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pointing out a mistake to Jax. I blinked, then turned from the sight of his eighteen-year-old butt in those
black tights of his.Married pixy my new mantra. And that s not necessarily a bad thing, he added as
he straightened.
I looked at the hotel phone, wanting to find out if they were open yet for the season or we would have to
hang around a week, but I remained where I was with Rex. It was probably a human-run establishment
and would be closed for the night. No mistakes, Jenks, I said, feeling cold but for where Rex lay.
Nick s life might depend on it.
Eleven
The wind was bitter despite the bright morning sun, and I squinted at the horizon, holding onto the side
of the boat as we jostled out to the wreck site. Jenks sat beside me in the lee of the cabin, both amazed
and appalled that he could see his breath and wasn t freezing to death. It hadn t seemed this cold when
we were on the dock, but it was frigid out here, with the water still holding the cold of ice, even through
the rubber of the wet suit.When in hell were they going to give us our warmth amulets?
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You okay? Jenks asked, his voice raised against the chortling engine.
I nodded, taking in his cold-reddened hands wrapped about his lidded coffee, trying to eek out some
warmth from it as we bounced on the choppy waves the wind had whipped up. He looked nervous,
though I didn t know why. He d done well at the practice pool yesterday. I patted his knee, and he
jumped. Cringing, I turned to watch the other passengers high school students on a field trip.
We had lucked out yesterday. My call to Marshal s Mackinaw Wrecks got us an afternoon of practice
at the high school pool and a place on today s boat. I still hadn t managed to talk to Captain Marshal,
and it was down to the wire now. The man, whose day job was as the high school s swim coach, had
been very nice as he treaded water and painstakingly coaxed Jenks in past his knees, but everytime I
tried to talk to him about why I wanted to go out on his boat, someone, usually his assistant, interrupted.
Before I knew it class was over and Marshal was gone, without my having gotten more than a good look
at him in his Speedo and a bad case of the flushing stammers as I tried to gain his attention and his help.
The guy probably thought I was a flaky redhead. I knew his assistant, Debbie, did.
Today was the season s first run, traditionally taking out the high school dive team to find what the last
winter s storm had unearthed before the currents could cover it again. Come Friday and the first of the
fudgies, all the real stuff would be carefully cataloged, and the nails and buttons planted for the tourists
would be in place. Ethical? I didn t know. It would be disappointing to spend this much money and have
nothing to show for it, even if it was fake.
With his youthful physique, Jenks fit in, looking good in the rented wet suit and his red local-yokel knit
hat down tight about his ears. Cheeks ruddy with cold, he sipped at his coffee, so thick with sugar it was
syrupy.God, he looked good enough to eat, I thought, then flushed and crossed my legs at my knees
despite making it harder to keep my balance.
Want some coffee with your sugar, Jenks? I asked, and he froze as a wave dropped us.
You going to ask Captain Speedo before or after you get in the water? Jenks shot back.
I gave him a soft thwack on his leg to burn off a burst of angst. He didn t jump this time and I felt better,
not minding that he was quietly laughing at me.
While Jenks snickered, I turned to Marshal. The captain had been watching me from the corner of his
eye since I boarded. Unlike the rest of us in wet suits, he was wearing only a black Speedo and a red
windbreaker, his bare, comfortably muscled legs showing goose bumps. Clearly the man was cold but
too much of a stud to admit it. Bracing myself against the bouncing waves, I opened my mouth to attract
his attention, but Debbie called to him, drawing him away again.
Damn it.I slumped back down in my seat. What in hell was wrong with me?
Forcing my breathing to slow, I waited for his assistant to finish asking him whatever deathly important
question she had. The sun glinted prettily on the water, and I found myself thinking this was an ungodly
time to be out here, much less awake. Jenks was fine, seeing as he was usually up long before sunrise,
and I could hear him muttering, Nine forty-eight, nine forty-eight, as he tried to shift his internal clock.
The thrum of the engine was lulling me into a drowsy state despite the caffeine and the nap Jenks had
made me take yesterday.
Trying not to yawn, I straightened, my hand straying to my waist pack with my charms and splat gun safe
in their zippy bags. A good deal of yesterday had been spent in the almost unusable kitchen. I d
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purchased a disposable copper insert for spelling at a discount store, and Jenks traded maple syrup for
everything else I needed to craft the sleepy-time charms and the scent disguise spells.
The paint ball gun shop had been the hardest to find, being left where the old post office used to be,
past the Baptist church that burned down in seventy-five, and right at the Higgan s farm turnaround.
Can t miss it.
Between yesterday s predive class, grilling Jax for details, my six hours spelling, and the three hours we
spent at the Mackinaw Fort doing the tourist thing, I was mentally and physically tired. But the oddest
thing by far had been watching Jenks teach Jax how to read.
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