Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

from him, trying to think when those intense eyes had her more than a little rattled. His eyes were a piercing blue, like the sea itself. He was gorgeous. She didn’t get close to men who were gorgeous. She judged his height to be over six feet. Wide shoulders, a thick, muscular chest, narrow hips; he was all muscle. The man was a walking mythology statue—a poster child for women’s fantasies. His face was all hard angles and planes. He looked tough and she had no doubt that he was.
    He was shivering continually.
    Cursing under her breath, she knew she couldn’t just leave him. “You know you could have a blood clot. You hit pretty hard.”
    “I’ll be fine.” He settled deeper into the blanket, and long lashes veiled his blue eyes, giving her some relief. “Go get your catch. I’m not going to a hospital, so it doesn’t matter where we are or how long it takes us to get back to the harbor.”
    Rikki studied his face. He could take the boat while she was down searching for the nets, but it seemed silly not to just kill her and throw her overboard. She was very tempted to try to recover her catch. She couldn’t afford the loss of the urchins or her gear. Selfish or not, it was how she made a living and the farm needed cash coming in.
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    “Take the keys with you if you’re worried,” he said, without opening his eyes.
    “I can rig a motor,” she said, “so I’m guessing you can as well.”
    He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers with that penetrating stare that shook her. Ocean blue, his eyes held no real emotion. None. Flat and as cold as the deepest sea. Yet they were brilliant, like two sapphires mesmerizing her. She shook herself. Or like a cobra. He was her catch, fair and square, no matter how difficult he was to handle. She’d been the one to pull him out of the sea—and that made him hers.
    “Do whatever you feel comfortable doing, but truthfully, I’ll need you to get me out of here. I don’t have a clue where I am or which direction I would go to get back to the harbor.”
    She studied his face. He wasn’t exactly lying, but he wasn’t telling the truth. He had no doubt that he would find his way to shore—and neither did she. He was a resourceful man.
    “Drink some more water. This won’t take long,” she said, making up her mind. She was going to take him at his word. If the boat started up, she might be able to “dance” the water right over the top of him and spill him right back into the sea.
    Lev watched as she poured hot engine water inside her wet suit top and then stripped off her sweatshirt and pulled on her vest with a diver’s immodesty. He couldn’t help but think she didn’t notice him as a man, more like a catch she’d pulled from the sea. A part of him was a little disgruntled over that, while another part wanted to smile. She was very focused once she decided on a course of action. She reached for her gear, hurriedly shrugging into her bailout tank.
    He watched her get ready to dive through narrow, brooding eyes. He wanted to move, to put his hand in the water and feel the response to her when she went in, but he couldn’t summon the energy. Instead, he watched her go in. Watched the water reach for her. Welcome her, as if it enveloped her and held her.
    He held his breath as she disappeared beneath the shimmering surface.
    She looked peaceful, like part of the sea itself, not awkward like some divers he’d observed over the years. And the water poured over and around her, caressing her body . . .
    He pulled himself up short. What the hell was he thinking? He was losing it. The continual rocking of the boat made him feel slightly nauseated, which he would have found mildly alarming if his brain wasn’t quite so fuzzy. As it was, his queasiness was just another discomfort among so many.
    Mostly the cold bothered him. Even his insides were cold. Pain he could 42

    manage. He’d lived with pain as a child every damn day. He could walk on glass and keep going. But the cold . . .
    He couldn’t stop shivering. With her off the boat, he could relax, just for a few minutes—try to get oriented. Try to remember what the hell had happened to him and who wanted him dead this time. Survival mattered. He had a strong sense of self-preservation, and this unique woman with her solitary lifestyle could be his best chance. He needed to have a plan.
    The sound of the water lapping at the boat was soothing. The Honda ran lightly in the background as it fed