The Reef

you climbed out of.”
    “You running things around here now, Red?”
    “I’ll do whatever I have to to protect my parents from you.”
    “I never did anything to Ray or Marla.” He lifted a brow. “Or to you, for that matter. Though in that area I had plenty of opportunity.”
    Her cheeks heated. She hated him for it, hated those damned glasses that hid his eyes and tossed her ownreflection back at her. “I’m not a young girl with stars in her eyes now, Lassiter. I know exactly what you are. An opportunist with no sense of loyalty or responsibility. We don’t need you.”
    “Ray thinks differently.”
    “He’s softhearted.” She angled her chin. “I’m not. Maybe you’ve conned him into putting his money into some wild plan, but I’m here to put a stop to it. You’re not going to use him.”
    “Is that how you see it? I’m using him?”
    “You’re a born user.” She said it mildly, pleased with her control. “And when things get rough, you walk. Like you walked on Buck, leaving him in some hole-in-the-wall trailer park in Florida while you sailed off. I was there.” All but shimmering with resentment, she stepped closer. “Almost a year ago, I went to see him. I saw that sty you dropped him in. He was all alone, sick. There was barely any food. He said he couldn’t remember the last time you’d been there, that you were off diving somewhere.”
    “That’s true enough.” He’d have sawed off his tongue with his own pride before he would have told her differently.
    “He needed you, but you were too self-involved to give a damn. You left him to drink himself half to death. If my parents knew how callous, how cold you really are, they’d pitch you out on your ass.”
    “But you know.”
    “Yes, I know. I knew eight years ago when you were considerate enough to show me. That’s the only thing I owe you, Matthew, and I’ll pay you back by letting you have the chance to bow out of this business gracefully.”
    “No deal.” He folded his arms. “I’m going after the Isabella, Tate, one way or the other. I’ve got my own debts to pay.”
    “You won’t use my parents to pay them.” She turned on her heel and strode off.
    Alone, Matthew gave himself a minute to let the storm of emotions settle. Slowly he sat on the hammock, braced his feet to keep it from rocking.
    He hadn’t expected her to greet him with open arms and a sunny smile. But he hadn’t expected such complete and utter loathing. Dealing with it would be difficult, but necessary.
    Yet that wasn’t the worst of it. Not by a long shot. He’d been so sure he was over her. She’d barely been more than a passing thought in his life for years. It was a jolt, an embarrassing, devastating jolt to realize that rather than being over her, he was desperately, foolishly in love with her.
    Still.
    Before Marla could repeat her offer of lunch, Tate had sailed through the kitchen, into the homey, cluttered living room, down the steps to the foyer and out the front door.
    She needed to breathe.
    At least she’d held on to her temper, she told herself as she stormed over the sandy soil toward the sound. She hadn’t decked him the way she’d wanted to. And she’d made her position crystal clear. She would see to it that Matthew Lassiter was packed and gone by nightfall.
    Tate took another gulp of air as she stepped on the narrow dock. Moored there was the New Adventure, the forty-two-foot cruiser her parents had christened only two years before. She was a beauty, and though Tate had only managed one brief run on her, she knew the boat to be quick and agile.
    She might have gone onboard, just to spend a few minutes alone with her anger, if there hadn’t been another boat on the other side of the pier.
    She was frowning at it, its unusual lines and double-hull construction, when Buck came on deck.
    “Ahoy there, pretty girl.”
    “Ahoy yourself.” Grinning, she hurried onto the pier. “Permission to come aboard, sir.”
    “Permission granted.” He laughed, holding out a hand as she leapt gracefully down.
    She could see instantly that he’d lost some of the weight the bloat of drink and bad food had ballooned on him. His color was ruddy again, his eyes clear. When shehugged him, there was no stale scent of whiskey and sweat.
    “It’s good to see you,” she told him. “You look renewed.”
    “I’m getting by.” He shifted uncomfortably. “You know what they say, a day at a time.”
    “I’m proud of you.” She