Melissa Mcclone - In Deep Waters

The seconds turned into a minute.

Damn Ben Mendoza. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How was she going to work with him? Kayla could barely breathe, and she couldn’t blame it on claustrophobia. Her heart rate increased, and she felt warm. Hot, actually.

Much to her relief, he broke the silence first. “Lock the door to your cabin. My crew is all too human and you’ve already given us a sneak preview of your…wares.”

Kayla glanced at her clothes plastered to her like a second skin. Great, she was a poster girl for a wet T-shirt contest. She crossed her arms over her chest and noticed the men with leering grins and glints in their eyes. “All too human” was putting it nicely. For a highly trained technical crew of shipwreck location specialists, they were a motley bunch. Add a Jolly Roger flag to the mast, and she would be on a pirate ship.

Ben stood in front of the door to Kayla Waterton’s cabin. Twice he’d raised his hand to knock. Twice he hadn’t.

He’d given her plenty of time to dry off, change clothes and unpack. He’d used the time to chill himself. He wasn’t proud of his behavior on deck, but he’d been caught off guard.

Kayla Waterton wasn’t what Ben had expected. That bothered him. Annoyed him. Frustrated him, too.

And he’d taken it out on her.

Real smart, Mendoza.

Some pro he’d turned out to be. But he couldn’t help himself.

It was bad enough the museum had to send anyone out here in the first place. A knife in the back. Xmarks Explorers had been good enough to partner with when no one else wanted to chase down the legendary lost pirate ship. But now, after he’d made all the preparations and done all the work, they wanted to toss a ringer into the act. And not any ringer, a total looker who belonged on a catwalk and made men lose sight of what was important—their goals.

Ben Mendoza, meet your worst nightmare—Kayla Waterton.

Bulky life jacket aside, she’d stood on the gangplank looking more like a sea nymph than a maritime historian. By definition, a historian should have her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her body disguised by shapeless, gray, nonfeminine clothing and her eyes hidden behind a pair of bottle-thick glasses. He could have lived with that sort of woman on his ship. His crew, too. She would have been a pain, but she wouldn’t have been a distraction.

Unlike Kayla. She was a distraction the size of the Titanic-sinking iceberg, and twice as dangerous.

Her long blond hair shimmered even with the overcast skies. Hair like hers was supposed to be worn loose—brushing the middle of her back or a man’s chest. Contorting her hair into a tight bun would constitute a criminal act.

And those eyes…an intriguing blend of green and gray, a mixture of colors from the sea and sky. Staring into her eyes, he’d felt a moment of recognition, a sense of déja` vu. A familiar gnawing in his gut made him realize why. Kayla had a dreamy quality in her eyes. Similar to his father and his ex-wife.

The appreciative sighs and catcalls from his crew had echoed the jolt of attraction shooting through Ben the nanosecond he saw her.

But Ben had no room in his life for another good-looking, starry-eyed dreamer to mess up his hard work and his plans. He had a ship to find. He wasn’t about to fail—he couldn’t afford to. The crew and Madison were counting on him to deliver. He wasn’t going to blow this. Or let anyone else blow it for him.

Kayla Waterton had to go.

The investors and the Museum of Maritime History wanted her here. They were co-sponsors of the expedition and held the purse strings, so he wouldn’t go against their wishes. But now that she’d arrived, all Ben had to do was make her decide to leave.

An idea formed. A bit devious, but she was the one who didn’t belong here. She was the one who was going to get in their way.

Life on a salvage ship might be adventurous, romantic to some. But the reality was a far cry from images of opening a chest full of gold and jewels. A middle-of-the-night survey assignment, and Kayla would be begging to go back to the comfortable confines of her ivory-tower world.

Ben smiled. He’d make her feel like one of the crew, put her to work and watch disillusionment take over. The sooner she left his ship, the sooner he and the crew could concentrate on finding the Izzy.

He knocked. The lock bolt clicked after a few seconds and the door opened. At least she followed instructions.

Kayla stared at him. Silence stretched between them like the calm before the storm.

“Do you need anything?” he asked finally.

“No.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Okay. He deserved it. “About what happened earlier…”

She’d changed into a pair of well-worn jeans and a white shirt. Damn, she looked good. Almost as good dry as she had wet.

He leaned against the doorjamb. “I was—”

“A jerk.”

He shifted his weight. “That’s one way to put it.”

“A tyrant.”

“That’s another.” Apologizing wasn’t his strong suit. Nor was idle chitchat. But he deserved this, too. “I…I’m…”

He thought about the Izzy. Some had called the search for the ship a pipe dream, since many believed she didn’t exist. At first Ben had seen the search as nothing more than a job. But after two seasons of looking for the Izzy, the search had become more. He wasn’t about to lose funding.

No matter how he felt about Kayla Waterton, Ben couldn’t let ego or pride get in the way now. Not when he was so close to finding the lost pirate ship and her stolen treasures he could taste it. Finding the Izzy would change his life, his crew’s lives and, most important, his daughter’s life. He wouldn’t fail.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Kayla’s brows furrowed, wrinkling her forehead. Something told Ben not to rush her. He stood and waited.

“Apology accepted.” The pink tip of her tongue darted out and wet her lower lip. “Did you want anything else?”

Besides you. The random thought hit too close to home. He hadn’t wanted anything else—anything but the Izzy—until Kayla arrived. He would have to keep his distance. Not the easiest thing to do on a ship this size, but the last thing he wanted were any personal complications that could jeopardize the expedition. “A second chance.”

Her gaze met his, and Ben’s temperature shot up ten degrees. The heat seemed to be generating between them.

She extended her hand. “Kayla Waterton.”

“Ben Mendoza.” He took her hand in his. Her skin was soft and smooth and tanned. She might spend time outdoors, but he expected the only manual labor she did was carrying books from the library. “Welcome aboard the Xmarks Explorer.”

“Daddy, Daddy.” Madison, his three-year-old daughter, barreled into him. She carried her favorite doll and constant companion, Baby Fifi. “I’m done sleeping.”

“You’re not supposed to leave your cabin by yourself.”

“But I’m done sleeping and I heard footsteps.” She grinned, and Ben smiled. Madison had him wrapped around each of her little fingers and toes. “Is this her?”

Ben stared at his daughter. Forty-odd inches of sugar, sunshine and smiles. She wasn’t a perfect child, but he wasn’t a perfect father. Together they made a pretty good pair. Loving warmth settled around his heart, as soft and comforting as Madison’s baby blanket.

“Kayla, this is my daughter, Madison.” He stepped out of the doorway. “Madison, this is Miss Waterton.”

Kayla kneeled down to Madison’s level and shook her hand. Both had long hair, but his daughter’s was as dark as Kayla’s was light. “Madison Mendoza. What beautiful alliteration.”

Madison scrunched her brows. “Alli—what?”