Risky Business

rarely came and went. “So did I, briefly.”
    “Small world,” he said, pleased with himself. “I like Texas. Got a few friends in Houston. I don’t suppose you know the Dresscots?”
    “No.”
    “Well, Houston isn’t exactly small-town U.S.A.” He stretched out long, skinny legs that were shades paler than his arms but starting to tan. “So you went to Texas A and M.”
    “That’s right.”
    “What’d you study?”
    She smiled and looked out to sea. “Marine biology.”
    “Guess that fits.”
    “And you?”
    “Accounting.” He flashed his grin again. “Pretty dry stuff. That’s why I always take a long breather after tax time.”
    “Well, you chose a great place to take it. Ready to go down again?”
    He took a long breath as if to steady himself. “Yeah. Hey, listen, how about a drink after we get back in?”
    He was attractive in a mild sort of way, pleasant enough. She gave him an apologetic smile as she rose. “It sounds nice, but I’m tied up.”
    “I’ll be around for a couple of weeks. Some other time?”
    “Maybe. Let’s check your gear.”
    By the time the dive boat chugged into shore, the afternoon was waning. Her customers, most of them pleased with themselves, wandered off to change for dinner or spread out on the beach. Only a few loitered near the boat, including her bodyguard and the accountant from America. It occurred to Liz that she might have been a bit brisk with him.
    “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Mr….”
    “Trydent. But it’s Scott, and I did. I might just try it again.”
    Liz smiled at him as she helped Luis and another of her employees unload the boat. “That’s what we’re here for.”
    “You, ah, ever give private lessons?”
    Liz caught the look. Perhaps she hadn’t been brisk enough. “On occasion.”
    “Then maybe we could—”
    “Hey, there, missy.”
    Liz shaded her eyes. “Mr. Ambuckle.”
    He stood on the little walkway, his legs bulging out of the short wet suit. What hair he had was sleeked wetly back. Beside him, his wife stood wearily in a bathing suit designed to slim down wide hips. “Just got back in!” he shouted. “Had a full day of it.”
    He seemed enormously pleased with himself. His wife looked at Liz and rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should take you out as crew, Mr. Ambuckle.”
    He laughed, slapping his side. “Guess I’d rather dive than anything.” He glanced at his wife and patted her shoulder. “Almost anything. Gotta trade in these tanks, honey, and get me some fresh ones.”
    “Going out again?”
    “Tonight. Can’t talk the missus into it.”
    “I’m crawling into bed with a good book,” she told Liz. “The only water I want to see is in the tub.”
    With a laugh, Liz jumped down to the walkway. “At the moment, I feel the same way. Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Ambuckle, this is Scott Trydent. He just took his first dive.”
    “Well now.” Expansive, Ambuckle slapped him on the back. “How’d you like it?”
    “Well, I—”
    “Nothing like it, is there? You want try it at night, boy. Whole different ball game at night.”
    “I’m sure, but—”
    “Gotta trade in these tanks.” After slapping Scott’s back again, Ambuckle hefted his tanks and waddled off toward the shop.
    “Obsessed,” Mrs. Ambuckle said, casting her eyes to the sky. “Don’t let him get started on you, Mr. Trydent. You’ll never get any peace.”
    “No, I won’t. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Ambuckle.” Obviously bemused, Scott watched her wander back toward the hotel. “Quite a pair.”
    “That they are.” Liz lifted her own tanks. She stored them separately from her rental equipment. “Goodbye, Mr. Trydent.”
    “Scott,” he said again. “About that drink—”
    “Thanks anyway,” Liz said pleasantly and left him standing on the walkway. “Everything in?” she asked Luis as she stepped into the shop.
    “Checking it off now. One of the regulators is acting up.”
    “Set it aside for Jose to look at.” As a matter of habit, she moved into the back to fill her tanks before storage. “All the boats are in, Luis. We shouldn’t have too much more business now. You and the rest can go on as soon as everything’s checked in. I’ll close up.”
    “I don’t mind staying.”
    “You closed up last night,” she reminded him. “What do you want?” She tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Overtime? Go on home, Luis. You can’t tell me you don’t have a date.”
    He ran a fingertip over his mustache. “As a matter of