The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One)

By Pamela Browning

Award-winning author Pamela Browning's hot new box set features three sexy sun-bronzed bachelors and the women who capture their hearts.

SEA OF GOLD: When marine historian Alix Pendenning produces evidence of a centuries-old, unexplored Spanish shipwreck off St. Augustine, Florida, charismatic treasure hunter Ponce Cabrera hires her as his expedition photographer. But as the pair race to find the sunken galleon, Alix's secret past threatens to scuttle the most precious treasure of all.

TOUCH OF GOLD: As soon as Paige Brownell steps off the boat onto her aunts' isolated island in South Georgia, she's convinced charming bachelor, Chad Smith, is no handyman. Though her elderly aunts have accepted Chad as a member of the family, Paige launches her own investigation and discovers a mysterious truth that burns hotter than Chad's kisses.

SANDS OF GOLD: At the grand old Palm Beach mansion, Xanadu, Cara Demorest's job shouldn't include refereeing handsome, raffish surfer Alec Martyn and his playboy brother, Blake. Alec's kisses have already captured Cara's heart, while Blake fights for her loyalty. But to save Xanadu, Cara must choose the brother she finds hardest to forgive.

THE BEACH BACHELORS SERIES, in order
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Sea of Gold, Touch of Gold, and Sands of Gold)
Interior Designs
Cherished Beginnings

THE KEEPING SECRETS SERIES, in order
Ever Since Eve
Through Eyes of Love
Sunshine and Shadows
Touch the Stars

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Jun 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781614177623

Book preview

The Beach Bachelors

Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in one

by

Pamela Browning

Award-winning Author

Published by ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

ISBN: 978-1-61417-762-3

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Please Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Sea of Gold

Touch of Gold

Sands of Gold

Sea of Gold

Beach Bachelors Boxset

Book One

by

Pamela Browning

Award-winning Author

Dedication

For my sister Candy:

My steadfast companion on a turbulent voyage.

Prologue

From the Chit-Chat Column in Personality Magazine...

Shipwreck Party, Anyone?—No golden moments here. Ponce Cabrera, charismatic folk hero who salvaged twenty-five million dollars' worth of treasure from the Santa Ana shipwreck off the Florida Keys last year, ran into his competitor, Luke Stallingrath, at the Miami Airport last week. Stony silence was the order of the day until reporters managed to separate the two, who were boarding the same plane to Key West.

Cabrera, 36, confirmed that his 143-foot salvage ship, Minorcan, will soon leave its berth in St. Augustine, Florida, on another treasure quest.

Silence is golden, Cabrera replied to speculation that his new venture involves the salvage of bounty from Santa Catalina, which sank in the same 1622 hurricane that scuttled Santa Ana.

The only pearl to drop from the lips of Stallingrath, sixtyish president of L & S Salvage Company, was a terse no comment.

Chapter 1

Today was certainly not the day for negative thinking, reflected Alix as she stepped onto the dock at the Coquina Marina and Resort complex. The weathered cypress boards bent slightly beneath her sandals, reminding her that sometimes, in order not to break, it was necessary to bend under pressure. Her appointment with Ponce Cabrera would be stressful, but she'd bend a little if necessary. Bend, but not break.

She walked to the railing, watching the gentle breeze lift the brightly striped sail on a sailboard out in the yacht basin. The invisible wind swelled the thin fabric slowly; to watch its gentle outcurving gave Alix an uncomfortably sensual feeling, as though she were invading the privacy of lovers. The man who rode the sailboard balanced lightly and skillfully, at one with the board and the breeze.

Alix Pendenning?

She whirled at the sound of a gravelly voice.

Yes? she answered, widening her blue eyes in surprise. Oh, but there must be some mistake. This stocky, square-jawed man with the bold thatch of wiry gray hair wasn't Ponce Cabrera—he was Cabrera's rival.

He leaned an elbow on the railing beside her, flicking his eyes down her petite figure and up again with a look both shrewd and calculating.

His ill-concealed first impression was no surprise. Most people reacted the same way: Alix Pendenning, with her flowing blond hair and delicate china-doll features, was not to be taken seriously.

Luke Stallingrath, L & S Salvage Company, he said abruptly. I hear you're a pretty good salvage diver.

I can't imagine how you found that out, she countered with a long, level look.

I have my ways. He was a big man, strongly built, his eyes narrow and light-lashed from exposure to the sun. He seemed overly casual for a meeting he had obviously arranged.

Which are?

He ignored the question. I'll get to the point. I want you on my salvage crew.

Sorry, Mr. Stallingrath, but I'm not interested.

He sized her up with grudging silence. Clearly she wasn't reacting the way he'd expected.

There's no guarantee that Cabrera will hire you. Twice what he pays, take it or leave it.

She shook her head in disbelief. Why? she asked. Luke Stallingrath did not have a reputation for generosity.

I need a diver who is also an underwater photographer, and you're a marine historian, which is a big plus. You'd be a worthwhile addition to my crew.

One glance into Stallingrath's crafty eyes told her that it wasn't as simple as that. Stallingrath had taken the trouble to find out about her ability, knowledge, and experience. But how? She'd only arrived in St. Augustine this morning.

No, she said, more emphatically this time. Her instinct told her that this definitely wasn't one of the times to bend.

Look, he pressed with more than a hint of impatience, I have more money than time. Say you'll take the job, and we'll work out the terms later. I can afford to—

Mr. Stallingrath, I said no. Furthermore, I meant it. Now, please leave me alone.

She glared at him in dismissal and fervently hoped that Stallingrath would make himself scarce before Cabrera showed up. Something told her that she wouldn't want to preside over a surprise confrontation between the two men.

Very well, said Stallingrath stiffly. He turned to leave, much to Alix's relief. If you ever change your mind, get in touch.

I won't.

Stallingrath tightened his mouth, spared her a look that could only be called contemptuous, and clapped his hat on his head. Then, without another word, he strode heavily toward the parking lot where he heaved himself into a shiny white Cadillac and drove away.

Well, she had come to St. Augustine to get a job, she thought ruefully as she watched the Cadillac disappear down the street. But there were jobs and there were jobs. Treasure salvage had been her goal for so long that it was part of what made her who she was; the fact that she had just turned down a position in this limited field should have bothered her. It didn't, simply because the job had been offered by a man who made a mockery out of everything treasure salvage should be.

No, she wanted to work for Ponce Cabrera. Her refusal of Stallingrath's offer left her with no regrets. What it had left was curiosity—curiosity about how he had known so much about her and why he had made a point of seeking her out.

But in light of her pending appointment, she dismissed Luke Stallingrath from her mind. She had other things to think about at the moment. The task at hand—meeting and impressing Ponce Cabrera—remained her number-one priority.

She returned her attention to the man on the sailboard. He had deftly guided the board out into the middle of the basin, past the sailboats and yachts riding gently at their moorings. Alix shifted her attention from the skimming sailboard to focus on its rider. And then she wondered why she hadn't noticed him earlier.

To put it bluntly, he was the sort of man who wouldn't go unnoticed anywhere. His tan was deep and dark, the kind you only saw on someone with an olive complexion. His hair, ruffled by the wind, was black and curly, and the bright sunshine touched it with a high gloss. He was a solid man, his wide, barrel chest matted with more black hair which tapered below his waist into a pair of brief, black swim trunks.

He guided the sailboard by shifting his weight from one strong, muscular leg to another in an incongruously delicate manner. But it wasn't his physical appearance that was so prepossessing; it was his physical presence. There was something in his well-defined stance on the sailboard that spoke of self-assurance, and the way he leaned forward, challenging the wind, told Alix that this was a man who was accustomed to dominating.

Unexpectedly she felt a rush of physical longing for him—the kind she had not felt for anyone since she had given herself over, body and soul, to Daniel. This surging physical desire was ridiculous, considering the fact that she had just set eyes on him a few minutes ago and didn't even know who he was.

Well, she had been without a man for too long, that was the truth of it. But it was a truth she was not willing to admit, because she had come to equate a relationship with a man with loss of freedom and self. She wasn't able to confess, even to herself, her longing for what a man could give.

She grasped the railing in front of her, welcoming the rough, warm surface of the wood beneath her hand. Somehow it brought her back to reality and the task at hand, and she successfully quelled the physical longing that had so surprised her.

And that was the way she wanted it, she thought fiercely to herself. She had been subject to her treacherous emotions and desires before, with Daniel, but she had put all that behind her now. This was the time to concentrate on what was about to become the biggest adventure of her life.

She turned quickly away from the railing and walked to an unoccupied umbrella table on the deck behind her. The deck was connected by pier with the other octagons of the Coquina Chickee cocktail lounge and restaurant, interspersed with small, thatched crow's nests attached to the dock, some reached by climbing several stairs. Each crow's nest contained a table and benches where groups of people had gathered to socialize after docking their boats, creating a party atmosphere complete with music, laughter, and the clink of ice in highball glasses.

A cocktail waitress stopped to take her order; Alix ordered a honeydew daiquiri.

Has Mr. Cabrera asked for me? Alix asked, glancing anxiously at her wristwatch. Cabrera wasn't late, yet.

No, said the waitress, but when he arrives we'll tell him where you are. She bustled off toward the lounge.

Alix shook her hair off her face and inhaled a deep breath of salt-flavored air. She'd need all the cool she could muster for this meeting.

Ponce Cabrera was a man, not a myth, she reminded herself. But how could she help but be nervous about their meeting when it meant so much to her? She not only wanted him to hire her as a diver, but, if the recent news item she had read in Personality magazine were true, she had to divert him from trying to salvage Santa Catalina. She clutched at the thin fabric purse she carried and felt the two reassuring rolls of microfilm concealed in the lining.

She stared out over the water, deliberately turning her eyes from the sailboard rider, who adroitly maneuvered out of the way of a speedboat, mastering its wake skillfully. The sun dazzled her as it sparkled off the blue water like so many bright sequins.

She hardly knew what to expect of the legendary Ponce Cabrera. A descendant of one of the proud Minorcan families that had colonized an area near St. Augustine in 1763, he had been born and raised in the nation's oldest city. According to his company website biography, he'd grown up fascinated by tales of gold pieces of eight washed ashore on the Florida coast.

When Cabrera inherited a modest family fortune ten years ago, he had, recklessly according to some skeptics, staked it all on the salvage of another Spanish ship, Santa Ana, located off the Florida Keys. Against all odds, including harassment from Luke Stallingrath, foul weather, mechanical troubles and exhaustion, Cabrera and his crew found treasure. It had made them all millionaires.

Cabrera salvaged from the depths of the ocean hundreds of pounds of silver pieces of eight, clumps of gold coins, gold-plated jewel boxes, gold religious artifacts, gold and silver statues, chains, and other jewelry of all kinds.

The archaeological integrity of the shipwreck had been ensured by Cabrera himself. He'd gone to great lengths to preserve the priceless artifacts, such as pottery and glassware, that showed how the Spaniards of that time period lived.

Although treasure salvage off the Florida coast became big business, attracting a host of jealous competitors, only Luke Stallingrath had come close to Cabrera's success. Cabrera became a charismatic international hero, one of the last great entrepreneurs, a man who exemplified courage, romance, and daring. His fame alone was enough to make Alix edgy. This was a job she really wanted, the job of her dreams. She didn't want to mess this up.

Suddenly a shadow blocked the sun. The man who had been riding the sailboard stood directly in front of her, and in that instant she recognized who he was.

White teeth flashed against the dark tan; gray eyes, bright as silver in sunlight, regarded her with puzzlement. Again, looking at him called forth a feeling that could only be described as sexual, a tremor that had its origin somewhere deep in the center of her.

I'm sorry, there must be some mistake, he said curtly. He turned to walk away.

Wait, she said, surprising herself at the sharpness of her tone. If you're Ponce Cabrera, there's no mistake.

He turned slowly to face her, sweeping his eyes first over her face and then her slim figure, taking in the clinging blouse and the well-tailored slacks that emphasized the sinuous curves of her hips. I'm Cabrera, all right, but I'm looking for a man, and you most certainly do not qualify.

I'm Alix Pendenning, she said. I believe we have an appointment. With a name like hers, she was used to the error.

Heavy eyebrows lifted skyward, gray eyes hardened into slivers of granite and chilled her with their distrust. Her heart pounded as he studied her face, weighing the sum total of her blue eyes, softly chiseled nose, lips that curved upward no matter how serious she felt, and her slightly dimpled chin.

I was expecting a man, Cabrera said flatly. Alex Pendenning.

It's Alix, she informed him steadily, refusing to smile. A variant of the name Alice. My mother prided herself in being original, and it's caused me trouble all my life. She indicated the chair beside her. I'm eager to talk business.

Cabrera eyed her suspiciously for a moment before gesturing to the waitress to bring him a drink.

I can't believe we have any business to discuss, he said. In fact, it's only my friendship for Bobby Turk that keeps me from walking away down that dock. I asked Bobby to send me a diver. He regarded her with ill-disguised irritation.

Alix stifled sudden anger. "I can assure you that Bobby did send you a diver. The fact that I'm also a woman shouldn't enter into it."

Cabrera stared at her intently, gray eyes upon blue. Then he laughed, and Alix's heart sank. As he shook his head, droplets of fine spray, mementoes of his sail boarding, transformed sunbeams into diamonds. I believe you're serious, he said in disbelief.

I'm a certified commercial diver.

He quirked an eyebrow. A beautiful blond bombshell who dives for a living? Unfortunately, honey, there's more to it than that.

Cabrera lifted a bottle of beer to his lips and drank. For the first time, as he raised his head, Alix noticed the soft gleam of a heavy gold chain curving through the dark, curly hairs on his chest.

A thrill of excitement and anticipation ran through her. There was no doubt in her mind that the beautiful chain was Spanish. The intricately carved links told her that. She was looking at Ponce Cabrera's treasure trove, and the sight of it only whetted her determination.

We'll get along a lot better if you stop patronizing me, she said. Her blue eyes rested on him, cold and hard. Her callousness was a put-on, a protective mechanism she had learned from her experience with Daniel. No one—ever—was going to take advantage of her again. Her frigid gaze produced the desired effect. Cabrera leaned back in his chair, studying her with reluctant respect.

You're right, he said shortly. I apologize. Bobby Turk wouldn't have sent you if he didn't think you were right for the job. He's made a serious error in judgment.

Bobby felt that, out of his last class of divers, I was best qualified to help you.

Look, I'm a busy man, but if you have something to say, I'll listen. Up to a point.

He was giving her a chance. Now was not the time to lose heart.

Alix swallowed, hoping she didn't appear nervous. It was bad enough to look like a lightweight. She didn't want to act like one.

I'm a commercial diver, well qualified to work with your crew. And you need someone who can take underwater photographs, which I can do. I have a master's degree in Spanish history—specifically, Spanish maritime history. Shall I go on?

Ponce Cabrera stared at her with the qualified admiration of a skeptic. Please, he said. His eyebrows had settled back to their normal position on his forehead, but now a deep furrow had imprinted itself between them. It was a sign that she had his attention, thought Alix thankfully.

She plunged on. In my study of history at the Spanish Maritime Museum in Barcelona, I came across some valuable information. I think you'll be most interested when you hear about it.

His expression slid into undisguised exasperation. Do you have any idea how many crazy ideas I hear from people who want me to put my ship and crew at their disposal because they're sure they know exactly where a Spanish galleon went down in the seventeenth century?

I know what I'm talking about.

So say they all, muttered Cabrera before raising the beer bottle to his lips.

She hadn't traveled all the way to St. Augustine to be dismissed so easily. She leaned forward, trying to sound earnest and keeping the irritation out of her voice.

I'm here because I have information that I think could be beneficial to both of us. Let's face it, Mr. Cabrera—you need me more than I need you. You're late in beginning a new diving season, and you don't have a full crew of divers. Nor do you have anyone who can take underwater photographs. The month of April is almost over, which means—

I know, I know, he cut her off impatiently. I only have, at the most, four months during which I can count on the weather being even halfway good for diving. That's a problem in this business—you don't have to point it out to me.

"By September you're likely to be battling tropical storms or even a hurricane or two, ending any diving venture for several months. You're paying crew members while Minorcan sits idle at the dock. Now, do you want me to get up and walk away, or shall I stay?"

He stared at her, a shrewd expression on his face, and for the first time she saw a glimmer of real interest in the depths of his eyes. You're gutsy. I like that.

Does that mean I stay or go? You decide.

Ponce sighed. You have it all figured out, but regardless of this 'information' that you insist will interest me, I can't employ you on my ship.

Why not? Her question was a challenge.

My divers work in teams of three, and the work is physically exhausting. It often requires day upon day of moving ballast stones from place to place underwater, and I doubt that you have the physical stamina for that. It wouldn't be fair to the other divers on a team to assign them a woman for a partner; they'd be required to do all the heavy work. Anyway, we just hired a new diver this morning, so that only leaves us minus two.

As the photographer for the expedition, most of my time would be spent taking photographs, countered Alix. "I'd have very little time for the heavy work. You did specify to Bobby Turk that you wanted someone with underwater photographic skills. And being minus two divers can make a big difference in a short diving season like the one you're facing now."

Cabrera ran an impatient hand through his black curls, which were drying in soft ringlets. They fell over his broad forehead in an endearing rumpled effect. You're a tenacious woman, aren't you? he said with grudging admiration. You grab on and won't let go.

Alix, hoping that his defenses were crumbling, smiled across the table at him. When I know what I want, I go after it, she admitted. And I want to be a member of your crew.

Whether or not I can use this 'information' of yours? Was he teasing her? Leading her on? Putting her in her place? His expression was blank.

Alix thought carefully for a moment. It sounded as though the diving job could be hers, and even if he refused to accept the importance of the documents she had discovered, the diving job was a toehold in the business of treasure salvage. Slowly she nodded, keeping her eyes focused on his face.

He studied her silently, letting his gray eyes, steely now, plumb the depths of hers. Finally he sighed, and his lips curved into an unwilling smile. I've done crazy things in the name of hunches, but they usually work out. Yes, I'm going to hire you, Alix Pendenning.

His quick decision, even though it was what she had hoped for, stunned her. Then sweet triumph swept over her, and she beamed at him across the table.

You won't regret it, Mr. Cabrera, she said.

It's Ponce and Alix now. If you want to discuss this 'information' you say you have, and if it's really not a cockamamie scheme, let's talk about it tonight over dinner.

He smiled at her winningly, and for the first time since their meeting she realized that he was relating to her as a man to a woman, not as employer to prospective employee.

I'll welcome the chance to tell you what I've found, she said, keeping her tone casual despite the fact that her heart seemed to be skipping beats.

Fine. I assume they've put you in one of the apartments I keep on reserve here for my crew? Good. I'll pick you up this evening at seven. He drained the dregs of the beer and stood up. He still wore the brief swimsuit he had worn while sail boarding, and it emphasized the hard flatness of his abdomen and his slim but powerful hips. In fact, his physique was so impressive that Alix felt soft flutterings somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

Apparently unaware of his effect on her, Cabrera nodded, held her gaze a split second too long for comfort, and strode away up the dock. The sun glinted off the bright golden chain at his neck.

Alix's mind suddenly hitched itself into another sphere, a place where, in her mind's eye, her own hands rested lightly on the warm, slick muscles of Ponce Cabrera's back. The sensation of his skin seemed so real beneath her rounded fingertips that she involuntarily clenched them into tight fists.

For she was imagining that Ponce Cabrera was making love to her, his face above hers, passion blurring the normally hard planes beneath his cheekbones, bringing unmindful innocence of line to his lips. He would caress her slowly, those aristocratic, ringless fingers brushing her skin like feathers, drifting the full length of her body as she sucked in her breath at the sheer, sweeping simplicity of their bodies addressing each other in this timeless, primitive way.

And then she slipped out of her daydream as easily as she had slipped in, leaving the inexplicable, encompassing scene behind and becoming once again part of the group on the deck overlooking Salt Run.

Ponce Cabrera disappeared in a throng of merrymakers, leaving Alix feeling shaken and elated and wanting nothing so much as something to quench her sudden thirst.

Chapter 2

When she finished her daiquiri, Alix walked slowly along the dock toward her apartment, thinking about Daniel. He'd been on her mind again entirely too much lately, but she couldn't help wondering what he would think about her becoming a commercial diver. Scuba diving had been his hobby, and he'd always thought of her as tagging along in order to be near him. Daniel would be surprised to find that diving had become an obsession with her after he'd left, almost as though her mastery of the sport he loved could make up for the fact that she had never quite mastered him.

It seemed like such a short time ago that she had been living in Barcelona, working feverishly on her thesis at the Spanish Maritime Museum during the week and relaxing languidly with Daniel on weekends, making passionate love, indulging in equally passionate fights, or participating in Daniel's hobby, scuba diving.

The most miserable day in her life had been that day in Barcelona when she discovered that Daniel had packed up and moved out of his little apartment. She had no idea where he could have gone. He left no note, nor did she receive word from him later. His departure was totally, heartbreakingly unexpected. Certainly they'd had their rough spots, but she'd thought they'd smoothed them out. Apparently they hadn't, at least not enough for Daniel.

She'd been devastated when Daniel left, taking all her hopes and dreams with him. Together they'd talked of a bright future together.

Listen, babe, he had murmured one night after an especially intense session of lovemaking, when you're through with your thesis, let's take off. We'll find somewhere where the water is clear and the breezes balmy. Tahiti, maybe.

The Bahamas, she had said sleepily, relaxing as his fingers traced slow spirals on her bare back. Florida. Sign on as divers salvaging treasure from the old Spanish galleons.

They had dreamed and planned together, looking forward to the day when they would work side by side as professional treasure-salvage divers. For Alix, the prospect of this sort of work was nothing less than idyllic. What better way could there be to combine her interest in history with her increasing enjoyment of scuba diving? Parallel careers for her and Daniel would be, she thought, the basis for a growing, enthusiastic relationship, perhaps even including marriage someday.

Evidently Daniel's thoughts had run along different lines, because she had never heard from him after he'd disappeared with no explanation. It was a time when she'd bent to the utmost and almost broken; it was a time when her resiliency was truly put to the test.

I've got to pull myself together, she kept telling herself, and she did, barely. The only thing that kept her going was her determination to finish the remaining research for her thesis, which was a study of the decline of Spanish maritime power and its effect on the Spanish economy during that country's colonization of the New World. In the archives of the Maritime Museum she had numbly pored over microfilmed letters, ancient cargo manifests and other long-forgotten records of Spanish trade.

It was in the last days of her research that Alix stumbled across the obscure documents that were to make her want to change her life so drastically.

The letters she discovered provided the chance to rise out of her deep depression, and from the depths of her despair she clutched desperately at that chance. She found new energy to finish her thesis, collected her degree and set out on the path that was to lead her to St. Augustine.

Alix sighed, putting Daniel out of her mind. This wasn't the time to be thinking of failures, and her split with Daniel most certainly was that. Ponce Cabrera, St. Augustine, and her new job as a crew member on Minorcan were promising her a new, fulfilling life.

No, she was promising herself a new, fulfilling life, she corrected herself. No one else was responsible for her happiness—she had come to the conclusion that happiness, or, at the very least, contentment, was up to her and her alone. She'd made another person the keystone of her life once. When he'd left, she'd crumbled. She wouldn't allow that to happen again.

She was turning the key in the lock of her door when she saw him. There was no mistaking that long, lanky frame or that tilt of the torso she had once found so sexy. It couldn't be Daniel, not here, not in St. Augustine. But it could, and it was.

Daniel! she gasped. The world seemed to slip sideways into the periphery of her vision. She stared at him, went weak in the knees, felt the blood rush from her head.

Alix. His voice was neutral. He seemed not at all surprised to see her. There could be only one explanation for that. He'd known she'd be here.

Then her defenses took over. There was no forgetting all the hurt, the anger, the despair that his abandonment had caused her.

I don't want to see you, Daniel, she said firmly.

Just for a few minutes. You owe me that. His flecked green eyes were too cocksure; he'd always been that way.

She pushed her door open and stepped inside, then turned to face him. I don't owe you anything, she said. I never want to see you again.

Daniel sauntered forward, a confident grin on his face. In fact, it was more smirk than grin. Alix felt a tiny coil of disgust unwinding in her stomach. He stood in her way, one hand on either side of the door, blocking it.

He was a fine figure of a man; she'd always thought so. He was lean but muscular, and tanned to an even bronze. His light brown hair was nothing exceptional, but he had a handsome face with a straight, sharp nose and a stubborn jaw line. His expressive lips could either pout or cajole with great proficiency. The corners of his mouth lifted in that one-sided grin that had too often convinced her to give in during arguments when she was right, not wrong.

"But you will see me again, babe. If, as I suspect, you've hired on as a member of Minorcan's crew." He lowered his eyelids, looked down at her, and ran his gaze lingeringly over her curves.

So you know, she said, feeling as though she'd been dealt some sort of low blow. What it was, she couldn't figure out. Deep down inside, she knew that the sudden appearance of her former lover boded ill.

She went on into the apartment, turning her back on him for a few moments while she tried to grow accustomed to the fact that he was here. Daniel. How could it be? She ran her fingers through her hair in agitation.

Do that again, babe. Your hair is lovely, all striped from salt water and sun.

Don't call me babe! she said. She'd outgrown his nickname for her. It implied dependency, had been a subtle way of keeping her submissive to him, was condescending.

Why are you here, Daniel? She pivoted to face him.

I wanted to see you. I hope we can patch it up. For a moment his face held a look of entreaty, and then, perhaps thinking he saw a wavering on her part, he strode into the room and pulled her roughly into his arms, pinning her against the wall.

He was taller than she remembered, but his arms wrapped around her in exactly the same way, measuring her slim girth with their length.

Then his mouth was upon hers, forcing hers open, demanding that she give what he counted as his due. His breath quickened and she began to breathe faster too, but not in passion, even though that might have been what Daniel thought. Growing panicky, trapped by the wall behind her, she pushed against his chest, which only seemed to renew his fervor. And yet, despite her aversion, her body was beginning to respond to him in the same old way. With a mighty wrench she pulled away from him and retreated to the middle of the room, holding the back of her hand to her lips.

You have your nerve, showing up after all this time and wanting to 'patch it up'! she cried, her voice trembling. You left me in shreds, Daniel. Get out.

His eyes locked with hers. "You can order me out, but you can't rid yourself of me for good. You see, today I signed on as one of your fellow crew members on Minorcan."

Ponce had said they'd just hired a new diver. No! she gasped.

Daniel laughed as though it were a marvelous joke.

We'll be occupying close quarters, he continued. Maybe we could double up to save room. In fact, we could shower together to save water. Remember that time in Madrid when—

Stop it! she said, the fury fairly leaping from her eyes. Get out of here, Daniel, and don't come back. If it's true that we'll be working together, then so be it. But I never want you to mention our relationship again. The emphasis behind her words left no doubt that she meant it.

You're sounding particularly touchy today, he said, reluctantly turning to leave. Well, don't worry, Alix. I'm not about to mention those documents you found in the Spanish Maritime Museum.

Her sharp intake of breath felt like a blow to the stomach.

He regarded her with another one of those infuriating grins. Oh, that little librarian in the microfilm room—Paquita Mumez? Ply her with red wine, and she becomes very talkative.

Alix regained control of herself. She knew she couldn't let Daniel find out any more than he knew. And he was bluffing—he had to be. Paquita, featherbrain that she was, had never known what Alix found. She might have had her suspicions, but she couldn't know anything definite. Daniel had never been interested in Spanish maritime history and lacked the patience or ability to decipher the difficult archaic Spanish language. Daniel was bluffing, or he would have used the letters himself.

Alix drew herself up to her full five feet three inches. I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel. Leave me alone! She slammed the door behind him as hard as she could.

She spent an exceptionally unsettled afternoon, alternately walking the floor of the apartment, cursing whatever circumstances had brought Daniel to her very doorstep at this crucial time, and at other times sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed and pondering all the whys and wherefores of her situation. She had never smoked, but for once she wished she did. She would have smoked now, turning the air blue, tapping long ashes into ashtrays.

By late afternoon she'd pushed Daniel and her harrowing encounter with him to the far recesses of her mind. She had serious business with Ponce Cabrera tonight, and she'd better be prepared.

Clothes, that's what she'd think about first. She forced herself to go to the closet and pull a white silk blouse from its hanger and toss it on the bed. She added a navy linen blazer and a softly pleated pair of gray slacks. She'd be casual, but the blazer would give her some authority, and the white blouse was such a classic style that it could only be called unobtrusive. She didn't want attention on her looks or her clothes to distract Ponce Cabrera from her purpose.

When she had showered and applied makeup, she had recovered well enough to look around appreciatively at the apartment Ponce Cabrera had provided.

Her efficiency apartment featured a wide-window view of Salt Run and was decorated with an eye to comfort as well as luxury. Plantation shutters filtered the glare of the sun without obstructing the view, and a judicious placing of plants softened the angles and lines of the modern furniture. On the longest wall hung a seascape showing softly sculptured dunes swooping toward a tranquil sea. She drew strength from that tranquility, though she knew that the sea's temperament could change in an instant. She tried not to think about that.

It was almost seven o'clock, so she turned on the television set and sat down on the living-room couch to wait for Ponce. She had tucked one roll of her precious microfilm in her inside blazer pocket, and the second one pinpointing the location of the wreck remained in the lining of the purse she carried. If she convinced Ponce that she knew of a better and more valuable treasure than he would find on Santa Catalina—but then, if wasn't a word in her vocabulary. She would convince him—she would. A knock startled her, and she checked the peephole in the door to make sure it was Ponce before she opened it.

How could he look so utterly cool and self-assured when she was so easily undone by the glimmer of something amused and avid in his eyes? She suspected—no, she knew—that Ponce sensed the profoundly sensual effect he had on her, and that he found it humorous. In fact, his lips—why hadn't she noticed before how full they were, how softly voluptuous?—curved into a lazy smile. Are you going to invite me in? he asked, his eyes twinkling.

She couldn't remember when she had last felt this light, giddy, tingling feeling. Probably not since she was an undergraduate in college, when it had accompanied crushes on boys who, with the passage of time, had become faceless and nameless. She'd thought she was beyond all that silliness. She was an adult now, twenty-eight years old, with a serious love affair behind her. Yet here she was, reacting with no more maturity than a teenager greeting her first boyfriend. It was ridiculous, especially when she put it in perspective with her clash with Daniel earlier. She felt like she'd been bounced up and down on an emotional seesaw in one day.

Of course, she said, retrieving the words somehow from a brain that seemed to be sloshing back and forth inside her skull, where her words and thoughts swam around like so many goldfish so that she couldn't even catch them, much less enunciate them. She stood aside as he stepped into the room.

Nice digs, he said, looking around. Comfortable enough?

First-class. Thanks for the luxury.

"It's the least I can do for my divers. Your Minorcan accommodations are considerably less posh." He grinned at her.

His linen sports coat made his broad shoulders seem wider; he wore it over a dark brown shirt, which was thrown open to reveal the ample supply of springy black hair on his chest. His form-fitting pants emphasized his muscular thighs. He was smiling at her in open appreciation.

Fortunately there was the television set to be turned off. She flicked the remote and wished for a moment that she'd never seen Ponce Cabrera. Or that his gray eyes weren't so penetrating. Or that his mouth didn't look like it knew all too well how to kiss, knew all the gentle maneuvers of lips and tongue...

I thought we'd go out on the dock to the Coquina Chickee for dinner, he said smoothly. They have a pretty good conch chowder for openers, and I highly recommend the scallops.

Fine, she said, flashing him a smile. Having managed that, she picked up her purse and said lightly, Lead me to it.

At seven o'clock, the sun was barely starting to set in the west, and boats were still slipping past the marina. The water, shimmering like silk, was an unbelievably intense cerulean blue. Ponce took her arm and guided her along the path to the dock. The feathery fronds of palmetto trees rustled softly overhead in the breeze.

The waiter at the Coquina Chickee greeted Ponce warmly and showed them to a secluded table with a prize view of Salt Run. Once they had placed their order, Ponce leaned back and regarded her thoughtfully.

I'm curious, he said. How did you ever decide to become a commercial diver? His eyes settled on the dimple in her chin.

Her mind flipped through an assortment of replies, but, mindful of his attention to her dimple, she decided to be straightforward and businesslike.

I was a marine historian first, she said. Later I became interested in scuba diving as a hobby and combined it with another hobby, photography. When I finished my thesis at the Spanish Maritime Museum in Barcelona, I knew I wanted to consolidate all my interests. So I used the last of my parents' life insurance money to attend Bobby Turk's commercial diving school. And here I am.

Here you are, he agreed, looking as though the thought didn't displease him. His eyes had moved from her dimple to her lips, where they lingered in absorbed fascination. Still, you could be working on an oil rig somewhere, or photographing underwater industrial salvage operations. What inspired you to take up treasure salvage?

You did, she said quickly, looking him directly in the eye.

How?

You've succeeded at treasure salvage where others have failed, and you've kept a reputation for integrity. That's important to me. I wanted to work for you. It's as simple as that. She tried to sound matter-of-fact, businesslike; it was difficult with him sitting across from her, looking so unbelievably handsome.

Alix, let's get down to business. Where does this 'information' of yours fit in?

You're the one person in the world who may be able to pursue what I've found, she shot back. She waited for his reaction.

He raised his eyebrows, a challenge. His reply was swift. Why didn't you favor my competitor, Luke Stallingrath, with this information, instead of me?

She locked her eyes on his. "It's no secret that Stallingrath openly harassed your crew when they were working the Santa Ana shipwreck and that he deliberately planted false artifacts hoping you would lose credibility. I'm an historian first, then a diver and finally a photographer. I won't put my reputation in jeopardy by associating with the likes of Luke Stallingrath."

A nice speech, said Ponce, but she knew that she had impressed him with her fervor. "Still, you know that Stallingrath has salvaged Nuestra Dama de la Navidad successfully to the tune of twenty million dollars or more."

He plundered it, you mean. He had no regard for the priceless artifacts, the porcelain, the hand-blown wine bottles that survived the shipwreck. His work was slipshod and careless. He wanted only the gold. Her disdain put a hard edge on her words.

Their scallops arrived and Ponce sampled a forkful before he spoke.

You and I think alike, said Ponce. How do I know I can trust you? Treasure hunting is top-secret business. I can't share confidential information with anyone I can't trust. Even our destination when we leave port is secret. Most of my crew don't know where we're headed on our upcoming mission. You're aware of that, right? His eyes stabbed into her from across the table.

"I believe along with a lot of other people that you plan to salvage Santa Catalina—if you can even find her. And I'm here to convince you not to attempt it."

Ponce was clearly taken aback. His eyes went steely, but he quickly recovered and said quietly, I think it's about time you told me exactly what kind of information you're offering. He took another forkful of scallops, his manner studiously casual.

She drew a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. What would you say if I told you that I know the location of King Philip the Fifth's jewels?

He stopped chewing and searched her face for traces of levity, dishonesty, or bluff. He found none of these, only an intent earnestness that assured him she was serious.

I'd say you were loco, he said. Or deceptive.

Wrong, she said.

Explain. Please. He regarded her with watchful interest.

She leaned forward earnestly. Ponce, you probably know almost as much about Spanish maritime history as I do. You've heard that the jewels destined for King Philip's bride were in the fleet headed for Spain when the 1715 hurricane struck and the ships sank.

All ships but one, corrected Ponce. "El Grifon survived the hurricane because her captain disobeyed orders and sailed one-half point northeast."

All the ships but two, said Alix, suppressing her excitement. "El Grifon's sister ship, El Primero de Mayo, wasn't as fortunate as El Grifon. She foundered and sank after the hurricane, and King Philip's jewels went down with her." She had Ponce's attention now.

"I've never heard of any sister ship to El Grifon, he said slowly. All accounts I've read state that there were eleven ships in that fleet—ten ships that were joined by El Grifon, captained by Antonio Daré, who insisted that his ship join the Spanish convoy for safe conduct across the Atlantic."

There's more to the story, Alix said. Philip was desperate to receive the treasure, especially the jewels for his bride. While taking on supplies in Havana, Cuba, Captain Ubilla of the Spanish fleet got wind of a massive pirate plot to overtake the convoy and capture its treasures.

Bad news for the king. Those jewels were supposed to rejuvenate his sex life. His not-so-loving bride had banned him from her bedroom. Ponce's eyes sparkled mischievously.

Alix wasn't about to be sidetracked into a discussion of the royal couple's sex life, although sex never seemed to be far from her mind around Ponce Cabrera.

She smiled and went on. "Daré's two ships were in better condition than the lumbering old Spanish vessels, and Ubilla knew the jewels were of prime importance to his king. So he made a secret deal with Captain Daré—safe conduct across the Atlantic with his fleet, provided that Daré carry the precious jewels and other important treasure on the swift El Primero de Mayo, which in case of pirate attack had a fighting chance to escape. For security reasons El Primero was never listed as part of the convoy."

Wait a minute, interrupted Ponce, looking uneasy. That's where you lose me. I've never read anything about such a deal between Ubilla and Daré, and—

"That's because it