Sharon Mignerey - In Too Deep

The project leader, Quinn Morrison, had interviewed her by phone, hired her sight unseen, and had encouraged her to settle in. He’d left her a set of keys and told her to take any desk in the main room except the one closest to the windows.

“How do you know it’s a he?” Annmarie wanted to know, drawing Lily’s attention back to the discovery at hand—the small scallop. “It might be a girl.”

“Could be.”

“How do clams make babies?” Annmarie asked, pulling at Lily’s sleeve. Whether talking about her aunt Rosie’s pregnancy or other animals, babies—or, more accurately, the making of them—recently held endless fascination for Annmarie.

“I bet they do it like snails. I’ve seen ’em in my brother’s aquarium,” Thad said before Lily could answer.

“But this is a clam,” Annmarie said.

“Not it’s not. It’s a scallop,” Thad said with the superiority that came with being two years older. “I bet they open their shell real wide so they can touch like snails do.”

“Actually, the male and female never touch,” came a voice from behind Lily, deep, as gravelly as the surf over rock, and pure Texan in the accent. “The male’s sperm is drawn through the water to the female when he senses eggs are present.”

Lily whirled around to look at the man, alarmed they were no longer alone and that he’d managed to arrive without her seeing or hearing him. His statement could have been salacious, but it was, instead, the matter-of-fact explanation of a scientist.

She sized him up through the haze of warnings that she hated…that she wasn’t safe, that strangers were potential threats. The man’s deep voice matched his appearance. Tall, broad-shouldered. Bigger than life, in fact, from where she knelt on the rocks next to the children. His sandy hair curled at his nape and over his ears, mussed as though he had repeatedly run his fingers through it. His eyes were dark, the color of a fjord when the shadows stretched over the water.

He smiled as he knelt next to them and said to Lily, “Hi, I’m Quinn Morrison.” Before she could respond he smoothly turned his attention back to the kids with, “This scallop will be lucky to even find a mate.” He pointed at the sea star that also occupied the tide pool. “See this guy here? He’s Pacific Henricia and his favorite food is the scallop. And if he gets close enough—”

“The scallop will be lunch,” Thad finished.

Lily’s galloping heartbeat settled. This was her new boss—and, of course, he knew the scientific names of the local sea life.

“That’s right,” the man agreed.

“Maybe we should take her out of this pool and put her into another one,” suggested Annmarie.

“What if the sea star is hungry?” he asked. His glance skipped over Lily before focusing on her daughter.

Each time he looked at her, Lily could feel a charge in the energy around her. She hadn’t felt a spark of awareness like this in nearly forever. She shivered and openly watched him. The tanned lines of his face and the deep smile lines around his eyes reminded her of the men in her family—men who wrestled a living from the sea by fishing the waters of the inside passageway.

He smiled easily as he talked to the children, the expression encompassing his entire face. It wasn’t so much handsome as interesting. Prominent cheekbones sculpted a deep hollow at his cheeks and a cleft emphasized his chin and square jawline. Clearly in his element, he wore a long-sleeved denim shirt, a micro-fleece vest and worn, button-fly jeans.

Annmarie asked, “Why does he have to eat this scallop?”

“Because Mother Nature intended that some animals be food for others. Sure, we could move it, but it could end up being somebody else’s lunch.” He winked at Annmarie. “Yours or mine.”

“That’s right,” Thad agreed with an emphatic nod. “I’ve eaten scallops. Lots of times.”

“So, how does the boy scallop know when the girl scallop has eggs?” Annmarie asked, returning with single-minded purpose to her earlier topic. The child had babies on the brain.

“Well,” the man answered, “we don’t actually know for sure. We think the female’s scent changes. That’s the trigger for mating behavior in most animals.”

“You mean, they smell? Like perfume or something?” She wrinkled her nose.

He laughed. “Yeah. Like perfume or something.”

Once more his gaze slid from Annmarie to Lily, who felt her color rise. She became aware of his scent—not cologne or sweat. Something far more subtle and altogether…pleasant. A nudge of awareness became something more, a primal recognition that welled out of the depth of her heart. He’s the one.

She shoved the thought away. John had been the one. Her beloved John who had died so suddenly more than two years ago. Whatever spark she felt was loneliness, she reasoned. Maybe even envy at seeing her sister and her brother-in-law so deeply in love. Maybe missing someone to hold her through the night when her thoughts were consumed with a past she couldn’t change.

He smiled and extended his hand. “You must be Dr. Jensen.”

“You’re back.” She automatically shook his hand. A common, ordinary act. Still, she was aware of his touch, his hand large and warm and inviting around hers.

“Just last night.”

“I’m Annmarie,” her daughter interjected. “This is Thad.”

“Your children?”

“Just me,” Annmarie said with one of her infectious grins. “Thad, his mommy is Hilda. She’s my mom’s friend from when they were kids. Did you know that?”

“Ah, no.”

“Do you have kids? We could play with them,” Annmarie said.

He laughed. “No. No kids.” His gaze skipped back to Lily. “No wife. Not even a dog.”

“Aunt Rosie has a dog,” Annmarie informed him. “And I have a cat named Sweetie Pie.” When he looked back at her, she added. “You could play with them or I could help you get one of your own. Which do you like better? Dogs or cats?”

Quinn stood up, and his “Oh, no!” expression at the thought of being fixed up with a pet made Lily grin.

“You’d better say no quick,” she said. “Once my daughter gets hold of an idea—”

“I get the picture.” He smiled down at Annmarie. “Thanks for the offer. But—”

“You’ll think about it.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know why grown-ups have to think about all the fun stuff. Come on, Thad, maybe we can find an octopus.”

Quinn laughed and offered Lily his hand. “Now that would be an unusual find.”

He pulled Lily up when she placed her hand within his. The detached-scientist part of her wanted to know how it was possible to feel each separate pull of his fingers against hers.

The man was not quite as tall as her brothers-in-law, both of whom were well over six feet. Unlike them, Quinn had the breadth of a linebacker. Broad shoulders had never before been alluring. Next to this man’s bulk, she didn’t feel so much small as sheltered. She reminded herself that she really did prefer men who didn’t make her feel quite so small.

She watched Annmarie and Thad scamper down the deserted beach, pausing here and there to lean over and peer into the tide pools.

“I was expecting someone older,” Quinn added, releasing her hands, ignoring that it wasn’t politically correct for employers to bring up the subject of age. “Someone with your publishing record ought to be at least fifty.”

“A scientist without a publishing record is also one without grants…and a job.” Lily met his gaze and told him the truth. “I was expecting you to be older, too.”

One of his eyebrows rose and another engaging grin lit his face. “I’m only nineteen.”

“It’s not the years, then, but the miles.” The man had an impressive record based on what she’d been able to glean from the university Web site. With his investigation of this hydrothermic vent he had the chance to establish himself as one of the top marine biologists in the Pacific.