Chapter 2 (The Pier)

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<><><>CHAPTER TWO 

"DREW, WHAT THE hell was that?" Jim barked, his face a red, blotchy mask. 

She eyed her boss's wet suit, hanging limply from his waist like a deflated tire. His sleeves flipped inside out, slapping his legs every time he pointed that long finger at her.  

She didn't care. Her teeth were chattering and her patience bank was on empty. She snapped at him, "That was me saving Michelle a trip to the morgue." The air pack slipped from her cold fingers, hitting the deck. The solid thwack was muffled under the thick, angry air between them. "What was I supposed to do, watch? It saved your ungrateful behind." 

"I'm still your boss, Drew." 

No joke. 

"Then cover your ears 'cause I'm not done." Gripping the warm deck's boards, she climbed out of the boat, wet suit slung over her shoulder. 

"You take that off again and you're on suspension." 

Mother Nature gave her the tools-no one said how she had to use them, and it saved their lives-case closed. 

"Here, catch." He tossed her the thick rope. 

She caught it before it hit her in the mouth, her slowly tensing back muscles twitched along her spine as she secured the loop around the post. Jim's tan, angular face puckered. Why was he so edgy lately? If she didn't love him, she'd clock him over the head. Something was up. Something more than Michelle being eight months pregnant. 

Jim motioned for a towel off the pier's deck. "You never-ever-take that pack off," he warned. 

"Got a faster way to get the suit off?" She hurled the towel, aiming for his head.  

"That's your only protection down there." 

"And I was your only protection," she said.  

"Drew, you take too many risks." 

"This risk saved your life, Jim. Be grateful I wore the front zip or I'd still be struggling to get it off." Snatching open her duffle bag, she dug out a peach T-shirt and slipped it over her head. "It distracted Bandit long enough." Tugging the T-shirt past the wet bikini, she kept her eyes on Jim. He was pissed, but alive, and that was what mattered. 

Never leave your partner. 

"Drew." He set the cooler on the deck then dragged a hand down his face in frustration. She could see it forming, the grand lecture. "You were half-naked down there," he told her. Peeling the seal suit down his thighs, it puddled around his feet. 

"It saved your life," she returned. "What's the big deal anyway? We live on the beach. You've seen my bikini a million times." She wiped off the face of her watch-seven thirty. He must not have gotten enough sleep last night. It had to be why he was freaking out. 

"It's not the same." Worry lines creased his wide forehead above deep-set, squinted eyes. His signature pissed-off stare was aimed right at her. 

"What?" She didn't have another answer for that look. In truth, she did, but he was still her boss and this wasn't the right time. 

In one long, lurid sweep, his gaze undressed her. She wanted to crawl back inside the wet suit. "Stop looking at me like that." She gripped her towel. "It's, ewww, creepy." 

"That's how Bandit watched you, Drew. A glass of vodka, flashing lights, and he was in the club trying to get your seven digits." 

"Jim, that's disgusting," she argued. "You're one to talk. It's no different than the little dolphin that clung to your side. Was she a science groupie?" 

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