Page 42 of Take Me Back
“Of course we don’t mind. The more the merrier.” My response sounds less than sincere.
Anya drops onto the bench on the opposite side of Dane. “As long as it doesn’t turn into one of those three-hour tours likeGilligan’s Island, you know?”
“We’re already trapped on an island together, so it’s not like much else would change,” Vander says, and Anya giggles predictably.
About thirty minutes later, Fedor drops the anchor at our first snorkeling spot. Dane hands me my mask and snorkel out of the mesh gear bag he brought, and I get a pair of fins from Fedor along with Vander. When Fedor holds out a snorkel and mask to Anya, she makes a little moue of disgust.
“Not only am I not putting my mouth on something someone else has used, this swimsuit isn’t really meant to go in the water.”
She stripped down about ten seconds after we pulled away from the dock, revealing aSports Illustrated Swimsuit Editioncover-worthy bikini in bright raspberry shimmery fabric with the teeniest top I’ve ever seen. When she relocated to a seat in the sun, I got a full view of her booty, courtesy of the thong bottoms.
“You mean to tell me that you raced down the dock and forced me to hurry, all so you could lay in the sun, which you could have easily done on the island?” Vander sounds slightly annoyed, but more exasperated.
Anya shoots him a smile. “You can pretend you’re annoyed, but I know you and boats. The more you’re on one, the happier you are.”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s probably trying to soften me up to buy her a new car.”
“You know that the new Porsche was just announced, and I look so good in anything German.”
They’ve joked and bickered for the last thirty minutes while Dane and I have watched the Vander-Anya show.
Maybe this is what we’re missing in our relationship? We don’t just ... talk. When is the last time we joked around? When did everything get soheavyall the time? Maybe that’s what we really need to get back—starting today.
I’m lost in contemplation when Vander strips off his shirt in front of me. He’s fit, with a defined chest and flat stomach, but he’s got nothing on Dane’s carved physique.
Vander catches my absent gaze and shoots me a wink.
Crap.I turn away and yank my mask over my head. The last thing I want is to encourage him.
We’ll just pretend that didn’t happen.
Chapter 17
Dane
After forty-five minutes in the water following Fedor as he points out fish and coral I’ve seen a hundred times, something interesting finally swims into view.
A motherfucking shark. The long, smooth gray body cuts through the water efficiently, moving closer every second.
I’m not a shark expert, but given the dark marking on its fins, I’m guessing it’s a blacktip rather than a nurse shark.
I lift my head from the water to do a quick scan of the surface. The catamaran is less than a hundred yards away, but there’s no way in hell we can outswim the shark if it decides to attack. Kat’s irrational fear of sharks will paralyze her in the water.
Logically, I know that it’s just curious and hopefully not a threat, but Kat won’t see it that way.
My choice is made, and I feel no guilt over what I’m about to do. I’ve kept things from her since the day we met, all in the name of protecting her, so I might as well add one more thing to the list.
I reach out and tap her on the thigh. She turns to me, all pink-masked and cute as hell, and I lift my face out of the water, trying to keep the body of the shark within my line of sight at the same time.
“Let’s go get some water. Take a break.”
She nods enthusiastically and mumbles something through her snorkel. Fedor and Vander are another thirty feet away, and this may be a dick move, but they’re both men who can fend for themselves. Right now, my only concern is my wife and her safety.
The blacktip swims deeper into the valley between corals as I motion for Kat to swim ahead of me.
Could I defend us both against a shark? Probably. I’ve got a knife in the pocket of my shorts, and short of that, I’m not afraid to put my body between her and its teeth. Up ahead, Captain Tisdale sees us swimming toward him, away from the tour, and I check for the blacktip behind us. It’s about twenty yards out to the right. If it decides we look like prey, there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to make it the rest of the way before it reaches us.
We’re fifteen feet from the ladder when Tisdale spots the fin. He points, and catches Kat’s attention.
