LITMIR.BIZ

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lunched on deck with Rogan and Brodie. After delivering the stores, the other men had driven off.

      “Did you get your doctor’s certificate?” Brodie asked.

      She fished it from her capacious bag and handed it to him, along with her dive certification.

      A man strolling along the wharf stopped at the Sea-Rogue. “Rogan Broderick?” he inquired.

      “That’s me.” Rogan stood up.

      The man was fiftyish, his brown hair thinning, eyes hidden behind trendy wraparound sunglasses. His casual shirt and slacks looked as though they probably sported designer labels. Uninvited, he leaped aboard and held out his hand to Rogan. “Fraser Conran,” he said. “And this is your brother?” He turned to Brodie.

      “No.” Brodie denied it, not offering his name.

      For a moment the stranger didn’t react, then he smiled thinly, and Camille said, “Do I know you?”

      He shifted his attention to her. Then she said, “We met at James Drummond’s house,” her expression changing from uncertainty to hostility.

      Jolted, Sienna recalled that Camille had spent time with Drummond before she discovered he was a crook and a killer.

      Conran didn’t seem to notice the sudden chill in the air. “A bad business, that.” The smile fading, he shook his head. “I didn’t really know him well, but his antique stores seemed aboveboard—he was well known, respectable. Hard to believe…though, of course, he hasn’t been found guilty yet.”

      “He’s guilty,” Rogan said curtly. “What did you want?”

      Fraser Conran turned back to him. “I hope I’m not going to be tarred with the same brush because I knew the man. We were business acquaintances, that’s all.” He paused, but no one reassured him on that point. “I heard you were looking for investors for a…venture. I have some cash to spare. Perhaps we could talk?”

      “You heard wrong,” Rogan said. “Our investors have all been by invitation. We don’t need any more.”

      “Really? Treasure hunting is very expensive, I’m told—my understanding was you can hardly have too much capital.”

      “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure you can find other ventures to spend your money on. Probably less dicey ones.”

      “But not so interesting.”

      There was a silence, then Conran shrugged. “If you change your mind, here’s my card.”

      Rogan reluctantly took the card the man handed over before climbing back onto the wharf. They watched him depart, strolling without hurry.

      Brodie asked Rogan, “What do you make of that?”

      Rogan shook his head and turned to Camille. “Do you know anything about him?”

      “Not really. I didn’t recognize him right away, but he was with some other people who sailed up from Auckland for the weekend. I think James hoped to sell something to him.”

      “Did you get the impression he tried to give us just now that he hardly knew Drummond?”

      Camille chewed briefly on her lower lip. “It’s hard to say. James told me the people were business contacts.”

      Brodie said, “He’s not the first one to come fishing, is he, since word of the new company got out?”

      “No,” Rogan agreed. “And not the first who seemed a bit dodgy, either. Just as well we had Granger to rustle up investors he could vouch for.” He looked at the card.

      Brodie asked, “What does he do?”

      “Shipping agent, it says.”

      “I guess Drummond knew plenty of those.”

      “Some of them might have been legitimate,” Rogan allowed. “But I wouldn’t trust anyone who had anything to do with Drummond.”

      Sienna and Camille helped to get supplies stowed neatly in every available storage space on the boat in preparation for their departure, and it was late afternoon when Sienna found herself being walked back to the hotel by Brodie again.

      Along the way he said, “Camille told you we’re sure now the wreck is the Maiden’s Prayer.”

      “She said you’d found the ship’s bell, but not to say anything.”

      “Had you found any confirmation in the stuff Rogan brought up from the bottom?”

      “There was nothing to refute it, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

      “Are you always so cautious?”

      “Preconceived ideas are not good science.”

      “Y’know,” he said thoughtfully, “I have the feeling you might have some preconceived ideas about me.”

      “I don’t know why you should think that. And if I did, I wouldn’t let them interfere with doing my job.”

      “You realize we’re all going to be living pretty close together for a few months?”

      “I’ve never had a problem getting on with people.” Trying to sound serene and confident, she couldn’t help feeling that instead her voice was decidedly cool and a little snippy. Well, perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. She’d hate him to guess the effect he had on her—the way his smile warmed her very bones and his blue gaze gave her pleasurable little shivers up her spine.

      He seemed ready to drop the subject. “Does your brother still dive?”

      “Sometimes. But he tends to master a skill and then go in for some new challenge. At university he joined the mountain-climbing club, and he’s still a member of a search and rescue team. When he moved to Hamilton to take a job as a mechanic he learned to fly. Now he’s working for an aeronautical engineering firm there and doing night classes to improve his skills. He seems to be showing signs of settling down.”

      “You approve of that? Settling down?”

      “Isn’t it what you did? Have you got bored with being a shopkeeper?”

      He gave her a keen look. “I’ve never given up diving. I combine my shop and dive school with occasional commercial assignments. The shore work gives me a steady income and means I don’t have to scramble for jobs—I can pick and choose where I go and who I work with.”

      “And you chose Pacific Treasure Salvors?”

      He grinned. “Not too many people can resist the lure of long-lost treasure. Even you.”

      Sienna didn’t bother to deny that. She knew most of the work would be tedious and painstaking, and much of the wreck’s cargo—maybe the bulk of it—might already be lost forever in the depths of the sea, buried under layers of coral, destroyed or scattered irrecoverably by time and tropical storms. Nevertheless she was excited at the prospect of being involved.

      She essayed a wry smile of acknowledgment, and Brodie broke into an answering one that lifted her spirits in a way no other man ever had. Plenty of women would have fallen for him instantly. No wonder he seemed a shade piqued that she’d shown no inclination to do so. She mustn’t allow him to discover how fragile her brittle defences really were.

      She sighed, assailed by a wistful longing that lately had recurred too often, and Brodie said, “What’s the matter?”

      “Nothing. I’m still a bit tired.”

      He frowned. “Are you sure you’re up to this trip?”

      “You saw the doctor’s certificate. There was a lot of work to do before I left, but I’ll have time to recover before we reach the wreck.” The exact location was confidential but she gathered it was at least a week’s sailing from Mokohina, and she knew from Camille that Rogan was concerned

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