Diving In (21 page)

She was the most beautiful space alien he’d ever seen. “You’ll have to wade out on your own. The flippers make me clumsy,” he said. Or maybe that was just his emotions.

“No problem,” she said. “No problem. I got this.” She closed her eyes and her chest swelled, straining the black buckles on her vest.

“You’ve totally got this,” he said.

She jogged into the surf like a shopper on Black Friday. “Show me a fish or show me death!”

“Choices, choices,” he said, reaching out to her. She came into range, laughing, cheeks bulging under the rubber band of the mask, and he wondered what she would do if he kissed her.

No, you selfish dork. For once in your life, show some self-restraint.

He turned to give her his back. “Hold on like you were before, but this time put your face in the water.”

When he didn’t feel her nice soft hands stroking him as he’d expected, he looked over his shoulder. Bent over at the waist, she’d stuck her face in the water without him. Then her posture stiffened and she began flapping at the water. Her anxiety had infected him, making him worry that, although she was standing in four feet of calm water, she was in grave danger.

She lifted her head out of the water and cried, the snorkel still between her lips, “Fif!” She pounded the water with her open palms. “Fif! I faw fif!”

He pretended not to understand. “Excuse me?”

She spat out the snorkel and pointed, grinning wildly. “I saw fish!”

“Are you serious? Here? I thought they’d caught them all by now.” He shook his head. “We need to tell somebody.”

She put her snorkel back in her mouth and twirled her fingers in the air at him. “Wef go, funny guy.”

Laughing, he turned, and this time, to his deep satisfaction, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him into the sea, where they saw lots and lots of
fif
.

Not once did he infect her triumph with a cheap come-on; not even an hour later when she came out of the water, beautiful and dripping like Aphrodite in that painting; not even when she smiled at him as they got into the car, and his knees went weak.

Later that night in bed, staring at the moonlight on the ceiling, he realized if he’d ever had a better day, he couldn’t remember it.

Which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised about what happened next.

Chapter 15

A
T
5:46
A
.
M
. M
ONDAY
morning, Nicki stepped out into the hallway wearing a huge floppy sunhat. She was juggling three beanbags in one hand while she closed the door behind her with the other.

Ansel stood in the hallway, watching her and smiling. Her circus skills continued to amaze him. “I want to see you do that on the boat,” he said.

“You just might.” She got the beanbags going higher in the air for a few cycles before catching them and striding down the hall. “Let’s go before I wig out.”

He hurried after her. “You won’t,” he said. “I’m too good of an instructor.”

They’d had one more outing to the beach together—though she’d said she spent hours at the pool without him with a resort instructor, a female one this time. Ansel would’ve joined her, but he had to meet with the solar panel people and the resort manager, and interview a few property managers on the island to oversee the office building after the deal closed. He was wearing down Brand’s resistance to the oceanfront building, but Mr. MBA had concerns, as usual, that Ansel was struggling to address. He’d been looking forward to a day off.

At the door to the stairs, Nicki hesitated. Then she marched over to the elevator buttons with her sword arm extended. “I’ve been avoiding this stupid thing too long.”

“Don’t you think you should fight one dragon at a time?” he asked.

She pushed the button with her thumb gently, as if it were a baby’s nose. “Shh.”

They waited in silence for the car to arrive. The lights over the door blinked at the third floor, then the fourth, another pause…

She lifted the beanbags, kneading them between her fingers. He could hear her taking deep breaths, see her ribcage expanding with them.

Finally the car arrived; the doors slid apart with a beep. She stood frozen, so he put out a hand to hold it until she was ready or decided she wasn’t, but then she rushed forward and waved him in after her. “No problem,” she said. “Piece of cake.”

He watched her carefully during the descent, especially when they stopped several times to take on more passengers, but she seemed giddy now, greeting an elderly couple with a bright hello, asking a small girl already wearing a full snorkel mask about her plans, high-fiving her when she said she was going on a boat, too.

On the ground floor, Nicki held the door for everyone to get off first, even Ansel, then walked with him to the valet guys at the front of the resort with a wild smile on her face.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“Totally. Just had to break through. It’s not the ride, it’s the getting on. Can’t explain it.”

“Maybe it’s that moment of decision when you give something else all that power over you.”

Smiling at him sideways, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Maybe.”

Since he’d called the valet guys already, the car waited for them at the curb. They climbed in with their gear, two coffees he’d made for the journey, and headed south along the coast to Maalaea Harbor. It wasn’t quite thirty miles, but to be safe, they were allowing an hour for the drive.

He doubted Nicki ever felt safe.

“Did you bring a sweatshirt?” she asked him. “I read you can get cold, especially after you’ve been in the water.”

He tapped his chest under his long-sleeved T-shirt. “This is fine.”

“It’s okay if you get cold. I mean, just let me know, because I brought an extra. Sweatshirt. It’s a men’s, too, extra-large.”

He glanced at her. She was nibbling a thumbnail. “I’ll be fine,” he said, resisting the urge to reassure her, which might be patronizing.

“I’m really looking forward to this.” She clutched her knees.

“I can tell.”

They drove in silence for a little less than an hour, slowed by the typical traffic. They parked in the harbor lot and went in search of their tour company’s dock amid the other tourists. She strode ahead of him a step or two, as if slowing down would break her courage; he couldn’t help himself from admiring her long legs. He looked forward to seeing her take off her shorts.

Take it easy
, he told himself, dragging his gaze to the open sea. He felt responsible for her. Like a teacher. Or a therapist. A trusted friend. None of those people would slide his hand down her back until he found round, firm ass and pull her hard against his—

Nicki smacked him on the shoulder with her beach bag. “There’s our boat!”

“There it is,” he agreed.

They gathered with three dozen other people waiting in the morning chill. He looked around curiously, never having gone on a tour with so many people, realizing his parents must’ve paid extra for the small excursions he’d enjoyed over the years.

Finally the herd lunged forward. “Welcome aboard,” a very tan, freckled, middle-aged guy said to them, taking their tickets at the top of the gangplank. “Find a seat. Help yourself to breakfast.”

The ship had two decks and an inside seating area and didn’t look nearly big enough for the three dozen bodies climbing aboard.

At the back of the line, he and Nicki elbowed their way into an inside corner of the crowded boat, forced to stand near a counter filled with doughnuts, fruit, and coffee, since the bench seats were already filled with teenagers and children, retired people, couples, everyone but them.

After a long wait, the boat finally left the dock. Ansel stuck an arm through the crowd grazing at the breakfast counter, plucked a slice of pineapple off a tray, and offered it to her.

“No,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Bagel?”

She shook her head and stared out the blurry window. He could see the whites of her eyes all the way around the pupils, like a doll.

Her anxiety was contagious. He found himself clenching his teeth at each rock of the boat, gripping the windowsill to hold himself steady, hoping the ride out to Molokini wouldn’t be too long or too rough.

“It looks beautiful in pictures,” she said.

“It is.” He smiled, trying to lighten up. “You’ll love it. And don’t worry about drowning—there are so many tourists there that you can just grab on to one of them if you feel yourself going under.”

“I’ll grab you, okay?”

His nerves shifted from fear to lust. Blood returned to his extremities, including his favorite one. Annoyed with himself, he said, “Whatever you need,” and patted her quickly on the shoulder.

A brief smile flashed on her face. She had sexy lips. He liked watching them move. So many emotions in one person, like an overflowing grocery bag.

Or a bucket
.

The boat pitched and rolled in the surf, knocking people into one another, although Nicki was holding on to the side of the boat so tightly she barely moved. He regretted not getting ahead of the crowd so she could’ve had a seat. Noticing a mesh bag filled with towels sprawling between two different groups on the bench seating, he sashayed over and asked, already lifting the bag from the seat, “Mind if I move this?” He set it underneath and waved Nicki over.

She shook her head.

“Come on,” he said.

“You take it,” she said. “I’m fine.”

A woman who seemed to be one of the family’s grandmas, with jet black hair and a neon pink T-shirt, scowled at him as he sat next to her. He gave her a huge smile. “Isn’t this fun?” he asked.

Her frown deepened, so he stared cheerfully ahead at Nicki, who was biting back a smile, watching them. For all her worries, she sure seemed happy, always quick to laugh. Testing her, he stuck out his tongue. Sure enough, she smiled and crossed her eyes.

The boat lurched, making one girl scream and a man spill coffee over the bagel tray. Nicki pivoted to grab the door frame to the front deck, her smile fading.

Ansel called out to her. “Come on! Save your energy.”

Without a word, she wobbled over to him and took his seat when he got up. After another few minutes of violent pitching, she looked up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He lost his balance and fell against Grouchy Grandma. “Sorry,” he said, retrieving her white baseball cap from the floor where he’d knocked it and handing it over with his most charming grin.

Grandma clamped a hand on his shoulder, hauled herself up, and staggered over to where a younger man with the same warm expression sat at the end of the row. After a jab in the arm, the young relative got the hint and stood up. Then, when the man walked away to stand on the open deck, Ansel decided Grandma’s old seat was fair game and plopped down into it.

“My mom would spank me,” he said. “Taking an old lady’s seat. I feel kind of guilty.”

“How do you think I feel? Those poor towels have to sit on the floor because of me.”

He leaned against her. “Next time let me book the tour. I know this guy with a catamaran. It’s awesome.”

Awkward silence stretched between them. What was he implying—next week? Next year?

A voice crackled unintelligibly over the speakers. Broken sentences tricked through about wind and waves, an apology, something about turtles. People groaned and looked at each other.

“What’s going on?” Nicki asked, clamping a hand on his thigh.

He was wearing shorts. Her touch sent shivers up his leg. He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth.

“We’re not going to Molokini?” a boy asked.

The man next to him put an arm around his shoulders. “Too windy today. He’s taking us to Turtle Town instead.”

The boy’s mouth opened in outrage. “Can he do that?”

“Guess so,” his dad said. “Safety first.”

“That’s stupid,” the boy said.

“I agree,” Nicki said, releasing Ansel’s thigh to stand up.

“Going to complain to the captain?” he asked her, sucking in a breath.
Just a few more inches
, he’d been thinking.

“Getting a doughnut.” She went over, surprisingly steady on her feet, and got a chocolate glaze, a rainbow sprinkle, and a glass of orange juice, then returned without spilling a drop. “I’m going to drown my sorrows in carbohydrates.”

“As long as you’re drowning,” he said.

She handed him the chocolate one. “Sorry about my choice of boat.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m cool. This happens. They’ll find somewhere else.”

Since turning around, the boat had steadied, and people got up from their seats to wander out to the decks. Nicki and Ansel stayed where they were until the crew, a young man and two women, one young and one older—all with impossibly perfect bodies—came around with the gear they rented out for an extra fee.

Within five minutes, Nicki held a wet suit, a life jacket, and a boogie board with a round plastic window in the middle of it.

“This thing looks tiny,” she said, holding up the black neoprene suit.

The older woman, who introduced herself as Spike, turned around. “You’ll actually be more comfortable in the water when it’s tight.”

Nicki glanced at the tanned, athletic fiftyish woman with the washboard abs, then at Ansel, and widened her eyes. “Is there a bathroom on board where I can try it on?”

“Yeah, but it’s small. You won’t be able to move around in there,” the woman said, returning Nicki’s credit card with a receipt. “Better just to try it here. Let me know if you can’t squeeze into it. We might have a men’s suit that would fit you.”

When the woman was out on the front deck, Nicki wriggled out of her sweatshirt. “Is it wrong to hate her?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “How can something wrong feel so right?” In one sudden movement, she pulled her sundress over her head, uncovering a simple black bikini, like an athlete would wear, that he hadn’t seen before. It should’ve been boring, but he stared like an idiot. Her hips, her thighs, her breasts and waist and arms, all of her, was right there under a thin layer of stretchy fabric.