The Reef Read Free Page A

his flippers followed.
    Cursing the poor beginning to what had promised to be a wonderful summer, Tate headed in. Ignoring his gallantly offered hand, she hauled herself in just as her father and the other diver broke the surface.
    “Nice meeting you.” He dragged a hand through his dripping hair and smiled charmingly at Marla. “Matthew Lassiter.”
    “Marla Beaumont. Welcome aboard.” Tate’s mother beamed at Matthew from under the wide brim of her flowered sun hat. She was a striking woman, with porcelain skin and a willowy frame beneath loose and flowing shirt and slacks. She tipped down her dark glasses in greeting.
    “I see you’ve met my daughter, Tate, and my husband, Ray.”
    “In a manner of speaking.” Matthew unhooked his weight belt, set it and his mask aside. “Nice rig here.”
    “Oh yes, thank you.” Marla looked proudly around the deck. She wasn’t a fan of housework, but there was nothing she liked better than keeping the Adventure spit and polished. “And that’s your boat there.” She gestured off the bow. “The Sea Devil. ”
    Tate snorted at the name. It was certainly apt, she thought, for the man, and the boat. Unlike the Adventure, the Sea Devil didn’t gleam. The old fishing boat badly needed painting. At a distance, it looked like little more than a tub floating on the brilliant platter of the sea.
    “Nothing fancy,” Matthew was saying, “but she runs.” He walked over to offer a hand to the other divers.
    “Good eye, boy.” Buck Lassiter slapped Matthew on the back. “This boy was born with the knack,” he said to Ray in a voice as rough as broken glass, then belatedly held out a hand. “Buck Lassiter, my nephew, Matthew.”
    Ignoring the introductions making their way around the deck, Tate stowed her equipment, then tugged out of her wet suit. While the others admired the sword, she ducked into the deckhouse and cut through to her cabin.
    It wasn’t anything unusual, she supposed as she found an oversized T-shirt. Her parents were always making friends with strangers, inviting them onboard, fixing them meals. Her father had simply never developed the wary and suspicious manner of a veteran treasure hunter. Instead her parents shimmered with Southern hospitality.
    Normally she found the trait endearing. She only wished they would be a little choosy.
    She heard her father offer cheerful congratulations to Matthew on his find, and gritted her teeth.
    Damn it, she’d seen it first.
    Sulking, Matthew decided as he offered the sword to Ray for examination. A peculiarly female trait. And there was no doubt the little redhead was female. Her copper-toned hair might be cut short as a boy’s, but she’d certainly filled out that excuse for a bikini just fine.
    Pretty enough, too, he mused. Her face might have been all angles, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice a man’s exploring finger, but she had big, delicious green eyes. Eyes, he recalled, that had shot prickly little darts at him in the water, and out.
    That only made annoying her more interesting.
    Since they were going to be diving in the same pool for a while, he might as well enjoy himself.
    He was sitting cross-legged on the forward sundeck when Tate came back out. She gave him a quick glance, having nearly talked herself out of the sulks. His skin was bronzed, and against his chest winked a silver piece of eight hanging from a chain. She wanted to ask him about it, to hear where he’d found it, and how.
    But he was smirking at her. Manners, pride and curiosity collided with a wall that kept her unnaturally silent as conversation flowed around her.
    Matthew bit into one of Marla’s generous ham sandwiches.
    “Terrific, Mrs. Beaumont. A lot better than the swill Buck and I are used to.”
    “You have some more of this potato salad.” Flattered, she heaped a mound on his paper plate. “And it’s Marla, dear. Tate, you come on and get yourself some lunch.”
    “Tate.” Matthew squinted against the sun as he