in her bank account. “And thanks for the discount.”
Taking the jacket from her, he smiled. “You won’t regret it.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked lightly. Lightly, she’d decided, was the only way to deal with this man.
“I’ll bet on it.”
“You’re the gambling man.” She recalled him offering to bet her that Camille and Rogan’s shining love would last. “I don’t do bets.”
“Ah, yes. The cautious type,” he teased, his eyes laughing at her. “Well, that’s good—taking risks underwater can be fatal. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Sienna wasn’t aware she’d been looking at him in any special way, except that the light in his eyes had a mesmerizing effect and she’d been caught by it, not thinking at all but unable to look away.
“As if you don’t believe me.”
What had they been talking about? Mentally she shook herself. Taking risks underwater, of course. Diving was always risky. Her instructors had made sure everyone knew the strict rules that governed the occupation, regularly hammering home the safety aspects. “You don’t strike me as the cautious type,” she told him. How did a gambling man cope with the necessary precautions?
He said grimly, “I am, underwater. Guys who do stupid things in this business don’t live long.”
Sienna went a little cold. “Have you ever done anything stupid?”
“Coupla times,” he grudgingly admitted. “When I was young and thought I was superhuman. But not anymore. I figured my luck was about to run out.”
“Is that when you decided to buy a shore business?”
Brodie laughed. “No, that came later. The thing is,” he said, sobering, “the second time I damn near took Rogue with me. He put himself at risk to save my sorry butt. Kicked it later for me, and I don’t blame him. I swore I’d never put someone else in danger again just because I felt invincible. No one is. Remember that when you’re at the bottom of the sea.”
“I’m not likely to forget.” Sienna had some sympathy for him. In a way she’d experienced a similar situation, not physically but emotionally, finding herself disastrously out of her depth before she fully realized what had happened. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself, a matter of life and death. Just as Brodie had survived his moment of truth, she’d survived the gaping wound in her heart.
It hadn’t been easy, and it wasn’t her first such mistake, but she was determined it would be her last. She’d never again been quite so vulnerable. Nowadays she was in charge of her emotions, not allowing them to escape her control. Life was much more comfortable that way.
“Something the matter?” Brodie asked, startling her.
Her expression must have betrayed her. She thrust the unwelcome memory back into her subconscious where it belonged. “Nothing,” she said brightly. “I need all the other gear too. Wet suit, flippers, mask, dive computer…”
He helped her choose the rest of her equipment, and when they were both satisfied, she said, “How do you want me to pay for this? Is a credit card okay?”
“Sure, or leave it until we get back. I’ll deliver it all to the boat for you. Are you moving to the Sea-Rogue?”
“I think I’ll stay on at the Imperial until we leave tomorrow.” There wasn’t much privacy on board, and Camille and Rogan might need as much of it as they could get before the boat sailed. Since their Easter wedding, they’d only snatched weekends together while Camille finished the semester and Rogan made preparations for PTS’s project.
“Let me know when you want to park your car at my place,” Brodie offered. “When I’m not here I’ll be at the Sea-Rogue or my place.”
“Where do you live?”
“Five minutes’ walk. If you wait around until closing time—” he glanced at his watch “—which isn’t far off, I’ll show you. Why don’t you have dinner with me there? We could get to know each other a bit before we start the trip.”
Sienna knew it was important to get on with other members of the crew, but stalled, giving herself time to consider. “Can you cook?”
“Sure I can cook. Did you think I was offering so you’d cook dinner for me? You won’t have to lift a finger—and that’s a promise.”
She didn’t actually say yes, but somehow he took it for granted that she’d accepted, and half an hour later he was ushering her through a wicket gate and along a short path to a tiny cottage with a disproportionately large garage toward the rear.
A curve of corrugated iron hooded the veranda at the front of the cottage, giving it a sleepy look. Wide wooden steps creaked as Brodie led the way up them and opened a lead-light-paneled door flanked by long old-fashioned windows.
Inside, the board floors had been varnished to a soft sheen and dressed with rugs. The furniture was minimal but Brodie pointed her to a big, comfortable sofa—chosen, she assumed, to accommodate his large body when he wanted to sprawl on it and watch the small TV set that sat in a corner.
She guessed that someone had removed a wall, replacing it with a wide arch that defined areas of the roomy living space. Besides the sofa, there were two double-seaters, a low coffee table and the TV trolley, while bookshelves lined one wall. The kitchen was separated by a polished wooden counter doubling as a dining table, with two high-backed wicker chairs pushed under it on the sitting-room side.
“Drink?” Brodie offered, opening a cupboard. “Gin, beer, wine—white or red?”
Sienna settled for white wine and he poured two. After handing hers over, he plunked himself down in one of the two-seaters. Lounging back with his long legs spread in front of him, he inquired, “Do you like nasi goreng?”
“It’s a rice dish, isn’t it? I think so. I like rice.”
“Good.” He raised his glass. “To the Maiden’s Prayer and a more successful voyage for us than her last one.”
“I should hope so!” Sienna said, and tasted the wine—cool, fruity and with a pleasant zing to it.
He drank some of his wine and lowered the glass. “How long have you known Camille?”
“A couple of years, since I started at Rusden.” Longer than her husband had known her. “I hope Rogan appreciates her.”
“He does. Rogue’s a lucky man. She’s gorgeous.”
“She is beautiful.” Sienna didn’t have Camille’s spectacular looks, only she had never been short of men to take an interest. But she’d become wary of being too eager and open, of giving too much and receiving too little. She would never fall into that trap again.
“So are you,” Brodie said.
“Please, I don’t need any empty compliments.”
“The compliment,” he said, “was sincere. Clumsy,” he acknowledged with a wry grin,
