Seal With a Kiss (5 page)

Once upon a time.

"Oh, good." Brody approached the truck with his
arm slung across his wife's shoulders. "The boys
gave you their present. Great idea, isn't it?" Maddy
looked up at her husband with a smile, and Smitty
felt a quick jab under his heart at the sight of two
people he loved so obviously in love with each other.
Watching them fall for each other had reminded him
of emotions long buried. Opportunities long missed.

He glanced over at Violet, but she hadn't noticed
the exchange. She was too busy rummaging in her
"purse," a faded green canvas bag that had contained
at various times everything from an oil-slicked herring gull to a diamond tiara donated for Dolphin
Friendly's annual charity auction.

"I think you're just sending us off so you can make
some time with that pretty lady there." He grinned
and gestured from Brody to Maddy. "If I'm not
around, you won't have any competition, will you, boss?" He turned with a mock warning to the two
younger members of the team. "Ishmael, Ahab, better
watch out, he'll be sending you off on some trumpedup errand next, just so he can have some time alone
with his wife."

Ahab shook his head. "Oh, no sir. We're taking
Streaker out to recount the harbor seal pups at the
rookery off the Point."

Brody's self-satisfied smile was confirmation
enough that he'd planned the distraction. It had taken
the three senior members of the team a full day to
be sure of the original count. It might take the junior
scientists twice that.

"Okay, here it is," Violet announced, pulling her
wallet out of the disreputable green bag. She selected
two twenty-dollar bills and folded them neatly before
leaning across the stick shift and reaching for the jar
on the dash.

She was wearing a shirt that Smitty was particularly fond of, a lightly ribbed tank that clung to her
torso and left her strong shoulders and arms bare.
One of those arms brushed against his hand as she
stretched across the truck. His muscles clenched and
his foot depressed the gas pedal, causing the engine
to race higher. If he moved just an inch, he could
touch the bare skin of her shoulder. If he rotated his
hand just a bit, he could trail his finger down the
back of her neck, and then-

And then what? If she'd wanted him that way, she
would have married him when he'd asked her back
in grad school. She'd turned him down back then
because she hadn't wanted him enough. Why would
things be any different now?

The engine slowed down as his foot lifted. He consciously unclenched his jaw. She pulled the specimen
jar over to her side of the truck, unscrewed the lid
and dropped the forty dollars inside before returning
the jar to the dash.

"What's that?" Maddy asked with merriment dancing in her eyes. "An apology for past fights?"

"Ha!" Violet snickered. "No way." She grinned
wickedly and Smitty felt an answering grin touch his
lips when she said, "That's a down payment on
things to come!"

She leaned back in her seat, slid on a pair of dark
sunglasses, and crossed her perfect legs. "Drive on
then, Mr. Smith. We have miles to go before we
sleep."

She soon contradicted herself by nodding off before they'd passed over the Cape Cod Canal.

Violet dreamed of water. Ever since she was a
little girl, she'd dreamed of water-of being in water,
flying over it, or walking next to it while the sun set
and the sky turned pink and an auburn-haired grad
student held her hand.

"What did you think of Prof. Murphy's questions
on oceanic convection cells, Vi?" He let go of her
hand, crouched down, and pulled a pink spiral shell
from the sand. "Here, it's as pretty as you are."

Violet, fresh from the Midwest and unused to boys
other than her brothers and cousins, blushed and took
the shell. "I thought the questions were fair enough,
but they were probably easier for people like you
who grew up near the water. Until I came out here
for school, I'd never even seen the ocean."

Except in my dreams.

Smitty shrugged, took her hand again, and
squeezed it. She felt the contact all the way up her
arm. "Yeah, but you're better at the theoretical stuff
than I am. I bet it comes from having to argue your
way through a large family."

He left her, picked up a few rocks, and tossed them
in the water. His mother had died just that summer,
leaving him alone in the world. He'd told her about
it once, but it wasn't a subject he liked discussing.

She knew he envied her the big, sprawling Oliver
clan she'd come from. In a way, she hadn't appreciated her extended family until she left for the marine sciences program at U.C. Santa Cruz. She didn't
miss them so much anymore, but the little bit that
Smitty had told her of his own childhood made her
realize that a large extended family might not be the
burden she'd always thought.

So she dared to step in close to him and slide an
arm around his waist like she'd wanted to do since
they'd started hanging out together on the first day
of orientation. She gave him a little squeeze and relished the warm muscles beneath her hand. "I think
what's important is what you learn from how you
grow up. I didn't realize it before, but having so
many relatives around was a good thing. I won't go
back home to live-it's too far from the sea-but I
like knowing they're there if I need them."

He tipped his head toward her. "Sounds nice. You
going to have a big family of your own so your kids
will grow up with what you had?"

Violet shrugged. She was twenty-two and hardly
ready to consider that sort of thing. She'd think about
children later, once she had her career firmly established. She wanted to work with marine mammals.
Maybe manatees. Then perhaps she and her husband
would talk about starting a family. "I guess. Someday."

She felt Smitty's arm slide around her shoulders
and loved the warmth of it, and the huskiness in his
voice when he whispered, "Me too, Vi. Me too."

And the world shook convulsively.

"What the-?" Violet swore as the truck jolted
again and her head smacked against the window. She grabbed for the door handle and hauled herself upright as the truck bucked like a frantic porpoise.
"What's wrong?"

Smitty hung on to the steering wheel with one
hand and downshifted with the other, muttering about
air brakes, bald tires, and grooved pavement. "Sorry
to interrupt your nap, but Interstate 95 seems to be
under spontaneous construction."

Violet glanced out the window that still bore the
imprint of her face. Great, she'd been drooling in her
sleep. How attractive.

Jersey barriers and orange barrels zipped past the
window, slowing now that the truck was coming
back under Smitty's control. The road in front of
them was grooved and torn up. No wonder she'd
been beaten back to consciousness. They were lucky
they hadn't blown a tire, coming on such road conditions without warning.

Life was simply easier on the ocean. No roads. No
construction.

No detours.

She glanced over at Smitty again. His face had
relaxed back into its familiar lines now that the immediate crisis had passed, and she couldn't help seeing the boy she'd been dreaming about in the man
sitting beside her. Couldn't help wishing things had
been different.

Stupid, she chided herself. Don't be stupid.

Feeling unaccountably raw, she aimed low.
"There's no such thing as spontaneous construction.
I'm sure you've been passing signs for miles that
warned drivers like you not to speed through the construction zone." Then another thought struck. Her
voice sharpened. "And why are we on 1-95? The
Pike's quicker, or even 1-84."

"Not on a weekday and not coming from Smugglers Cove." Smitty's fingers tightened on the
steering wheel and she could see a muscle in his jaw
tick. Like most men she'd known, Smitty always
thought he knew the best set of directions, and woe
to the woman-usually Violet-who dared challenge
them.

"But there's always construction on 95 and it meanders all along the coast. It's going to take forever
to get through New York City, and by then we'll hit
lunchtime traffic."

Violet enjoyed the way his eyes went dark when
his temper rose. She loved the feeling of blood humming just beneath her skin when their anger started
to crackle. She wondered which one of them would
owe five bucks for the battle she felt brewing. Then
she decided she didn't care. She'd put forty dollars
in the jar. She was fighting on account.

And arguing with Smitty had become one of her favorite pastimes. At least when they were fighting,
she knew he was paying attention to her.

"Well if my copilot hadn't snored her way across
Rhode Island and into Connecticut, we wouldn't be
having this conversation, would we?" They were
bumping slowly along the ruined road now, stuck
behind an overloaded truck that was laboring to
climb the hill ahead.

"I don't snore," Violet said, offended. Okay,
maybe she'd drooled, but she certainly hadn't snored.

"If you say so, Vi." He sighed and rubbed the back
of his neck. "You ready for a snack and a gas break?"
Clearly tired of the conversation and the traffic,
Smitty took the next off ramp and pulled into the
optimistically named Lovely Truck Stop.

It was anything but lovely. But then again, anything short of the open ocean left much to be desired
in Violet's opinion.

"Sure. Whatever." She flipped the visor down to
check how badly her nap had messed with her hair.
Then she frowned. No mirror. What kind of a vehicle
was this, anyway?

She ignored Smitty's eye roll and hopped out of
the truck as soon as it stopped. "See ya inside."

If she played her cards right, Violet figured she
could avoid pumping gas the whole way to Florida
and back. She didn't mind fueling up Streaker or any of the other boats, but something about working with
cars bugged her. She was a sea creature through and
through, which was why there was no way she was
letting Brody demote her to land duty. Even if it
meant being nice to Smitty for the next few days.

And who knew? Maybe they'd even have some
fun on the way.

She bought sodas and snacks for the two of them,
grabbing Smitty's favorite sticky buns and chips
along with pretzels and peppermints for herself. Figuring the caffeine would be a welcome jolt-they'd
probably drive through till dark and stop somewhere
in Virginia-she ordered a pair of coffees and added
the fake sweetener and low-fat milk she knew he
preferred-though why he used diet products she'd
never understand. His body was perfect.

Not that she noticed such things, of course.

They passed each other in the parking lot and she
tried to ignore the fact that he looked extra handsome
with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his
pants wrinkled slightly at the knees and cuffs.

Maybe there was a touch of sentiment left in her
mind from that dream, or maybe it was seeing him
out of their shared element, but it struck her just how
many years they'd known each other.

And just how much she'd loved that red-haired
young man who'd walked with her on the beaches
of Monterey.

"Everything okay?" He took the coffee from her
and drank deep, sighing his appreciation. When she
didn't answer, he cocked a brow. "Vi?"

She shook herself mentally. That was a long time
ago. Lots of water had passed beneath each of their
keels since he'd been that boy. Since she'd been that
green, naive girl.

Since he'd turned from her to marry Ellen, and
then after his divorce had welcomed her back into
his life with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder.

Smitty touched her arm where it was wrapped
around the bag of snacks. She realized she was
clutching the chips hard enough to grind them to
dust. "What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

Jumping at the sting of the contact, she almost
spilled her coffee. She used the move to place her
arm out of his reach. "Nothing's wrong. I'll see you
back at the truck." She spun on her heel and marched
back to the ugly box truck.

And wondered why, for the second time that day,
she felt like crying.

Smitty watched her go and wished he knew what
he'd done this time to upset her.

Wished he knew how to fix it.

Shaking his head, he walked into the truck stop to
pay for the gas. The next few days were going to be difficult, just like the last few months had been. He
didn't know how much longer he was going to be
able to stand by and watch Violet mourn her lost
relationship with Brody.

He hadn't thought it was serious when his two best
friends dated a few years ago. At least he'd convinced himself they weren't serious, because as much
as he tried to hide it, the alternative bothered him.
He'd wanted to ask Violet out when she'd returned
to the group after her internship in Seattle, but the
memory of his spurned proposal had held him back.
She hadn't wanted to marry him in grad school, so
why would he think she'd want him two years later?

Then she and Brody had started dating, and it
hadn't been an option. Smitty didn't poach on his
best friend's girl.

When Brody and Violet had broken up, it had
barely caused a ripple in Dolphin Friendly, and
Smitty had been relieved. Still, he hadn't found the
guts to ask her out. Instead, he'd gotten her attention
by sewing her into her hammock and sounding the
alarms.

It had been one of his finer moments, and it had
begun a new facet of their relationship. Perhaps they
couldn't be a couple, Smitty had reasoned, but at
least they could be friends. They had existed in an
unsteady, practical joke-filled truce ever since.

Since Brody's wedding, though, Violet's temper
had grown steadily worse. Smitty knew her well
enough to know that she used anger to beat back
other emotions. The best he could figure, she was
upset that Brody had married Maddy. And the
thought annoyed him.