Helen Brenna - Treasure

Refusing to analyze her feelings, she quickly sought the relative comfort of hostility. “You seem to have a lot of exes in your past.”

“With any luck, I’ll soon be adding ex-marine archaeologist to my list.” He stopped and stared at her. “We’re here.” He jerked his head to the side. “Your new home for two weeks.”

Though pristine white with crisp blue stripes and lettering, there was nothing luxurious about the Mañana. The ship was about a hundred feet of pure working boat, with the helm and galley sitting forward on the upper deck, leaving an ample area at the stern for divers and their gear. The spacing of the portholes told of adequate room for cabins below deck, and all machinery and equipment appeared clean and well-maintained. She couldn’t have picked a more seaworthy vessel if she’d had one custom built.

“Hey there, Jake.” A dark-haired woman ambled down from the Mañana. Annie envied her ease. “Harold radioed to fill me in. You must be Annie, our new crew member.” She extended her hand. “I’m Claire Rawlings.”

Annie found her hand swallowed by the other woman’s more than competent grip. “Jake’s…sister?”

“In-law.” She reached for Annie’s bag.

Annie was about to protest and then gave in. Everyone seemed to want to get their hands on her duffel.

Claire hopped easily back onto the boat. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Annie really wanted to follow her, only there was one problem; the water between dock and boat. The blood drained from her face, and she felt Jake studying her.

“You don’t look so ready for this,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“You can always stay back, you know.”

“Absolutely not.”

“All right.” He held out his arm for her to proceed. “Let’s go.”

She couldn’t get her feet to move, could only concentrate on keeping her eyes averted from the sight of water. First Jake’s face. Then the Mañana. Then the grain of wood on the dock.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jake whispered. “You’re afraid of the water.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She forced herself to look off the dock and into the wavy depths below. A dizzy rush made her stomach flip-flop. Her body seemed to tilt toward the left. Toward the edge of the dock. Toward— Oh, no! She tried taking a step forward, tried making it to the relative safety of the boat. And lost her balance.

“Son of a—!” Jake lunged for her arm.

Annie reached for him. Too late.

She dropped backward into the water. Coolness, startling in its entirety, engulfed her. She sputtered and choked on the saltwater flowing into her mouth and nose, and coherent thoughts deserted her. Struggling to keep her head above water, her arms and legs flailed ineffectively. Within seconds, she started sinking. The dock posts drifted out of sight, and the surface of the water moved farther and farther away. As the last bubble of air escaped her lungs, her limbs grew heavy.

Memories, painful ones, flooded her senses. She closed her eyes to them, forcing them from her mind. Only darkness took their place.

“COME ON! Come on!”

Through the syrupy blackness Annie felt warm lips on her mouth, something pinch her nose and air flow down her throat. She felt pressure on her chest, a hard pumping rhythm, working fast. Once, twice, three times, four. She lost count.

As if from a great distance, she heard the command, “Breathe, Annie! Breathe!” A forceful touch under her chin, tilting back her head, and the warm lips again, hard and insistent, on her mouth.

She struggled to open her eyes and found Jake’s face an inch from her own, his gaze focused with intent. Startled, she sucked in a breath and coughed out a bit of seawater.

Jake sat back on his heels, his legs straddling her. “Can you hear me? Annie?”

She nodded, sucked in another breath, and coughed some more. His genuine concern surprised her. After all his blustering in Harold’s office, she would have guessed her drowning would have solved every one of his problems.

“Should we get a doctor?” a woman asked from somewhere to the left. Annie glanced up to find Claire Rawlings hovering nearby. Somehow, Annie had gotten on board the Mañana.

Jake cupped Annie’s cheeks and made her look into his eyes. He assessed her breathing, took her pulse and then urged her to a sitting position. The instant he seemed satisfied all was clear the scowl returned to his face, and he stood. “She’ll be fine.”

Annie coughed again, causing Jake and Claire to turn in her direction. She dragged in a deep breath and a man appeared above her, blocking the sun. His bluer-than-blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Hiya, sport. I’m D.W. Need more mouth-to-mouth?”

“Knock it off, Romeo.” Claire thwacked D.W. on the arm. “Give her some room.”

“Worth a try,” D.W. said, winking. He helped her to her feet, and Annie noticed the words Divers Do It Deeper emblazoned in red on the front of his gray T-shirt.

She smiled and coughed again. “Thanks, D.W.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Claire asked.

“A little damp.” Annie tugged at her wet linen shirt, the now translucent white cloth leaving little to the imagination. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”

“She’d give you a run for your money in a wet T-shirt contest, Claire-belle,” D.W. added with a low whistle.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him, and the whistling immediately stopped. Her arms crossed, she turned toward Jake. “What’s going on here?”

Every trace of Jake’s earlier concern for Annie’s safety completely disappeared. “Our marine archaeologist is afraid of water.” He glared at Annie. “That’s strike number four.” Water dripped from his soaked shorts and T-shirt onto the boat deck. Apparently, not only had he administered CPR, he’d also dived in after her. “You’re going back to Chicago. Where you so obviously belong.”

Annie spun toward him. The swift movement brought another dizzying rush to her head and she faltered, taking a full breath. “Harold hired me,” she finally managed. “He’s the only one who can fire me.” One look at his face told her he wasn’t validating that with a response. Somehow, she had to make this work. “You said you’d give me two weeks.”

“That was when I thought there was a possibility you could do your job. Whether you’re afraid of water, or you can’t swim, there’s no point in having you around. I have your charts and aerials. Whatever deal you cut with Harold, I’ll double it.”

He’d clearly mistaken her fear of water for a character flaw. Arrogant, treasure-hunting pirate. “I can swim, and I can do my job,” she said with renewed determination.

“How?” He raked his hand through the dark, dripping curls hanging across his forehead. “Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?” He glanced from Claire to D.W., then back to Annie. “Can you even dive?”

“I used to.”

“Used to?” He cringed. “What if we can’t get an artifact onto the boat? What if we need you to dive and examine it? What then?”

Annie hazarded a glance at Claire and D.W. Her tentative allies seemed to be losing faith, and she couldn’t blame them. “You’re right. You’re completely justified in being angry.” She looked Jake in the eye. The tension in his jaw eased imperceptibly with the acknowledgment. But that didn’t change the fact that she had to do this. “When will we get to the first site?”

“Late afternoon.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said, keeping her fingers crossed in the hopes she wasn’t setting herself up. “Give me tomorrow. If I’m not diving by the end of the day, I’ll stay in my cabin until it’s convenient for you to drop me off somewhere.”