Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

warranties, instructions, and manuals for everything on the boat but the electronics.
    “I’ll make the coffee while you do whatever,” Honor said.
    He nodded absently and sat at the small galley table without looking up from the papers. For a time the only sounds were the small clatter of coffeepot and mugs and the mutter of the engine as it warmed up.
    She handed him a mug of coffee.
    “Thanks,” he said, still reading papers. He took a sip and then glanced at her in surprise. “How did you know I liked cream, no sugar?”
    “I smelled cream on your breath. Lucky for you, I like milk on my cereal.”
    She turned away and put the milk back in the small refrigerator under the dinette seat.
    Jake watched her closely, wondering if she was flirting or just answering his question. He couldn’t tell, because he couldn’t see her eyes.
    “As for the sugar . . .” She straightened, picked up her own coffee, and climbed into the pilot seat. “If you like sweet things, it hasn’t made a dent in your personality.”
    Smiling slightly, Jake went back to scanning papers. When he was satisfied, he returned everything to its proper envelope and shut the drawer.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “All in order.”
    What he didn’t say was that there were more warranties and instructions than there were items of equipment on the Tomorrow . Two auxiliary outboard engines were mentioned. One was permanently attached to the stern of the boat for use as a trolling motor while fishing. The other, smaller, engine was presumably for a Zodiac, which also had papers in the file.
    Then there was the handheld Global Positioning System receiver unit whose warranty and receipt had been stuffed into the envelope as though Kyle had been in too much of a hurry to worry about keeping neat records. The date on the receipt was thirteen days ago.
    Kyle had vanished four weeks ago in Kaliningrad and reappeared halfway around the world, in the Pacific Northwest, only to vanish again. The smaller engine and the Zodiac apparently had disappeared with him. Probably the GPS unit as well.
    Jake made a mental note to pick up the portable GPS receiver from his own SeaSport tonight.
    “Did your brother have any kind of tender?” Jake asked.
    Honor looked at him blankly. “Excuse me?”
    “A small boat.”
    “Another one?”
    “No, just a little runabout. A skiff to take ashore when he anchored in a place without docks.”
    “I don’t know. Is it important?”
    “It’s not required by the Coast Guard, if that’s what you mean.”
    She didn’t know what she meant, so she kept her mouth shut. Her tongue had already gotten her into trouble with this man. Her tongue or her hormones, or both working together without benefit of her brain.
    “Where does he keep the PFDs?” Jake asked.
    “The what?”
    “Personal flotation devices.”
    “Oh. I don’t know.”
    The look Jake gave her said he wasn’t surprised. He bent low, quickly scanned the V berth in the bow, and found nothing that looked like it would pass a Coast Guard inspection.
    And he suspected they would be having one. It was the sort of thing he would have done if he couldn’t think of a better way to get a look around the Tomorrow .
    Honor tried to see past Jake into the V berth, but couldn’t. He blocked the entrance and then some. A big man.
    “Are the, uh, PFDs up there?” she asked.
    “Nope. Nothing but clothes, fishing rods, a landing net, and two down-riggers.”
    “I take it that down-riggers aren’t PFDs?”
    “Not hardly. They float like anchors.”
    “Then what are they good for?”
    “Fishing.” He backed up slightly and turned toward her without straightening up. “Move your leg.”
    Her breath came in hard as one of his hands went between her calves. The instant of brushing contact was brief, but it was enough to rattle her. Quickly she shifted so that he could reach beneath the seat without touching her.
    Though Jake said nothing, he had noticed the sudden, involuntary widening of her eyes when he touched her leg. If she had been riding the sexual merry-go-round, it hadn’t been for a while. Instinctive body language didn’t lie. The lady definitely wasn’t used to being rubbed up against.
    Too bad. It would have been a lot easier if she were the type who changed men every day and three times on Saturday night. Then he wouldn’t feel like a ruthless son of a bitch if he followed up on the purely female interest he saw in her eyes.
    Cursing silently at