Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Traveling alone would be easier. Going with Tim meant she couldn’t take her tracking devices or weapons, or at least not the big ones. She was going to argue, but Gabriela arrived with their food and drinks. The girl offloaded the serving tray and left again. Even if Maya’s eyes didn’t linger on Tim’s bed partner—she didn’t want to be caught staring—her thoughts did.
“Eat up,” he said. “With all that dangerous diving you’re doing, you need lots of calories.”
“You haven’t been back for the rest of your dives,” she said with a teasing smile. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriela taking Lee’s order. Gabriela gave Lee the same, impersonal but friendly treatment as Tim.
Tim cleared his throat. “I’ll have to find another way to impress you. That first dive almost killed me.”
She took a bite of her food. Mm. Tim was right. The food was delicious. “Are you saying I’m a bad divemaster?”
“I’m sure you’re the best. Water is just not my happy medium.”
She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her juice. “You must’ve drowned in a past life.”
“Maybe.” He picked up his fork. “Maybe I was a lousy, patch-eyed, one-legged sailor whose ship sunk.”
“That would’ve been more like a pirate.”
The tilt of his lips had a sudden sadness to it. “I could’ve been a pirate.” He squared his shoulders and put a visible attempt into brightening his tone. “I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know more about you.”
This was a conversation Maya always avoided at all costs. It was better to change the subject. “I still have your shirt. I hope you’re not expecting it back washed and ironed.”
He gave a soft laugh. “You don’t iron? Not very domestic, are you?”
“Is that a plus or a minus?”
“I don’t keep score on a spreadsheet of pros and cons. I like you fine how you are.”
“Why?” she asked, because even if she shouldn’t, she really wanted to know.
“Because I can see into your soul, and I like what I see. Very much.”
He wasn’t seeing anything. Right now, the best move would be to let him believe what he thought he saw, and to grab the ball and carry the game forward, but she couldn’t. A part of her didn’t want to deceive him like that.
“Keep the shirt,” he said, saving her from answering. “Better yet, wear it.”
They fell into a comfortable silence while eating.
Maya dabbed her napkin to her lips when she’d finished her meal. “So, why did you choose me to escort you to the gala dinner? I’m sure every available girl in town would’ve lined up for duty.”
“Because you’re mine.”
The words came from his mouth so easily, naturally. He kept on saying that. Once he found out the truth… She shivered. He had to stop fooling himself. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Then tell me.” He left his knife and fork in his plate and took her hand across the table. “Start by telling me about the place where you were born. Tell me about your parents.”
Joss and Cain had constructed a history for her, one that was normal and safe, but she didn’t want to tell those lies. The practiced words were bitter in her throat, like a dissolving pill that got stuck.
“Why don’t you like to talk about your past, Maya?” he asked with a gentle light in his brown eyes. “Try me. I may be more understanding than what you think.”
“Why bother? You can’t change what’s in the past.”
“You can’t change it, but it’s always part of you.”
She could swear Darren sat on her shoulder, his arms crossed, shaking his head in disapproval. She should say that she had a normal childhood in a middleclass suburb with good parents who were happy and after fifty years of marriage still in love, but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the untruth.
She shrugged. “You’ll find it boring. Rather tell me about yours.”
Of course she knew his history, everything there was to know, but up to now it had been facts and figures in a file, not a somber look that darkened his chocolate eyes, and not the way in which he blinked away an expression of hurt he didn’t quite manage to hide.
“I see you still have trust issues,” he said, his eyes crinkling in the corners, “and I understand. It’s too soon.” He paused, as if mentally preparing himself for something before he spoke again. “We lived on a cattle farm in Australia, Esperance. It was wild and untamed and open, and I loved it. I always thought my parents loved it too, but they loved the place less and each other more.” He looked at their intertwined hands. “I lost them both when I was ten. They were murdered.”
She knew that too, but coming from Tim’s lips, the information did something to her it wasn’t supposed to do. She imagined him as a ten-year-old boy with blond curls and puppy brown eyes, and her chest tightened painfully.