Chapter 2
Thirty minutes later, I was sipping my third cup of tea and watching Grant rewire my brain. He moved with such purpose and confidence that the simple act of opening the zipper of his luggage made me think of him as Superman.
Or more realistically, it was just me. I was slowly losing my mind, apparently.
“First things first,” Grant said, pulling our dive gear from his luggage. “Let’s talk protocols.”
I nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of how his big hands grabbed all the stuff and laid everything out on the cabin floor with methodical precision—drysuits, thermal layers and the paraphernalia.
“I know you’ve got your twenty-five dives and dry suit cert,” he continued, checking the seals on the suits.
“Of course you’d need that to be approved for this expedition, but Antarctic conditions are exponentially extreme, Doc.
” He raised his head and looked at me with a smile.
My stomach tightened. “Don’t mean to be patronizing.
As your dive partner, it’s just my job to make sure you’re safe, okay? ”
He was not being patronizing at all. But the fact that he cared about it was surprising. The image I had of him in my mind all these years didn’t really match with who he was. He used to be so cocky. So arrogant. He hardly spoke to me back in high school.
“I appreciate it,” I replied. “I’m a scientist first. I’ve only had my diving experience in cold water. All in preparation for this trip.”
He nodded and went back to his efficient preparation ritual. “Water temp hovers around twenty-eight degrees. Your body has maybe ten minutes before hypothermia sets in if something goes wrong. Again, this is not to make you panic. It’s to make sure you’re aware of the limits.”
He straightened and kept talking while he pulled his thermal shirt over his head in one smooth motion. My brain stuttered to a halt.
“We’ll do a shallow dive today. Thirty feet max, thirty minutes bottom time. Just to give you an idea of underwater conditions here. I saw that in your paperwork you’d requested that.”
He kept talking—something about buoyancy compensation and air consumption rates and checking for seals before diving—while casually stripping off his pants.
I fought to keep my eyes on his face. This was normal. Professional. Just a guy changing clothes to get ready for his job, Adrien! I was not looking down to check him out. Nope.
Except Grant Reeves was standing three feet away from me with absolutely nothing on except his underwear, and my mind had gone completely blank. His body was—holy hell, he was built like a ram who could somehow also do ballet. And I had apparently turned into a fucking poet now.
I stared at his broad shoulders, the way his abs flexed, the ripple of muscles on his powerful thighs.
Was this normal? Should I be this decimated by a man changing in front of me?
I mean, I did have a teeny tiny boy-crush on him when we were in high school, but didn’t everyone else?
He was one of those people everyone crushed on!
With his back turned to me, he stripped off his underwear. I stared determinedly at the back of his head. His neck. His shoulders. Not at the curve of his—nope.
Panicking at 100% now, I shut my eyes and started cataloging marine mammal anatomy in my mind. I heard the rustle of fabric and knew he had pulled on the specialized thermal underwear. He was still talking like nothing was happening. “As you know, Doc, the key is layering—”
I made some kind of sound that I hoped conveyed agreement.
“You okay, Doc? You look kinda frozen.”
My eyes snapped open, and before my brain could do anything, my gaze dropped for just a second—completely involuntary—and I caught sight of the very obvious outline straining against the thin material.
And, oh, my lawd. The curve of the pole trapped in his underwear was suddenly so much more interesting than the South Pole that I’d dreamed of visiting all my life.
“Doc?”
Shit! I looked up into his eyes, attempting nonchalance, but judging from the expression on his face and the way he stopped mid-motion, I think I was failing spectacularly at subtle. He tilted his head, looking amused.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Just… processing the protocols.”
“Hmm.” His lips slowly spread into a teasing smile. “Yeah. First Antarctic dive can be intimidating.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and definitely not trusting myself to explain that diving wasn’t what had me frozen in place.
“Tell you what. I’ll suit up first, then help you with yours. Sound good?”
Grant pulled on his fleece mid-layer, then reached for his drysuit. I watched him step into it with practiced ease, pulling the heavy material up his legs, over his hips, sliding his arms through the sleeves. Every movement efficient and controlled.
When he zipped it up to his chest, he looked over at me. “Your turn, Doc.”
I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t move, apparently. My body had decided that standing perfectly still was the only acceptable response to the last ten minutes of psychological warfare.
Grant crossed the small space between us, his expression shifting to something almost concerned.
“You’re standing like someone’s holding you at gunpoint.
” He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“Relax. I’ve got you. We’ll get you acclimated and you’ll get the data on your elusive seals and publish your award-winning paper. ”
That did help me relax. The paper! That’s why I was here. He knew about that too?
“Let’s get you layered up.” He reached for my thermal shirt. “Arms up.”
I raised my arms like a kid getting dressed by his mom, and Grant pulled the thermal top over my head.
“Good. Now the pants.”
I stared at him.
“You’re gonna need to take your jeans off, Doc.”
Right. Obviously. I fumbled with my belt buckle, fingers clumsy, and shoved my jeans down. Grant steadied me with one hand on my shoulder as I stepped out of them.
“Thermal bottoms.” He handed them to me, then turned away to grab the fleece layers, giving me a moment of privacy that I desperately needed and absolutely didn’t deserve after spending the last ten minutes staring at him.
I quickly got naked, then yanked the thermal bottoms on, moving fast before my brain could spiral further.
Silently, he helped me put on the next gazillion layers, touching me with professional need but lighting up my whole body.
His hands brushed my sides as he tugged the layers down, smoothing the fabric into place.
I was in danger of a boner at this rate. What the hell was wrong with me?
He held up my drysuit. “This is the tricky part. Step in, one leg at a time.”
I did as instructed. The material was thick and stiff, and I nearly lost my balance getting my second leg through. Instantly, Grant’s hands landed on my waist, steadying me.
“Easy. I’ve got you.” His voice was close in my ears, deep, rough, and low.
I shivered involuntarily.
“Sorry, you’ll get warm soon.”
Thank goodness he misunderstood why I was shivering. He moved in behind me, his chest nearly pressed against my back as he helped guide the suit up my legs. “The seal has to be perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. “Any water gets in, you’ll freeze in minutes.”
His hands moved up my sides slowly, palms flat and dragging, adjusting the material, pulling it snug over my hips.
I swallowed hard. I think I was gonna pass out. The diving certificate course I had taken was nothing like this. Those instructors were just instructors. They didn’t make my brain melt.
“Arms through.”
I slid my arms into the sleeves, and Grant moved around to my front, checking the fit across my shoulders and chest. His fingers traced over my collarbone, down my chest, until he reached the seals at my wrists, testing them.
“Too tight?” He was standing so close I could see the blue ring around his irises.
I shook my head. Words were beyond me.
“Good.” He murmured.
He reached for the zipper at my abdomen and started pulling it up slowly, his knuckles brushing my sternum through the layers. “The drysuit keeps you insulated by trapping air. You’ll feel bulky at first, but once we’re underwater, you’ll adjust.”
I nodded mutely.
He finished zipping me up, then leaned in dangerously close. His face hovered inches from my face. Was he…was he going to…?
“Checking the seal on your collar,” he whispered as if he could hear my mind screaming.
Oh, right. Of course. The seal. That word suddenly took on new meaning for me. Now every time I would say or read seal, which would be very often since my entire research was around leopard seals, I would be instantly brought back to this moment.
“How’s that feel? Any pinching?”
“It’s fine,” I managed to speak.
“You’re shaking.” His brow furrowed. “Are you still cold?”
Cold was not the problem.
“Just nervous,” I lied.
Grant’s expression softened. “Hey.” He put both hands on my shoulders, ducking his head slightly to catch my eyes. “You’re gonna do great out there. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I believed him. That was the problem. I believed every word he said, trusted him completely, and apparently my body had decided that made him the most attractive man on the planet. And how was a man attractive in the first place?
“Ready to head to the dock?” he asked.
No. Absolutely not. “Yeah. Let’s go.”