Sucking in a deep breath, Callie held it for a calming moment, shoving her keycard into the lock for a quick cowardly getaway at the earliest opportunity.
Jonah stood a little too close for comfort, eyes amused. “Sorry about Brody. I’ve already given him a warning. I’ll talk to him again in the morning.” The deep rumble of his voice rolled through her, sending vibrations of awareness to her nerve endings.
Her unsteady breath came a little too fast. Whatever it was that Jonah had, it was her kryptonite, which worried her. “I appreciate it. I don’t like drunks, but I can handle myself.”
The smile left his eyes. “You’re under my protection. You shouldn’t have to.”
She opened her eyes wide and turned to face him. “Under your protection? Wow, that’s very medieval of you. I’ve been fighting my own battles since I was five.”
“Must be exhausting.” The corridor was narrow and dimly lit as he came abreast of her. “It was a good dive this afternoon.”
“Fascinating. I can’t wait to go down in the morning. ’Night.”
“Wait—” Jonah’s voice too was low; the silence of the lower deck, the insulating, barely there hum of machinery, made the space far too intimate. Especially since the closer he was to her, the more aware of him Callie became.
It was a strange chemical reaction she had no control over. She gave him an inquiring glance as she pushed open her door. Her feet might be planted, but inside she was running like hell. He’d showered earlier and still carried a trace of soap on his skin. He was one of those men who looked sexy with a day’s growth of stubble. She wondered how abrasive it would feel brushing her skin. For a nanosecond her overstimulated brain was filled with the image of Jonah skimming his lips down her body … She imagined the prickly softness of that stubble, she almost felt the delicious damp skim of his mouth.
His eyes were a deep, marine blue in the dim lighting as he took the half step necessary to bring them face-to-face. Thick, short black eyelashes masked the color for a moment, and when he met her gaze again something hot and raw flared between them.
Breath snagged painfully in Callie’s lungs as Jonah reached out to touch her cheek. “You got too much sun today.”
His finger remained, cupping the curve of her face, making her cheeks burn hotter than any sunburn. His touch was light, a butterfly’s kiss, but she felt that touch in every atom of her body.
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. “I forgot to reapply sunscreen when we got back. I’ll be more careful tomorrow.” She should step backward into her cabin and shut the door. In a moment. Tension stretched between them like a rubber band.
His thumb, light as a wish, skimmed across her jaw, then lingered at the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted automatically. His pupils flared. “What is it about you that makes me want to touch you every time I see you?”
Ditto. “I—” I want to jump your bones, Jonah Cutter. Apparently she didn’t have to like or respect the man to want him with every fiber of her being. She’d never, never ever, felt this way in her life. It was—unsettling.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat, forcing herself not to lean into him. Attempting not to inhale the clean smell of his skin—which was like catnip to a cat—and forced rational between tingling lips. “I’m married, remember?”
The heated glint in his eyes vanished, and he gave her a cool, mocking smile as he shoved his fingertips into his shorts pockets. “Which is why I’m not already kissing you and hauling you into my cabin like a caveman right now.”
“Married or not.” Callie dragged her gaze away from the tent in his shorts, magnified by his hands bunched in his pockets. “The answer will always be no. I never was interested in Neanderthals. Besides which, I love Adam, and would never cheat on him.”
Taking his keycard out of his pocket, he flipped it end over end between long, tanned fingers. “He’s a lucky man.”
“I tell him that every day.”
He frowned. “I’ve never slept with a married woman—”
“Good for you,” Callie said drily, grateful to have something to hang her annoyance on. She used it like a shield. It was all about self-preservation. “I’ll alert the media in the morning.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I have no plans of letting you get started,” she shot back.
He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from her own. Close enough that the energy buzzing between them made her lips feel as though he were kissing her. “I’ve never slept with a married woman, and I don’t intend to. Ever. You don’t have to worry about my actions, they’re strictly honorable. I believe in monogamy. As much as I loved my father, he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I was lucky—my brothers accept me for who I am. But I’ll never do to a woman what Daniel did to my mother and the mother of my brothers. Your virtue is safe from me, and your husband can rest easy. I won’t poach.”
Her eyes were so fixated on his lips, she noted the almost-smile that lifted the corners ever so slightly. Hell, she could feel the damn movement of his mouth. “’Night, Callie. I’m glad you agreed to join us.”
Without responding she slipped into her cabin and shut the door, then sagged against it weakly, her heart pounding. She slid to the floor, leaning her head against the door, and squeezed her eyes shut. Dear God, the man had powerful mojo. “Please let this feeling go away, please.”
She sat there for several minutes, too wiped out to move.
Then she heard the door across the corridor quietly close. He’d been standing mere feet away the whole time. Probably had heard her muttering to herself through the door.
Callie dropped her head to her knees and groaned. She was in deep, deep trouble.
* * *
After enjoying three cups of coffee with his breakfast, and a pleasant hour online reading his daily fix of news, Jonah was as ready as he’d ever be for Fire Island. Going was a pain in the ass. He, like everyone else, was eager to get started on the salvage, and this delay, while not earth shattering, was annoying and inconvenient. But a promise was a promise.
As much as he’d loved his dad, the man was the king of promise breaking. Of course, it was hard to juggle two families a world apart. But at the time, Jonah, and his mother, had no idea about the other half of his father’s life.
His father had taught him a lot. Sailing, love of the sea, a passion for salvaging … and not to break promises, and never to cheat on a woman. The good, the bad, and the ugly of Life’s Lessons taught to Jonah by the late, great Daniel Cutter.
Thanos brought the tender up to the dive platform where Jonah was meeting Vaughn and Saul, as Callie and Leslie were suiting up to go down.
Callie was in the process of tugging on her wet suit, but since it was only at her knees, he had the opportunity to enjoy the view. Her long legs were toned and sleek from years of swimming, her narrow waist just the right size to circle with both hands. The sight of her breasts, although flattened by the racing-style black swimsuit, made his mouth water.
The scent of coconut would always be associated in his mind with silky skin, pale Caribbean-turquoise eyes, and a sassy mouth he wanted to nibble.
Bent over, Callie glanced up to see him standing there like a teenage boy, dick in his hand. If not literally, certainly metaphorically. The tender bumped the platform with a soft thud. Vaughn and Saul seemed to have materialized beside him, but he’d been so busy eating up every inch of Callie, he’d been oblivious to the activity around him.
She frowned at him.
Jonah smiled back. He didn’t regret telling her he wanted her. It was true. He’d hoped, however, that it would clear the air a bit. Negatory. The way she looked at him was still distant and closed.
“Last chance to meet the crazies on Fire Island,” he offered, keeping his tone light with effort as she efficiently finished getting into tight black neoprene. Almost as good as seeing her naked. Except with no skin showing.
Nope. Not nearly as good as naked, but as close as he’d ever get.
The thought was depressing as hell.
As she pulled the cord to draw up the zipper in back, she said under her breath so only he could hear, “Stop looking at me like that.” Decidedly unfriendly.
He gave her an innocent look. “Like what?” Like I want to strip you naked?
“Like—” She hesitated, but he imagined he saw the thought of them together in the heated flash of her eyes. Wishful thinking, Jonah knew. “Never mind.” She lowered herself to sit on the edge of the platform beside Leslie.
It was the fact that she was so damn unattainable that made Callie so alluring, Jonah knew. Being this aroused, for this long, around a woman was unnatural and—damn it to hell—painful. He had to get his hormones in check. He hadn’t taken himself in hand this much since he was thirteen and discovered his dick.
It had to stop. He had to make it stop. “I can’t modulate how I look as well as how I think.”
Shit. And not flirt.
Callie turned her head to give him a cool look as she got ready to pull on her mask. “Even a five-year-old can multitask, Cutter. Give it your best shot.” She turned to Leslie. “Ready?”
Leslie looked from Jonah to Callie and back again. “And miss the show?”
“There isn’t any show. We just rub each other the wrong way. Eventually we’ll get used to each other’s hot buttons and not get on each other’s nerves.”
Leslie swung her crossed ankles over the water as she adjusted her mask before putting it on. “Is that what it is?”
Callie shrugged. “Oil and water.”
“Ready to rock-and-roll?” Saul asked Jonah, already seated with Vaughn on the smaller boat.
No surprise that the two women didn’t want to accompany them to Fire Island. The last thing sh—they wanted to do was go ashore. She wanted to go back down and get started on documenting the city, and Leslie had decided to stay and get another dive in, too.
Brody hadn’t been given any options. Jonah was trying to decide if it was worth keeping him on. He was an excellent diver, and would be an asset if he’d get his shit together and stop drinking. Drinking and ships did not mix. One misstep and a drunk could drown without anyone noticing his absence until it was too late. A life lost and a fucking headache of a liability.
Logan would be righteously pissed at all that paperwork. Jonah grinned. Yeah, better not piss off his new big brother just yet.
“I hope that smile doesn’t have anything to do with a certain married lady,” Saul ventured as they headed out away from Stormchaser toward the smudge of the island in the distance. “She doesn’t seem like a woman who takes her vows lightly.”
Jesus. He was that obvious? Not cool. “As a heart attack. I’m good with that.” Good thing he wasn’t Pinocchio. His nose, as well as his dick, would be a yard long by now. “Strictly hands off, but it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the scenery, does it?”
“Better keep those sunglasses on when you’re around her, then,” Saul suggested drily, sitting on the padded bench in the prow. “The way you look at Dr. West is enough to melt Gorilla Glass.”
“I’ll have to train my eyes to be more circumspect from now on,” Jonah said with a slight frown. It was unconscionable that anyone knew how badly he lusted for Callie. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but especially not to her. He’d never cross that line in the sand. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.
He was uncomfortable enough for both of them.
It didn’t take long to reach the small island. It rose this morning, a clearly visible cone of black rock covered in a skirt of verdant green, from the slight ripples on the sun-dappled water. But then the clarity underwater would be spectacular, too. He immediately imagined Callie gliding through the water, the ultimate water nymph—seductive as hell.
Promises, he reminded himself. Hands off. But despite her directive, and Saul’s astute observation, Jonah knew he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Bad as it was that he had his nose pressed to the candy shop window, to close his eyes and cut off that treat was beyond him. Sunglasses would be required for the duration of their voyage. He just had no fucking clue how he was supposed to accomplish that with a goddamn dive mask on.
As they got closer, Jonah smelled the tangy scent of wild oregano, peppery and sharp. Three swallows dipped and drifted on the thermals alongside the boat for a few minutes, then peeled off like the Blue Angels, heading for the island.
Hilly, lots of trees and shrubs, but no structures he could see save for the small cement breakwater-dock combo they angled toward. The place was pristine. Au naturel. Deserted. Except for the small fishing boat bobbing on the water. Thanos angled the Riva behind it.
Jumping out of the boat, Jonah caught the line and proceeded to tie up as Vaughn and Saul joined him on what passed for a dock. The air smelled strongly of an old catch mixed with brine and oregano and a hint of wild thyme.
Heat shimmied up from the concrete structure and it was barely nine a.m. He’d rather be underwater right now. They hadn’t been long enough at sea for a trip to shore to be appealing. Still, the old guys had aroused his curiosity, and he could spare an hour to see what they were all about.
He finished tying up to the cleat on the dock. “Stay put,” he instructed Thanos, who waved his okay and sat on the bench seat to wait in the shade of the canopy. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Sunlight bounced off the water. A deep, dark blue here, not like the crystal-clear turquoise waters at Cutter Cay. The same color as Callie’s eyes.
I need to get laid. Jonah mentally riffled through the women he knew within a thousand-mile radius. Dr. West was fast becoming an obsession, and wanting, no matter how badly, wasn’t getting. He could control the lust by taking the edge off. Maybe that would negate the strong feelings he had for her. God, he hoped so.
He’d get out his little black book when he got back to Stormchaser.
“Not exactly a bustling metropolis.” Saul pulled his baseball cap down to shade his eyes as he looked around. “You sure those guys said this island?”
Jonah looked around. “Maybe there are buildings on the other side.”
Vaughn shoved his hands in the front pocket of his shorts and looked around, as unimpressed as Jonah. “Maybe.”
The island was small, ten, fifteen miles square at most. No buildings that he could see. The land sloped up, a series of gently rolling, tree-covered hills, toward the flat-topped volcano slightly off center, surrounded by dense vegetation.
“I had an old prof who used to say, ‘Beware a quiet volcano,’” Saul said, indicating the one in front of them.
Vaughn glanced that way and shrugged. “Looks pretty dodo-ish, doesn’t it?”
“Couple of centuries, give or take,” Jonah agreed. “If anyone lives here they’re keeping a low profile. Most people would build their home here on the leeward side on that bluff overlooking the water. Perhaps my elderly visitors are visiting Fire Island. Although I can’t begin to imagine those guys camping. Let’s get to the top of the rise and see what we can see.”
In retrospect, it was pretty damn funny that he’d been spooked by the old men’s visit yesterday. Here, with the smell of the sea, the sharp lemony scent of thyme, and the sun already promising to be hotter later, he realized that surprise had made him more susceptible to their superstitious behavior than his normal pragmatic self.
“I see a particularly aggressive shrub over there. Maybe we should have come armed,” Saul teased, falling into step with Jonah and Vaughn. Maybe not everyone on the island was as old as Methuselah. They’d discussed bringing some heat, which Jonah kept in a safe on board, but in the end opted not to carry weapons.
The hair on the back of Jonah’s neck prickled as if sensing danger. But if that was the case it sure as shit wasn’t evident out here in the open. The day was clear, sunny, and decidedly nonthreatening.
He suspected the whole Callie/married/off-limits/horny-as-hell thing had all his senses wound into a tight overimaginative knot. Throw in some woo-woo old guys dressed from head to toe in black. Mix in some dire threats to their safety, and he had a recipe for his imagination to take flight.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Jonah forced his shoulders to relax. “This all feels rather anticlimactic after their big buildup yesterday—” Two figures emerged from the tree line some two hundred yards ahead.
“Three o’clock,” Vaughn said quietly.
“Got it.” Jonah had seen the black-garbed men moments before the others noticed them. “How’s your Greek?” He only knew the basics.
“I speak some.” Vaughn took his hands out of his shorts pockets as if he was getting ready to defend himself.
Saul looked ready to head back to the tender at a run as he said, “I understand it better than I speak it.”
The men made no move to approach them, merely stood stoically, hands tucked into voluminous sleeves of their black robes as they waited at the tree line.
Jonah continued walking up the dirt path at a leisurely pace, Vaughn and Saul flanking him.
“You notice there’s not a damn thing here but rocks and trees, right?” Vaughn observed, looking around.
“They came from somewhere.” Jonah kept his eye on the men waiting for them. It had taken a good ten minutes to walk up the slope, but they still hadn’t moved. “Those aren’t the guys who came on board.”
They came abreast of the old men. “Greetings, Kyrie Cutter.” The man’s rheumy eyes flicked to Vaughn, then Saul, then back to Jonah. “There is transportation. This way.”
“Is it far?” Jonah asked as one man fell behind them while the other led the way. It was slow going. Like the others, these two were well into their eighties, at least, and the one in front moved as though every bone in his frail body ached.
Jonah raised his voice. “How far do we have to go?” Since the man didn’t respond, he figured he was extremely hard of hearing, or didn’t speak English.
The transportation, as he saw when they breached the rise, was three moth-eaten-looking donkeys. The men exchanged a few words, and the leader gestured for them to climb aboard. Jonah wondered if they’d known he was accompanied by Vaughn and Saul, or if the three beasts were for the two of them and him. When the old men made no move to mount up, he figured the donkeys were for guests only. Whoever their employer was, he was a jackass to make these old coots walk their guests to wherever the hell in this heat. “You’ll walk?”
One of the old men shook his head, the cowl of his heavy robe half shading his face. “Stay.”
A glance around showed exactly what they’d seen ten minutes ago. Hills, vegetation, sky, volcano. “How will we get to where we’re going?”
The guy who’d brought up the rear pointed. “Gaidaro know.”
“The donkeys know the way?”
The man nodded.
“Okay, let’s see where they take us.” Jonah flung a leg over the beast, a small cloud of musty dust rising from its back. “Jesus—” he laughed, trying to fold his long legs so they didn’t drag along the ground as the animal took off with no urging from him.
He grabbed the scrubby mane, a stiff broom-like ridge along the donkey’s neck, and held on for dear life. It was like riding a particularly odoriferous dirt bike—with no shocks. The damn thing trotted along the path at such a quick clip that his teeth slammed together. His spine was getting a workout. He’d ridden a horse three times in his life. And this wasn’t even close. He hadn’t enjoyed riding a horse, but at least that had some kind of a rolling gait to it. This was just bone jarring and he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t going to remember this ride fondly, either.
“Either of you ever ridden before?”
“Not one of these,” Vaughn said, his voice vibrating with the uneven ride.
“Outside the mall when I was about si—Whoa! Whoa, I tell you! Whoa, you little shit!” Saul’s donkey decided to take the lead, jogging ahead, and his voice drifted over his head as he galloped past Jonah and Vaughn. “Holy Mother of God, are these things trying to kill us?”
“Think they’re that smart?” Jonah said, amused. He’d never father any children after this. He’d definitely opt to walk back. All three animals slowed after cresting a rise. In the shallow dip of a narrow valley below was a cluster of mud-colored houses.
“We’ve arrived. And other than sprained dicks, all in one piece,” Jonah marveled, tone wry. He dropped his feet to the ground, leaving the donkey to its own devices. “I’m walking from here.” Jonah shoved his donkey’s head away from him as the beast tried to nuzzle his neck.
“Christ, I thought we’d never get off these damn things,” Saul groaned, swinging a leg over his donkey’s back. He bent over, hands on his knees.
“Looks abandoned,” Vaughn observed, not looking back as his mount hightailed it over the hill the way they’d come.
The village, consisting of several dozen houses, was tucked neatly between valleys. Unlike most Greek or Turkish homes, which were painted in stark white or brilliant hues, the buildings here were made from, or coated with, the local soil, camouflaging the buildings into the terrain.
“Yeah,” Jonah agreed, heading down the hill, his feet kicking up dust, the two men on his heels. Waving away a buzzing fly, he wondered why the sight of the sleepy settlement made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.