Chapter 15
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T ucker prayed for control as he looked into Brynn’s eyes. He grew hard with need. The knowledge that she had survived and was standing in front of him whole and well ramped his desire higher. The need to mate was a kind of life affirmation.
He raised his hands to cup her face and sealed his lips to hers. Her mouth parted beneath the pressure, and his tongue reached for hers. She responded with an urgency that fed his own. His hands moved down her back, molding her against him. When her body, her hips, moved against him in a bid to press closer, he groaned beneath the kiss. God, he wanted her.
Brynn’s voice was breathy and soft when she asked, “How much practice does it take for you to be that good?”
The humor eased the need, and he laughed. “That’s not all I’m good at.”
Color crept into her cheeks. He kissed her again with less heat and more tenderness.
When he raised his head, she slipped away from him.
“I’ll make a salad and some bread to go with the pasta.” He was satisfied to see the color rise in her cheeks and hear a breathless note in her voice.
“Need any help?”
She moved around the small island that separated the living room from the kitchen. “No. I’ve got it covered.” She took out a variety of vegetables, a cutting board, a bowl, and a knife.
She showed more than a little proficiency in chopping and dicing the vegetables and tossing them in the bowl.
Tucker wandered around the room, taking in the space. Two wildly patterned turquoise chairs bracketed an octagonal-shaped maple end table sporting a copper lamp that looked more like an abstract sculpture than a light fixture.
A cream-colored couch sat before the room’s one large east-facing window. Beside it was a tall floor lamp shaped like a tree with outstretched branches and a concave glass shade.
“Did you buy the lamps from an artist?” he asked.
She wielded a knife and cut slices from a loaf of Italian bread. “Yes. I had a friend in college who was taking welding classes. I bought the materials and drew out the designs I wanted, and she made them for me. I took photos for her shower, bachelorette party, and wedding in trade.”
“The lamps are amazing.”
“I think so, too.”
In front of the couch was a live-edge coffee table made from a slab of wood. On the far wall was a computer desk with drawers on one side, and on each side stretched a matching row of waist-high wooden cabinets, which he thought probably held materials and files from her photography work. A flat-screen television was centered on the wall above the desk, but what drew his attention was the collage of framed photographs scattered in a random pattern and size across the wall on either side of it.
An elderly woman sitting on the stoop of her home, a police officer directing traffic, a mother cradling her baby as it nursed, a little girl playing with a puppy, an Indian woman dressed in her sari. And there were more. All walks of life, all ages, all nationalities. And all beautiful.
She wandered around the island to offer him a glass of iced tea. “The pasta is almost done, the salad is ready, and in five minutes, I’ll pop the bread in.”
“What kind of photos did you take today?”
“Advertisement photos for a yacht to draw in people with money to rent it for vacations and events, like engagement parties or weddings.”
“I like these.” He gestured toward the photos.
“Thanks.”
“Any pictures of your family?”
“In the hallway leading to the bedroom.”
“Okay if I check them out?”
“Sure.”
He wandered down the hall and saw pictures of what had to be her brothers playing basketball in someone’s driveway, one reclining in the hammock on a deck, one sitting atop a picnic table, all of them kayaking on a lake, and another of them all three hamming it up for the camera. All three had dark hair and the same sherry-colored eyes. But there wasn’t a single picture of Brynn or her parents in the group.
“Didn’t anyone want to take the camera from you and take your picture?” For once, he didn’t measure every word.
“I don’t like to have my picture taken.”
How many photos had the press taken of her during that time? “And your parents?”
“We’re estranged, and I don’t want any reminders of them in my living space.”
Wow. Another reason for the twenty-nine-hundred-mile trip across the country. “I’m sorry, Brynn.”
Her sherry eyes had gone as dark as chocolate. “I’m not. I speak to my brothers every couple of weeks. We do a four-way call, and we’re good with each other. They all three supported my decision to leave.”
Jesus, how bad could it have been if all three of her brothers took her side? “When you’re ready, maybe you can tell me what happened.”
The timer on the stove went off, and he caught a flash of relief in her expression as she turned away to deal with the food.
While they ate at the small table against the wall in the kitchen space, Tucker guided the conversation away from anything stressful and talked about taking some photos of Brynn during their next dive. “I thought I might take you deeper into the cove, so you can practice more with your camera and strobes.”
She nodded. “I need to do as much of that as I can to make certain I’m prepared for the trip.”
“You won’t be going as deep as you will in Australia, but deep enough you can get more experience being at depth. I can teach you some more finning so you can stay stationary long enough to take the shot in real conditions.
“I’d like that. I’m good in the cove because you’ve been with me and I feel secure, but I’ll need to build up my confidence. The open ocean is a big leap even from La Jolla.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you ever get scared?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ve been scared.” The shark incident during the last deployment came instantly to mind, but he veered away from it. Brynn was going to be diving in Australia, where the waters were known to be the great whites’ hunting ground. She didn’t need to hear a shark story before even getting her feet wet in the ocean. “I was on a cave dive, and things got dicey as we went through a narrow passage. One of the guys with us got stuck and started to panic, which is the worst thing you can do during a dive. You use up your air, your mind grows cloudy, and you become all instinct—and that can get you killed. You have to maintain control so you can work the problem. We worked the problem and found a way to get him out and back to the surface without injury.”
“Was that with your Admiral friend?”
“No, his brother.”
Brynn chewed slowly and then swallowed. “Do you still cave dive?”
“No, I don’t have the time anymore.” He got plenty of opportunities for scuba diving and adrenaline rushes in his work.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Did you do it because it was a challenge?”
“Yeah, and it helped me hone my diving and survival skills. Those skills help you plan for every circumstance, Brynn. Or at least as much as you can. You plan how deep you’re going to go, how long your dive will take, how long your decompression stops have to be, and if you’re familiar with the ocean terrain, you plan exactly how far you’re going to swim and how long it will take you to get back to your extraction point.
“Then you plan for the unexpected. If you’re forced to go deeper than you intended, if it takes longer to get back to your extraction point—any unexpected things that might arise. Then, you adjust your equipment and make a backup plan to include all that.
“When I taught scuba, I always attached extra tanks to the down line in case an emergency arose. If you have enough air, you can survive long enough to figure things out. But all that won’t help if you panic. So, the main thing is to stay calm and work the problem.”
“Can we work on all that together before we dive?” she asked.
He smiled. “That’s the plan. I want to teach you how to do all that for yourself before you do your dive in Australia. So, you’ll feel safe and know how to deal with the unexpected.”
If only she’d met Tucker four years before instead of Chad. But she hadn’t.
After they finished the meal, Brynn rushed to clear the table and put away the food. She divided the leftovers into portions so Tucker could take the lion’s share home.
She could barely breathe because of the nerves that clenched her stomach into tight knots. She could give him the short version— my boyfriend tried to kill me and put me in the hospital for three weeks. Would that satisfy him? Probably not. He’d ask questions and eventually get it all.
“Why don’t we go for a drive,” Tucker suggested.
Surprised, she smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Better take a sweater. The breeze off the water can get chilly.”
She felt more relaxed once they were in his car and away from the apartment. She settled back against the seat and was surprised when he turned in the direction of Coronado.
“There’s an ice cream place I want to take you to. We can get a cone and walk the beach.”
“Okay.”
He parked down the street from the Del, and they walked to Sundaes at the Del. Despite all the toppings and syrups to choose from, she chose a sugar cone with one scoop of chocolate while Tucker got a fruit popsicle. They strolled down to the beach to the edge of the water.
He found a spot away from the flow of other people walking the beach and sat down to finish his popsicle. Brynn sat beside him cross-legged.
For several minutes, they both just watched the surf while they finished their treat.
“Once I got through BUD/s training, I never thought I’d ever want to be anywhere near sand again, but eventually, all the trauma I experienced on this beach faded, and walking the beach became a way to wind down. I think it’s the sound of the water that kind of lulls you into relaxing.”
After finishing the cone, she wiped her hands and mouth with the napkin and stuffed it in her pocket. “Are you handling me, Tucker?” she asked.