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

  "I know what I'm talking about."

  "So say they all," muttered Cabrera before raising the beer bottle to his lips.

  She hadn't traveled all the way to St. Augustine to be dismissed so easily. She leaned forward, trying to sound earnest and keeping the irritation out of her voice.

  "I'm here because I have information that I think could be beneficial to both of us. Let's face it, Mr. Cabrera—you need me more than I need you. You're late in beginning a new diving season, and you don't have a full crew of divers. Nor do you have anyone who can take underwater photographs. The month of April is almost over, which means—"

  "I know, I know," he cut her off impatiently. "I only have, at the most, four months during which I can count on the weather being even halfway good for diving. That's a problem in this business—you don't have to point it out to me."

  "By September you're likely to be battling tropical storms or even a hurricane or two, ending any diving venture for several months. You're paying crew members while Minorcan sits idle at the dock. Now, do you want me to get up and walk away, or shall I stay?"

  He stared at her, a shrewd expression on his face, and for the first time she saw a glimmer of real interest in the depths of his eyes. "You're gutsy. I like that."

  "Does that mean I stay or go? You decide."

  Ponce sighed. "You have it all figured out, but regardless of this 'information' that you insist will interest me, I can't employ you on my ship."

  "Why not?" Her question was a challenge.

  "My divers work in teams of three, and the work is physically exhausting. It often requires day upon day of moving ballast stones from place to place underwater, and I doubt that you have the physical stamina for that. It wouldn't be fair to the other divers on a team to assign them a woman for a partner; they'd be required to do all the heavy work. Anyway, we just hired a new diver this morning, so that only leaves us minus two."

  "As the photographer for the expedition, most of my time would be spent taking photographs," countered Alix. "I'd have very little time for the heavy work. You did specify to Bobby Turk that you wanted someone with underwater photographic skills. And being minus two divers can make a big difference in a short diving season like the one you're facing now."

  Cabrera ran an impatient hand through his black curls, which were drying in soft ringlets. They fell over his broad forehead in an endearing rumpled effect. "You're a tenacious woman, aren't you?" he said with grudging admiration. "You grab on and won't let go."

  Alix, hoping that his defenses were crumbling, smiled across the table at him. "When I know what I want, I go after it," she admitted. "And I want to be a member of your crew."

  "Whether or not I can use this 'information' of yours?" Was he teasing her? Leading her on? Putting her in her place? His expression was blank.

  Alix thought carefully for a moment. It sounded as though the diving job could be hers, and even if he refused to accept the importance of the documents she had discovered, the diving job was a toehold in the business of treasure salvage. Slowly she nodded, keeping her eyes focused on his face.

  He studied her silently, letting his gray eyes, steely now, plumb the depths of hers. Finally he sighed, and his lips curved into an unwilling smile. "I've done crazy things in the name of hunches, but they usually work out. Yes, I'm going to hire you, Alix Pendenning."

  His quick decision, even though it was what she had hoped for, stunned her. Then sweet triumph swept over her, and she beamed at him across the table.

  "You won't regret it, Mr. Cabrera," she said.

  "It's Ponce and Alix now. If you want to discuss this 'information' you say you have, and if it's really not a cockamamie scheme, let's talk about it tonight over dinner."

  He smiled at her winningly, and for the first time since their meeting she realized that he was relating to her as a man to a woman, not as employer to prospective employee.

  "I'll welcome the chance to tell you what I've found," she said, keeping her tone casual despite the fact that her heart seemed to be skipping beats.

  "Fine. I assume they've put you in one of the apartments I keep on reserve here for my crew? Good. I'll pick you up this evening at seven." He drained the dregs of the beer and stood up. He still wore the brief swimsuit he had worn while sail boarding, and it emphasized the hard flatness of his abdomen and his slim but powerful hips. In fact, his physique was so impressive that Alix felt soft flutterings somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

  Apparently unaware of his effect on her, Cabrera nodded, held her gaze a split second too long for comfort, and strode away up the dock. The sun glinted off the bright golden chain at his neck.

  Alix's mind suddenly hitched itself into another sphere, a place where, in her mind's eye, her own hands rested lightly on the warm, slick muscles of Ponce Cabrera's back. The sensation of his skin seemed so real beneath her rounded fingertips that she involuntarily clenched them into tight fists.

  For she was imagining that Ponce Cabrera was making love to her, his face above hers, passion blurring the normally hard planes beneath his cheekbones, bringing unmindful innocence of line to his lips. He would caress her slowly, those aristocratic, ringless fingers brushing her skin like feathers, drifting the full length of her body as she sucked in her breath at the sheer, sweeping simplicity of their bodies addressing each other in this timeless, primitive way.

  And then she slipped out of her daydream as easily as she had slipped in, leaving the inexplicable, encompassing scene behind and becoming once again part of the group on the deck overlooking Salt Run.

  Ponce Cabrera disappeared in a throng of merrymakers, leaving Alix feeling shaken and elated and wanting nothing so much as something to quench her sudden thirst.

  Chapter 2

  When she finished her daiquiri, Alix walked slowly along the dock toward her apartment, thinking about Daniel. He'd been on her mind again entirely too much lately, but she couldn't help wondering what he would think about her becoming a commercial diver. Scuba diving had been his hobby, and he'd always thought of her as tagging along in order to be near him. Daniel would be surprised to find that diving had become an obsession with her after he'd left, almost as though her mastery of the sport he loved could make up for the fact that she had never quite mastered him.

  It seemed like such a short time ago that she had been living in Barcelona, working feverishly on her thesis at the Spanish Maritime Museum during the week and relaxing languidly with Daniel on weekends, making passionate love, indulging in equally passionate fights, or participating in Daniel's hobby, scuba diving.

  The most miserable day in her life had been that day in Barcelona when she discovered that Daniel had packed up and moved out of his little apartment. She had no idea where he could have gone. He left no note, nor did she receive word from him later. His departure was totally, heartbreakingly unexpected. Certainly they'd had their rough spots, but she'd thought they'd smoothed them out. Apparently they hadn't, at least not enough for Daniel.

  She'd been devastated when Daniel left, taking all her hopes and dreams with him. Together they'd talked of a bright future together.

  "Listen, babe," he had murmured one night after an especially intense session of lovemaking, "when you're through with your thesis, let's take off. We'll find somewhere where the water is clear and the breezes balmy. Tahiti, maybe."

  "The Bahamas," she had said sleepily, relaxing as his fingers traced slow spirals on her bare back. "Florida. Sign on as divers salvaging treasure from the old Spanish galleons."

  They had dreamed and planned together, looking forward to the day when they would work side by side as professional treasure-salvage divers. For Alix, the prospect of this sort of work was nothing less than idyllic. What better way could there be to combine her interest in history with her increasing enjoyment of scuba diving? Parallel careers for her and Daniel would be, she thought, the basis for a growing, enthusiastic relationship, perhaps even including marriage someday.


  Evidently Daniel's thoughts had run along different lines, because she had never heard from him after he'd disappeared with no explanation. It was a time when she'd bent to the utmost and almost broken; it was a time when her resiliency was truly put to the test.

  "I've got to pull myself together," she kept telling herself, and she did, barely. The only thing that kept her going was her determination to finish the remaining research for her thesis, which was a study of the decline of Spanish maritime power and its effect on the Spanish economy during that country's colonization of the New World. In the archives of the Maritime Museum she had numbly pored over microfilmed letters, ancient cargo manifests and other long-forgotten records of Spanish trade.

  It was in the last days of her research that Alix stumbled across the obscure documents that were to make her want to change her life so drastically.

  The letters she discovered provided the chance to rise out of her deep depression, and from the depths of her despair she clutched desperately at that chance. She found new energy to finish her thesis, collected her degree and set out on the path that was to lead her to St. Augustine.

  Alix sighed, putting Daniel out of her mind. This wasn't the time to be thinking of failures, and her split with Daniel most certainly was that. Ponce Cabrera, St. Augustine, and her new job as a crew member on Minorcan were promising her a new, fulfilling life.

  No, she was promising herself a new, fulfilling life, she corrected herself. No one else was responsible for her happiness—she had come to the conclusion that happiness, or, at the very least, contentment, was up to her and her alone. She'd made another person the keystone of her life once. When he'd left, she'd crumbled. She wouldn't allow that to happen again.

  She was turning the key in the lock of her door when she saw him. There was no mistaking that long, lanky frame or that tilt of the torso she had once found so sexy. It couldn't be Daniel, not here, not in St. Augustine. But it could, and it was.

  "Daniel!" she gasped. The world seemed to slip sideways into the periphery of her vision. She stared at him, went weak in the knees, felt the blood rush from her head.

  "Alix." His voice was neutral. He seemed not at all surprised to see her. There could be only one explanation for that. He'd known she'd be here.

  Then her defenses took over. There was no forgetting all the hurt, the anger, the despair that his abandonment had caused her.

  "I don't want to see you, Daniel," she said firmly.

  "Just for a few minutes. You owe me that." His flecked green eyes were too cocksure; he'd always been that way.

  She pushed her door open and stepped inside, then turned to face him. "I don't owe you anything," she said. "I never want to see you again."

  Daniel sauntered forward, a confident grin on his face. In fact, it was more smirk than grin. Alix felt a tiny coil of disgust unwinding in her stomach. He stood in her way, one hand on either side of the door, blocking it.

  He was a fine figure of a man; she'd always thought so. He was lean but muscular, and tanned to an even bronze. His light brown hair was nothing exceptional, but he had a handsome face with a straight, sharp nose and a stubborn jaw line. His expressive lips could either pout or cajole with great proficiency. The corners of his mouth lifted in that one-sided grin that had too often convinced her to give in during arguments when she was right, not wrong.

  "But you will see me again, babe. If, as I suspect, you've hired on as a member of Minorcan's crew." He lowered his eyelids, looked down at her, and ran his gaze lingeringly over her curves.

  "So you know," she said, feeling as though she'd been dealt some sort of low blow. What it was, she couldn't figure out. Deep down inside, she knew that the sudden appearance of her former lover boded ill.

  She went on into the apartment, turning her back on him for a few moments while she tried to grow accustomed to the fact that he was here. Daniel. How could it be? She ran her fingers through her hair in agitation.

  "Do that again, babe. Your hair is lovely, all striped from salt water and sun."

  "Don't call me babe!" she said. She'd outgrown his nickname for her. It implied dependency, had been a subtle way of keeping her submissive to him, was condescending.

  "Why are you here, Daniel?" She pivoted to face him.

  "I wanted to see you. I hope we can patch it up." For a moment his face held a look of entreaty, and then, perhaps thinking he saw a wavering on her part, he strode into the room and pulled her roughly into his arms, pinning her against the wall.

  He was taller than she remembered, but his arms wrapped around her in exactly the same way, measuring her slim girth with their length.

  Then his mouth was upon hers, forcing hers open, demanding that she give what he counted as his due. His breath quickened and she began to breathe faster too, but not in passion, even though that might have been what Daniel thought. Growing panicky, trapped by the wall behind her, she pushed against his chest, which only seemed to renew his fervor. And yet, despite her aversion, her body was beginning to respond to him in the same old way. With a mighty wrench she pulled away from him and retreated to the middle of the room, holding the back of her hand to her lips.

  "You have your nerve, showing up after all this time and wanting to 'patch it up'!" she cried, her voice trembling. "You left me in shreds, Daniel. Get out."

  His eyes locked with hers. "You can order me out, but you can't rid yourself of me for good. You see, today I signed on as one of your fellow crew members on Minorcan."

  Ponce had said they'd just hired a new diver. "No!" she gasped.

  Daniel laughed as though it were a marvelous joke.

  "We'll be occupying close quarters," he continued. "Maybe we could double up to save room. In fact, we could shower together to save water. Remember that time in Madrid when—"

  "Stop it!" she said, the fury fairly leaping from her eyes. "Get out of here, Daniel, and don't come back. If it's true that we'll be working together, then so be it. But I never want you to mention our relationship again." The emphasis behind her words left no doubt that she meant it.

  "You're sounding particularly touchy today," he said, reluctantly turning to leave. "Well, don't worry, Alix. I'm not about to mention those documents you found in the Spanish Maritime Museum."

  Her sharp intake of breath felt like a blow to the stomach.

  He regarded her with another one of those infuriating grins. "Oh, that little librarian in the microfilm room—Paquita Mumez? Ply her with red wine, and she becomes very talkative."

  Alix regained control of herself. She knew she couldn't let Daniel find out any more than he knew. And he was bluffing—he had to be. Paquita, featherbrain that she was, had never known what Alix found. She might have had her suspicions, but she couldn't know anything definite. Daniel had never been interested in Spanish maritime history and lacked the patience or ability to decipher the difficult archaic Spanish language. Daniel was bluffing, or he would have used the letters himself.

  Alix drew herself up to her full five feet three inches. "I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel. Leave me alone!" She slammed the door behind him as hard as she could.

  She spent an exceptionally unsettled afternoon, alternately walking the floor of the apartment, cursing whatever circumstances had brought Daniel to her very doorstep at this crucial time, and at other times sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed and pondering all the whys and wherefores of her situation. She had never smoked, but for once she wished she did. She would have smoked now, turning the air blue, tapping long ashes into ashtrays.

  By late afternoon she'd pushed Daniel and her harrowing encounter with him to the far recesses of her mind. She had serious business with Ponce Cabrera tonight, and she'd better be prepared.

  Clothes, that's what she'd think about first. She forced herself to go to the closet and pull a white silk blouse from its hanger and toss it on the bed. She added a navy linen blazer and a softly pleated pair of gray slacks. She'd be casual, but the blazer would
give her some authority, and the white blouse was such a classic style that it could only be called unobtrusive. She didn't want attention on her looks or her clothes to distract Ponce Cabrera from her purpose.

  When she had showered and applied makeup, she had recovered well enough to look around appreciatively at the apartment Ponce Cabrera had provided.

  Her efficiency apartment featured a wide-window view of Salt Run and was decorated with an eye to comfort as well as luxury. Plantation shutters filtered the glare of the sun without obstructing the view, and a judicious placing of plants softened the angles and lines of the modern furniture. On the longest wall hung a seascape showing softly sculptured dunes swooping toward a tranquil sea. She drew strength from that tranquility, though she knew that the sea's temperament could change in an instant. She tried not to think about that.

  It was almost seven o'clock, so she turned on the television set and sat down on the living-room couch to wait for Ponce. She had tucked one roll of her precious microfilm in her inside blazer pocket, and the second one pinpointing the location of the wreck remained in the lining of the purse she carried. If she convinced Ponce that she knew of a better and more valuable treasure than he would find on Santa Catalina—but then, "if" wasn't a word in her vocabulary. She would convince him—she would. A knock startled her, and she checked the peephole in the door to make sure it was Ponce before she opened it.

  How could he look so utterly cool and self-assured when she was so easily undone by the glimmer of something amused and avid in his eyes? She suspected—no, she knew—that Ponce sensed the profoundly sensual effect he had on her, and that he found it humorous. In fact, his lips—why hadn't she noticed before how full they were, how softly voluptuous?—curved into a lazy smile. "Are you going to invite me in?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.