Night Diver: A Novel Read Free

hanging from his arm, English speaker by way of the Bronx. The pale, thin man in the heavy suit was diffident, searching for someone, and looked old enough to be her grandfather.
    Her attention kept wandering back to the man leaning against the wall. He had drawn a lot of female glances, but he greeted no one. His dark blue shirt was short-sleeved and square at the bottom, meant to be worn outside his khakis pants. Two waterproof duffels lay at his feet. Without moving, he dominated the place. His features were an unusual mixture of strength and refinement, his face oddly Celtic, his skin a silky dark honey.
    Wonder what color his eyes are, she thought.
    Then she mentally shook herself. She had only been on the island long enough to get her baggage and stow it in the old VW pickup Larry had left in the parking lot. Yet she already had succumbed to the lazy sensuality of St. Vincent, where the language was music, the temperature was made for bare skin, and the surface of the sea was always warm.
    The sea.
    Kate rubbed the cold bumps that rippled over her skin. Abruptly she made her choice. The pale man might be older than she had expected, but the rest of the package looked right. He was standing about ten feet from the intriguing man with the two duffel bags.
    The gray-haired, gaunt man was beginning to look worried. His eyes were a vague blue. The weight of his suit appeared on the edge of taking him down.
    “Welcome to St. Vincent, Mr. Holden,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Kate Donnelly, from Moon Rose Limited. I was told to meet you here.”
    The gentleman pressed her hand lightly and smiled. “Very kind of you, but there seems to be a mistake. I am meeting my daughter-in-law here.” He scanned the crowd briefly. “Ah, there she is.”
    Bemused, Kate watched as an ebony-skinned woman embraced the smiling Englishman. He returned the hug and began asking eagerly after his grandchildren.
    Okay. Wrong guy, Kate thought.
    “Pardon me,” said a deep voice from behind her. “I couldn’t help but overhear.” The accent was upper-class British with something else just beneath. “I am waiting for someone from Moon Rose Limited.”
    She turned around and reminded herself to breathe. It was the man who didn’t look at all like an accountant. “I’m Kate Donnelly. Moon Rose is owned by my family.”
    “At your service.”
    If only, she thought. But what she said was, “You’re the accountant from the British government. Are you here to replace the other Brit aboard?”
    “Not quite. My understanding is that Farnsworth is to remain on hand to catalog the results of each dive. I am a consultant on dive projects. My job is to see that everything is in good order.”
    “My mistake. Good to meet you, Mr. Holden,” she said, taking his offered hand with a firm American shake and quick release. She had learned that it was expected in business.
    And this was business all the way.
    Then he took off his sunglasses and she forgot about proper office manners. He had the most striking eyes she had ever seen, like shards of blue and green and gold crystal had been turned in a kaleidoscope and then frozen in place.
    “The name is Holden Cameron.”
    It took her a moment to understand. “Sorry. I was just given the name C. Holden. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron.”
    He shrugged slightly and put on his sunglasses again. “Pity that pleasure and business don’t mix. But they don’t, and there it is.”
    All righty, she thought. Business and only business. You could use that voice to refrigerate the entire island.
    “Any luggage beyond the duffels?” she asked.
    “No. I’ll be here only long enough to see whether I should recommend shutting this project down.”
    “You might be surprised at how well the dive is going,” she said, lying coolly, covering the fear that she had arrived too late to do any good.
    All he said was, “Shall we begin?”
    It was an order, not a request.
    Kate set her teeth. The