Undertow (6 page)

Zane stuck his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. ´What kind of problems?µ

´What is this? Twenty questions?µ

´Just curious.µ

She got up, her movements jerky as she gathered the blanket and pil ows. Í·m going to bed, but in the future, if you want me to stick around and do my job, stay out of my engine room.

I like my privacy.µ

Wow. The quil s were bristling. ´Just one more thi ng«µ he said, just waiting for her reaction.

She spun and glared at him. ´What?µ

´You left your book,µ he said mildly.

Í·l get it tomorrow.µ She swept from the room, chin held high, the blanket dragging behind her like a royal train.

* * *

The second she was in her cabin, Teal slammed the door and sat on the edge of the bed in a tumble of blanket and pil ows without turning on the light. This was
not
going to work. It wasn·t going to work on so many levels it made her dizzy.

He couldn·t just go barging into places he wasn·t welcome. It was intrusive and real y annoying. Everything about him annoyed the hel out of her. He was just too « cheerful. Too impervious to her rudeness. Too³Teal punched a pil ow, then clutched it to her chest.

She didn·t want chatty, or charming, or inquiring. She wanted to be left the hel alone in her engine room, which held the seasickness at bay and didn·t ask stupid, intrusive damned questions. Zane Cutter brought out the mean in her. She didn·t know which was worse: that he didn·t remember what had happened between them the night of his father·s funeral, or that she
did
.

She·d had a crush on him since she was six years old. That crush had developed over every summer until Zane freaking Cutter, Casanova of the Caribbean, was al she could think about, dream about. Dennis Ross had been the closest she thought a man could come without being the man himself.

Wrong. Wrong. And God.
Very
wrong.

Maybe she needed some sort of mind wipe. She·d probably be a better person for it, Tea l thought angrily. Feeling used, and yeah, she admitted it, heartsick for someone who didn·t even know she existed, had driven her into a relationship with Denny. She·d even married the bastard and look how wel that had turned out.

Stupid. Al the way around stupid. Denny had been a bad Zane clone ³Zane, who eighteen months ago had made her believe she was beautiful. For one night, he·d made her hope that she could have a normal relationship. Then the next morning, he·d told her to ´get the hel outµ without bothering to open his eyes.

Oh, she·d tried to forget him. In fact, she hadn·t returned to Cutter Cay since the funeral. But then Sam·s cancer intervened. She·d come back out of duty, to check on her father, and found her heartache hadn·t improved, it had just been on vacation.

Rol ing off the bed, she switched on the nightstand lamp, which bathed the room in a warm glow. It was a nice room³
cabin
. Queen-sized bed. A smal , comfortable easy chair, couple of lamps, a tiny bathroom al to herself. The hum of the generator down the hal was faint, and the hol ow sound of the water lapping against the hul made her tummy rol .

A glance out the smal porthole showed only the running lights competed with the reflection of starlight on the water. Everyone had gone t o bed. She·d wait another half hour and take her blanket back to the engine room and sleep there. In the morning, she·d be the first one up. Nobody had to know how bad her seasickness was.

She dug in her duffel bag and took out her phone to start counting down the days until she was once again on terra firma. Zane had said they·d be out here in the freaking middle of nowhere for a month. She entered the date on her calendar.

She·d hold him to it, too. And while she had the phone in her hand, she checked t o see if Sam had cal ed. He hadn·t. What a twit she was to think that he would. A person didn·t think about duty when he was dying. He·d passed along the message that he·d cal if he needed her. He·d asked her to fil in. That was al he wanted. And she was t he desperate-for-Daddy daughter that bought into his dying wish, despite heaving and heartache.

Real y, Teal thought with wry amusement as she opened the door careful y and listened for movement from the other nearby cabins, she should get some bal oons for her pity party.

She gave herself an attitude adjustment as she spread her blanket on the floor between the two Caterpil ar D398 marine propulsion engines and fluffed her pil ows.

The humming power fed into her body like a current of soothing energy and her bel y calmed.

Tomorrow she·d be sweet and nice to anyone she talked to.

Reaching up, she patted the metal sides of her engines. Ńight, my babies.µ

She couldn·t figure out why the hel tears were leaking into her ears.

* * *

´Teal³µ She half turned to give Zane an inquiring look. She was sitting in the shade with her fish book. Probably trying to ID some of the fish she·d seen in her last dive. She wore a baggy blue T -shirt and butt-ugly shorts, revealing her long, pale legs o nce again. Í hate to bring up a sore subject, but you haven·t asked about your father,µ Zane said gently, dragging his gaze away from her surprisingly sexy feet. Í talked to him this morning.µ

Sticking a finger inside the book to hold her page, she tilt ed up her face to look at him. Hope leaped like a flame in her curly-lashed brown eyes. ´He cal ed you?

How is he?µ

Zane leaned against the base of the crane, careful not to get too close to another prickly Wil iams. ´You know he·s refused to go to radiation treatments or chemo since he was diagnosed last year.µ

Í only found out that he was even sick when Logan cal ed about the job a couple of weeks ago. Sam never said a word until he got on the phone that day. It was « It was quite a surprise.µ Her soft lips tightened. ´He·s stubborn and intractable.µ

Zane·s lips twitched. Ĺike someone else I know.µ

Ís that why he cal ed you?µ
Instead of me,
hung in the air between them. Ís he worse?µ If Zane hadn·t been so attuned to her, he wouldn·t have noticed the way her shoulders tensed as if she were waiting for the delivery of bad news.

He shook his head. Ńo. He cal ed to tel me he went to the doctor in Tortola today.µ

Ŕeal y?µ Her body tensed as she added cautiously, ´That·s amazing.µ

Amazing, Zane knew, that Sam had been even closer geographical y and yet, stil hadn·t seen his daughter. He could tel that Teal·s outer indifference shielded deep feelings. What kind of messed-up relationship did they have that Sam·s own daughter felt like she had to hide her love for her father?

He said as gently as he knew how, ´You know that it·s too late for any treatment to make a difference, don·t you? He has less than a year. I·m sorry, Teal.µ

She turned away for a brief second. ´Me too.µ

´He loves you,µ he told her quietly. ´Brags about you al the time. Told us we couldn·t get anyone better to take his place.µ

´He asked me to ¶fil in.· µ She stared down at her short, jagged nails.

Zane·s heart twisted in his chest. No wonder she·d come along. She had integrity, and if she·d agreed for Sam·s sake, no loss of personal freedom ón landµ

would stop her from doing as she·d promised. Ít·s just hard for him to show emotion. You probably get that better than anyone.µ

´Yes, I do.µ Teal shifted her feet. Íf he has any warm and fuzzy feelings for me, he·s kept them smothered for twenty-something years.µ She shrugged. ´He·s a decent man who takes his responsibilities seriously. I was a duty he acknowledged when he didn·t have to. Not like my mom was going to take him to court. I·ve always been grateful for his generosity in paying my way out to the island for al those years. It meant a lot.µ

Zane ached for her. Damn Sam. No matter how fucking sick he was, did the man have no idea how much his daughter craved his love and attention?

Apparently not. The thought made Zane angry. He liked Sam, always had. But this was ridiculous. Especial y since the man had a finite time to make amends with his only child.

´But he·s your dad. He should have done those things. Maybe more.µ

´We·re basical y strangers.µ Clearly uncomfortable at this personal revelation she moved restlessly, shrugging as she brought her eyes back to his. Ít·s not a crime. Nobody·s fault, that·s just how it is.µ

Zane·s gut clenched. ´Were you close to your mother?µ

Í already told you no. She had a pretty bad drug problem and OD·d on my twenty -second birthday.µ

´Jesus, Teal.µ

She picked up the can of soda on the deck beside her and took a swig. Her throat worked for a moment as she swal owed. Zane had an insane urge to press his lips to the damp hol ow.

To grab her and hold her. Shit. If ever there was a woman who needed a hug, it was Teal. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed right where he was. She might need physical contact, but she sure as hel wouldn·t welcome it.

Í can only imagine Sam·s shock when she sent him a picture of his surprise kid. I look like him,µ Teal gave a crooked smile, śo he agreed to a child support plan. Mom snorted the money or shot up before she paid the rent.µ

´Did Sam know?µ

She shrugged. ´He never wanted to talk about her, and to tel the truth, it was nice to have two weeks a year when I didn·t have to deal with her drama. Don·t get me wrong, I loved my mother in spite of her habit. I went to Al -Anon. I knew I was enabling her by living at home and taking care of her. I hardly had any friends al through high school, because I didn·t have time and I real y didn·t want to bring anyone home.µ

Al Zane wanted to do was scoop her up and hold her. He settled for hol ding her attention instead. Śo you were already shy, which isolated you to a certain extent, but your mother·s addiction made that even worse.µ

´My years watching Sam paid off. I got into vocational school and worked while I took classes. Sam·s money went to drugs, mine paid the rent and put food on the table.µ She paused. ´Thanks for tel ing me Sam decided to try treatment. I hope«µ

she trailed off. Í hope it isn·t too little, too late.µ

Yeah, he got it. She hoped her father somehow managed to make it. She hoped there·d be time. What else did she hope for? Zane watched her as she joined the others. It was interesting that even though he·d made sure she sat in the middle of the group, she always seemed to be, not a part, but apart from what was going on.

She seemed to like the others and they her, but Zane had noticed that she preferred keeping to herself more than socializing. The exact opposite of the way he did things, which was both confusing and intriguing.

The more time he spent in her company, the more little details he remembered from her visits with Sam over the years. Her hair had been a soft brown then, and long, not as black as a starless sky and chin length. But she·d had the same big brown eyes and gentle mouth.

Maybe it was the shyness that had seemed to plague her as a kid that kept her separate from the others. But shouldn·t she have outgrown that by now?

Hel , he didn·t know. Al he knew was he kept feeling the ridiculous urge to wrap his arms around her and pul her into the center of the group with him. Of course, there were several other more base things he·d like to do with her, but those options weren·t on the table.

Maybe he was just horny? That would explain his U -turn from unattractive and perfect, to attractive and « Available? Shit. Not going to happen. He·d make damn sure it didn·t.

And wasn·t that a fucking switch -a-roo? When the hel had he developed a conscience?

When had he not at least tried to charm, cajole, or seduce a woman into his bed? If the woman was wil ing, al bets were off and he used the ful arsenal at his disposal to seduce their panties off. And as much as he was starting to feel some physical response to her, he liked her. The thought startled him.

Damn. He
liked
her. A lot. She was sassy and snarky, and funny in her own quiet way.

Ah, man.
Don·t go there, Ace!

He fel in love on the spin of a dime. He loved being in love. Hel , he·d been in love a couple of dozen times in the last few years alone. And in lust more times than he could count. But
like
?

That was a fucking undertow he·d managed to avoid. So far.

* * *

It was going to be a perfect day, Zane thought with satisfaction as he leaned against the rail.

No matter how many beautiful days he·d experienced in the Caribbean, it never got old.

This morning the sun hovered shyly a few inches over the water, not quite ready to share its heat. Soft pink, tangerine, and lavender sm udged the horizon with promise.

Standing on the starboard deck of the
Decrepit,
he breathed deeply of the early morning air tinged with the robust fragrance of freshly brewed coffee and the bacon and eggs he·d just inhaled for breakfast. Now wasn·t that a surprise from a woman who claimed she couldn·t boil water?

His heart pounded in anticipation of the upcoming unveiling of his four -year quest. A hundred feet below lay the bones and secrets of the
Vrijheid
. Soon the sea would give her up, sharing her treasure and century-old stories.

Anxious as he was to get started, he·d stick to his original plan of moving several times before they started the salvage operation. Another week to throw off the competition and they·d be back, fil ing their hands with gold , silver, and emeralds.

No matter how eager he was to get started, Zane knew from experience that taking time to put the competition off his scent was the smart move. So, while there·d be no ófficialµ

salvaging today, he thought with regret, they could c ertainly spend a few hours down there reconnoitering and taking a few more pictures for the grid they·d set up later.

He leaned both elbows on the railing, cradling the warm, oversized, bright yel ow mug between his palms and tried to ignore the siren song of the chal enge that was Teal Wil iams.

´Keep your eye on the prize, pal,µ he muttered softly to himself. The
Vrijheid
was al the chal enge he needed right now. He saw the frigate in his mind·s eye and practical y salivated to begin work. God it was good to be here at last. The cool would heat up soon enough, but for now, the breeze felt silky against his face and tasted salty/sweet on his tongue.