Night Swimming (11 page)

Sean breathed slowly, in and out, the mix of oxygen and nitrogen in his tank replaced with a far more potent mixture. With every breath, awareness and desire invaded, overwhelming his defenses.

His eyes fixed on Lily, Sean succumbed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

There were certain calls Pete Ferrucci placed from public pay phones only. Not a foolproof system, but the risk of tracing or tapping these conversations was greatly diminished. Years of delicate business dealings had demonstrated the usefulness of pay phones and of watertight, ready-made alibis.

A voice answered on the second ring.

“Hi, it’s me.” Pete Ferrucci didn’t need to identify himself.

“You talked to him yet?”

“No, he’s out of the office. That pink gargoyle of a secretary won’t tell me where he’s gone or when he’ll return. She’ll doubtless continue giving me the run-around right up to the six o’clock meeting.”

“Got to put the pressure on him. Some influential people will be deeply disappointed if this doesn’t pan out.” The condescension in Jack Gehring’s voice was clear as a bell despite the faint crackle of the connection.

“I’m working on it,” he replied, annoyed. Who did Gehring think he was? “Like I’ve already told you, the way to win is to beat him at his own game.” And that would happen as soon as the scientists gave the coral reef a clean bill of health. Ferrucci would then push the committee to vote against any restrictions—either on the reef or on the parcel of coastal land he and his associates had purchased. Then there’d be nothing to stop the town from voting in favor of the marina development.

“So what’s this about a new team of scientists? That was an even longer article than the one about the bridge crash.”

Like a kid in a candy store, Gehring had his eye on the Bellemer Bridge. Every conversation they had, Gehring brought up the topic. He’d even convinced himself that getting the bridge widened was the way to get the town thinking “big,” as in a bigger marina. Gehring was a fool. Ferrucci, however, saw no point in enlightening him about the bridge or his limited intelligence. Gehring and his bridge would come in handy eventually. And with Gehring fixated on his own plans, he wouldn’t see that Ferrucci had already grabbed the big, fat pot of gold with both hands.

“Yeah, well, the
Courier
’s a liberal rag; what do you expect?” Ferrucci said. “But I’ve got an idea about how to keep the bridge accident on page one for some time.”

“That reporter made this research team sound like hot shit. Not a good thing.”

“Got that under control, too.” Ferrucci ground his molars. He was getting tired of Gehring’s constant whining. “I invited one of them for drinks at my place the night before.”

“Yeah? Which one, Banyon?”

“No, not her.” Banyon had the stiff righteousness of a true believer; she’d blow the whistle on him before he’d even finished his proposition. “There’s a guy with her. He’s her assistant. We’re in luck. He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Everest.”

“Is that big enough to get the tests to come out squeaky clean?”

“I made my first pitch the other night. I’m real optimistic he’ll see things our way.”

Gehring gave a noncommittal grunt. “Damned inconvenient of you-know-who to fall ill,” he observed. “This whole thing would be over and a certain somebody a hell of a lot closer to being a one-term wonder if he’d finished the study.”

The idea of McDermott winning a bid for reelection had the vein on the side of Ferrucci’s temple throbbing violently. “No way is there going to be a reelection party,” he spat. “I have too much invested in this town. I’m bringing in someone I’ve done business with before, a stringer for the tabloids.”

“What good’ll that do? Everyone knows the guy’s pure as fucking Galahad.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Turns out the head scientist grew up here. Their families are close.”

There was a pause as Jack Gehring digested this bit of information. “Conflict of interest, huh? That enough to use?”

“Not by itself. But my gut says there’s something between them. I’ll let my guy do some sniffing around, see if my hunch is on the money.”

“Still, you’ll meet with him, the assistant?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll be running into each other.” He’d instructed the Blue Dolphin’s bartender that John Granger should be welcomed like he was Donald Trump, Bon Jovi, and Dan Marino rolled into one. The girls who received drinks on the house because they were built like the
Playboy
bunny-of-the-month had been “encouraged” to be extra friendly to Granger, as well.

“Good, that’ll please our associates. Let’s talk again real soon.”

“Right.” Pete Ferrucci hung up the receiver, stepped out of the Amoco station’s phone booth, slid behind the wheel of his black Mercedes, and drove back to town.

The four of them had changed into dry clothes. The postdive atmosphere mellow and relaxed, they sat around the fore deck, enjoying the cool spray off the boat’s bow.

John was shirtless, working on his tan as he sprawled on the sunlit deck. A few feet away, Karen sat cross-legged, surrounded by her camera gear, carefully wiping each piece of equipment with a soft cloth before returning it to her camera case. Lily had opted for the shade of the Naugahyde bench. She was transcribing her notes on the reef into a spiral-bound notebook. Next to her, Sean was taking advantage of Lily’s absorption to study her profile, mesmerized by the sight of her worrying her lip as she wrote.

Not wanting to interrupt her work, Sean waited until she’d finished writing and closed her notebook. In a voice that was carefully casual, he asked, “So what’s your opinion of the reef? Did this section look okay?”

Lily shot him an assessing glance, and Sean knew she was thinking of their conversation in the car, of his “political” interest in the study.

“It was only the first dive, but yes, I’d say this section looked healthy,” Lily said. “When we get the analyses back from the lab we’ll have a much better picture. But there was lots of coral down there, which is always great to see.”

Out of habit, Sean had half expected that Lily would tell him to back off. Her reply had him smiling. Encouraged, he shifted, angling his body to face her. “There were a number of things down there I was curious about. You think you could tell me what they were?”

His question had Lily arching her brow. “I’ll give it my best shot,” she said dryly.

He grinned. “Right, dumb question.” Sean paused. “Of course, we could make it harder, a little more of a challenge. Care to play
Name that Coral
, Dr. Banyon? The fewer clues you need to identify it, the more points you score.”

“Sounds like fun. Can I join in?” Karen asked, looking up from the lens she held in her lap. “What about you, John? Want to match your wits against us?”

“Buzz off, Masur,” John growled sleepily before rolling over onto his stomach, his face turned away from them.

“So, Lily, want to play?” Sean asked. The words ignited a flare of need inside him.

Lily’s head turned, her face now tantalizingly near. And the rest of the world melted away. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He thought about what he’d like to do to those lush lips. Head angled, Sean leaned forward . . . and Karen spoke.

Instead of stealing a kiss from Lily, he nearly brained himself against the pilothouse. In the time it took to gather his scrambled wits and hazard a glance at her, she’d gone and tugged the brim of her fishing hat down low, shielding her eyes. . . .
Ahh, shit.

“Go ahead, Sean, ask away,” Karen urged again.

He took a deep breath, trying to think of something besides Lily’s mouth. “Right . . . how about this: wide branches—”

“Elkhorn coral,” Lily and Karen pronounced simultaneously.

Sean shook his head with equal parts amusement and awe. “Two points apiece,” he decided. “Obviously I’ll have to make these questions a lot tougher.”

The quiz show continued, the three of them laughing as Sean’s clues grew increasingly far-fetched. Karen was doing a pretty good job, whooping with pleasure whenever she scored a point. But Lily won the contest when Karen drew a blank at the final round. Sean’s clue:
pink
spaghetti.

“Beats me,” Karen said with a frown.

“Up to you, Dr. Banyon,” Sean nodded, his eyebrow quirked in challenge.

“That would be a sea anemone.”

At Lily’s response, Karen dropped her head in her hands and groaned theatrically. Smiling, Lily continued, “Technically though, your question wasn’t really fair. Anemones don’t fall into the same category as coral,” she explained.

“Doesn’t matter,” Karen said, with a shake of her braids. “You won.
Darn it!
I should have gotten that.”

“Hey, you did really well, Karen. I was just lucky. There were a number of sea anemones, which caught my eye. And besides, soft coral doesn’t grow like ‘pink spaghetti’ in zone one.” As Lily spoke, she took off her hat to rake her fingers through her hair.

Sean wondered if she had any idea how her hair looked when she made it all tousled like that, as if she’d just gotten out of bed. He doubted it. Which only made her unconscious ability to seduce that much more lethal.

She was looking at him with a bemused expression. “Pink spaghetti,” she repeated, her tone marveling. “I can only say it’s a good thing you don’t spend your life cataloging species. I shudder to think how you’d describe a sea worm.”

“And what’s a sea worm look like, Lily?”

She was silent a moment. Then, with a small smile playing over her mouth, she said, “Let’s just say a guy would recognize one instantly.”

While Karen rocked with great snorting guffaws, Lily merely smiled and batted her eyelashes innocently. Sean felt his grin stretch wide across his face.

Hot damn!
Lily Banyon was actually flirting with him.

Sean was still wearing a grin when the
Tangiers
entered the marina.

“Yoo-hoo! Ahoy there, Sean. Ahoy!” The voice calling was high-pitched, feminine, and very eager.

Sean looked up. His scuba gear was laid out on the trawler’s deck. He straightened reluctantly, and the rubber hose he was using to rinse his equipment splashed onto his bare feet. He winced, not from the ice-cold water spraying his skin, but from the sight of Stacy Malloy clicking her way toward him. Though her advance was somewhat hampered, her steps perforce carefully measured so her heels wouldn’t sink between the gaps of the dock’s planking, Stacy nevertheless positively bubbled with enthusiasm as she approached. Sean sent a prayer heavenward that he could get rid of her fast.

“Who’s that?” John asked.

“Who’s who?” Lily replied distractedly. She and Karen were packing equipment into boxes, sorting what would be needed at the lab from what could remain aboard the
Tangiers
, to be stowed away under lock and key.

“The babe who’s clinging to McDermott like he’s her lifeline,” John replied.

Lily’s head jerked like a puppet on a string. She stared. Who, indeed, was that? Whoever it was, she was wearing white jeans that weren’t simply tight; they seemed laminated onto her curvaceous lower body.
The woman
obviously has a thing for clothes two sizes too small,
Lily thought, eyeing the tiny red halter top. It was stretched to the max. A heavy sigh and it would split.

“Man, she sure is friendly. Some guys get all the luck.”

For once, John wasn’t exaggerating a woman’s enthusiasm.

It was silly to feel such a sharp pang of disappointment. This was Sean. Women routinely stood in line, waiting their turn to throw themselves at him. Now it was this woman’s chance.

Why should Lily care if the mystery woman’s hair had dark gold streaks, its thick mass pulled into a high pony-tail? So what if Sean’s taste in women hadn’t evolved past cheerleader look-alikes?

Who cared? Not Lily. The only reason her insides ached with such an awful hollow emptiness was because she hadn’t eaten anything since dawn.

Lily resumed packing the box, but blindly. Her eyes were riveted on the couple.

Karen studied the woman, too. She gave a loud snort, then said, “You’re so bent, John. Anyone with eyes can tell Sean’s not interested.”

“Yeah, right, Einstein. McDermott clearly hates her. Speaking of which, don’t you think he’s a little old for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“About the mega crush you have on him.”

“Get real, Granger.”

“And you’re about as obvious as that chick over there.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Sean and the woman. “I heard you earlier: ‘Oh, Sean, you’re such a great dive buddy. Let’s do it again sometime,’ ” he simpered exaggeratedly.

Karen’s face reddened with embarrassment. “God, you’re such a troll. No wonder you can’t get a date.”

“Shows how much you know, Masur.” John laughed. “Though with your looks, I’m not surprised. You wouldn’t know a date if it bit you.”

With an inarticulate cry, Karen jumped up from where she’d been helping with the boxes and flew at John. She shoved him—hard.

Unprepared, he stumbled, landing on his rear with a loud thud and even louder curse as the backward momentum of his fall sent him crashing into the empty scuba tanks. They toppled, one after another, like bowling pins as the discordant clanging of metal resounded.

The noise had the woman turning her head. The better to observe the mayhem, she lifted oversized sunglasses, until they perched on top of her streaked blond head.

Lily reeled with the shock of recognition—as stunned as if one of the scuba tanks had bashed her in the head.

That was Stacy Malloy clinging like a limpet to Sean.

Funny how nothing ever changed.

Sean and Stacy. Why, it was just like old times.

The artfully applied makeup couldn’t hide the crow’sfeet that fanned the corners of Stacy Malloy’s eyes or the deep brackets that framed her mouth—lines Stacy could have avoided for at least a few more years if she hadn’t cut quite so many classes in favor of lying prone on the beach, broiling her body for hours on end.

Lily knew it was petty of her to feel smug; the only reason she herself avoided the pitfalls of the sun-equals-crocodile-skin equation was because of her father’s fair Scandinavian genes. Lily didn’t tan. She blistered.

That John was transfixed by Stacy’s teensy-weensy, red Lycra halter top came as no surprise. But Lily would have thought that Sean, ten years down the road, would be a bit more discerning . . . but then again, she’d never been able to figure out what Sean found appealing in Stacy Malloy.