The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Read online

  The Beach Bachelors

  Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in one

  by

  Pamela Browning

  Award-winning Author

  Published by ePublishing Works!

  www.epublishingworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61417-762-3

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Copyright © 2015 by Pamela Browning. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover and eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

  Table of Contents

  Sea of Gold

  Touch of Gold

  Sands of Gold

  Sea of Gold

  Beach Bachelors Boxset

  Book One

  by

  Pamela Browning

  Award-winning Author

  Dedication

  For my sister Candy:

  My steadfast companion on a turbulent voyage.

  Prologue

  From the "Chit-Chat" Column in Personality Magazine...

  Shipwreck Party, Anyone?—No golden moments here. Ponce Cabrera, charismatic folk hero who salvaged twenty-five million dollars' worth of treasure from the Santa Ana shipwreck off the Florida Keys last year, ran into his competitor, Luke Stallingrath, at the Miami Airport last week. Stony silence was the order of the day until reporters managed to separate the two, who were boarding the same plane to Key West.

  Cabrera, 36, confirmed that his 143-foot salvage ship, Minorcan, will soon leave its berth in St. Augustine, Florida, on another treasure quest.

  "Silence is golden," Cabrera replied to speculation that his new venture involves the salvage of bounty from Santa Catalina, which sank in the same 1622 hurricane that scuttled Santa Ana.

  The only pearl to drop from the lips of Stallingrath, sixtyish president of L & S Salvage Company, was a terse "no comment."

  Chapter 1

  Today was certainly not the day for negative thinking, reflected Alix as she stepped onto the dock at the Coquina Marina and Resort complex. The weathered cypress boards bent slightly beneath her sandals, reminding her that sometimes, in order not to break, it was necessary to bend under pressure. Her appointment with Ponce Cabrera would be stressful, but she'd bend a little if necessary. Bend, but not break.

  She walked to the railing, watching the gentle breeze lift the brightly striped sail on a sailboard out in the yacht basin. The invisible wind swelled the thin fabric slowly; to watch its gentle outcurving gave Alix an uncomfortably sensual feeling, as though she were invading the privacy of lovers. The man who rode the sailboard balanced lightly and skillfully, at one with the board and the breeze.

  "Alix Pendenning?"

  She whirled at the sound of a gravelly voice.

  "Yes?" she answered, widening her blue eyes in surprise. Oh, but there must be some mistake. This stocky, square-jawed man with the bold thatch of wiry gray hair wasn't Ponce Cabrera—he was Cabrera's rival.

  He leaned an elbow on the railing beside her, flicking his eyes down her petite figure and up again with a look both shrewd and calculating.

  His ill-concealed first impression was no surprise. Most people reacted the same way: Alix Pendenning, with her flowing blond hair and delicate china-doll features, was not to be taken seriously.

  "Luke Stallingrath, L & S Salvage Company," he said abruptly. "I hear you're a pretty good salvage diver."

  "I can't imagine how you found that out," she countered with a long, level look.

  "I have my ways." He was a big man, strongly built, his eyes narrow and light-lashed from exposure to the sun. He seemed overly casual for a meeting he had obviously arranged.

  "Which are?"

  He ignored the question. "I'll get to the point. I want you on my salvage crew."

  "Sorry, Mr. Stallingrath, but I'm not interested."

  He sized her up with grudging silence. Clearly she wasn't reacting the way he'd expected.

  "There's no guarantee that Cabrera will hire you. Twice what he pays, take it or leave it."

  She shook her head in disbelief. "Why?" she asked. Luke Stallingrath did not have a reputation for generosity.

  "I need a diver who is also an underwater photographer, and you're a marine historian, which is a big plus. You'd be a worthwhile addition to my crew."

  One glance into Stallingrath's crafty eyes told her that it wasn't as simple as that. Stallingrath had taken the trouble to find out about her ability, knowledge, and experience. But how? She'd only arrived in St. Augustine this morning.

  "No," she said, more emphatically this time. Her instinct told her that this definitely wasn't one of the times to bend.

  "Look," he pressed with more than a hint of impatience, "I have more money than time. Say you'll take the job, and we'll work out the terms later. I can afford to—"

  "Mr. Stallingrath, I said no. Furthermore, I meant it. Now, please leave me alone."

  She glared at him in dismissal and fervently hoped that Stallingrath would make himself scarce before Cabrera showed up. Something told her that she wouldn't want to preside over a surprise confrontation between the two men.

  "Very well," said Stallingrath stiffly. He turned to leave, much to Alix's relief. "If you ever change your mind, get in touch."

  "I won't."

  Stallingrath tightened his mouth, spared her a look that could only be called contemptuous, and clapped his hat on his head. Then, without another word, he strode heavily toward the parking lot where he heaved himself into a shiny white Cadillac and drove away.

  Well, she had come to St. Augustine to get a job, she thought ruefully as she watched the Cadillac disappear down the street. But there were jobs and there were jobs. Treasure salvage had been her goal for so long that it was part of what made her who she was; the fact that she had just turned down a position in this limited field should have bothered her. It didn't, simply because the job had been offered by a man who made a mockery out of everything treasure salvage should be.

  No, she wanted to work for Ponce Cabrera. Her refusal of Stallingrath's offer left her with no regrets. What it had left was curiosity—curiosity about how he had known so much about her and why he had made a point of seeking her out.

  But in light of her pending appointment, she dismissed Luke Stallingrath from her mind. She had other things to think about at the moment. The task at hand—meeting and impressing Ponce Cabrera—remained her number-one priority.


  She returned her attention to the man on the sailboard. He had deftly guided the board out into the middle of the basin, past the sailboats and yachts riding gently at their moorings. Alix shifted her attention from the skimming sailboard to focus on its rider. And then she wondered why she hadn't noticed him earlier.

  To put it bluntly, he was the sort of man who wouldn't go unnoticed anywhere. His tan was deep and dark, the kind you only saw on someone with an olive complexion. His hair, ruffled by the wind, was black and curly, and the bright sunshine touched it with a high gloss. He was a solid man, his wide, barrel chest matted with more black hair which tapered below his waist into a pair of brief, black swim trunks.

  He guided the sailboard by shifting his weight from one strong, muscular leg to another in an incongruously delicate manner. But it wasn't his physical appearance that was so prepossessing; it was his physical presence. There was something in his well-defined stance on the sailboard that spoke of self-assurance, and the way he leaned forward, challenging the wind, told Alix that this was a man who was accustomed to dominating.

  Unexpectedly she felt a rush of physical longing for him—the kind she had not felt for anyone since she had given herself over, body and soul, to Daniel. This surging physical desire was ridiculous, considering the fact that she had just set eyes on him a few minutes ago and didn't even know who he was.

  Well, she had been without a man for too long, that was the truth of it. But it was a truth she was not willing to admit, because she had come to equate a relationship with a man with loss of freedom and self. She wasn't able to confess, even to herself, her longing for what a man could give.

  She grasped the railing in front of her, welcoming the rough, warm surface of the wood beneath her hand. Somehow it brought her back to reality and the task at hand, and she successfully quelled the physical longing that had so surprised her.

  And that was the way she wanted it, she thought fiercely to herself. She had been subject to her treacherous emotions and desires before, with Daniel, but she had put all that behind her now. This was the time to concentrate on what was about to become the biggest adventure of her life.

  She turned quickly away from the railing and walked to an unoccupied umbrella table on the deck behind her. The deck was connected by pier with the other octagons of the Coquina Chickee cocktail lounge and restaurant, interspersed with small, thatched "crow's nests" attached to the dock, some reached by climbing several stairs. Each crow's nest contained a table and benches where groups of people had gathered to socialize after docking their boats, creating a party atmosphere complete with music, laughter, and the clink of ice in highball glasses.

  A cocktail waitress stopped to take her order; Alix ordered a honeydew daiquiri.

  "Has Mr. Cabrera asked for me?" Alix asked, glancing anxiously at her wristwatch. Cabrera wasn't late, yet.

  "No," said the waitress, "but when he arrives we'll tell him where you are." She bustled off toward the lounge.

  Alix shook her hair off her face and inhaled a deep breath of salt-flavored air. She'd need all the cool she could muster for this meeting.

  Ponce Cabrera was a man, not a myth, she reminded herself. But how could she help but be nervous about their meeting when it meant so much to her? She not only wanted him to hire her as a diver, but, if the recent news item she had read in Personality magazine were true, she had to divert him from trying to salvage Santa Catalina. She clutched at the thin fabric purse she carried and felt the two reassuring rolls of microfilm concealed in the lining.

  She stared out over the water, deliberately turning her eyes from the sailboard rider, who adroitly maneuvered out of the way of a speedboat, mastering its wake skillfully. The sun dazzled her as it sparkled off the blue water like so many bright sequins.

  She hardly knew what to expect of the legendary Ponce Cabrera. A descendant of one of the proud Minorcan families that had colonized an area near St. Augustine in 1763, he had been born and raised in the nation's oldest city. According to his company website biography, he'd grown up fascinated by tales of gold pieces of eight washed ashore on the Florida coast.

  When Cabrera inherited a modest family fortune ten years ago, he had, recklessly according to some skeptics, staked it all on the salvage of another Spanish ship, Santa Ana, located off the Florida Keys. Against all odds, including harassment from Luke Stallingrath, foul weather, mechanical troubles and exhaustion, Cabrera and his crew found treasure. It had made them all millionaires.

  Cabrera salvaged from the depths of the ocean hundreds of pounds of silver pieces of eight, clumps of gold coins, gold-plated jewel boxes, gold religious artifacts, gold and silver statues, chains, and other jewelry of all kinds.

  The archaeological integrity of the shipwreck had been ensured by Cabrera himself. He'd gone to great lengths to preserve the priceless artifacts, such as pottery and glassware, that showed how the Spaniards of that time period lived.

  Although treasure salvage off the Florida coast became big business, attracting a host of jealous competitors, only Luke Stallingrath had come close to Cabrera's success. Cabrera became a charismatic international hero, one of the last great entrepreneurs, a man who exemplified courage, romance, and daring. His fame alone was enough to make Alix edgy. This was a job she really wanted, the job of her dreams. She didn't want to mess this up.

  Suddenly a shadow blocked the sun. The man who had been riding the sailboard stood directly in front of her, and in that instant she recognized who he was.

  White teeth flashed against the dark tan; gray eyes, bright as silver in sunlight, regarded her with puzzlement. Again, looking at him called forth a feeling that could only be described as sexual, a tremor that had its origin somewhere deep in the center of her.

  "I'm sorry, there must be some mistake," he said curtly. He turned to walk away.

  "Wait," she said, surprising herself at the sharpness of her tone. "If you're Ponce Cabrera, there's no mistake."

  He turned slowly to face her, sweeping his eyes first over her face and then her slim figure, taking in the clinging blouse and the well-tailored slacks that emphasized the sinuous curves of her hips. "I'm Cabrera, all right, but I'm looking for a man, and you most certainly do not qualify."

  "I'm Alix Pendenning," she said. "I believe we have an appointment." With a name like hers, she was used to the error.

  Heavy eyebrows lifted skyward, gray eyes hardened into slivers of granite and chilled her with their distrust. Her heart pounded as he studied her face, weighing the sum total of her blue eyes, softly chiseled nose, lips that curved upward no matter how serious she felt, and her slightly dimpled chin.

  "I was expecting a man," Cabrera said flatly. "Alex Pendenning."

  "It's Alix," she informed him steadily, refusing to smile. "A variant of the name Alice. My mother prided herself in being original, and it's caused me trouble all my life." She indicated the chair beside her. "I'm eager to talk business."

  Cabrera eyed her suspiciously for a moment before gesturing to the waitress to bring him a drink.

  "I can't believe we have any business to discuss," he said. "In fact, it's only my friendship for Bobby Turk that keeps me from walking away down that dock. I asked Bobby to send me a diver." He regarded her with ill-disguised irritation.

  Alix stifled sudden anger. "I can assure you that Bobby did send you a diver. The fact that I'm also a woman shouldn't enter into it."

  Cabrera stared at her intently, gray eyes upon blue. Then he laughed, and Alix's heart sank. As he shook his head, droplets of fine spray, mementoes of his sail boarding, transformed sunbeams into diamonds. "I believe you're serious," he said in disbelief.

  "I'm a certified commercial diver."

  He quirked an eyebrow. "A beautiful blond bombshell who dives for a living? Unfortunately, honey, there's more to it than that."

  Cabrera lifted a bottle of beer to his lips and drank. For the first time, as he raised his head, Alix noticed the soft gleam of a heavy gold chain curvin
g through the dark, curly hairs on his chest.

  A thrill of excitement and anticipation ran through her. There was no doubt in her mind that the beautiful chain was Spanish. The intricately carved links told her that. She was looking at Ponce Cabrera's treasure trove, and the sight of it only whetted her determination.

  "We'll get along a lot better if you stop patronizing me," she said. Her blue eyes rested on him, cold and hard. Her callousness was a put-on, a protective mechanism she had learned from her experience with Daniel. No one—ever—was going to take advantage of her again. Her frigid gaze produced the desired effect. Cabrera leaned back in his chair, studying her with reluctant respect.

  "You're right," he said shortly. "I apologize. Bobby Turk wouldn't have sent you if he didn't think you were right for the job. He's made a serious error in judgment."

  "Bobby felt that, out of his last class of divers, I was best qualified to help you."

  "Look, I'm a busy man, but if you have something to say, I'll listen. Up to a point."

  He was giving her a chance. Now was not the time to lose heart.

  Alix swallowed, hoping she didn't appear nervous. It was bad enough to look like a lightweight. She didn't want to act like one.

  "I'm a commercial diver, well qualified to work with your crew. And you need someone who can take underwater photographs, which I can do. I have a master's degree in Spanish history—specifically, Spanish maritime history. Shall I go on?"

  Ponce Cabrera stared at her with the qualified admiration of a skeptic. "Please," he said. His eyebrows had settled back to their normal position on his forehead, but now a deep furrow had imprinted itself between them. It was a sign that she had his attention, thought Alix thankfully.

  She plunged on. "In my study of history at the Spanish Maritime Museum in Barcelona, I came across some valuable information. I think you'll be most interested when you hear about it."

  His expression slid into undisguised exasperation. "Do you have any idea how many crazy ideas I hear from people who want me to put my ship and crew at their disposal because they're sure they know exactly where a Spanish galleon went down in the seventeenth century?"