Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

decks.”
    “Steam engines don’t count. Neither do nukes. I’m the true-blue, all-American internal combustion type.”
    This time Conroy laughed out loud. Then he gestured for Jimmy to get back into the Zodiac. The young man scrambled to obey.
    “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Donovan,” Conroy said. “I’ll never look at engines in quite the same way again.”
    “Off to make more inspections?” Jake asked.
    “You never know.”
    “If you get bored,” he said, pointing over the stern, “there are two civilian boats back there. Or are they yours?”
    “Not so far as I know.”
    “Going to inspect them?”
    “Not today.”
    “Tomorrow?”
    Conroy’s mouth flattened. It was obvious that he wasn’t happy with this particular assignment. “When did you get back in town?” he asked.
    “Not long ago. You off tonight?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’ll buy you a beer.”
    Conroy relaxed. “Sure. How about the Salty Log? Eighteen hundred hours.”
    Jake glanced at his watch. It was nearly five, or seventeen hundred to military types. He wouldn’t have time to do much with the SeaSport before he had to head back for the dock. But he wasn’t complaining. Finding out whether the guy putting pressure on the Coast Guard was local, state, national, or international was more important than anything Jake could do on the water.
    “I’ll be there,” he said. “Bring Janet if you like.”
    “Not this time,” Conroy said in a low voice. “I don’t want her anywhere near this mess.”
    That wasn’t good news, but Jake smiled anyway. “Right. See you at eighteen hundred.”
    Enviously Honor watched while Conroy stepped up on the engine cover, down to the swim step, and into the Zodiac with a dancer’s grace.
    “How does he do that in rough water?” she asked Jake.
    “Carefully.”
    He turned and headed back into the cabin. She stayed in the stern for a moment longer, watching the open Zodiac with a combination of horror and fascination. The four men had no cabin to retreat to when the wind drove spray into the boat, no shelter when black clouds turned to icy rain.
    She wondered if the bottom of the Zodiac smelled like fish. Shuddering, she turned and hurried back inside the cabin, closing the door behind her. After the little Coast Guard craft, her brother’s SeaSport seemed like a haven of comfort and security.
    Jake was already sitting in the chair behind the helm, watching the water and the boats around them. She stepped up into the pilot seat across the aisle from him. The bench seat was wide enough to seat two comfortably, three if they were kids.
    “Since when does the Coast Guard wear orange uniforms?” she asked.
    “Survival gear.”
    “They expect to sink?”
    “Regulations. Open boats and cold water equals survival gear.”
    “Day-Glo orange for the coroner. Lovely.”
    “They’re wearing dry suits. They could float for days and stay alive.”
    “Talk about diapers . . . ”
    Laughing, Jake hit the throttle. The engine growled happily as more fuel rushed through its lines and caught fire deep in the engine. The controlled explosion known as internal combustion slammed through machinery, turning the prop and driving the SeaSport across the cold blue water.
    Smiling, Honor closed her eyes and listened to the bass music of a muscular, well-tuned engine. Though they were whipping along through the water at good speed, the sound of the engine told her there was power to spare. Right now only two of the four barrels of the carburetor were working. The other two were in reserve, waiting for the demand that would bring them to life.
    “I’ll bet it sounds wonderful when the other jets kick in,” she said.
    Jake glanced aside, saw her savoring kind of smile, and told himself not to think about how satisfying it would be to make her respond like that in bed. He told himself he was stupid to even think about her like that. This was business, impure and simple.
    But no matter how hard he tried to control his thoughts, images kept sliding into his mind, the kind of images that made his pants fit tighter with every heartbeat.
    “Listen up,” Jake said, increasing the gas feed. “Here goes three and four.”
    The boat surged forward. The sound of the engine changed, becoming both deeper and higher. It ran through Honor’s blood like hard liquor. Her smile widened until she laughed out loud.
    “Gorgeous,” she said. “Eat your heart out, thoven.”
    Jake smiled, too, especially when he