Читать книгу Breathless Encounter - Cindy Dees - Страница 9

Aiden waited expectantly for the woman to answer, but instead she merely shivered in his arms. “Who wants to hurt you?” he insisted.

Eventually, she sighed and relaxed, her slender body shifting against his and making his chest tighten—but pleasantly. Far too belatedly, dismay flowed through him. He knew better than to indulge himself like this. He’d sworn off women. Changed his ways. Turned over a new leaf … and apparently been lying to himself like a big dog that he’d actually changed.

“I’m a filmmaker,” she announced as if that answered everything. “I was collecting footage for a documentary on the commercial deep-sea fishing industry.”

An uncomplimentary portrayal, no doubt. But uncomplimentary enough to kill her over? He frowned. He didn’t recall seeing the giant cranes used for deploying and hoisting fishing nets protruding from the silhouette of the vessel that had sunk her boat. “Are you sure it was fishermen who ran you down?”

“I’m not sure of anything except my boat is gone, and I’m really glad you came along when you did and saved my life.”

So was he.

The moment threatened to become intimate as a sexual charge started to build between them. He was desperate to lean into it, to lose himself in the feeling he knew so well. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He didn’t party his way into the bed of every hot chick he laid eyes on. He had a purpose now. Focus. At long last, he had some self-respect. Still. This particular hot chick felt pretty fantastic in his arms—

A voice intruded from behind him. “I see my patients are up and about.”

He stepped back hastily from the girl. Whether he was more chagrined at the interruption or abjectly relieved by it, he couldn’t say. “Hey, Doc,” he mumbled.

“Aiden. How’s your breathing?”

“Fine.” An awkward silence descended. It had been a long time since he’d had need for social niceties, but he roused his rusty skills to mutter, “Sunny, this is Doctor Gemma Jones. Gem, meet Sunny.”

The two women nodded at one another. “How’re you feeling today?” Gemma asked Sunny.

“Okay, I guess. My throat feels awful.”

“It’ll clear up in a few days.” The doctor added, “If you’ve got a little time later, I’d like to run some simple neurological tests on you.”

Sunny answered, “Give me a shout-out whenever you want to do it.”

“How about now, then?” Gemma responded briskly. Aiden scowled at the interruption of their time together. He was making good progress—

He cut off that train of thought sharply. He did not progress with seducing women anymore, dammit.

Gemma announced, “I’ll get my bag and be back in a few minutes.”

The doctor’s departure was apparently the cue for the ship’s captain to make an appearance. Aiden sighed. It was a plot to keep him from having any time alone with Sunny. Or more likely, they’d come to enjoy watching him squirm. It wasn’t often these days he interacted with women for this long. “Sunny, this is Captain Steig Carlson.”

“As in the ship’s captain?” she asked, eyeing the big blond Swede a little too appreciatively for Aiden’s taste.

Steig smiled and held out his hand to her. “That’s right, Miss Jordan.”

“Call me Sunny.”

“Only if you’ll call me Steig.”

Aiden managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. “So, Steig. I assume you tracked the ship that wiped out Sunny’s boat?”

“We followed it until it rounded an island and we lost radar contact. By the time we passed the headland, it had blended in with the other traffic in the shipping lanes. I can tell you one thing, though. It was fast. We had to push the throttles wide open just to maintain the gap between us.”

The Sea Nymph could run at thirty knots if she had to. And the other ship had been able to match that speed? Modern whaling ships could move that fast, but not too many other fishing vessels could do it. “Any idea who she was?” he asked.

Steig shook his head regretfully. “We never got visual on her again after we picked you and Sunny out of the water.”

“Did it look like a fishing boat to you?” Aiden asked.

“No. Wrong rigging for fishing. It looked more like—” the Swede frowned “—I’m not sure what. Research vessel, maybe.”

Aiden and Steig traded grim looks. They were both thinking the same thing. A surveillance ship of some kind. Why would some foreign government have it in for a lone, independent filmmaker? They both looked over at the woman leaning on the rail, eyes closed, face turned up to the sunshine. Who was she? And what in the hell had she really been doing out here?

Aiden asked in sudden recollection, “Sunny, what was in that bag you were clutching when I dragged you up to the surface?”

She frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Did my camera bag make it aboard with me?”

Aiden had no idea. He’d passed out shortly after resuscitating her. Steig answered, however. “Yes, it did.”

“Where is it?” she asked eagerly.

The captain was prevented from answering by the arrival of Doctor Jones to test Sunny’s brain function. Gemma shooed Aiden and Steig away with a promise to return their shiny new toy to them later.

As Sunny threw a startled glance in his direction, Aiden scowled at Gemma. The doctor had the social skills of an amoeba sometimes.

A sailor called for Steig to return to the bridge, and Aiden made his way belowdecks. It was a simple matter—track down the cabin where Sunny’s clothes, laundered and pressed, had been hung in a closet. Sure enough, her bag sat on the floor beneath the hangers. Steig’s crew was nothing if not efficient.

He should leave the bag alone. Let the poor girl have her privacy. The new Aiden didn’t pull stunts like this. And yet, he pulled the waterproof sack out of her closet. He needed to know if the reason she’d nearly been killed was something she’d recorded, right?

Armed with that thin logic, he dumped the contents of the bag onto her bed. A few dog-eared family photos. Cell phone. Wallet. A flash drive. An impressive array of high-tech camera gear, including memory cards for her digital movie camera. Dozens of them.

He loaded a random card into her camera and pushed the play button. The footage had been taken underwater. A school of dolphins was circling, playing with the cameraperson—presumably Sunny. Shafts of sunlight streamed down into the sea and various fish darted in and out of the light. It made him want to take off his clothes and dive overboard right now. But then, his longing for the water was never far from him.

He popped the memory card out and put in another one. The footage jolted him. It was of live sharks thrashing on the deck of a fishing vessel as their fins were sawed off. They were rolled into the ocean still alive, mutilated and bloody, to die. The waste of it was sickening. If they were going to kill a shark, couldn’t they at least harvest the entire animal for its meat?

He fast-forwarded to another set of footage, fuzzy images of ships at a distance. But the quality of the film was poor. It had been shot through rain and the visibility wasn’t great.

Without warning, the door opened behind him. “This will be your—” A steward broke off in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry, sir …”

“That’s okay,” Aiden replied, hastily stuffing the camera back into the bag.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Sunny had spotted what he’d been doing. “Hey! That’s my camera. What are you doing with it? I didn’t give you permission to mess with my stuff.”

He winced. She was, of course, entirely right. He explained hastily, “Somebody tried to kill you. I’m trying to find out why.”

The steward backed out discreetly and closed the door as Sunny retorted angrily, “That’s none of your business.”

She was magnificent in her indignation. Her eyes sparked golden fire and her entire body vibrated with passion. Lord, to bed all that exploding energy—

Not. Happening. Chagrined on several levels, he made a lame attempt to justify himself. “If you’re going to be aboard this ship, anything that might bring danger to it is my business. I wanted to know what threat we’re dealing with.”

“If I’m such a danger, put me ashore. Sail for the nearest port and I’ll disembark. Or if you really want to get rid of me and my personal baggage, have a helicopter come get me. I saw a snazzy landing pad for one up on deck.”

His voice rose in frustration. “I’m not trying to get rid of you. I’m trying to protect you!”

“It looks to me like you’re trying to invade my privacy … and doing a pretty good job of it. I don’t need your protection.”

Was she completely without a clue as to how much danger she might be in? He snapped, “Right. That’s why your boat was run over and I pulled you from the water more dead than alive. Because you’re doing such a bang-up job of taking care of yourself.”

She snatched the bag out of his hands and clutched it to her chest in much the same way she had done underwater the night before. What was on those other memory cards she seemed so desperate to protect?

“If I’m not mistaken,” she said stiffly, “this is my room. That being the case, please leave.”

She was throwing him out? After he’d saved her life? Exasperation slammed into him. He was only trying to help, dammit. He surged to his feet and headed for the door. A citrus scent wafted to him as he passed by her. It was tart and sweet on his tongue and begged to be tasted more fully, and it only succeeded in making him madder.

He paused in the doorway and spoke, his voice sounding stiff even to him. “I’m sorry if I offended you. But since my help is obviously not welcome, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll have Steig arrange to put you ashore as soon as possible.”

Sunny stared at the door in dismay as it closed behind Aiden. She didn’t mean to make him get all angry and distant like that; she’d just been mad that he’d been rifling through her bag. Its contents were all she had left in the entire world. Literally. Everything she owned had been on the New Dawn and was now lying on the bottom of the ocean. She didn’t need some stranger—even if he was glorious to look at—pawing through what little remained of her life.

She was probably overreacting. And it didn’t help that she was already on edge. Spending more than thirty seconds in the company of Gemma Jones was enough to make any woman feel inferior and a little tense. The doctor was so intelligent it was hard to have a conversation with her; her mind worked so quickly that she leaped from subject to subject almost too fast to follow.

Not to mention, Sunny was a little jealous of the easy relationship Gemma seemed to have with Aiden. Which was silly because she herself barely knew him. But something funny happened to her stomach whenever he smiled at her. And after he’d saved her life, she’d thought they had some sort of special connection. Maybe in her semiconscious state she’d just imagined it.

Disappointment coursed through her. For a little while there, she hadn’t felt alone in the world. And it had been nice. But then he had to go and intrude in her life. What was left of it. Still, she did owe him her life, and she had snapped at him.

She left her cabin in search of Aiden to apologize, but he was nowhere to be found. At least nowhere the crew wanted to tell her about. He’d probably given them orders to keep her away from him. Maybe Steig could intervene on her behalf.

It was hard to believe a person could get lost on a yacht, but this one was huge. And plush. She’d never seen anything as luxurious in all her years of sailing. Eventually, she found her way to the bridge. She stepped into the high-tech space and stopped to stare.

A sailor in a crisp white uniform spotted her. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Is Captain Carlson available?”

The guy glanced at a closed door at the far end of the bridge. “If you’ll follow me?”

Steig stood up when she walked into his compact and very tidy office. “Is anything wrong, Miss Jordan?”

“I thought we agreed you’d call me Sunny.”

He smiled and ducked his head.

“I need your help. I think I made Aiden mad, and I want to make it up to him.”

Steig looked frankly shocked. “Aiden? Mad? Do tell.”

She explained quickly. “I snapped at him when I caught him going through my things, but I’d like to apologize. Make it up to him. I thought maybe dinner with him—” Why did Steig look so stunned? “Is something wrong?” she asked quickly.

“Not at all. Continue.”

“If I invite him to eat with me he might say no. But I thought if you were to ask him, maybe he wouldn’t refuse. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Something simple like a picnic, peanut-butter sandwiches on deck, would be fine. I just need to talk to him before he throws me off the ship.”

“Throws you off?” Steig exclaimed. “Just how angry did you make him?”

“I kicked him out of my cabin,” she confessed. “He yelled at me first, though.”

“Did he, now?” Steig was beginning to look amused. “He actually yelled? I definitely think I can help you. But my chef would not be caught dead serving peanut-butter sandwiches to a guest. I’ll take care of the arrangements. Say, seven o’clock tonight in the salon?”

“Uhh, okay.”

“Gemma will be delighted to help you with some clothes. Be sure to mention to her that Aiden yelled at you.” He waved her out of his office with one hand while an unholy smile spread across his face. “I’ve got some calls to make.”

What had she done? Had she just set up Aiden to be the butt of some horrible practical joke that would only make him more angry at her? She visited Gemma, who reacted just as strangely as Steig to the fact that Aiden had yelled at her. The doctor pronounced it excellent news and immediately agreed to set up Sunny with a nice dress for dinner.

What on earth? Why were they all so thrilled she’d made him mad?

The arrangements for her grand apology in place, Sunny made her way back to her cabin. She managed to take a fretful nap but woke to the memory of a giant black shark bearing down on her with the intent to kill. She jolted awake in a cold sweat.

Why would anyone try to kill her? Had she really made a bunch of fishermen that angry? It wasn’t as if deep-sea fishing practices were any big secret. Plenty of other documentaries had been filmed detailing their more outrageous behavior.

Someone knocked on her door, and Sunny opened it to reveal a steward holding a sexy little black dress on a hanger. He also held out a clear plastic bag that contained panty hose, high-heeled shoes that looked a little big for her but would probably work in a pinch, a curling iron, hair spray and makeup. Lots of lovely makeup. God bless Gemma Jones.

Sunny might happily sail all over the world for months on end and never see a tube of lipstick, but when she got a chance to doll herself up, she enjoyed doing it as much as the next girl. Sighing in delight, she took the offerings from the steward and retreated into her tiny bathroom to play.

At ten minutes till seven, another knock sounded on her door. After a quick spritz of some heavenly perfume, whose name she would have to get from Gemma, she opened the door. Steig, wearing a white dress uniform, looked smashing.

“I’m here to escort you to dinner, Miss Jordan.”

“Sunny.”

“It’s Miss Jordan tonight. And may I say, you look lovely.” He held out his forearm to her. Smiling shyly, she laid her hand on it and let him lead her up two decks and down a passageway to a massive living room. At the far end of it she spied a linen-covered table sporting red roses, tall candles and cut crystal.

“You’re not pulling some kind of joke on Aiden, are you?”

“Not at all. Why would you think that?”

“This isn’t exactly peanut-butter sandwiches on deck.”

“Please don’t disappoint the chef. He spent all afternoon working on making this meal perfect. He doesn’t often get a chance to go all out. The crew’s a bunch of crusty old sailors who don’t appreciate his finer gastronomic efforts.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” she murmured.

“My pleasure. Aiden needs someone in his life who … inspires emotion.”

Now, what did that mean? Before she could ask, Steig made a formal little bow and announced, “I’ll leave you now. Bon appétit.”

“Uhh, thank you.”

The salon felt huge and hollow as silence settled around her. A subliminal rumble of engines was the only sound in the background. But then, out of hidden speakers around the room, quiet chamber music started. She was so not a violins-and-haute-cuisine kind of girl. But hey. If the captain thought this would work on Aiden, she could roll with it.

Promptly at seven, she heard movement behind her. She turned a little too quickly and stumbled in her heels, which were a tad loose. Strong hands caught her shoulders to steady her.

“What’s this all about?” Aiden demanded sharply.

She stared down at his Italian leather loafers in utter humiliation. So. The joke wasn’t on him, after all. It was on her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I asked Steig to help me apologize to you. I told him a picnic and peanut-butter sandwiches would be fine, but he insisted on all of this.”

“Ahh.” He released her shoulders and took a step back.

She waited for the explosion, but none came. When she couldn’t take the suspense anymore, she risked a peek up at him. It was like looking at a painted portrait. It looked like Aiden, but nothing of the real man was there in his eyes. He looked … dead. Had she alienated him that badly?

“Gemma lent you a dress?” he asked neutrally.

She plucked at the clingy black fabric. “Yes.”

He nodded noncommittally. “The flowers and music?”

“Steig’s idea.”

“Hmm.”

Finally, she burst out, “Say something, will you? Yell at me and tell me how mad you are or what an ungrateful bitch I am.”

He replied politely, “You look lovely.”

She stared in equal parts confusion and frustration as he moved away from her and over to a leather-and-brass wet bar. “Drink?” he asked mildly.

“Sure,” she replied in utter confusion. What was up with him? He was treating her like a rather inconvenient bug.

He concocted something that involved a shaker and lime wedges and poured it into a pair of glasses filled with ice. He carried the drinks over to the picture window where she stood and handed one to her.

“To your health,” he commented wryly.

“Why are you being like this?” she demanded.

“Like what?”

“So … polite. Aren’t you furious with me for throwing you out of my room?”

“I was going through your things without your permission. You probably should have slapped me.”

“I don’t slap. I have a wicked right hook, but no slapping.”

“Check. Beware the right hook.” A pause, and then his voice thawed slightly. “Anything else I should know about you?”

“You’re really not mad at me?” she asked in disbelief. Her family had been full of passion. Lots of arguments and shouting, but also lots of laughter and love. His cool, unflappable demeanor was totally foreign to her.

“I’ll admit, I was … annoyed … earlier. But you were right. I’m just not used to anyone calling me out for my bad behavior. You surprised me. That’s all.”

“Oh.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “How come no one calls you out? Are you that rich?”

That made him smile. “I already told you this yacht doesn’t belong to me. I’m just borrowing it from a friend to use as bait.”

She glanced around in surprise. “This is bait? For what? A rich wife?”

His smile widened. “Hardly. I’m fishing for pirates.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pirates. This is exactly the sort of yacht they love to steal. They board the vessel, kill everyone and take the ship. After a few exterior modifications and a new name to disguise her, she’d go for millions on the black market.”

“Isn’t trying to attract pirates dangerous?”

“That’s why the Nymph’s entire crew is ex-military and heavily armed. Any pirates who mess with this boat are in for a nasty surprise.”

“Still. It sounds dangerous.”

“No more so than running around solo in a tiny cabin cruiser filming commercial-fishing outfits doing their worst.”

“Touché.” She raised her glass to him.

“Any new thoughts on who might have tried to kill you?”

She shook her head. “I wonder if I accidentally filmed something I shouldn’t have. Maybe something that has nothing at all to do with fishing.”

“That was my thought, too. That’s the only reason I was looking at your film, by the way. I was trying to spot whatever got you in hot water.”

“The way I remember it, the water was freaking cold.”

He winced at the mention of her near drowning. “Next time, don’t go swimming in the ocean alone.”

She shuddered at the idea of submerging herself in water of any kind ever again. Even the idea of submerging herself in a bathtub terrified her. Her hands and knees started to shake at the thought, in fact, and suddenly she felt more than a little nauseous. She swayed dangerously.

Aiden moved fast to her side and lifted her drink out of her nerveless, icy fingers. “You just went ghostly white. Are you all right?”

“Can we talk about something besides swimming?”

A look of dawning understanding lit his face. “Scared you, did it?”

“Wouldn’t coming within a whisker of drowning freak you out, too?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m a pretty good swimmer. Haven’t ever come near drowning.”

“Lucky,” she muttered.

He shrugged and a shadow passed through his eyes. “That’s one word for it.”

“What word would you use to describe your swimming ability?”

He pursed his lips. “Spectacular.”

“Modest much?” she retorted.

He chuckled, thawing another few millimeters. Maybe the guy was a recluse of some kind. Or just shy. She got the feeling engaging in this much sustained conversation was unusual for him. He kept pausing as if searching for the right words.

“I’ll take you out swimming with me sometime. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“Not me. I’m done with fishing exposés and underwater anything, thank you very much.”

“It’s a little soon to declare yourself finished, isn’t it? Give yourself time to get over the shock of your accident.”

She shook her head resolutely. No way was she getting back in the water. The sea had taken her parents, and it had nearly taken her. She wasn’t dumb—she knew when it was time to quit and walk away. She opened her mouth to say just that but was interrupted by a male voice behind her.

“Dinner is ready, Miss Jordan. Mr. McKay.”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “A simple ‘chow’s on’ would have been sufficient, Jens.”

The steward cleared his throat. “With all due respect, you haven’t seen the meal Chef prepared. Chow is emphatically not the right word for it.”

Aiden sighed. Then, awkwardly, he held out his arm to her. She took it, eyeing the steward with new respect as Aiden guided her to the table. The sailor was burly beneath his white monkey suit and moved with the assurance of a soldier. How could she have missed that before? She must’ve been too besotted with Aiden to notice any other males on board.

She did notice, though, when Aiden gestured the steward aside and pulled out her chair for her himself. She glanced up at him in thanks and her breath caught at the way he was looking at her. As if she was the main course for dinner. Her stomach tumbled and she suddenly felt a little lightheaded. She was grateful to sink into her seat while she regained her bearings. Talk about a lady killer! The man was dangerous. He could knock her off her feet with a single glance. And she dared not even think about what his arms felt like around her.

As course after course of incredible continental cuisine came forth from the kitchen, she surreptitiously studied her companion. Aiden carried himself like a man used to wealth. Power. Having people do what he said. She didn’t care what he said. The man was definitely rich, or at least very powerful.

Not that she’d ever measured people by the thickness of their wallets. It was just interesting that he’d gone to such lengths to make sure she knew he didn’t own the Sea Nymph. If he was trying to lessen her intimidation factor at his suave sophistication, it didn’t work. It felt as if she was having supper with a movie star. He was perfectly polite, but there was a certain cool distance to him that was completely impenetrable. Of course, it was entirely her fault it was there, so it wasn’t as if she could hold his reserve against him. But it still got to her. Furthermore, it goaded her to try to break through it and find the warm, engaging man she’d glimpsed when she first met him.

“What’s your story?” she finally asked him.

“The men in my family all served a stint in the navy. My father was stationed at Pearl Harbor. I spent my youth in Hawaii. A rough gig, I know. But someone had to do it. When my father retired, my family moved back east. But I stayed in California to go to college at Stanford. I played hard, but I managed to get a degree in nanoengineering. That means I design and build tiny little robots. During my obligatory tour in the navy, I partied my way through every major port in the Pacific theater. Then Jeff Winston offered me a job in his grandfather’s company. And here I am.”

She considered the detachment with which he’d recited his life story. Beneath the lightness of the rendition, it all sounded very snooty and blue-blooded. No mention of friends, lovers, emotional connections to his family. Nor did he strike her as the party animal he’d described himself to be. She cast about for a neutral question. “How did you become a spectacular swimmer?”

Odd. He looked away evasively, but he did answer. “I’ve always lived near water. I suppose it came naturally. What about you? What’s your story?”

Trying to distract her. Weird. She supposed she owed him an answer, though, since he’d told her about himself. But she didn’t usually like to talk about her past.

She answered reluctantly. “My parents were environmental activists. And yes, they were raging hippies. We even lived in San Francisco when we weren’t be-bopping all over the world. I have a little sister, Chloe. She’s the ultimate anti-hippie, however. Don’t get me wrong. She’s awesome. But we have absolutely nothing in common. Most people who meet us don’t even think we’re related. At any rate, my family went to wherever the next big environmental crisis was brewing and tried to stir up public concern about it.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Dead.” She was able to say it without opening the door to all the old grief and loss and anger, but she desperately hoped he’d get the hint and leave the subject alone.

He didn’t. “How?” At least he seemed to have sensed that he’d touched a nerve and was keeping this conversation brief and to the point.

“They went down at sea. No one knows how.”

“Where?”

“Not far from here, in fact. A couple hundred kilometers south of our current position.” She’d finally worked up the nerve to sail through the area a few days ago. It had been eerie, knowing she was following the last known coordinates her parents had reported before they disappeared.

For all she knew, she’d sailed right over their watery graves. She hoped she had, at any rate. She’d waited nearly a decade to say a proper goodbye to them. Although, she wasn’t at all sure that downing most of a bottle of cheap wine and going on a drunk crying jag had been much of a farewell. Yet another screwup in her life to live with.

She noticed that Aiden was staring at her. “What?”

“No wonder you freaked out at nearly drowning. It had to bring back thoughts of how your parents must have died. I’m sorry.”

Thank God she hadn’t thought about it when she’d been fighting for her own life against the sea. It would have done her in. Even now, thinking that was how her parents had spent their final moments was enough to choke her up. She laid down her fork with excessive care and stared unseeing at the china pattern wavering beyond her tears.

Hands reached down for her. Pulled her to her feet. A warm chest materialized against her cheek and awkward arms surrounded her.

A chagrined voice murmured in her hair, “I’ve gone and done it again, haven’t I? I’ve upset you.” A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Why so many tears came, she had no idea. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t shed plenty over the years for her parents. They’d died ten years ago, for crying out loud. And yet, the wound felt as raw and unbearable as ever. Maybe it was being out here so close to where they’d died that brought out the old feelings of loss and abandonment.

She cried hard enough on Aiden’s chest that her borrowed mascara had no doubt ruined his shirt. She must look as bedraggled as a wet dog. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never cry this much.”

“You had a pretty bad scare.”

“But I’m not normally a wimp.”

“I already gathered that. Any woman who’d come out here alone and take on big international fishing companies has too much courage for her own good.”

She swiped at her face. “I must look like a bad clown.”

He handed her a discreetly monogrammed handkerchief. “I think I like you better without makeup.”

She smiled gratefully. “You’re a gentleman for saying so, but it’s not necessary with me.”

“Why not? Don’t you deserve to be treated with respect? Like a lady?”

That made her laugh. “A lady? Me?” She was a hippie environmentalist wannabe following somewhat pathetically and entirely unsuccessfully in her family’s footsteps.

He looked her up and down in a way that stole her breath away. “Yes, you, a lady.”

“Brain’s a little waterlogged from all that swimming, huh?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up wryly. “I’ve been told that before.”

“By whom?”

“Gemma says so frequently.”

“Why is she out here helping you guys nab pirates? She doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“She’s a scientist,” Aiden answered cryptically.

She got the distinct feeling he didn’t want to say any more on the subject. “What’s she studying?” Sunny persisted.

“Aquatic stuff.”

Wow. That was descriptive. Was there some big secret around the doctor’s research? Maybe he was worried she’d film Gemma’s work or something. She was trying to figure out a delicate way to ask him if that was his concern when a male voice intruded sharply over a loudspeaker.

“Incoming pirate vessel. All hands on deck. Prepare for combat.”