Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,22

monitor the tug-rope and the air gauges, and second-check the dive-time.’ He looked at her as though he expected her to turn and swim off in panic. She would not panic.

‘Okay.’

There was no way he could have heard her tiny assent, but he must have got the message loud and clear from her body language. A delighted smile broke across his face and he exploded into action.

‘Stay there,’ he called, moving to the wheel. ‘I’ll get closer.’

He started the motor, hauled in both anchors and motored closer to the coral edge, countering the swell as it came and went.

Honor knew the routine. It had been a long time, but she and boats used to have a good relationship. Some things you just didn’t forget. As Rob swung The Player’s stern towards her, she leaped lightly onto its drop ladder and then nimbly stepped into the boat.

If he was surprised at her boat sense, he didn’t show it. He shoved The Player into gear and roared out to sea before she could change her mind.

She sank onto a padded seat and gripped the rail behind her where he couldn’t see. She fixed a smile to her face like rigor mortis but she was determined he wouldn’t see anything but her teeth each time he looked at her. She’d faked it for four seasons of drop-offs and pick-ups with the supply vessel; she could fake it now.

He did look at her a couple of times, but just briefly, and Honor saw how changed he was at the helm of his boat. He looked so much more comfortable in his skin there, focused on the waters ahead, accurately reading the surface indicators. This was his element. Where he belonged. Yet another reason he was bad news for her.

Rob steered The Player around to the south of the island and lined up with the memorial on shore. Honor had no idea how the outer reefs were shaped, so she hoped his boating skill was a match for the treacherous waters. Still, she could see shore in the distance and knew she could swim the three hundred metres in if she had to.

Scant comfort.

She reached one hand over the side into the ocean as he slowed the boat. Let him think it was the saltwater that made her hands damp and cold. He moved to the bow and tossed both anchors out. Honor cringed once again on behalf of the coral far below as metres of coiled chain unravelled. Reef was tough, but not indestructible, and every human contact had the potential to damage it. The anchors snagged and The Player stretched with the tide against them, its stern swinging towards shore.

That was probably good. That way, she could keep her eye on land.

It took Rob no time to gather his dive gear and pull it on. He’d done this a million times, judging by his quick efficiency getting into the sleeveless dive skin and shrugging on the air-tank, regulator, weight belt and fins. He pushed his dive mask up onto his head. She wasn’t so terrified that she didn’t notice how the rubber suit moulded to every bulge and ripple in his body. But she was too frightened to appreciate it.

He showed Honor a couple of dials on a small digital screen.

‘This is a wireless monitoring feed,’ he explained. ‘It gives you a GPS readout of my location and air levels. It also shows my depth. I’ll ping you every so often so that you know I’m okay.’

‘What do I do if you’re not?’ She had never dived; knew she’d be useless to him up here in an emergency.

He took her icy fingers and placed them on a blue button. ‘This will ping me back. Ping three times if you think there’s a problem. I’ll surface.’

If you can. ‘What kind of problem?’

‘Air. Shark. Monsoon.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘These waters are relatively shallow so even if there is a problem I can offload my gear and swim up on lung-air alone.’

That was good news and settled a few of Honor’s nerves. Having a job to do also helped her focus and ignore where she was. Bobbing out on open ocean.

Rob stood and moved to the edge of the boat. She looked over at the dark shadows deep below. His voice brought her eyes back to his. They were warm and intense.

‘Thank you, Honor. This means...’ He seemed lost for words. ‘Thank you. See you soon.’

He pulled the mask down over his face, fitted the regulator