Would she be out there taking pictures? No, that didn’t make sense. “Well, you ought to,” he said, working the raft around. “You have to dive tomorrow morning.”

“I know. I was just on my way to my cabin when I heard the motor.”

“I’ll check out the rest of the perimeter of the boat,” he said, sounding brave, and actually feeling that way now.

“All right. G’night.” She disappeared into the shadows of the deck, and he took a few more minutes to circle the whole boat again.

By the time he tied up the raft to his cabin cruiser, he was wide awake and ready for sex. Feeling heroic, strong, and ready for another round, he bounded back to the stateroom, hard for Alita.

She must have liked his heroics since she barely asked any questions, fucked him for a good half hour, then dressed and left, a happy little camper.

Life was good, and he’d soon be a couple hundred grand richer. Screwing Judd the Dud had become his favorite pastime.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CON HOISTED HIMSELF up over the dive platform, not even shivering, although he had to be freezing without a wet suit, even that short distance. Lizzie stepped out of the shadows, searching to see if he had anything in his hands. If he managed to find that medallion, then she was certain she’d picked the right man for the job.

“Did you get it?” she asked, slipping down to the dive platform.

He lifted his hand.

Oh, yes. The absolute right man. She wanted to reach for the medallion, but she couldn’t resist getting closer to him, feeling the waves of cold from his skin, and flattening her hands on his bare chest. She knew how much that kind of cold hurt, but he didn’t seem fazed, except to let out a soft grunt when her hands made contact.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, moving her back into the darkest part of the deck and toward the stairs. “My cabin. Now.”

She kept up with his long strides back to his cabin, him dripping water from his bathing suit and body, but still not giving in to what she knew had to be the urge to just shudder with the bone-deep chill of swimming in the ocean on a November night. He unlocked the hatch and nudged her in without a word.

“Let me see-”

He yanked her right into his chest, pulling out a shocked breath from her, his flesh cold even through the thickness of her fleece sweatshirt.

“God, you’re warm.” He nearly moaned the words, squeezing her tighter.

She understood instantly and obliged by wrapping her arms around him, rubbing her hands over the hard muscles of his back. She’d dived without a wet suit before, and human contact was like heaven to the whole body.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower?” she suggested.

He just shook his head and pressed himself against her from head to toe. “This is much better. You’re like a human heating pad.”

He punctuated that with a little more pressure on her legs and hips, riding her enough to dry his skin on her clothes. She curled one of her legs around his, using the warm cotton of her sweatpants to dry and warm his thigh and calf.

He sighed again, sliding one more time as if he could wipe his whole body with her warmth.

“You better let me have that damn medallion since you are totally taking advantage of this situation,” she teased.

He backed up just enough to reveal his open palm. And the gold.

“Oh.” She let out the word in a little breath of air. “I told you Flynn was the thief.”

“You were right. He’s a thief and more.”

Her eyes bugged. “He had more treasure in there?”

“Depends on how you define treasure. This piece wasn’t worth much, in my opinion.” At her look, he lifted a brow. “Did you know he was sleeping with Alita?”

“Alita? Did she see you?”

“No, she stayed in the stateroom and this was in the salon. Not very creatively hidden, either.”

“Alita.” She shook her head. “I never picked up that vibe from either of them.”

“It explains how he knew exactly where that medallion was hidden. She told him after I showed her, so they’re a team.”

“Why did you show her, anyway?”

“To test her.” He bent over, rubbing his legs. “She failed.”

“What do you think’ll happen when Flynn discovers it’s gone?”

He shrugged. “He won’t have the nerve to nail me on it, and the crew will assume whoever stole it had second thoughts and returned it. Maybe he’ll think Alita double-crossed him.”

She took the gold with her to the edge of the bunk, sitting down to admire it. “They’re scum, both of them. And him, stealing from his own stepfather. I told you their relationship is a mess.” She turned to him, her smile widening. “And now I’ve won the bet.”

He stood up and pulled a canvas duffel bag from under the bed, dragging out a pair of jeans and taking them into the head. He didn’t close the door, giving her a perfect view of his backside as he shoved off his wet bathing suit and gave himself a cursory rub with a towel.

God, the man had a beautiful body. He stepped into the jeans, pulling them over his bare hips, giving the zipper a half tug that didn’t make it to the top, not bothering to snap.

The medallion forgotten, she stared at his bare chest, the cuts of muscles disappearing into the jeans, the bit of dark hair peeking out from the half-zipped fly. Her throat went bone dry.

“So we dive tomorrow night,” he said, approaching the bunk slowly.

What was he talking about? Diving. Gold. Scepters.

That’s why she was in this room, eating up her new partner with her eyes. She lifted the medallion and laid it against her chest as though it could help slow her rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I dive tomorrow night,” she corrected. “You work the air hose and cover my ass.”

He reached the bed, looking down at her. “I dive tomorrow night,” he countered. “You work the air hose and cover my ass.”

She started to stand up. “No way. I know where it is.”

He put his hand on her chest, over the medallion, and eased her all the way down. “You can show me tomorrow. We dive together first thing in the morning.”

“You can’t change the rules, Con.”

Smiling, he took the medallion, grazing it over her breasts with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I can do anything I want.”

Wordlessly, he laid the medallion on the nightstand and in one smooth move, was back on the bed, kneeling over her, his knees sliding right between hers. “And since I can do anything I want” -a zing shot straight up her body-“I’m going to dive for the scepter tomorrow night.”

He loomed over her, bare-chested, practically unzipped, exuding sex and control and power… and changing the rules.

Her fingers curled into the thin blanket under her, awareness flaring through her.

“It’s a dangerous dive,” he said, easing her legs open a fraction with his. “It’ll be dark, with no blower.”

That was true. “But if I do it,” she said, managing not to let her voice crack, “I’ll be down and back in seven or eight minutes. I know exactly what to do. I’ve visualized it.”

“I’ve visualized it, too.” He leaned over her, putting his hands on either side of her, letting his weight drop so that his biceps tightened. “And I’m making the dive.”

His face was very close, his gaze fierce, his lips almost curled in a smile.

“You can’t do this.”

His smile said he could. “I know your secrets now, Lizzie. And you need me.”

Need. That was one word to describe the heat in her body. “That doesn’t give you the right to take over my plans. I’m in charge of this and you’re following my instructions.” She put a hand on his chest, his skin still icy from the water, but he just pressed himself closer.

“I’ll dive. You work the hose. And we…” He closed the space and brushed her mouth with his. “Will be partners. How’s that?”

Partners. What kind of partners?