Found at Sea - By Anne Marie Duquette Page 0,43

was organized, quick, firm and confident. His preparations were impressive. Jordan had connections, contacts and friends all over California, it seemed.

“Our new ship will be here by Saturday, Aurora. Trust me,” he said.

Aurora knew she had no other choice. She lifted the box of old dishes and pots, snapped off the attic light with a spare finger and headed downstairs.

Jordan was waiting for her in the kitchen.

“When did you get back?”

“I just walked in. Where were you? The attic?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Jordan took the dusty box from her arms and set it on the counter, then touched her hair. “Cobwebs,” he said, pulling off a sticky strand she hadn’t noticed and tossing it in the trash.

“Thanks. Any news?” she asked as she ran her hands over her hair.

Jordan nodded, his smile warm. “Your ship awaits, madam. Or it will, first thing tomorrow morning.”

Aurora’s fingers froze. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t kid about something like that. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure. We’ve got the free loan of a commercial salvage craft, thanks to the bishop. Our borrowed ship is on its way.”

“Borrowed?”

“From a wealthy church benefactor. It’s named the Silver Dollar, and I’m assured it’s in top-notch condition. The bishop’s rooting for us—and his orphanage fund.”

“Oh, Jordan.” Aurora immediately hugged him tight. “Thanks. I have clothes for us, dishes, all kinds of stuff—I’ve been scrounging all week.” She pulled back from him, tears in her eyes. “I’d better wash these dishes,” she said, her voice shaky.

He reached up to wipe her tears with the nearest dish towel, flipped it over his shoulder, then drew her into his arms again. Suddenly he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Her hands moved to the nape of his neck. Her movement knocked the dish towel onto the floor, and both turned to see it fall, lightly bumping their heads together.

Aurora rubbed her head. “And I thought salvaging was dangerous.”

Jordan bent to pick up the towel. “You wash,” he said. “I’ll dry.”

CHAPTER TEN

Guest slip, Oceanside Harbor

8:00 a.m.

THE AUGUST SUN shone bright and hot, quickly burning off the foggy marine layer formed during the night with its cooler offshore breeze. On the flying bridge, sitting in the captain’s chair, Aurora prepared to join the harbor’s other commercial traffic heading out for the deeper Pacific waters. Today she and Jordan planned to sound the dive-site area with radar and sonar. Those measurements, along with wind, current and wave readings, were the first things needed for any serious salvage operation. Because no diving would be involved today, Jordan was her only crewmate.

Aurora flipped the switch activating the blower motor of the Silver Dollar. Unlike the open chassis of a car, sealed boat structures tended to collect gas fumes in the hull. The blower motor vented all gas fumes prior to any use of the ignition system. Ignoring the basic safety system meant an instant, spectacular explosion—something Hollywood loved to make use of in movies. No captain worth his or her salt ignored the blower—or took it for granted.

“Jordan, put your hand over the blower vent and make sure we’re venting,” she called down. She’d been a vessel captain for too long to use please or thank you and automatically gave out orders when she was on the bridge.

“Already have, Captain,” he yelled back from his position next to the mooring cleats on the slip. “Both vents working fine. And your pump’s spitting.”

“Glad to hear it—especially since this isn’t my boat,” Aurora replied. Even the most watertight fiberglass boats took on some water, while wooden boats soaked it in; as a result, a bilge pump was needed to drain any type of hull.

She admired Jordan’s efficiency and his attention to safety. She also had to admire his sleek, masculine lines. Dressed in his jeans from the day before, deck shoes and one of Gerald’s polo shirts, his vitality hit her right in the hormones. If only I didn’t feel so overwhelmed right now, I’d be as interested in this guy as a hungry sea lion after a yellowtail. My life needs less if-onlys....

“Prepare to cast off,” she ordered.

Jordan had graciously allowed her to captain the ship he’d borrowed and signed for—a fact Aurora appreciated. She suspected he knew how hard the destruction of Neptune’s Bride had been on her, despite her efforts to cover it up. She also suspected he’d given her the helm to take her mind off Bride...and that he’d deny it to the hilt. Either way, the man was getting