Chapter 16
CECE
I could have sworn I’d had this exact fantasy before, with Grady asking me to go find treasure with him. Except it had happened on a sunlit beach and he was wearing an eye patch. A sword at his hip. Definitely less clothing.
Someone pinch me. This has to be a dream.
“It goes down about seventy feet,” he said in that rich voice. “So it’s just shallow enough to avoid major decompression stops, but deep enough to need serious awareness of your air. It’s not a casual dive.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Shipwrecks were my specialty—literally the focus of my dissertation research.
When Dean Carver had reassigned me to Professor Stone’s class, I’d assumed I’d be stuck cataloguing pottery shards and memorizing Mayan facts for the next two years.
It wasn’t that all of that stuff didn’t excite me, it did.
I loved all aspects of archeology, but underwater excavation was what made me feel truly alive.
The weightless silence, the mystery of what lay buried beneath centuries of sand and coral growth was like stepping into another world.
Anyone could dig and find stuff. Only a select group were brave enough to go into the ocean to do it.
“You’re serious?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager and failing miserably. “An actual shipwreck dive?”
He nodded, and I caught something that looked almost like relief flickering across his face. “We’ve got permits to do some preliminary survey work. We’re trying to document it so we can got the university to devote some resources to it.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. He was looking at me with what I thought was admiration.
Usually, when he looked at me, I saw heat.
Arousal. But that was not what I was looking at.
I let myself imagine me and him diving together.
We shared a love for the same things. Maybe that was why I felt so passionate about him.
We connected over something we were both intense about.
“What kind of ship?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “How old?”
“What are you two talking about?” Lina asked.
Buzz kill. Fucking Lina. She was worse than a yellow jacket interrupting a picnic. Just always buzzing around and ruining things.
“We’re going on a dive trip,” I said before Grady could answer. “A real one. With a wreck.”
Lina’s eyes lit up like she’d just learned there was a sale at Prada. “Oh, the shipwreck off Myrtle Beach? Right. I got certified for that.”
Of course she did.
Grady nodded. “Yeah. We’ll prep in the training pool before we go, just to make sure we’re all up to speed before we go out there.”
“And why wasn’t this ship discovered earlier?” I asked, leaning against the desk. My voice came out lower than I intended. Suggestive. I knew it. So did he. I couldn’t help it.
“It was only recently discovered,” Grady said, his eyes still locked on mine. “Early seventeen hundreds, we think.”
“Why didn’t anyone look for it before?” I asked, genuinely curious now. Pirates were big business in South Carolina. Half the tourist traps in Charleston were built around Blackbeard legends.
Grady’s mouth twitched into that almost-smile I was becoming addicted to. “I think it’s because this pirate had a shitty name. You’ve got Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Captain Kidd, and then there’s this guy. Gordon Smith.”
I snorted. “Gordon Smith? That’s the most boring pirate name in history. He sounds like an accountant.”
“Right? Who’s going to make a movie about the fearsome Gordon Smith?” Grady was grinning now, and the sight of it made my stomach flip. “No wonder he got lost to history.”
“Maybe we should rebrand him,” I suggested, warming to the topic. “Give him a better pirate name.
“Arma-Gordon?”
“Gore Smith,” Lina said playfully.
Not exactly creative, but she tried.
“Gordon the Gorgon,” he added.
We were cracking up. It was dumb and delightful, and it felt natural—like we were in sync in a way that made Lina shift her weight awkwardly, watching us like she wasn’t in on the joke.
Because she wasn’t. Not really. I was surprised she was picking up on the unspoken jokes that always hummed between us.
And then he gave me a look. The same look that always made heat pool between my legs.
Grady looked away and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Pool training tomorrow morning. You two need to show me you know your stuff before I take you out into open water.”
“Sounds good, Professor,” I said.
Lina flipped her hair. “I can’t wait.”
The next morning, I stood in the women’s locker room, staring at my reflection in the wetsuit. It wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t loose either. It clung in places I didn’t want it to cling. Although it did flatten my tummy. Unfortunately, it also made my hips look wider.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
I didn’t care what I looked like. I was too excited about the idea of getting to dive. Diving with Grady was just icing on the cake. Lina hadn’t shown up and I hated myself for hoping she didn’t. It would give me time with Grady alone. A wet Grady.
I walked out to the indoor pool area. The air was thick with humidity and chlorine. I loved the smell. Sophie loved swimming. Back home, we had spent many weekends in the community pool.
I didn’t even make it three steps before I saw him. Grady. Shirtless.
Sweet mother of all that was holy. The man looked like he could wrestle Poseidon and win. I actually licked my lips. Five more minutes in that office and I would have had my lips on his flat abdomen. Lower even. I would have gladly gone down on him and loved every second of it.
He was in swim trunks, casually talking to Lina, whose bikini left very little to the imagination.
Her entire ass was on display. The G-string was basically nonexistent.
The tiny scrap of cloth covering her lady bits was no bigger than my pinky finger.
It was pretty clear she was bare down there.
But it wasn’t her ass I found my gaze landing on.
My eyes roamed over Grady’s chest like I was mapping uncharted territory.
The man was built like a Greek statue that had come to life and decided to become an archeology professor.
His shoulders were broad and defined, tapering down to a lean waist that made my mouth water.
There was a light dusting of hair across his chest that trailed down past his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim trunks in a way that made me want to follow it with my tongue.
And speaking of his swim trunks—fuck me! Either he was smuggling a snorkel in there or Professor Stone was packing some serious equipment. The navy fabric did absolutely nothing to hide the impressive outline beneath, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.
But it was the tattoos that really did me in.
An intricate compass rose decorated his left shoulder, the detailed linework speaking of hours in a tattoo chair.
Below it, wrapped around his bicep, was what looked like ancient script—maybe Latin or Greek.
Something scholarly and sexy as hell. On his ribs, partially hidden by the angle he was standing, I could make out the edge of what might have been a ship or anchor.
And then I looked down at my body stuffed into the wet suit and suddenly felt like an idiot.
I felt myself flush from the neck up. “Should I go change?”
Grady turned, saw me, and his whole posture shifted.
His eyes moved from my face down to my legs and back again, slow and deliberate.
I swallowed hard. It was my turn to feel like I was nude and on display.
There was a lump lodged in my throat. My eyes shifted to the pool.
I wanted to sink to the bottom and hide.
“No,” he said, almost too fast. “I was just telling Lina to suit up. I’m glad one of you actually paid attention.”
Lina’s eyes narrowed at me like I’d ruined her chances of being teacher’s pet. There was no doubt in my mind she wore that fucking little bikini to tempt Grady. He was a red-blooded man. Even a priest would be tempted. Hell, I was tempted.
She gave a little huff and stalked back toward the locker room, muttering something about how zippers were for quitters. Money didn’t buy class. Lina had zero. Her ass, firm as it was, bounced as she walked toward the locker room.
I stepped closer. “So, where’s your wet suit, Professor?”
He shrugged, muscles flexing in the best way. “I know the equipment. I’m here to observe.”
“Uh-huh. Observe Lina’s pale ass?”
He gave a strangled laugh. “Don’t. I’m trying to maintain plausible deniability here.”
“Right. Academic integrity and all that.”
“This is technically still a school activity,” he said. “And who dresses like that to class?”
“Someone who’s hot for teacher.” I paused, then added with mock innocence, “Professor.”
He groaned. “Don’t you start too. And don’t leave me alone with her. She’s like a feral cat in heat. It’s very awkward. And really uncomfortable.”
“Maybe she just wants some… guidance.”
He looked at me like I was the fire and he was already burning. “She won’t be getting it from me.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the snorkel in his pants made an appearance because of Lina’s scanty attire. I wanted to tease him. Mostly because I was a little jealous and felt like teasing him would make me feel better.
Before I could say something truly stupid, the door opened and the dean walked in. Just what we needed. Bureaucracy in a pantsuit. My spymaster.
“I saw the training dive on the calendar,” she said, giving Grady a look that could have melted butter. “Thought I’d stop by. See how it’s going.”
I didn’t know why, but I felt guilty. Like she had just walked in on us getting freaky. I couldn’t be wearing more clothes if I tried. And Grady was dressed like any other dude at a pool. There was nothing wrong, but by the way she was looking at us, it felt dirty.
“I was just getting ready to verify their diving certifications,” Grady said casually.
Dean Carver’s gaze swept over me in my wetsuit, then lingered on Grady’s bare chest with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Hunger? Calculation? Whatever it was made my skin crawl.
“How thorough of you,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’m sure you’ll be very hands-on with your instruction.”
The way she said it made everything sound dirty. Like she was trying to catch us in some compromising position that existed only in her twisted imagination.
Grady’s jaw tightened. “Safety is my top priority, Dean. I won’t take students into open water without proper verification of their skills.”
“Of course not.” She stepped closer to him, close enough that I could see his discomfort. “You’re always so responsible with your students. So attentive to their needs.”
What the hell was happening? The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but it wasn’t the good kind of tension. This felt poisonous. Manipulative. I suddenly felt bad for Grady. What must it feel like to be ogled all the time? Shit, I was guilty of it too.
“Dean Carver,” I said, forcing a bright smile and breaking the tension. “Are you getting in with us today?”
She finally looked at me like she’d forgotten I existed. “I’m just here to observe.”
The look she gave me was all icy and judgmental. I knew what she was thinking. She was wondering if I was going to report back anytime soon. She was wondering if I was going to tell her about the diving instruction.
Nope. I wasn’t.
Lina came back out, now in a wetsuit, but with the top portion strategically zipped down to show so much cleavage a nip slip was one deep breath away. She practically ran to the dean and hugged her like a long-lost aunt.
“Lina, sweetheart,” the dean said with a chuckle, zipping up the wetsuit to her chin. “You’re not at a pool party.”
“No, ma’am,” Lina chirped, more subdued suddenly.
The dean didn’t seem surprised by Lina’s outfit. But yet when she looked at me in my wet suit it was with judgment. Like I was the one parading around with my tits hanging out.
Grady stepped forward. “Shall we begin?”