dinner?”
“Who am I, the little woman? Did you catch something today besides the blues?”
Gavin unscrewed the top of his beer bottle and took a long sip. “No. I got distracted by the buttons.”
“Brass?” Pablo asked as he settled back in his chair.
“Yeah, and with an eagle emblem. By 1863 the metal was hard to come by for the South, so it’s a pretty good find.”
“Could be off a Union uniform. The pirates had better gear than either side.”
“True.”
They drank in silence for a few minutes. Gavin watched a plane cruise by with a banner that read, Cal’s All-You-Can-Eat Seafood. 5-9 Daily Specials.
The Islanders would hate that. Anything interrupting the natural peace of their sandy paradise was met with derision or legal action. Even his expedition was likely to be tolerated more than planes, helicopters, motorcycles or an overabundance of Jet Skis.
Silence was golden.
Since he spent a great deal of his time in the dark and quiet, underwater, he could appreciate the sentiment.
He definitely liked kissing Brenna McGary into silence.
On another gulp of beer, he wished, futilely, for a moment’s peace from thoughts of that woman.
The woman he wanted beyond all reason. The one who tempted him to throw away the caution that—secretly, anyway—guided his every move.
If Sloan Kendrick hadn’t walked onto the deck and interrupted their make-out session, Brenna would have spent last night in his bed.
Which would have been a very bad move.
His body throbbed in protest.
She was determined to demonize him to the mayor, city council and the historical society. Even the damn sheriff had given him a stern look before Gavin had revealed—truthfully, for once—that he’d been raised in Texas and had a serious love for college football.
Charming this place was becoming a serious task. Over the last few years he’d taken for granted that particular aspect of his job.
If Brenna incited picketing or negative media reports, he’d be in a world of hot water with the owners of The Carolina, who needed quick cash for their treasure. As seemed to be the norm, it was up to him to care about the artifacts he found.
Him and Brenna.
She’d appreciate the irony if he ever had any intention of telling her the truth about himself.
“What graves did you dig up today, boys?” a familiar voice called from the direction of the pier.
Gavin’s pulse shot up. “Oh, hell.”
“It’s that attitude that’s making you so hateable.” Pablo leaped off his chair. “I, on the other hand, would be glad to take care of our Irish pixie.”
“Our—” Gavin rolled to his side and gained his feet, rushing after his buddy. “She’s my problem.”
As they moved forward, Pablo nudged him aside. “A woman should be revered and cherished. You don’t deserve her.”
Though part of him realized Pablo was simply messing with him, Gavin still found his blood boiling. No other man was coming within ten miles of his Irish pixie until they’d settled this conflict/passion/craziness between them. “Hey, pal, I saw her first.”
“No, you didn’t.”
They arrived on the bow just in time to see Brenna and Penelope—the society’s teenaged computer guru—walking down the gangplank.
Carrying a cooler, Brenna wore white Bermuda shorts and a bright green halter top. The high-heeled wedge sandals she used to overcome her issues with her stature were also present. And though he didn’t think her size diminished either her power or her beauty, he had to admit they did amazing things for her legs.
Since Pablo seemed determined to best him in the gentleman’s game, he let his friend take the cooler, then Brenna’s hand, and assist her to the deck, while Gavin did the same for Penelope.
The nineteen-year-old had lovely and curious brown eyes, which, if Gavin had been a decade younger and never encountered the fiery Brenna, would have intrigued him endlessly. “My technical expert is already gone for the day, Penelope, but if you’ll let me know when you want to come back, I’ll set up a meeting for you. He’d be glad to show you the Microseaomitter.”
Behind her glasses, her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Absolut—”
“Don’t let him sway you, Penelope,” Brenna interrupted, her green eyes fiercely fixed on his. “No telling how many treasures he’s absconded with today.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t judge,” Gavin said.
“I thought we agreed your radar wouldn’t include certain innocents,” Brenna countered.
“My sensors are otherwise occupied at the moment.”
Penelope, as intelligent as she was, certainly sensed the tension between him and Brenna. “He’s just being kind, Miss McGary. We talked about the Microseaomitter at the party last night.”
“That’s fine, but I told Sister Mary Katherine I’d be responsible for you.”
“I’m an orphan,” Penelope said to Gavin and Pablo. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was little, and the Sisters raised me. However …” She narrowed her eyes in Brenna’s direction. “I’m nineteen now and about to start my sophomore year at the College of Charleston.”
Brenna offered the group an uncertain smile—like a parent, uncomfortable with how to publicly handle an outspoken child. “And everyone’s so proud of you.”
Not backing down in the least, Penelope crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” Brenna said, looking a bit panicked.
Since Brenna excelled at giving him a hard time as well, Gavin was firmly on the teen’s side in this standoff.
“How am I ever going to be responsible if you guys never let me out of your sight?” Penelope returned.
“I don’t really have control of—” Brenna began.
“I’m a legal adult,” Penelope said forcefully. “I have control of my own life. I have my own apartment and pay my bills.”
Brenna grabbed the teen’s hands. “I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t mean to give you a hard time about coming here. I just …” She trailed off as her gaze found Gavin’s again. “Got carried away.”
Even as Gavin understood this message was for him and the night before, Penelope’s face turned bright red. She seemed to realize there were people present besides her and Brenna. “Oh, my goodness.”
Pablo, firmly in gentleman mode, patted her on the back. “It’s okay, señorita. Asserting your independence is a time-honored tradition on this boat.”
“It’s probably the sea air,” Gavin added.
“Or the sun,” Brenna offered.
“I grew up here!” Penelope wailed as she accepted the towel Pablo handed her and dabbed her tears. “I’m used to the sea and the sun.”
“Then it’s gotta be romance,” Gavin said, sending a commensurate glance in Brenna’s direction. “Only intense attraction can make a lovely, intelligent woman—or irresistibly brilliant man—irrational and despondent.”
Penelope bowed her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
After a significant pause, Pablo said,