Cindi Myers - Her Secret Treasure

Twenty minutes later, when Sandra’s yacht was safely anchored, Adam was climbing aboard. Still wearing only swim trunks and dark sunglasses, his blond hair tangled by the wind, and several days’ growth of beard fringing his chin, he could have been one of Passionata’s contemporaries. The kind of man who was sure to thrill her television audience, Sandra reminded herself, ignoring the shiver of arousal that rushed through her at his approach.

“Hello, Sandra,” he said, nodding by way of greeting. Despite the dark glasses, she could almost feel his gaze on her.

“And how are you, Professor?” She gave him her most charming smile. “The trip from Jamaica went smoothly. Thank you so much for asking.”

He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, biceps bulging in a way she found unnervingly distracting. “Are you all set to begin filming?” he asked. “We’re starting work first thing in the morning.”

“I’m ready.” She’d been waiting months for this chance to prove to the network that she was still a star.

“Remember, we have an agreement,” Adam continued. “You and your crew will stay out of our way while we’re working on the wreck. The last thing I need is to worry about one of you getting hurt.”

She struck a seductive pose against the railing. “Why, Adam, I didn’t know you cared.”

His mouth twitched. She wished she could see his eyes, could read the expression there. Was he remembering those hot nights in L.A.? “I care about this salvage operation going as smoothly as possible,” he said. “I don’t want anything—or anyone—getting in my way.”

Was this his way of telling her there’d be no resumption of their physical relationship? As if the decision was entirely up to him? She straightened and kept her voice even, her emotions in check. “I’ve paid a lot of money for the privilege of recording your every movement over the next few months,” she said. “I’m every bit as invested in this operation running smoothly as you are.”

She’d had to fight hard for the funding to make this trip, and she couldn’t afford to return to the States empty-handed. Her last production had tanked in the ratings, through no fault of her own. The powers-that-be at the network had decided to air her show opposite the most hotly contested Super Bowl in two decades, then had the nerve to blame her for the failure to draw a big audience. They’d told her expensive documentaries were out of style now and had made clear that Passionata’s Treasure was her last chance to prove herself.

That was nothing new, she reminded herself. She’d spent her career—her entire life, really—proving herself to those who underestimated her.

“Good.” He turned and started toward the rail. “I’ll see you later. I have work to do now.”

“Adam, don’t go.” Maybe they wouldn’t be lovers again, but she’d be damned if she would let him continue to keep her at a cold distance. “We’re going to be spending months together,” she said. “I want us to be friends. The last thing I want is to interfere with your operation. I know you have a job to do—don’t resent me for doing mine.”

Did she imagine the softening of his expression, a relaxing of the stiff line of his shoulders? “All right,” he said gruffly.

She took a seat on a chaise and motioned for him to sit across from her on a similar lounge chair. “Let’s have a drink and talk for a minute. Tell me what work you’ve done so far on the wreck of the Eve.” She signaled to a waiting steward, who nodded and disappeared belowdecks.

“We only arrived at the island yesterday, and we’re still waiting on a key piece of equipment.” He sat on the side of the chaise, carefully, as if he feared it might collapse beneath him. “Tomorrow we’ll start mapping the wreck site with GPS. It’s important to pinpoint the location of the items and their relationship to one another before we begin bringing anything to the surface.”

As he spoke, she saw him relax, the tight lines around his mouth disappearing, his whole posture less rigid. He was in familiar territory now—the professor lecturing an ignorant student. She was content to play along if it got him to open up to her. “How soon before the actual salvage work begins?” she asked.

“From a few days to a week. It depends on how many items we have to map.”

The steward reappeared with their drinks—a beer for the professor and sparkling water in a champagne glass for her. It was too early in the day for her to begin drinking, but she had a reputation as a diva to maintain. Was there any field where image was more important than television? She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

His face flushed. “Sorry I came on so strong earlier. I’d just found out the water dredge I ordered has been delayed. Every extra day costs my backer money, so I’m feeling under the gun.”

“How many people do you have working for you?”

“I have three interns from the university, and I’ve hired two brothers, Sam and Roger Murphy, to run most of the heavy equipment.” He sipped the beer, then continued. “They’ve worked other wrecks like this, so they know what they’re doing.”

“And you think the Eve could be even more valuable?” She leaned forward, eager to hear more about the riches he expected to find. This was what her viewers wanted, and the kind of footage she was after.

His frown returned and she could almost feel the chill radiating from him. “I’m more interested in the historical value of the artifacts,” he said. “The Eve is an important piece of maritime history. The items we recover can give us a clearer picture of life aboard a privateer vessel in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”

“You mean, a pirate ship. And don’t tell me the thought of all that gold and silver and jewels doesn’t make your heart jump a little. I know the university doesn’t pay you enough to be totally unconcerned about wealth.”

He looked away. “I never said I wasn’t interested in money, only that it’s not my primary interest.” He drained the beer and set the mug on the deck beside the chair. “I’d better be going.”

“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.