point forcefully at the perimeter of the coquina-shell pan.
He followed her lead, working tirelessly for almost an hour, recovering nothing but a nail, which she slipped into a zippered pouch on her weight bag. Periodically she checked the ballast pile, probably gauging a direction or specific spot where something had been found.
In one place, she mimed the line of a necklace around her neck. That must be close to where Alita found the chain. She pointed for him to go several feet away and start detecting while she worked where she stood.
In other words, go out of visibility distance.
Not a chance. He shook his head and she dropped her shoulders and glared at him in disgust. Then she tapped her dive watch, hard, and made a gesture of frustration. They were running out of time, she was trying to tell him. Meaning the discovery, if there was to be one today, might be made by the next dive team.
Reluctantly, he nodded, pointing to a place he’d go, still within visibility of her. She agreed with a half shrug, then flicked her hand as if to say, Move it! He swam there, splitting his attention between the sand on the pan and the woman who was now turned so he couldn’t see if she dropped something into her weight bag.
How long would it have taken him to hone in on Lizzie Dare if he hadn’t caught her in the lab? Not long, because he’d have honed right in on her anyway as soon as he met her. She might not have the lingerie model’s body that Alita Holloway had, but there was something much more attractive to him about Lizzie.
He glanced over to watch her glide through the water, her concentration unaffected by a school of bluefish that swam between her and her magnetometer, her attention focused so intensely it was like watching a machine work the hunt.
The soft beep of her detector sounded, and she reacted. Instantly, he swam over, reaching her in two long kicks, setting his device down to move the dirt by hand.
She worked the detector like it was an extension of her body, following the speed of the beeps, faster, louder… closer.
He brushed a chunk of coral out of his way, and as it rolled, the underside glowed bright gold, like it had just been polished and put under a light.
Their hands smashed together as they lunged for it, but he was faster, closing his fingers over the metal and gently nudging it free. He heard her loud and furious grunt of frustration.
Con held it out for her to see, carefully brushing some loose bits of sand to reveal the shape as he turned it in the water.
Frustration gone for a moment, Lizzie just floated closer, drawn to the two-inch round brooch or medallion, a purplish crust around at least a half-dozen gemstones and something that ran straight down the center.
She reached out to loosen more coral, her fingers reverent and her movement slow. Through the water, he heard her low moan of reaction. Surprise and disbelief widened her eyes. Recognition.
She knew this piece.
Con closed his other hand around his hose, but Lizzie reached out, stabbing her fingers through the water to stop him from signaling, her eyes flashing at him.
She held up her hand as if to say, Wait .
Why wait to tell the ship they’d made an amazing recovery?
She put her hands together as though to plead with him, her eyes soft and begging. Then she reached for it, tentatively, holding up one finger as if to ask for just one minute with it.
As her fingers moved toward the treasure, her eyes met his with nothing but desire, and he couldn’t deny her the moment. Obviously she couldn’t steal it right in front of him. And he couldn’t care less about having the “first hands” touch the treasure and getting credit for the find.
He let her take it, rewarded by a smile in her golden brown eyes.
She brushed the coral-encrusted piece with a gentle finger, holding it toward the sunlight that streamed through the water, examining it carefully. She turned it over, ran her fingers along the sides, counted the
He followed her lead, working tirelessly for almost an hour, recovering nothing but a nail, which she slipped into a zippered pouch on her weight bag. Periodically she checked the ballast pile, probably gauging a direction or specific spot where something had been found.
In one place, she mimed the line of a necklace around her neck. That must be close to where Alita found the chain. She pointed for him to go several feet away and start detecting while she worked where she stood.
In other words, go out of visibility distance.
Not a chance. He shook his head and she dropped her shoulders and glared at him in disgust. Then she tapped her dive watch, hard, and made a gesture of frustration. They were running out of time, she was trying to tell him. Meaning the discovery, if there was to be one today, might be made by the next dive team.
Reluctantly, he nodded, pointing to a place he’d go, still within visibility of her. She agreed with a half shrug, then flicked her hand as if to say, Move it! He swam there, splitting his attention between the sand on the pan and the woman who was now turned so he couldn’t see if she dropped something into her weight bag.
How long would it have taken him to hone in on Lizzie Dare if he hadn’t caught her in the lab? Not long, because he’d have honed right in on her anyway as soon as he met her. She might not have the lingerie model’s body that Alita Holloway had, but there was something much more attractive to him about Lizzie.
He glanced over to watch her glide through the water, her concentration unaffected by a school of bluefish that swam between her and her magnetometer, her attention focused so intensely it was like watching a machine work the hunt.
The soft beep of her detector sounded, and she reacted. Instantly, he swam over, reaching her in two long kicks, setting his device down to move the dirt by hand.
She worked the detector like it was an extension of her body, following the speed of the beeps, faster, louder… closer.
He brushed a chunk of coral out of his way, and as it rolled, the underside glowed bright gold, like it had just been polished and put under a light.
Their hands smashed together as they lunged for it, but he was faster, closing his fingers over the metal and gently nudging it free. He heard her loud and furious grunt of frustration.
Con held it out for her to see, carefully brushing some loose bits of sand to reveal the shape as he turned it in the water.
Frustration gone for a moment, Lizzie just floated closer, drawn to the two-inch round brooch or medallion, a purplish crust around at least a half-dozen gemstones and something that ran straight down the center.
She reached out to loosen more coral, her fingers reverent and her movement slow. Through the water, he heard her low moan of reaction. Surprise and disbelief widened her eyes. Recognition.
She knew this piece.
Con closed his other hand around his hose, but Lizzie reached out, stabbing her fingers through the water to stop him from signaling, her eyes flashing at him.
She held up her hand as if to say, Wait .
Why wait to tell the ship they’d made an amazing recovery?
She put her hands together as though to plead with him, her eyes soft and begging. Then she reached for it, tentatively, holding up one finger as if to ask for just one minute with it.
As her fingers moved toward the treasure, her eyes met his with nothing but desire, and he couldn’t deny her the moment. Obviously she couldn’t steal it right in front of him. And he couldn’t care less about having the “first hands” touch the treasure and getting credit for the find.
He let her take it, rewarded by a smile in her golden brown eyes.
She brushed the coral-encrusted piece with a gentle finger, holding it toward the sunlight that streamed through the water, examining it carefully. She turned it over, ran her fingers along the sides, counted the
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