In Deep Waters. Melissa McClone

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      His eyes darkened; his nostrils flared. If he could breathe fire, she would be toast.

      And then he laughed.

      Kayla did a double take.

      Yes, Ben Mendoza was definitely laughing. The deep, rich sound rippled through the air and surrounded her. His laugh was warm and intriguing and much too appealing. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

      “That’s a good one.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes should have made him look older. Harder. Instead, they took years off and softened the rugged planes of his face. Kayla’s heart beat triple-time. “You had me going for about thirty seconds.”

      He didn’t believe her. Worse, he was laughing at her. Kayla’s blood boiled. She dug her nails into her palms.

      What nerve. She’d felt guilty for saying something that might upset him when he was still a total jerk. And here she thought he was a sensitive father.

      The man was as soft as an abalone. A mixture of embarrassment and anger washed over her. She wanted to tell him what she thought of his expedition. She wanted to tell him why he’d better listen to her.

      She wanted to tell him where he could stick it.

      Be poised, confident. You are the one in charge. Kayla tilted her chin. “I’m serious, Ben.”

      His smile disappeared faster than a galleon caught in a hurricane. He started, then stopped himself. “The Museum of Maritime History signed off on our research.”

      She nodded. “Jay Bruce verified your research. He’s no longer with the museum. In fact, several law-enforcement agencies have been trying to track him down. Seems he was selling bogus shipwreck information on the Internet.” The crestfallen expression on Ben’s face almost made her feel bad. “Almost” being the operative word.

      “Why wasn’t I notified?”

      “You just were.”

      A vein throbbed in his neck, reminding Kayla he was human after all.

      “Mr. Andrews was supposed to explain the details when the arrangements for my—” she searched for the correct word “—visit were made. I know you’ve been blindsided. I don’t blame you for being…defensive, but the museum and investors are a bit concerned with the lack of targets, given the vast area you’ve searched.”

      “They said they were worried about the legitimacy of the operation.”

      “That, too,” she admitted. “But funds are not unlimited.”

      Ben Mendoza might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. The thoughtful look on his face told Kayla he understood the seriousness of the situation. She didn’t want to threaten him, but would if necessary. Finding the Isabella was the priority. Nothing else mattered. Especially his overinflated ego.

      “I stand by our research,” he said. “We hired the top shipwreck researcher in the world to locate the Izzy.”

      “And you’ve been using this ‘top’ researcher’s work for how many years? Two? Or is it three?”

      Ben frowned.

      Okay, maybe her last remark wasn’t called for, but Ben didn’t seem to realize she was one of the top shipwreck researchers. She was better than his guy. She’d spent her childhood following her father’s work and learning all he had to teach. She always knew maritime history would be her lifework. Her father had told her the sea was in her blood, and she knew in her heart it was true.

      “Even the most brilliant researchers are known to falter.” Kayla smiled. “Present company excluded.”

      He didn’t crack a smile. His lack of humor didn’t surprise her. His lack of humor was the first thing that fell into line with her expectations. But no matter what she thought of him, they would have to work together.

      Ben raised a brow. “What makes you so certain your research is correct?”

      “The Isabella has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.”

      Her father used to tell her stories about the ship and the pirates who’d sailed on her. She remembered the long hours he spent researching the lost shipwreck. The value of the cargo was unimaginable, but her father had located treasure ships before. This one had been different. For some reason, the Isabella held a greater allure for him. Kayla wished she understood why.

      “I’ve studied and researched the Isabella off and on for the last eleven years.” Ever since the submersible accident had taken her father’s life and two others’. She ignored the empty feeling inside her and touched the silver talisman she always wore around her neck. It was the only key to her past, to the memory of the father she loved and the mother she couldn’t remember. Kayla fought an unexpected rush of emotion. “It’s taken a bit of digging and sorting through letters, journals, old charts and insurance records, but in the last two months I finally pulled all the information together to support my coordinates.”

      “And?”

      “The Isabella was my father’s obsession.” She wasn’t about to admit how important the pirate ship had become to her. No one knew how much she wanted to find the Isabella, and Kayla wanted to keep it that way. She hid the talisman under her shirt. “His research has proved invaluable to me and verifies my own.”

      “And?”

      “My instincts.” A satisfied feeling settled in the center of her chest. “I know I’m right.”

      His features hardened. “You’re touting your so-called researching brilliance on a feeling?”

      “An instinct,” she corrected him.

      “Same difference. Why not consult a psychic?”

      “I did that, too.” She smiled. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

      His sharp gaze met hers, making Kayla want to step back. “How many expeditions have you been on?”

      She stood her ground. She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her. “Zero.”

      “Zero,” he echoed. “This is your first time at sea?”

      “Yes.”

      “That makes perfect sense.” A glint of something—amusement, perhaps—flickered in his eyes. “The museum is worried about the legitimacy and spending habits of the expedition so they send you—a highly respected maritime historian who’s never been on a search before and consults psychics and uses her instincts to locate shipwrecks.”

      The truth sounded a bit unusual, but at least Ben was finally seeing things clearly. She nodded.

      “Yes, it makes perfect sense if we were looking for the Izzy in the Bermuda Triangle and Bigfoot was the captain of this ship and the sky was…purple.”

      Okay, so maybe he didn’t quite get it. She’d have to go into more detail and—

      Ben turned and walked down the hallway.

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