Kitabı oku: «Her Passionate Protector», sayfa 4

Hastily Sienna looked away, a pulse beating unevenly at her throat. Neutral buoyancy was what she needed, she thought—a way of controlling her feelings so that she neither sank once again into the dangerous depths of misdirected love nor floated aimlessly into a shallow affair.

She touched the buttons he’d pointed out, experimenting, and Brodie stood by with his hands thrust into his pockets and a studiedly casual expression, watching her familiarize herself with the system.

“What do you think?” he said.

“I think it’s probably expensive.” She peered at a swing tag hanging from the front, confirming her assumption.

“I’ll give you a twenty-five percent discount. I can provide you with something cheaper, but believe me, this will be worth having once we’re out there in the deep ocean.”

“You’re the expert.” Twenty-five percent must be near cost price. “PTS is going to pay me very well for going on this trip and I’ll have some insurance money coming for the gear that was stolen from my car, so yes.” Although temporarily at least it would make a hole in her bank account. “And thanks for the discount.”

Taking the jacket from her, he smiled. “You won’t regret it.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked lightly. Lightly, she’d decided, was the only way to deal with this man.

“I’ll bet on it.”

“You’re the gambling man.” She recalled him offering to bet her that Camille and Rogan’s shining love would last. “I don’t do bets.”

“Ah, yes. The cautious type,” he teased, his eyes laughing at her. “Well, that’s good—taking risks underwater can be fatal. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Sienna wasn’t aware she’d been looking at him in any special way, except that the light in his eyes had a mesmerizing effect and she’d been caught by it, not thinking at all but unable to look away.

“As if you don’t believe me.”

What had they been talking about? Mentally she shook herself. Taking risks underwater, of course. Diving was always risky. Her instructors had made sure everyone knew the strict rules that governed the occupation, regularly hammering home the safety aspects. “You don’t strike me as the cautious type,” she told him. How did a gambling man cope with the necessary precautions?

He said grimly, “I am, underwater. Guys who do stupid things in this business don’t live long.”

Sienna went a little cold. “Have you ever done anything stupid?”

“Coupla times,” he grudgingly admitted. “When I was young and thought I was superhuman. But not anymore. I figured my luck was about to run out.”

“Is that when you decided to buy a shore business?”

Brodie laughed. “No, that came later. The thing is,” he said, sobering, “the second time I damn near took Rogue with me. He put himself at risk to save my sorry butt. Kicked it later for me, and I don’t blame him. I swore I’d never put someone else in danger again just because I felt invincible. No one is. Remember that when you’re at the bottom of the sea.”

“I’m not likely to forget.” Sienna had some sympathy for him. In a way she’d experienced a similar situation, not physically but emotionally, finding herself disastrously out of her depth before she fully realized what had happened. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself, a matter of life and death. Just as Brodie had survived his moment of truth, she’d survived the gaping wound in her heart.

It hadn’t been easy, and it wasn’t her first such mistake, but she was determined it would be her last. She’d never again been quite so vulnerable. Nowadays she was in charge of her emotions, not allowing them to escape her control. Life was much more comfortable that way.

“Something the matter?” Brodie asked, startling her.

Her expression must have betrayed her. She thrust the unwelcome memory back into her subconscious where it belonged. “Nothing,” she said brightly. “I need all the other gear too. Wet suit, flippers, mask, dive computer…”

He helped her choose the rest of her equipment, and when they were both satisfied, she said, “How do you want me to pay for this? Is a credit card okay?”

“Sure, or leave it until we get back. I’ll deliver it all to the boat for you. Are you moving to the Sea-Rogue?”

“I think I’ll stay on at the Imperial until we leave tomorrow.” There wasn’t much privacy on board, and Camille and Rogan might need as much of it as they could get before the boat sailed. Since their Easter wedding, they’d only snatched weekends together while Camille finished the semester and Rogan made preparations for PTS’s project.

“Let me know when you want to park your car at my place,” Brodie offered. “When I’m not here I’ll be at the Sea-Rogue or my place.”

“Where do you live?”

“Five minutes’ walk. If you wait around until closing time—” he glanced at his watch “—which isn’t far off, I’ll show you. Why don’t you have dinner with me there? We could get to know each other a bit before we start the trip.”

Sienna knew it was important to get on with other members of the crew, but stalled, giving herself time to consider. “Can you cook?”

“Sure I can cook. Did you think I was offering so you’d cook dinner for me? You won’t have to lift a finger—and that’s a promise.”

She didn’t actually say yes, but somehow he took it for granted that she’d accepted, and half an hour later he was ushering her through a wicket gate and along a short path to a tiny cottage with a disproportionately large garage toward the rear.

A curve of corrugated iron hooded the veranda at the front of the cottage, giving it a sleepy look. Wide wooden steps creaked as Brodie led the way up them and opened a lead-light-paneled door flanked by long old-fashioned windows.

Inside, the board floors had been varnished to a soft sheen and dressed with rugs. The furniture was minimal but Brodie pointed her to a big, comfortable sofa—chosen, she assumed, to accommodate his large body when he wanted to sprawl on it and watch the small TV set that sat in a corner.

She guessed that someone had removed a wall, replacing it with a wide arch that defined areas of the roomy living space. Besides the sofa, there were two double-seaters, a low coffee table and the TV trolley, while bookshelves lined one wall. The kitchen was separated by a polished wooden counter doubling as a dining table, with two high-backed wicker chairs pushed under it on the sitting-room side.

“Drink?” Brodie offered, opening a cupboard. “Gin, beer, wine—white or red?”

Sienna settled for white wine and he poured two. After handing hers over, he plunked himself down in one of the two-seaters. Lounging back with his long legs spread in front of him, he inquired, “Do you like nasi goreng?”

“It’s a rice dish, isn’t it? I think so. I like rice.”

“Good.” He raised his glass. “To the Maiden’s Prayer and a more successful voyage for us than her last one.”

“I should hope so!” Sienna said, and tasted the wine—cool, fruity and with a pleasant zing to it.

He drank some of his wine and lowered the glass. “How long have you known Camille?”

“A couple of years, since I started at Rusden.” Longer than her husband had known her. “I hope Rogan appreciates her.”

“He does. Rogue’s a lucky man. She’s gorgeous.”

“She is beautiful.” Sienna didn’t have Camille’s spectacular looks, only she had never been short of men to take an interest. But she’d become wary of being too eager and open, of giving too much and receiving too little. She would never fall into that trap again.

“So are you,” Brodie said.

“Please, I don’t need any empty compliments.”

“The compliment,” he said, “was sincere. Clumsy,” he acknowledged with a wry grin, “but sincere.”

Sienna couldn’t help a small laugh at his chagrined expression.

He picked up his glass and said, “I’ll start the rice.”

“Can I help?”

“Nope. I told you, all you have to do is appreciate while I work.”

Not hard, she thought. Any female—and she was one—could hardly fail to appreciate a man as good-looking as Brodie, especially when he was cooking for her, with evident enjoyment and expertise. As a seduction technique it was probably almost fail-safe. Not that he seemed to have any such intention at the moment.

She moved to one of the wicker chairs and they talked about the planned voyage while he chopped and sautéed and added ingredients to the mixture simmering on the stove.

He refilled her glass and she began to feel pleasantly relaxed, resting her elbows on the counter in front of her while a tempting aroma filled the big room, and night began to darken the corners.

Brodie switched on lights in the kitchen, but behind her the room remained shadowed.

He handed her a fork and put two well-filled plates on the counter, then pulled out a stool from under it and sat down opposite her, offering red wine.

“I’ll stick to white,” she said, allowing him to refill her glass again. She’d be walking to the Imperial so wasn’t too bothered about drinking, but would make this the last glass. She didn’t want to go reeling back to the hotel. And besides, experience and the tug of reluctant attraction that Brodie engendered in her was a warning to take care not to let down her accustomed guard over her emotions.

The nasi goreng was fragrant, spicy and delicious, but she couldn’t quite finish the pile he’d heaped on her plate, pushing the remains away regretfully.

“You don’t like my cooking?” he growled.

“It’s wonderful, but just a bit too much for me.” She looked up and realized he’d been teasing.

“You didn’t do too badly,” he conceded.

He put crackers and a couple of cheeses on the counter, which she nibbled while he made coffee.

“Shall we sit over there?” he suggested when he’d poured it, indicating the darkened sitting room. “There’s a light switch by the door if you want to turn it on.”

Wondering if he’d noticed her slight hesitation, Sienna flicked the switch, then settled on one end of the big sofa.

Brodie took the other end. “We could watch some TV if you like,” he offered.

“I don’t mind, if you want to.”

“Not specially. Most of it’s pretty depressing.”

Brodie probably didn’t allow himself to be depressed often. He seemed like the kind of person who tackled life head-on and if something bothered him he’d do something about it, not sit around thinking how awful it was. The way Sienna tried to organize her own life. She didn’t want to sink into the kind of despair that had engulfed her mother after her father’s defection, which still dimmed her enjoyment of life and prevented her from moving forward. A long time ago Sienna and her brother had realized that they were little compensation for the loss of a husband.

“Want to tell me?” Brodie offered softly, bringing her gaze to his face.

“Tell you what?”

“Why you look as if you have some secret sorrow.”

His perception was startling. Her voice brittle, she asked, “Doesn’t everyone?”

Extraordinarily, for a second she’d been almost tempted to confide in him the story of her parents’ divorce, her mother’s subsequent ongoing misery and hopelessness, and her own struggle to overcome feelings of utter abandonment.

Fortunately her normal defenses quickly came rushing to the fore. Pouring out her heart to a virtual stranger wasn’t in her nature. Maybe she’d had more wine than she realized.

Determinedly she shook away the shadow that had fallen over her and laughed, proving to herself and Brodie that she could. “You don’t want to hear about my misfortunes.” It was a banal story anyway. Divorces happened every day, and most people—even children—recovered from the trauma and went on with their lives. As she had, eventually.

Lifting her coffee, she finished it and put the cup down. “Time I went home. Thank you for dinner, it was great.”

She reached for her bag and stood.

Brodie rose too. “I’ll see you back to the hotel.”

“It’s not far, and there are streetlights.”

Remembering the attempt to take her bag, she didn’t argue, shamingly grateful to have his large, intimidating presence at her side.

She strode out purposefully and of course he easily kept up. The streetlights glowed on the blond streaks in his hair, and she averted her fascinated eyes to look at the harbor with its ghostly boats riding on their anchors.

Outside the hotel she said briskly, “Thanks again for a delicious meal. And for seeing me home.”

“No problem.” As she was about to go up the steps to the lighted doorway he seemed to come to a decision and caught her arm, turning her to face him again.

For a moment he just stared into her face, his gaze intent, and she said, “What?”

The skin about his eyes crinkled as though she’d said something funny, but his expression remained sober. Then he dipped his head, and even as her lips parted in astonished recognition that he was about to kiss her, his mouth met hers firmly, warm and confident, lingering for all of two seconds.

As soon as she began to pull away he lifted his mouth, and without letting go her arm he drawled mysteriously, “Yeah…well.”

Chapter 4

Sienna blinked. She ought to have protested, should have pushed him away, but he’d taken her by surprise.

Brodie released her and stepped back. “Good night, Sienna,” he said, and turned on his heel, leaving her staring as he swung off down the street, his hands in his pockets, his back straight, the street lamps gleaming on his hair.

“Yeah, well…?” she murmured, injecting indignation into the echo of his words. What did he mean by that—the kiss and the comment?

“Oh, what the heck,” she thought crossly, mounting the steps to the hotel foyer. He probably always kissed women good-night when he’d escorted them home…if he wasn’t invited in. And it had hardly been the kiss of the century. Just a sociable gesture.

But her lips tingled from the touch of his; she couldn’t banish the feeling of the slight, experimental movement of his mouth over hers. And she could still see the disconcerting glitter in his eyes, hear the exact nuance of his voice as he’d stepped away from her and uttered that odd phrase.

Brodie glanced back just as Sienna disappeared through the open front door of the Imperial. The taste of her mouth—surprised, soft, parting slightly under his—lingered on his lips and in his mind. Tentative, unsure, but not closed against him.

His body stirred pleasurably. He’d wanted to kiss Sienna ever since he’d first seen her at Rogue’s wedding, had wondered what it would be like. Now he knew that it was just as sexy and sweet and exciting as he’d imagined—even more so—and it wasn’t enough.

She didn’t give much away—a contradictory puzzle of a woman, determined to appear composed, cautious, competent. He was sure she was all of that—in her job. But that luscious, vulnerable mouth and the occasional haunted look in her eyes when she dropped her guard told a different tale, at odds with the cool personality she tried so hard to project.

“Yeah,” he murmured again. The kiss had confirmed that suspicion to his satisfaction. “Well…” Where did they go from here? Sienna aroused in him unfamiliar sensations—burning curiosity about why she was so determined to fend him off despite the small signs that she wasn’t as indifferent as she’d like, and something uncomfortably like compunction. He’d never been a pushy kind of guy—hadn’t needed to be. If a woman indicated she was taken or—rarely—just not interested, he’d shrugged off the rebuff and moved on. This time he didn’t want to move on. He wanted Sienna.

Whatever her problem, she wasn’t cold. And he’d love to prove it someday.

He began a pleasant fantasy about just how he could do that, and was still lost in it when he turned a corner to the narrow street that wound uphill toward his house. The street lamps were yellow but dim, with pools of darkness between them.

Approaching his house, when he pushed open the gate he hardly registered the hint of movement under the shadow of the veranda. He was still thinking about Sienna and wondering if those sweetly rounded breasts were as soft as her lips, and he was almost at the veranda steps when he heard the creak of one of the old boards. The back of his neck prickled, his shoulder muscles tightening, ears alert for any sound, all his senses telling him to exercise caution.

Then a large black shape erupted toward him and another came around the side of the house.

He lunged at the nearer one, collided with a thud, grabbed the man and got a stranglehold on his throat, but the second man was on him and a hard blow to the side of his head set his ears ringing, another one forcing him to let go. He rounded on his assailant and threw a couple of punches that were returned in kind, then the first intruder lifted his foot and kicked out. The boot landed fair and square in Brodie’s stomach, making him gasp hoarsely and double over.

Whoever they were, they seemed more intent on escaping than beating him up, and by the time he got his breath back, they were long gone.

Disgusted with himself, he stumbled up the steps and unlocked the door, slamming it shut behind him. Damn, he must be getting soft. Time was when he’d have had those two on the ground, no sweat.

A quick inspection showed no forced locks or broken windows. Maybe the intruders had expected him to stay away longer. Or perhaps they were just opportunists who’d noticed a darkened house and decided to try their luck. Whatever, they didn’t seem to have actually gotten inside.

He phoned the police number and the system rerouted him to someone miles away in Whangarei who promised to pass on a message. Mokohina’s sole representative of the law was probably already out on a call.

Brodie put down the receiver and rubbed at a swelling on his cheek. He could taste blood where a tooth had cut into the inside of his lip. His head hurt too, with a thumping ache.

It was years since he’d been in a scrap like that. Rogue would have something to say about him letting them walk all over him.

Rogue…Could this have anything to do with Pacific Treasure Salvors and the Maiden’s Prayer? Wasn’t it too much of a coincidence on top of the theft of the artifacts from Sienna’s lab and the burglary of her car?

She’d been here tonight. Did someone imagine she might have left something with Brodie that was worth stealing?

A clutch of anxiety wrenched his innards. He picked up the phone again and dialed the number of the hotel, asking to be put through to Sienna’s room.

She answered, sounding surprised, and he said without preamble, “Is there a chain or bolt on your door?”

There was a pause before she said, “Yes, but—”

“Make sure it’s on.”

“I will when—”

“Do it,” he snapped. “Now!”

“Brodie—”

“Now! Don’t argue.”

He must have got through to her. The next instant the phone banged down on something hard and there was silence for two seconds. Then she picked up the receiver again. “All right, it’s done. What’s this all about?”

“And don’t sleep with your window open,” he said. “I just got jumped by a couple of heavies—”

“Where?” she asked quickly. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He shouldn’t be pleased that she sounded shocked and worried. “In my own front yard,” he continued, answering her questions in reverse order.

“Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me? I’m not the one who’s been mugged!”

“You were here tonight, and you’ve had two burglaries so far.”

There was silence, and he wondered if she was scared. He wanted her to be scared. Enough to take care, but heck, he didn’t want to freak her out. “It’s just a precaution,” he said soothingly. “In case there’s any connection.”

Another two seconds ticked by. “Someone tried to snatch my bag today,” she said.

“What? When?” He had to fight down something uncomfortably akin to panic. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“It didn’t seem that important. He didn’t get it—I kicked him and he ran off. He was just a kid, really. A teenager.”

“You fought him off?” She didn’t have red hair for nothing, apparently. Well, almost red.

“You needn’t sound so surprised. I’m not helpless.”

Obviously not. For a second he enjoyed the picture of her downing a mugger. Where had she kicked him? The place it hurt most, he hoped. “Did you tell the local cop?”

“No, I mean to though.”

“This can’t all be down to chance,” he said.

“They do say things come in threes.”

“James Drummond—he’s holed up somewhere…”

“Not in Mokohina, surely!”

“No, he’s too well known here, but he’s probably still in contact with people who can do his dirty work for him. Maybe he’s masterminding all this.”

“Whoever burgled the lab has already got the artifacts that came from the wreck. What else could they want? And why attack you?”

“I don’t know. But for God’s sake don’t open your door to anyone you don’t know. We’re sailing tomorrow. I’ll come over and take you to the cop-shop first, then the Sea-Rogue. Don’t move from the hotel until I get there.”

She argued but next morning he was at her door first thing, accompanying her down to breakfast in the dining room before they reported the attempted bag-snatch.

When the constable had taken the details, Brodie said, “It’s not the first time something like this has happened. Her car was burgled in Hamilton, and before that some stuff was taken from her place of work. Tell him, Sienna.”

The constable looked thoughtful. “Some people do seem to have a rash of unrelated incidents, but…you’re on the Sea-Rogue team?”

“I will be from today.”

“Hmm.” The policeman tapped a pen against his teeth. “I’ll pass this on to Whangarei, and what’s this about an incident at your house, Brodie?”

Brodie said, “After Sienna visited.” He described the “incident,” then asked, “There’s been no sign of Drummond since he skipped bail?”

Frowning, the constable shook his head. “Pity the judge didn’t remand him in prison. Confiscating his passport and freezing his assets is all very well, but my guess is he’s left the country anyway.”

When the constable had finished writing his report, Brodie lingered and the policeman said, “Anything else?”

Brodie pushed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “What’s the story about murder at sea?”

The constable sat back. “If you mean the deckhand James Drummond’s man allegedly murdered—”

“No, this is something different. Nothing to do with Drummond, as far as I know.”

“What are we talking about?”

“Well, we found this skeleton.”

“Where exactly?”

“Um…out in the Pacific. International waters.”

“That complicates things for a start.” The man looked pained. “How old was it? And why do you think this…person was murdered?”

“Maybe the bullet that was still inside the skull?”

The constable’s expression didn’t change. “That would be a clue. Bullets can be identified. Is it still there?”

Brodie shoved his hands in his pockets and briefly looked at his feet. “I…um…removed it. And then I dropped it. I’ve no idea how old the bones are. I’m no expert.”

“You dropped it? Where?”

“In the water, when we were surfacing. I was putting on my glove, meaning to tuck the bullet inside, but—” he shrugged “—my dive time was up, and I was trying to hang on to a line and put the glove back on at the same time. I lost my grip on the bullet—it was only small—and the damn thing went to the bottom. We couldn’t stay down any longer and…well, it’s gone.”

The constable rubbed a hand over his cheek, grimacing. “Could you find it again?”

“The bullet? I doubt it. The bones, maybe. But they could have been swept away by now, or taken off by sharks—though there wasn’t any flesh left to interest them.”

Sienna’s own flesh crawled at the picture he’d drawn.

The policeman said, “There’s no evidence of a crime, in other words. Unless you can find the skeleton and bring it back for the forensics guys. It’s probably ancient. Do you want to formally report this?”

Obviously he wasn’t advising it.

Brodie shook his head. “Forget it. I just kinda thought maybe we should mention it.” He deduced the cop thought the department, notoriously short-staffed as it was, had enough work on hand without chasing after some vague story of a probably historical and unprovable crime way beyond their actual jurisdiction.

Outside, on their way back to the Imperial to collect Sienna’s things, she said, “It bothered you, finding a skeleton.”

“Nah, I’ve seen others. But since it wasn’t an accidental death and we were there at the station…” He shrugged. “Well, the cops aren’t interested. And Rogue wouldn’t want them sniffing around where we’re trying to work anyway.”

He took Sienna’s bags and her new equipment on board the Sea-Rogue, then they drove to his house where he opened up the garage for her to park her car.

They walked down to the Sea-Rogue together and settled into their respective compact cabins before Brodie helped Rogan to cast off. After clearing the harbor entrance, the Sea-Rogue emerged into a choppy sea under a blue sky hung with billowing white clouds, and Rogan cut the engine.

Sienna dodged out of the way as the men attended to the sails. Soon the boat was on automatic pilot and skimming over the waves, heading north.

Camille made sandwiches and brought them up on deck. She sat close to her husband under an awning that shaded the cockpit, and Brodie moved along the seat opposite, tacitly inviting Sienna to sit beside him. He rested his arm on the coaming behind her, not touching her. She found it unsettling, but tried not to show she was conscious of his every breath, every slight movement. That she wanted to lean back against him and feel his arm curve around her.

Afterward Sienna helped Camille clean up in the galley, getting accustomed to the roll and sway of the boat.

“You don’t get seasick?” Camille inquired.

“I’m taking pills.” They made her feel a bit spaced out, but she knew that in a day or two she wouldn’t need them. “Are we supposed to do the meals because we’re the only women on board?”

Camille said, “I’m supposed to do them because I volunteered. You don’t need to.”

“Sorry.” Sienna gave her friend a sideways smile. “I don’t mind helping.”

“Thanks. I expect everyone will help if I need it. But when we’re on site the men will be doing most of the physical work—I’m not qualified for helmet diving, and they are. So I said I’d cook. And maybe I can help you catalog artifacts or something if you tell me what to do.”

In the days that followed, life on board soon settled into a rhythm in tune with the sea and the sailing of the boat. Whenever they sat in the cockpit together they took the same places, and each time Brodie stretched out his arm behind her, Sienna experienced the same renewed awareness, as if some kind of invisible charge spanned the small space from his arm to the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. All she could do was try to ignore it and hope devoutly that he wasn’t picking up on her feelings. Sometimes she caught him looking at her as if trying to work something out that puzzled him. And occasionally she surprised a gleam in his eye that made her breath catch before he quickly looked away, leaving her wondering if she’d imagined it.

Everyone took turns to keep watch for other shipping and hazards like floating logs or lost cargo containers, as the boat forged across water that changed from green to blue to inky. Schools of fish flashed by in silver streams, and pods of sleek dolphins leaped in graceful unison from the water, arching back into it and playing in the boat’s white wake. Once, as Sienna was scanning the horizon just before sunset, a whale spouted in the distance.

Just over a week after they’d left Mokohina, in the dark of the early hours, she pulled on jeans and a jersey to go on deck for her turn to stand watch.

Brodie was wedged into a corner, a black, bulky shape.

“Good morning.” Sienna sat down, folding her arms against the chill. “You can go and get some sleep now.”

“Not sleepy,” he said. “And it’s a great morning.”

The sea was like black glass, a line of light just beginning to show on the horizon. Stars still shone overhead, but gradually they faded as the morning glow overtook them. Dimly she could see Brodie’s face in the gloom.

He shifted his feet, crossed one ankle over the other and tipped his head back. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever decided to become a landlubber, even part-time.”

“Don’t you have the best of both worlds?”

He lowered his head to look at her. “Yeah. I can take off whenever I want and go sailing, diving, but the shop and the house are always there. One day…” His voice trailed off and he looked away, toward the horizon. The water hissed at the Sea-Rogue’s hull, and the sails moved as if breathing in the ghostly morning light.

One day, she guessed, his restless spirit might lead him to abandon things that tied him to the shore and resume roving like Rogan, whose only home was the boat. “The sea isn’t always as peaceful as this,” she reminded him.

Brodie laughed. “Don’t I know! It can be wild and unpredictable. That’s one of the things I love about it. You never know what to expect. And underneath that calm surface it holds so many secrets, so much to discover and explore. It’s beautiful and mysterious and once you penetrate its depths, it casts a spell that never lets you go.”

The light was growing stronger, throwing his face into relief, and even though his eyes were shadowed, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

“That’s why you became a professional diver?” she asked him. “Because the sea cast a spell over you?”

He gave a soft laugh. “You could say that.”

“Rogan told me you both entered dive school when you were teenagers. Did you always want to be a diver?”