Heather Graham - The Vision

“A good one. I have a master’s certification.”

Thor gave Clint a long assessment, not a muscle in his face so much as ticking. “Sure. Take time off next week. But out on the boat, I’m not just captain, I’m God Almighty. If you can live with that…?”

“Shit, yes,” Clint said, then caught himself. “Sorry, Genevieve.”

“I think she’s all right with the word,” Thor said, smiling. Evidently he hadn’t forgotten a single one of her words to him.

“No problem, Clint,” she replied. “And if you want, I’m sure you can go out with us, too, one of these days.” She hoped her sunglasses were every bit as opaque as Thor’s and her smile every bit as pleasant.

“Cool.” Clint was still looking at Thor, as if for approval. After a moment, he moved away awkwardly, giving them a thumbs-up sign.

“So, how was your day?” Thor asked her once Clint had moved on.

“Fine, just fine.”

“Nothing down there, huh?”

“If there had been, I would have reported it.”

“Nothing strange, I meant.”

She forced another smile. “You know, I really don’t know who you think you are. I’ve been out on these reefs all my life. I know every landmark. And I’ll bet I make a discovery before you do.”

He sat back, a small smile curving his lips. “You think you can outdo me, Miss Wallace?”

“I know I can.”

He shook his head, amused. For a brief moment, she wondered what the hell she was doing. He had a sixth sense when it came to finding what was lost beneath the sea.

“Interesting,” he said. “You’re really throwing down the gauntlet.”

Yes, she was. And that, she realized, seemed to take him from believing she was nuts in one way to believing she was nuts in another, saner, way.

“Well?” she demanded icily.

He shrugged. “Is this a dare? For real?”

“You bet.”

“You’re on.”

“Good.”

“We’re talking about a real relic—not imagined,” he said.

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

“All right. What’s the bet?” he asked.

She shrugged. The stakes hadn’t entered her mind.

“A round of beers?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “Far too cheap.”

She arched a brow. “I planned on a friendly wager.”

“A friendly wager?”

“Okay. So we’re far from being friends.”

“Do you have so little faith in yourself?”

“Should I be betting my house?” she inquired lightly, feeling ever-so-slightly ill in the pit of her stomach.

He shook his head, his smile deepening. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your house.”

“What makes you think you’d take it? And what would I be getting—when I win?”

He laughed out loud then, truly enjoying himself. “I have a nice place in Jacksonville.”

“But I have no desire to leave the Keys.”

“As I said, I have no intention of taking your home, either.”

He was intent on winning, she knew—despite the fact she couldn’t see his eyes. There was a tightening, barely visible, in his muscles. His male ego was taking over. Testosterone was racing. It was pathetically immature, she thought.

She had started it.

“You won’t get a chance to take my home,” she assured him coolly.

“Well, a round of beers is too paltry, claiming your house too serious. I guess we could give this thing some thought overnight, hmm?” he suggested.

“Whatever you wish, Mr. Thompson,” she said stiffly.

“No, whatever you wish, Miss Wallace,” he replied mockingly.

“Tomorrow morning, then, we decide the bet,” she said.

“I’ve got an idea,” he murmured, looking amused. “But you won’t like it.”

She was suddenly certain she knew the nature of his wager. It should have infuriated her. Instead, it just made the challenge greater.

“Really?” she murmured, suddenly aware of her own muscles tightening with the same tension, the same sense of challenge and ruthless determination, as his. Worse, his air of sexual innuendo only increased her fighting spirit.

“You really don’t want to know. It’s a pretty wacko thought.”

“I think I do know, Mr. Thompson. The question is…what do I get when you lose? Sorry, a night in the sack with you isn’t my idea of a prize.”

He laughed softly. “You made quite an assumption there, didn’t you?”

She fought the wave of crimson that threatened to splash her cheeks and tried to bluff her way out of it. “What kind of prize would be wacko to you?” she asked sweetly.

He smiled, for once a simple, deep and, she had to admit, very nice smile. “Wacko doesn’t necessarily mean…The Seeker,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“The Seeker. You’d get The Seeker.”

She frowned. “The boat is yours?”

“From bow to stern, yes.”

“But…she’s your livelihood.”

“I won’t lose.”

Genevieve sat back, totally confused. “You’d wager your dive boat? Against…?”

He smiled again, and this time it was far too sexy and seductive. “Well, it was your suggestion.”

“Never!”

“My mind wasn’t moving in that direction until you said something.”

“It sure as hell was.”

“I never would have voiced it if you hadn’t.”

She wasn’t sure what she felt at that moment

“You are joking, right?” she asked softly.

He leaned forward; she found herself doing the same. The bet was between them; no one else would be in on it. “I’m not joking. If I lose, I’ll pay up. Will you?”

“You’d risk your boat for a woman you think is crazy?” she asked. “You have to be crazier than you think I am.”

He laughed. “Not really. I won’t lose.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” she murmured.

“So it’s a bet?”

She noticed that Jack had made an appearance and was dragging another table over. She realized that in a few minutes the tiki bar would be crowded, as the crews from both boats all began to put in an appearance. In fact, she could see Lizzie and Zach approaching. Bethany, Alex, Victor and Marshall would no doubt be over in another few minutes.

“People are coming,” she murmured.

He gripped her wrist where it lay on the table. “Is it a bet?”

“Yes,” she hissed quickly.

“One of us will have to lose,” he said, stating the obvious.

“It won’t be me,” she assured him. “But don’t worry. I’ll take excellent care of my boat.”

A touch of dry amusement entered his eyes, and he leaned close.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take excellent care of you.”

The others were there before she had a chance to reply, and she rose to greet Elizabeth and Zach.

Maybe she was just being paranoid, but it seemed as if Elizabeth and Zach were looking at her oddly. Then again, it might not be paranoia. She hadn’t been in great shape when she had surfaced yesterday. But Elizabeth had sympathy in her eyes as well as the same speculative look that Thor Thompson usually wore. “You doing all right? Everything okay today?” Elizabeth asked, taking the chair her husband offered her and drawing it up beside Genevieve’s.

“Fine. I’m really sorry I caused such a commotion yesterday.”

“Hey,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve had a few weird experiences in the water, too.”

“Lizzie ran into a head once,” Zach said.

“We were diving a small plane crash in the Everglades. It was pretty grisly.”

Genevieve nodded, staring across the table at Thor, who was smiling at Bethany. Asshole.

“I’ve done some recovery in the Everglades, and it is brutal,” Genevieve said.

“The muck…you can’t see anything until it’s in your face—then, suddenly, you’ve found a body part,” Elizabeth agreed. “But…well, you must have seen something. Maybe we’ll find whatever it was in the next few days.”