The Reef

Instead, Hayden cleared his throat and went back to his calculations.
    “I’m going to suggest we move ten degrees south, southwest.”
    “Oh, why?”
    Delighted she’d asked, he began to show her.
    Tate rose, moved behind him to view his screens and his hastily scribbled notes over his shoulder. Occasionally, she laid her hand on it or leaned closer to get a better look or ask a question.
    Each time she did, Hayden’s heart would stutter. He called himself a fool, even a middle-aged fool, but it didn’t stop the hitch.
    He could smell her—soap and skin. Each time she laughed in that low, carelessly sexy way, his mind would cloud. He loved everything about her, her mind, her heart, and when he let himself fantasize, her wonderfully willowy body. Her voice was like honey poured over brown sugar.
    “Did you hear that?”
    How could he hear anything but her voice when he was all but swimming in it. “What?”
    “That.” She pointed overhead, toward the sound of engines. Planes, she realized, and grinned. “It must be thefood drop. Come on, Hayden. Let’s go up top, get some sun and watch them.”
    “Well, I haven’t quite finished my—”
    “Come on.” Laughing, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “You’re like a mole in here. Just a few minutes on deck.”
    He went with her, of course, feeling very much like a mole chasing a butterfly. She had the loveliest legs. He knew he shouldn’t stare at them, but they were the most incredible shade of alabaster. And there was that enchanting little freckle just above the back of her right knee.
    He’d like to press his mouth just there. The thought of doing it, of perhaps being invited to do it, made his head swim.
    He cursed himself for being an idiot, reminding himself he was thirteen years her senior. He had a responsibility to her and to the expedition.
    She was onboard the Nomad due to his agreement with the recommendation that had come straight from Trident through its Poseidon arm. He’d been delighted to agree. After all, she’d been his best and brightest student.
    Wasn’t it wonderful the way the sun gilded the flame of her hair?
    “Here comes another one!” Tate shouted and cheered along with the other crew who had gathered as the next package splashed off the stern.
    “We’ll eat like kings tonight.” Lorraine, her lush little body stuffed into a snug halter and shorts, leaned over the rail. Below, crew were manning a dingy. “Don’t leave anything behind, boys. I put in a request for some Fume Blanc, Tate.” She winked, then turned to flutter her gilded lashes at Hayden. “Doc, where have you two been hiding out?”
    “Hayden’s running new figures.” Tate leaned over the rail to shout encouragement as the dingy putted out to retrieve the supplies. “I hope they remembered the chocolate.”
    “You only eat sweets because you’re repressed.”
    “You’re just jealous because M&M’s go straight to your thighs.”
    Lorraine pursed her lips. “My thighs are terrific.” She ran a fingertip along one, slanted Hayden a sly look. “Aren’t they, doc?”
    “Leave Hayden alone,” Tate began, then squealed when she was grabbed from behind.
    “Break time.” Bowers, tough and sinewy, scooped her up. While others applauded, he dashed to one of the ropes they’d rigged. “We’re going swimming, babycakes.”
    “I’ll kill you, Bowers.” She knew their robotics and computer expert loved nothing better than to play. Still laughing, she struggled weakly. “This time I mean it.”
    “She’s nuts about me.” With one muscled arm, he snagged the rope. “Better hold on, honey child.”
    She looked down as his eyes rolled in his glossy ebony face. He bared his teeth, made her giggle helplessly. “How come you always pick on me?”
    “ ’Cause we look so fine together. Grab hold. Me Tarzan, you Jane.”
    Tate gripped the rope, sucked in her breath. With Bowers’s wild Tarzan yell ringing in her ears, she pushed off with him into space. She screamed, because it felt good. The wide, wide sea tilted beneath her, and as the rope arched, she let go. The air whisked over her, the water rushed up. She heard Bowers cackling like a loon an instant before she hit.
    It was bracingly cool. She let it bathe her before kicking her way to the surface.
    “Only an 8.4 from the Japanese judge, Beaumont, but they’re picky devils.” Bowers winked at her, then shaded his eyes. “Oh Christ almighty, here comes Dart. Everybody