Deadly Engagement. Elle James

better of it and faced Dave again. “One other thing.”

      The dive boat pilot straightened. “What’s that?”

      Creed inhaled and let out the breath slowly. How did he tell the guy to keep his mouth shut without divulging everything about his operation? “I wouldn’t give the coordinate for our dive to anyone.”

      The other man’s brows dipped. “Why?”

      How much information could he reveal and not put the guy in danger? Not much. “Look, Dave, you don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but I have a bad feeling about that wreck. If anyone comes asking, I’d keep it to myself.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.” Dave’s eyes narrowed. “Besides, the coordinate belongs to Emma. She’s the one who directed me there. You think the yacht sank for other reasons besides running up on the rocks?”

      “No, I think the yacht hit the rocks. I’m just concerned over why they were out there in the first place in such bad weather.”

      “We have some yacht owners who don’t have the brains God gave a gnat. I’ve seen stupider things happen.”

      “Still...”

      Dave waved. “Gotcha.” He twisted his fingers next to his lips like he was locking them.

      Creed waved at the dive boat captain and strode toward the parking lot.

      Emma met him at the end of the dock.

      The police officer had climbed into his vehicle and was leaving the parking lot.

      “If you’re done here, you can follow me to the B and B. Molly’s expecting you.” She motioned toward a bright red Jeep Cherokee sitting in the parking lot, its ragtop down, the roll bar and leather seats warming in the sun.

      “I can find my way, with a few directions.”

      “Yeah, I figured you could, but Molly insisted on feeding me lunch for bringing her a new customer.” Emma’s lips quirked. “As a single woman with odd shifts and no time to cook, I’m not turning down a free meal.”

      “By all means, lead the way.” Creed waved a hand in front of Emma.

      She started toward her Jeep. “What were you talking to Dave about?”

      “Just making arrangements for tomorrow’s dive.”

      She stopped so abruptly, Creed bumped into her.

      His hands came up around her waist to steady her.

      “Tomorrow’s dive?” she asked, her brows rising high.

      Creed couldn’t help grinning at her surprise and chagrin at the news. “That’s right. Looks like we’ll be dive buddies tomorrow, after all.”

      “Really?” Emma shot a glance toward Dave and the boat, then down at the hands on her waist. If Creed wasn’t mistaken, her body trembled just a little beneath his fingertips.

      He wanted to pull her back against him, but thought better of it, releasing her as he replied, “Really.”

      She smoothed a hand over her dress where his fingers had been, the color high in her cheeks. “Just so you know, I had plans of my own.”

      Creed smiled. “So noted.”

      Her brows dipped. “Good. Then follow me. Molly will be waiting.”

      As Creed slipped behind the wheel of his rented SUV, he was still smiling. He shifted into Reverse and was about to back out of the parking space when he looked out at the bay.

      A large yacht rounded Cape Churn’s rocky point, its gleaming white hull cutting through the water, headed directly for the little marina.

      His foot left the accelerator, and Creed braked to a stop.

      The yacht came to a halt in the middle of the bay.

      A honk dragged his attention back to the red Jeep with the impatient driver pulling out of the parking lot.

      Creed backed out and fell in behind Emma.

      In his rearview mirror, he could see a smaller boat leaving the yacht and heading into the marina.

      His bet was Phillip Macias had just arrived in Cape Churn.

      Damn. Things were about to get a lot more interesting...and dangerous.

      Chapter 3

      All the way to the McGregor B and B, Emma coached herself.

      “Yes, he’s great looking and knows how to dive. That doesn’t mean he’s unmarried or available.” Though she hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger. “Ring or no ring, I don’t need a man in my life.” One lying, thieving bastard was enough to keep her from going down that path again.

      Her hair blew out behind her, drying in the wind generated by exceeding the speed limit along the curvy coastal highway. The entire drive out to the B and B, she couldn’t stop thinking about how his hands felt resting on her waist, warm, large and strong. Nor could she get over the urge she’d had to fall back against him and feel the solid wall of his chest against her back.

      She couldn’t drive fast enough to get away from her thoughts or the man who’d generated them, now following her to Molly’s.

      Thank goodness the B and B was several miles out. It gave her time to gather her wits, so that when she pulled up in front of the quaint old mansion, she wouldn’t be drooling over a man she’d just met.

      Emma climbed out of her Jeep and tried to smooth her hair into some semblance of order.

      Molly McGregor burst through the door, her face wreathed in a smile. “Emma, honey, so glad to see you. It’s been ages.” She hurried down the stairs and engulfed Emma in a hug.

      “Hey, Molly. Don’t be silly. I was here a week ago. Clam chowder night, if I remember correctly.”

      “Two, sweetie. It’s been two weeks since I had the chowder.” Molly held her at arm’s length and stared into her face. “You look tired. Are you taking care of yourself?”

      Great, not only was her hair a mess, she looked like a hag. “I’m fine. Just got through with a dive, and you know how the water takes it out of me. I brought you a guest.”

      As if on cue, Creed’s black SUV pulled in beside Emma’s Jeep and he got out.

      Molly’s brows rose as Creed straightened. “Oh, my. And I thought I was doing you a favor,” she whispered. In a louder voice, she held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Molly McGregor, owner, operator, chief cook and bottle washer of the McGregor B and B.”

      “Creed Thomas. Nice to meet you.” He grasped her hand and smiled down at Emma’s friend.

      A stab of something unfamiliar jolted Emma, followed by the sudden urge to break through their connected hands. Instead she cleared her throat. “What’s for lunch?”

      Molly blushed and released Creed’s hand, her own hand rising to push her strawberry-blond hair behind her ear. “Lunch,” she sputtered. “What was it? Oh, yes, seafood chowder.” She waved toward the house. “Do you want to settle in your room first, Mr. Thomas?”

      “Call me Creed.” He smiled again at Molly.

      A stab of irritation spiked Emma’s blood pressure, and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from saying anything. What was wrong with her? She never got angry. And why should she care a fig if Creed Thomas smiled at her friend Molly? The woman deserved a little flirtation; she’d been living the life of a nun since she’d taken over the B and B. And Creed Thomas was a handsome man.

      As Molly led Creed into the house, Emma studied the insurance adjuster. Dressed in his shorts and a pullover, he displayed muscular legs, a tight abdomen and shoulders broad enough to fill any doorway. He didn’t look like any of the insurance adjusters