it, Lily was transformed. Rid of all terrestrial awkwardness.
Water was her true element.
As a girl, Lily had excelled at swimming underwater farther and longer than anyone on her swim team not simply because of her extraordinary lung capacity, but because she had lived for those special moments of suspended silence. Following the contoured depths of the pool, water slipping past, Lily had longed to remain in its embrace. Because during those moments, the incredible happened: Lily became an entirely new creature, her need for air secondary. A magical moment in a magical substance.
The reef was before them.
They swam in alignment, Lily and Karen center, Sean and John on either end. Her previous irritation with John Granger, her conflicting emotions toward Sean were forgotten. Lily opened herself to the ocean’s mysteries and infinite beauty, embraced them.
Her fins kicked in a steady rhythm, propelling her over the patches of sea grass, which, like a wavy carpet, led to the first outcroppings of coral reef. Behind the tempered glass of her scuba mask, Lily’s eyes tracked the marine life flitting past.
All around, fish zigzagged and darted, largely indifferent to her and the others’ presence. Without conscious thought, Lily retrieved her slate from her mesh bag and began cataloging, in rapid shorthand, the schools of grunts, snappers, parrotfish, and butterfly fish, which flashed and flickered against the aquamarine blue of the sea. Their hues a shimmery wealth of silvers, greenish blues, deep lemons, and vibrant purples, the fish streamed by, their destination the same as the humans’—the extraordinary living sculpture of coral.
Rays of sunlight penetrated in slanted bands, lighting the shapes and spectral colors of the reef. Its low-lying form stretched before her, beckoning like an exotic city. Lily, as ever, was its avid, indefatigable tourist. Sleek as a seal in her black wet suit, she went to work.
She was more than magnificent.
Seeing Lily in the sea had Sean regretting his impetuous decision to accompany her and her team. He should have stayed on land, never beheld this other side to her. Already too beautiful above water, beneath it, Lily’s body glided with sinuous elegance, tempting him. His fingers longed to reach out, grab her, and pull her against him. Below water, pressure increased. And with it, so did Sean’s unruly, unwelcome desire.
He didn’t want to need her.
The profound silence beneath the ocean’s surface heightened Sean’s awareness. Eerily crystalline images floated before his mask—all of her. Lily, suspended over a large, treelike coral with branches flat and wide, motioning to Karen, then pointing carefully so Karen could photograph whatever creature was hiding by its base. Lily then swam away, to exchange a flurry of hand signals with John as he filled test tubes and tucked them securely into their case. Sean watched them pull out gauges and compare readings, making the thumbs-up sign after they’d jotted them onto their slates. He saw Lily place a sediment trap, record its location in her notebook, and move on, only to stop, look, and signal to Karen once more.
Nothing seemed to escape her notice. When she hovered over a coral that resembled an overgrown cabbage, Sean found himself swimming nearer. And then he spotted it: the minuscule red crab nestled in a tiny shell, waving its claws energetically.
Lily, so competent, so capable . . . that didn’t surprise him. No, it was her spontaneous smile of joy when she came upon a sea feather, a species even Sean recognized. A delicate shade of maroon, it undulated like a dancer dressed in lace. Her smile didn’t fade away when her mask turned toward him and she beckoned, her glowing smile inviting Sean to share in the wonder of this world. An incredible smile that made him dizzy with a euphoria of the deep. With a euphoria of Lily.