The Deeper The Passion…

Two

Jack walked into the bedroom, knowing Vicki would follow. She thought herself wild and unpredictable, but he knew better. She wanted that old cup for some reason and she was very determined in pursuit of a goal.

He couldn’t resist turning to enjoy her expression. As expected, she’d walked coolly in behind him and was surveying the space. “Nice. Is that bed French?”

“Might be.” The big oak monstrosity had been there since the house was built.

“I bet it could tell a few tales.” She walked over to the headboard and examined the carved decoration.

“Lucky thing it’s discreet.” He swung himself onto the bed and relaxed, arms behind his head. “Come on in.”

“You didn’t seriously lure me in here in hope of seducing me, did you?”

“Hope springs eternal.”

“I didn’t know you were such a bright-eyed optimist.”

“You have to be an optimist in the treasure hunting game. Eyes on the prize.”

Vicki’s almost-black hair was tied up in a messy bun, with tendrils falling about those adorable ears he still remembered nibbling. He let his eyes drift lower. She wore a black top that appeared to be made from pieces of ripped T-shirt, sewn back together. Knowing her it was probably from Paris and cost two thousand bucks. It hid her slender shape, but he knew that under its mysterious black layers was a lithe body with high, pointy breasts, and a stomach you could bounce gold doubloons off. A broad leather belt was slung across her hips, atop a pair of jeans that encased her long, slim legs. Desire crept through him, hot and relentless, like bootleg rum in his blood. “And the prize is tempting as ever.”

“I see you haven’t grown more subtle in your old age.”

“Not much wiser, either. How about you?”

“I seem to get dumber every year.” A smile tugged at her cheeky mouth. Vicki’s lips were always dark, as if she wore lipstick, but he knew from kissing them that it was her hot blood close to the surface. “Otherwise, why would I be back here?”

“Because you couldn’t get me out of your system.” He narrowed his eyes and watched her reaction. Of course it was wishful thinking on his part. She’d probably forgotten him ten minutes after he left. He’d certainly hoped so at the time. Things had gotten way too intense and it was time to lift anchor and run for the open sea.

“You’ve been out of my system almost as long as the last dregs of nicotine from another one of my bad habits.” She lifted her chin. “So don’t get any ideas that I’m here for you. I’m just here because I need you.”

“Be still, my heart.” He placed a hand over it and wasn’t surprised to find it beating faster than usual. Vicki must have that effect on any man. “Come lie next to me.”

“No way.”

“It’s important.”

“Nothing’s that important.” She’d crossed her arms in a defensive posture, and her hips tilted at a defiant angle. Sense memory flashed a moment of luscious recall—her hips pressed against his, arching higher, driving them both to a realm of beauty and madness.

“Not even finding your precious cup?”

“I fail to see how climbing into the sack with you brings me closer to my goal.”

He raised a brow. “I always thought you were a lateral thinker. The thing is, you need to join me in bed to see how things lie.”

She pursed her lips slightly and shifted her weight onto her other foot. Her pale violet eyes viewed him with intense suspicion. “I can see how things lie from right here.”

“No, you can’t.” He glanced up at the ceiling. Time had faded and darkened the image. The plaster had cracked in places, but the fresco still showed the green shore of the island against the pale blue of the sea. “Come on. Hop up.” He tapped the sheets. “So you can take a look at the old family map.”

“What?” She peered upward, but he knew she couldn’t see anything. The edge of the four-poster bed blocked any view of the painting unless one was literally lying on the mattress.

“Lazaro Drummond—the shipwreck survivor—painted the map above his bed, so that no one could see it but him.”

“And his lovers.”

He let a slow smile creep across his mouth. “Exactly.”

Vicki walked toward the bed and climbed gingerly onto the opposite side. She settled herself on her back with her head on the pillow. He studied her for signs that she was uncomfortable—or excited—by being next to him on a bed. But no, she was entirely riveted by the painting overhead. She stared at it without speaking, almost without breathing, for a full minute. “I do believe this is the first real-life treasure map I’ve ever seen.”

“They never do look like the ones in the movies.” He enjoyed the fascinated expression on her face. How long had it been since he kissed that sassy mouth? Six years, at least. The urge to repeat history was rising in his blood.

“I keep looking for the X but I can’t see it.”

“The mermaid sitting on the rock. She’s the X.”

“Hmm.” Vicki stared at it thoughtfully. She hadn’t moved her eyes from the ceiling since the moment she lay down. “So the wreck is southeast of the island. Is there any kind of distance scale so we know how far it is?”

“If the size of the island is accurately drawn, it would be about two and a quarter miles off the northernmost inlet. That’s what we Drummonds have always assumed anyway.”

“And none of you has ever found it.”

“Not yet.” He shot her a sly glance.

She finally turned to look at him. Her pale eyes sparkled like diamonds. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I can believe you bring luck.”

“Luck? How about my sharp mind?” She looked back up at the painting.

He felt as if the sun had shifted and thrown him into shadow. He wanted that bright, hopeful gaze on him again. “What will you do for me if I find it for you?” He made sure his voice held a purr of suggestion.

“Do for you? You’ll get all the loot your ancestor stole and took to the bottom of the ocean with him. Isn’t that enough?”

“There’s never enough.” He stared at her, willing her to bless him with her radiance again.

She turned to him, cheek resting on the soft pillow. “What else did you have in mind?” Dark lashes framed her eyes, giving them a smoky, sultry look. Her soft, pink mouth looked ripe with promise. He could easily imagine leaning forward a few inches and pressing his lips to hers.

Arousal thickened his groin and made his breath come faster. “I like having you back in my bed again.” Her mouth twitched slightly, which was almost unbearably sensual. “If you’ll stay with me here in my bed while we search, I’ll plumb the depths of the ocean for you.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s a big ask.”

“So’s yours. I’ve got projects lined up that could keep me busy until 2050. You’re asking me to drop everything and go fishing around on the bottom of the ocean for a wreck people have been hunting for more than 250 years. It won’t be easy to find, that’s for sure.”

“You don’t like things too easy, though, do you, Jack?”

He laughed. “No, Vicki, I don’t.”

“Then I can hardly just agree to your command, can I?” She sprang off the bed and strode from the room before he could even gather his thoughts, which were scattered and distracted by the sight of her tight ass in those fitted jeans.

She knew him too well.

“So where’s the boat?” Vicki headed into the big living room, past the dark pieces of ancient furniture. Lucky thing she could still remember her way around somewhat. She tried a handle on one of the French doors, which opened out onto a broad, stone terrace.

“At the dock.”

“Not the one we came on. Your super-high-tech treasure hunting boat.”

“Ah. That’s hidden.”

“More valuable than the treasure it finds?”

“Something like that.” Jack followed her out onto the terrace and squinted in the afternoon sun.

Damn but she’d been tempted to take him up on his offer. He had looked almost irresistible, lying there relaxed, heavy and sexy as hell, muscles sinking into the soft mattress, and that cool, curious look on his face.

But as she’d observed, he didn’t like things too easy. He got bored quickly. Anyone wanting to keep Jack’s interest better keep him guessing. And she’d already failed at that once, so the pressure was on.

“You trust me, don’t you?” She smiled sweetly at him.

That lazy, puma grin sneaked back across his mouth. “At least as far as I can throw you.” He took a step forward and her muscles tightened as she read sudden intention in his body. “Let’s see exactly how far that is.”

His arms reached out and she shrieked and ran—down the wide steps and onto a scraggly lawn. She ducked left and looked for an opening in the sea grape hedge, but it was too late. Jack’s hands caught her around the waist and clutched her against him.

Breath flew from her lungs, less from force and more from the emotional impact of feeling Jack’s big arms around her again. She braced herself, waiting for him to pick her up and hurl her somewhere. Instead, his grip only tightened and she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck.

Desire unfurled inside her, hot and liquid, darting through her veins and loosening her from head to toe. She could turn around right now and kiss him full on the mouth—but that would end the chase, and the chase excited him. “You wouldn’t take advantage of a defenseless maiden, would you?”

“No way. But you? Sure.” She could feel his grin radiating into the back of her brain. Still, his hands didn’t stray from her waist. She found herself wanting them to.

“So you’re not going to throw me?”

“Apparently I can’t.”

“Too soft?”

“Something like that. But it doesn’t say much for how far I can trust you.” He leaned in closer and his hot breath tickled her neck. “Though, strangely, I do trust you. You’ve never deceived me or led me astray.” He sounded thoughtful. “At least not that I’m aware of.”

“And I don’t plan to start now.” She wanted to move. Being so close to Jack, with his arms around her and her back pressed to his hard chest, was starting to mess with her mind. Worse yet, her body was starting to act up. Nipples thickening against her shirt, belly quivering, knees growing unreliable. If he hadn’t already noticed, he might soon, and she’d rather die than have him know that he still had power over her.

“So, your precious ship. In some hidden cove, I’m guessing?”

“Nope, it’s at the deeper dock.” His hands pulled way from her waist slowly. Relief mingled with a surprise ripple of sadness. “Follow me.” He pulled right away from her and set off across the lawn. Abandoned by his warm attentions, her skin felt cold. Still, she had to keep the dance going. It wouldn’t work if he had his fill of her before they even got started. She was in control this time and she intended to keep it that way.

Jack’s treasure hunting boat was dark blue, faded by the sun. It didn’t look especially precious or expensive, but then probably the treasure it found didn’t, either—at first.

Jack climbed aboard, muscles flexing beneath his faded jeans. “Done much diving lately?”

“Nope.”

“Can you still remember how?”

“More or less.” Jack had shown her how to dive years ago. Breathing underwater felt horribly unnatural and she’d been a slow study. She’d only fought past her fears out of sheer determination to prove he was wrong when he’d said she’d never do it. She wasn’t too excited about doing it again. “Do we need to dive? Don’t you have sonar to find the ship and a team of nano-robots to crawl the ocean floor for artifacts these days?”

He laughed. “That would take all the fun out of it.” He reached down a hand and, with some misgivings, she grasped it and let him help as she climbed onto the shifting deck. “We sometimes use sonar to look for a wreck, though it doesn’t always help. These funnels are used to blow holes in the ocean floor to expose stuff that’s buried under the sand. After that, it’s all about having sharp eyes and a lot of patience.”

“You don’t strike me as the patient type.” She squinted in the sun. The boat was neat as a pin, every rope coiled to perfection and the surfaces scrubbed to eye-popping white.

“I’m as patient as they come.” His slow, lazy smile challenged her to disagree. “I’ll wait a whole lifetime for something if it’s worth waiting for.”

“Intriguing.” She peered at the controls of the boat. It was probably not that much harder to maneuver than a car, should the need arise. “I suppose that’s why you’ve never married.”

“Who says I’ve never married?” His reply made her head snap up, which she bitterly regretted when she saw his smile broaden. “I only said that I’ve never fallen in love. But I’m touched that you care.”

“So, have you?” She tried to look casual, walking to another part of the deck. The idea of Jack pledging himself to another woman for an entire lifetime made her stomach tighten. Which was ridiculous. Why would she care?

“Not yet.”

Relief sank through her. Probably because she didn’t need any more complications right now, like some damsel coming forward to claim that the treasure was half hers as a result of their divorce settlement.

“But I might have.”

“If there was someone out there crazy enough to take you.”

“I like crazy broads.” His lazy gaze grazed her body, setting her skin on fire through her clothes and igniting a flash of irritation inside her.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Probably why I liked you so much.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and his dark stare seemed to penetrate right through her. Why did she still have to be so attracted to him? You’d think that kind of thing would fade over time. She thought it had! But now that she was right here, only a few sun-scorched feet from him, all that long-forgotten desire was rising up like buried treasure—or junk—hidden beneath shifting sands.

“I don’t think you liked me all that much.” She walked to the prow of the boat, careful to keep her footing on the slippery surface. The deck rose and fell with the constant heave of the ocean, and she had to work slightly to stay balanced. “But maybe I’m wrong.” She turned to him, feeling safer with slightly more distance between them.

“Maybe you are.” His forehead was slightly furrowed, and his eyes rested on her for such a long time that she almost lost her footing and had to grab the rail around the deck. Was he thinking back to their whirlwind romance, all those sweltering nights in the Keys that one summer after college? She didn’t think about it much, not anymore. She was over it.

Truth be told, though, she wasn’t entirely over getting dumped at the end of their steamy romance. And if the spark between them should happen to get reignited, she looked forward to returning the favor.

The rise and fall of the ocean shifted the deck under her feet and her stomach was starting to feel queasy. If Jack knew, he’d make fun of her for not having her sea legs. “So, shall we plan to start the search tomorrow?” Then she’d have time to take a seasickness remedy in advance.

“I don’t know.” He stared out at the horizon, squinting out at the deep, blue unknown, sun blazing on his hard features. He was taunting her. He turned to look at her and her stomach lurched. “Did you think about my proposal?”

“I suppose it does make sense to spend time under the map together. To study it.” Anywhere other than here on this lurching deck. She grabbed a handrail, trying to look casual. It was surprising how little movement it took to throw your inner ear off kilter. And what an unhappy effect that had on the stomach.

“It’ll be like old times.” His voice held more than a hint of suggestion.

Without waiting for an invitation, she clambered over the side of the boat—with some difficulty, which she attempted to conceal—and back onto the hard and very still dock. “Not really.” This time she’d be in control of what happened, and when it ended.

“Leaving so soon? I was going to show you the sonar.”

“I’ll see it in action tomorrow.” She marched up the dock toward the house, hoping she could make it back there and collapse somewhere fast. She didn’t intend for Jack to see her in a moment of weakness. Like the predator he was, he’d have to pounce and play with her, and she wasn’t quite strong enough for that.

Once she had the reward, though, she’d feel strong. Ten thousand dollars might not sound like much to her old friends, but it would be enough to sow the seeds of her new life. A life where she wouldn’t have to depend on anybody but herself.

She heard the thud of Jack’s feet hitting the deck. He was coming after her. A satisfied smile crossed her mouth. She made sure to add an extra ounce of swagger to her walk, knowing—or was it hoping?—that his eyes were tracking her hips like a laser beam.

He thought he’d achieved a victory by getting her to agree to sleep with him. Little did he know it had been her plan all along. She’d enjoy it, too. She hadn’t chanced a sensual affair in almost a year. She’d been too busy dodging creditors and trying to hide her precarious financial situation. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be in an intimate situation where she might have to open up to someone.

She wouldn’t have to open up to Jack. His personal walls were as thick as the battlements on his ancestral home, and he never let them down. They could make love all night long and keep their hearts under lock and key. Hers had chains on it that weren’t likely to break anytime soon, especially not for Jack Drummond.

His footsteps were gaining on her, and she fought the urge to walk faster. Instead, she slowed to let him catch up. “Is there any hope of dinner out here on your desert island?”

“I caught a big swordfish yesterday. We can grill it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to eat swordfish anymore now that we’ve poisoned the oceans. A friend of mine is pregnant and she said the doctor told her the toxins can affect your genes and damage your future children.”

“My children might enjoy having three eyes.” His grin cut a white slash across his dark face. “Are you worried about your own offspring?”

“I won’t ever have children.” She said it brightly. “So I can eat all the swordfish I want.”

His smile vanished. “You can’t have kids?”

She startled at the sudden change in his demeanor. Why did he care if she could have children or not? “Not can’t, won’t. I’m not cut out for motherhood. Too much wiping butts and drying tears for my taste.”

He laughed. “Did your mom do those things?”

“No, she hired a nanny for that.” She walked faster. This conversation was getting too personal.

“You could do the same.” She felt his dark, penetrating gaze on her cheek.

“No, thanks. I’m doing my best not to turn out like my parents.”

“Me, too. Unlike my dad, I intend to be alive at fifty.” Something in his voice made her turn to look at him. His eyes were shadowed.

“I heard about his death. I’m sorry. It was a small-plane accident, wasn’t it?”

“It was no accident.” He marched steadily, eyes now straight ahead. The house loomed through the trees. “He’d been trying to kill himself for years.”

The Drummond curse. Vicki remembered Katherine Drummond begging her to help her find the lost cup pieces and lift the curse that had dogged the family for centuries. At first Vicki had laughed it off, but the Drummonds certainly didn’t seem to have much luck in life. They could make money all day long, but when it came to marriage or family harmony, or even simple contentment, they were a disaster zone.

“The awkward silence descends.” Jack spoke softly, slightly mocking. “So, the swordfish it is. Let our children learn to play with the dark hand they’re dealt.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious.” She regretted her quip about the fish. “I eat it all the time and love it.”

“I remember it being your favorite.” He opened a side door of the house, pushing at the big, tarnished brass handle. Something in the tone of his voice made her breath catch at the bottom of her lungs. What else did he remember? How she’d called him in the middle of the night just to hear the sound of his voice? The way she sighed when he kissed her neck?

The time she’d made the bitter mistake of telling him she loved him.

That last one wasn’t a question. He probably would remember that, unless he’d repressed it somehow. That little slip of the tongue had sent him running.

She followed him into the cool, shaded interior. Things would be a lot easier if she could find this cup without his help. Just her luck, it had wound up on the bottom of the sea. Even if they could find the ship, it would be a miracle if the cup piece hadn’t washed away, and then again, if it were recognizable enough for her to find it. This could well be a wild goose chase, and she couldn’t afford to waste too much time on it. She should probably set a strict deadline for herself, with plans to jump ship if they hadn’t found it within two weeks.

“You’re quieter than you used to be.” His words startled her from her thoughts.

“More going on in my brain, less coming out of my mouth.” She smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“How enigmatic.” He pulled a bottle of wine from a large rack against one wall. “Pinot grigio?”

“Sure.” She watched his hands as he peeled away the foil over the cork. His fingers were precise and careful, no doubt good with fine detail and careful with precious relics. He plunged the corkscrew in with gusto—the kind of thrust with which he approached most aspects of life—and turned it aggressively. The muscles in his forearms torqued beneath the skin, revealing their power and stirring something primal inside her.

It had to be primal because it had nothing to do with modern-day common sense. Men didn’t need strength to be successful in today’s world. A good head for numbers and a dubious set of morals was a much more effective get-rich-quick kit.

Still, she admired the bulge of his biceps against the soft sleeve of his T-shirt as he pulled the cork from the bottle in a swift and brutal movement. The cork squeaked and popped free, leaving her heart beating slightly faster.

She distracted herself by admiring the interesting tile work on the wall behind the stove. No sense getting herself too aroused and invested in their evening plans. She might need to pull back at some point and she didn’t want her own rampant desires to make that almost impossible.