Blue Moon (33 page)

“You don't have a selfish bone in your body.” He caressed her tear-wet cheek with his lips. “Now, where's that indestructible faith I fell in love with?” He gave her a squeeze. “I decided that if God got us out of that mess back there, I'd hit church every Sunday that is humanly possible.”

“You don't make bargains with God, Gabe,” she chided, snuggling as if to get inside his skin.

“I made the bargain with myself, not God.” Gabe smiled to himself. She'd been under his skin since they'd thrown themselves over the treasure map on the night the cantina canopy collapsed on them. “Although He's been growing on me, too. I couldn't love you and ignore Him. He's such a part of who you are.”

Her chin quivered in the cup of his hand. “I love you, too, Gabe Avery . . . and I'm so . . .” Her breath caught. “So sorry about your boat.”

“Don't be,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I'm through hunting for treasure.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have the mother lode right here, right now, in my arms.”

Gabe covered Jeanne's lips with his, as if he could kiss away the cold, kiss away her fears. In its place, his gratitude at having this second chance worked its way into his sweet possession. He hoped she felt it. He wanted her to know with all his being what was in his heart, what she'd set free.

Her moan of pleasure, the embrace of the arms she linked around his neck as she responded told him that the woman in her had also found wings. They beat within in her chest, fanning desire enough for the two of them as he pressed her slender body against his. It pounded in his ears, primitive drums as old as Eden, sounding their call . . .

And barking.

Gabe rolled away and sat up, willing the drums into silence.

“What is it?” Jeanne asked, breathless.

“Listen.”

Barking, louder this time. Coming from down the beach. A fortifying hope surged through his body as Gabe climbed to his feet. “Nemo!” He reached down to help Jeanne up. “You stay here . . . rest. I'll be back.”

Gabe started off toward a jut of brush down the beach when a familiar black form raced around it, stopping him in his tracks. “Nemo,” he shouted. “Come here, boy.”

Half-staggering, half-running, a man followed the dog.

“Remy!” Jeanne grabbed Gabe's arm. “Gabe, it's Remy. Praise Jesus!”

Overcome with a tidal wave of emotion like he'd never felt before, especially regarding Remington Primston, PhD, all Gabe could say was “Amen!”

“Prim,” Gabe said, lifting a cup of steaming coffee to his lips. “If I'm ever stranded on a deserted island again, I would welcome your company . . . and naturally yours,” he added, giving Jeanne a hug.

Seated next to him in the dinette of the
Margarita,
she basked in the warmth of his gaze and the body heat that, in addition to the fire that Remy built, had taken the edge off the cold night on Isla Codo.

“This man is one of many hidden talents,” Gabe went on for Tex's benefit. “An Eagle Scout who can actually make a fire from dry twigs. If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have thought it possible.”

“I was beginning to have my doubts,” Remy demurred.

“Shoot,” Tex grunted. “All you'd 'a had to do was keep compli-mentin' him and that blush of his would 'a kept you all toasty.”

Jeanne giggled, thrilled to be alive . . . thrilled to be in the dry clothes that Tex and his crew had scrounged up for the one-night castaways. Rico's were almost a perfect fit for her, while both Remy and Gabe swam in Tex's and Juan's without complaint.

“You and Gabe are both heroes in my book,” she said, steadying her delicious, hot coffee against the thrashing of the boat by the waves as it sped toward Punta Azul.

She'd never seen a more beautiful sunrise than that which marked the beginning of the new day, one that would bring their colleagues or the coastal patrol to their rescue. By the time the
Margarita
came into view, she, Remy, and Gabe had quenched their thirst and hunger with some coconuts that Gabe had knocked out of a tree.

Nemo made a noise, laying his head in Remy's lap. “Speaking of heroes—” Remy broke off a piece of a breakfast bar and fed it to the dog. “This is my hero.”

It was a miracle that Remy survived. He remembered jumping into the water, seeing a flash of light—and that was it until he came to his senses being tossed about by the surf like a lottery ball against the coral reef. Getting beyond the breakers had robbed him of the strength to go on.

“Just as I was about to give up,” Remy had told them upon their reunion on the beach, “this wonderful animal appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me by my shirt. I'd not have made it, if not for Nemo.”

The two of them had come ashore at the crook of the island's arm. Remy had wanted to rest, but Nemo started off down the beach. Figuring the dog might have heard Gabe and Jeanne—and not wanting to be left alone—Remy had trailed after Nemo as best he could, given the battering he'd taken.

Jeanne stared at the gauze covering Gabe's cheek, her stomach twisting. Fortunately, it wasn't as deep as she'd first feared. Goya's haste to abandon ship had been a blessing on that account, although she wasn't certain that Gabe wouldn't be left with a scar.

Not that he'd be the only one. All three of them were patched with Band-Aids of all sizes, covering the cuts dealt them by the reef. Since she'd remained in her jog suit, Jeanne suffered more bruises and abrasions than cuts and gashes, but Remy had a nasty wound on his thigh.

“Good news,” Pablo announced, descending from topside where he'd been on the radio off and on with authorities since the rescue from the island.

“Better than good,” Ann echoed, on his heel.

“Goya and his men were found stranded on a bar off Sian Ka'an, his ship taking on water,” Pablo told them, “but intact.”

Jeanne joined in the collective breath of relief in the galley. That meant the gold would not have to be excavated again, that it would all be recovered.

“The authorities figure he was headed for Belize,” Ann said, helping herself to some coffee. “He was probably going to fence the gold there.”

“The coastal patrol is taking on the treasure now as we speak,” Pablo continued. “After which, it will be transported to Mérida and on to Mexico City.”

“Wish I could have filmed that too,” Jeanne's friend lamented. A diehard photographer, Ann had filmed everything from the three castaways waving frantically from the beach, to their rescue in the
Margarita's
inflatable raft. “But don't be surprised if there isn't a beach full of press waiting.”

“News travels fast,” Pablo agreed, “but news of gold has wings. There's a CNN chopper headed out of Cancún.”

Jeanne groaned aloud, drawing everyone's attention. “My brothers are going to hear about this on the news? Great!”

“Perhaps I should collaborate with one of those true crime writers, rather than approach my book from a purely academic standpoint,” Remy mused aloud. “It would make a smashing best seller. Adventure, intrigue . . .”

“It was bound to hit the fan, sooner or later, Jeanne,” Gabe consoled her. He turned her face toward him. “And you will look nothing less than our bold leader who took us straight up the ladder to success.”

“He's right,” Remy agreed. “You put this team together . . . and held it together.”

“Even saved our collective tushes, since I hadn't yet worked out how I was going to actually
use
the knife that Nemo brought us.” Gabe's expression became stonelike. “We wouldn't have had time to escape.”

A fist of cold clenched in Jeanne's belly.

“Hear, hear.” Remy lifted his mug of tea in deference to Jeanne. “To our heroine extraordinaire.”

“Told ya she was a golden girl,” Tex said to Gabe.

“Right you are,
amigo
.” Instead of toasting, Gabe gathered Jeanne into his arms as though to never let her go. “I have all the treasure I want right here. Marry me, sweet.”

“Oh . . . my . . . gosh.” Ann's words voiced Jeanne's own thoughts.

“As in till death do us part?” she managed in a small voice.

Gabe pressed his face to hers. “Till death do us part and then some.” He kissed her nose. “What do you say?”

“My camera!” Ann bolted from the galley, voice trailing after her. “I love happily-ever-afters.”

“Well,
I
say you have no sense of timing, whatsoever.” Remy took in the room with an imperious sweep of his arm. “Look around you, for heaven's sake, Avery. There's TNT-toting Tex gawking, and I certainly . . . well, it's just—”

“Put a plug in it, Prim.” Gabe caressed Jeanne's cheek with the back of his fingers, sending shivers of delight to places starved for it, joyful for it.

“Perhaps,” Pablo suggested, “we
should
go topside.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Tex protested. “I been waitin' a long time to see old Gabe here bite the romantic dust.”

Remy slid out of the dinette and seized Tex by the arm. “I believe you just saw it. Now let's leave him to digest it in private. You, too, Nemo.”

Jeanne's pulse out-thumped the four sets of departing footsteps ascending the companionway. That was the thing with Gabe. Just when she thought she knew what to expect, he did the unexpected.

“I'm still waiting for your answer.” He primed her lips once again with affection. “Please, sweet.”

Gabe's words from the night before played upon her mind, God's answer to her doubts.

I made the bargain with myself, not God. Although He's been growing
on me too . . . I couldn't love you and ignore Him. He's such a part
of who you are.

It was real, she told herself, as real as the love that filled her to overflowing. Granted, she couldn't know for certain about the future, but Jeanne was certain of who held it in the palm of His hand.

I'm through hunting for treasure. I have the mother lode right here,
right now, in my arms.

And so did she. Returning his embrace, Jeanne gazed into her own mother lode, those bad-boy blue eyes, where the soul of one fallen angel reached out for her own.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes.”

Somewhere in the background, a camera flash went off, but Jeanne couldn't have cared less, not now, not here in the arms of the man she loved. If ever there was a Kodak moment, this was it. A snapshot of the beginning of happily-ever-after.

EPILOGUE

Hanson Hall was filled with prestigious scientists who'd come from around the world to do study and research at the Bermuda Biological Station for Research. Today they listened to a lecture from its newest arrival, Dr. Gabe Avery. Jeanne sat in the audience of the pristine white complex, listening with pride to her husband's presentation on the medical value of bacteria found in the coral reef systems. With his black hair, still long and gathered at his neck, and the faint ridge of a scar on his cheek, he looked more like a pirate in a tailored linen suit than a scientist, despite a wall of high-tech communications equipment behind him.

Was it only two years ago that he'd dragged her, barely able to move from exhaustion, up on the beach after Raul Goya had blown up the
Fallen Angel
? She smiled, studying her husband's handsome presence at the podium, only to realize that he was looking right at her. That provocative wink of his never ceased to warm her from top to toe. Her fallen angel had come a long way, but he was still a rascal at heart.

“I've never seen Gabe so happy,” his mother, Dr. Frances Avery, murmured behind her hand. “Or Edmund, for that matter,” she added, referring to her husband, who sat on the lecturn with the other officials. “You are the best thing that's ever happened to my son.”

And Gabe was the best thing that ever happened to Jeanne. They'd married on the beach at Gabe's parents' home, with Jeanne's entire family present. Their honeymoon was spent on the second expedition to Isla Codo, where the rest of the
Luna Azul
was excavated, bringing up more museum and collectors' artifacts than treasure. As for Raul Goya, he and his men were serving twenty-five-year sentences in a Mexican prison. Despite his betrayal, Gabe had made sure that Manolo's family received a portion of the proceeds from the treasure.

“Heaven knows they need it more now than ever,” he'd told her, not that Jeanne objected. “It's a shame Arnauld isn't in jail with the rest of the lot.”

Instead, Marshall Arnauld had received a slap on the wrist—a hefty fine—for his part in the plot to steal the treasure. But with his resorts on the Yucatán coast, Arnauld was worth more to the Mexican economy outside prison walls.

The audience around her erupted in applause as Gabe stepped away from the podium with a modest nod of acknowledgment. It struck Jeanne as ironic that his captain's swagger disappeared the moment he donned a suit. But then, she'd discovered that Gabe was a man of many demeanors, each one as charming as the next.