Deep Diving Page 2

  ‘Oh God.’ My voice holds such awe I wonder if Cooper can hear me.

  As the turtle glides past, I caress the edge of its shell, shivering with excitement. Cooper’s large fingers brush against the shell alongside mine. I turn towards him, grabbing onto his arm, and I wonder if my eyes are as wide as his. I take my reg out and mouth a ‘wow’ before popping it back in to breathe. Cooper nods. ‘Amazing.’ Again, his voice is clear. This is the magical underwater world at its greatest. We watch the turtle swim away until we can no longer see it.

  When the turtle’s gone, the rock wall, fish, corals, even the nudibranchs are almost dull. I check my air and it’s time to head back. I tap Cooper’s hand and show him my gauge. He nods; he has the same amount of air and it’s time to go.

  We head back to the boat. At the chain for the buoy, Cooper and I ascend together. I can’t believe what an incredible dive it’s been. Even without the turtle I would have been impressed. It’s not often I score a buddy who’s perfect.

  We break the surface with the same reaction, regulators spit from our mouths in the rush to speak.

  ‘Oh God, that was freaking unbelievable.’ At the same time Cooper says, ‘That was the best dive ever.’ We laugh. I’m bobbing on the surface in a bubble of magical happiness. I lie back. The clear blue sky is smattered with cotton balls of white fluff. It is a perfect day, a perfect dive, a perfect buddy.

  Cooper has his fins off and tucked under his arm when he taps my forearm. I push my mask back and wipe my eyes.

  ‘You staying here all day?’ He nods to the boat. ‘They’re ready for us.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. You go up first.’ I lean down to slide my fins off while I watch him. He explodes from the water like a great dripping black god. I’m mesmerised. The way he effortlessly climbs the ladder and shucks his gear has me gasping for breath.

  He vanishes from sight. Luckily, because I doubt I can climb the ladder with his body arresting my attention. Hell. He was hot before, but now he’s hot and a great buddy, which means so much more.

  I drag myself up the ladder, feeling as if the wetsuit and tank have added 20 kilograms to my usual light frame. In the water, moving is effortless; on land I’m cumbersome with all the gear. I always think of penguins when I’m waddling out of a dive. They glide so effortlessly through the water but look ridiculous on land.

  ‘Here, pass me your fins.’ Cooper’s voice and his strong hands draw my mind away from penguins. Without looking up, I hand him my fins with my mask and snorkel shoved inside. I waddle onto the boat.

  ‘Thanks.’

  I wade over to the air cylinder bench and plonk myself down. And here he is again, best buddy in the world, helping to remove my vest and air cylinder. We take our gear apart, and after I’ve blown air onto the plastic stopper and finished with the air cylinder, Cooper grabs it and secures it to the boat.

  ‘Thanks, Cooper.’ He gives me a wickedly sexy grin and I have to close my eyes and take a few deep slow breaths before I can look at him again. What was in that air? I went from perving to wanting to desperately needing within the space of a dive.

  I head to the side of the boat where I stowed my gear, hoping it will give me some Cooper-free sanity. After a dive my mouth is like the bottom of a bird cage. The dry air saps all the moisture, so I always carry a couple of water bottles. I grab one and drink half of it in one go. As I pull it from my mouth a pang of guilt hits me. I had the perfect dive buddy, I should offer him a drink. I lean down to grab the other bottle when I feel the air beside me heat.

  The heat could only belong to him. ‘Would you like a drink, Cooper?’ I ask as I close my hand on the second drink bottle and stand.

  He licks his lips and I try not to follow the flick of his tongue, or drool over the shining gleam on his lips. ‘No, I’ll be right.’ I’m sure he’s only being polite.

  I hand him my second, unopened bottle. ‘I always bring a couple. I hate the dry air feeling.’ He grabs it with a smile and a nod.

  We lean against the side of the boat while we drink. I deliberately don’t look at him. I don’t want to see him swallowing. I don’t want to see moisture on his mouth. I don’t want to see his lips close around the top of the drink bottle. My imagination is doing a great job without needing the visual.

  Truthfully, I want all those things. I want him. But I know a hundred Coopers. Men with muscles and looks can write their own tickets for women. Women fall over themselves to bed them, partner them, be seen with them. I won’t. Not any more. Cooper may not have the long, lean muscles I’m familiar with, but he’s the exact same breed and I need to stay clear.

  I gulp the rest of my water, hoping it will stop me thinking of his mouth. ‘Thanks. I thoroughly enjoyed that dive.’

  ‘The moray was amazing.’

  ‘And the turtle. How did you spot him? He was incredible. I can’t believe we touched him.’

  ‘And you don’t wear gloves. You touch things?’

  I have a strange feeling he means, girls aren’t meant to want to touch animals, although maybe that’s my issue being projected to his words. ‘I like to know what they feel like. I mean, I know how turtles feel at the aquarium but I want to know how they feel really, underwater. Is that crazy?’

  ‘Not to me. That’s what I want to know too.’ Mutual understanding. Amazing. I push my hair back from my face, running my fingers through the tangled curls, before twisting it into a loose knot to keep it out of the way. I keep it mid-shoulder length so it’s easy to tie up and away.

  ‘It’s hot and these guys will be a while.’ Cooper waves to the couple we’re waiting on who surfaced a fair way from the boat and are swimming back, taking their sweet time. He unzips his wetsuit and peels it from his shoulders down his arms. Five-millimetre thick neoprene does not mould and bend easily. It sticks to your flesh and grabs hold, needing an effort to peel it off, and he’s tugging hard to remove it. Holy freaking hell. His size is not bulk or flesh, but muscle, honed exquisite muscle. Everywhere. Tightly flexed with defined edges begging for my tongue to trace. Solid planes calling for me to lick across their surface. Mercy.

  I was perving before the dive but I didn’t watch him gear up. Thank heavens! I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate knowing this was beneath the wetsuit. I hate to think what my expression is, so I scurry behind him on the pretence of helping him peel the wetsuit from his arms and back. But that’s a bad move, crazy bad move. My mouth, only just re-moistened, becomes drier than when I was sucking air during the dive. It’s difficult to breathe, almost as if each breath is snagged on the ripples of his back. I hold his wetsuit collar, trying not to touch his skin, as he struggles from the sleeves. My hands move down the wetsuit, helping him peel it off, following the body heat which radiates from the wetsuit and pours from his body. I react by flushing. My face is no doubt flaming crimson. Between my breasts, sweat pools.

  His bulk shouldn’t have me melting. But he’s Wolverine solid.

  And he’ll still have women falling all over him, Sam. The bulk makes no scrap of difference.

  ‘Thanks, Sammy.’ His voice drags me from my lust-filled haze. His struggle ends and I drop his sleeves and step beside him. The top of the wetsuit hangs, clinging from his waist. If I keep to his side, surely the muscles won’t dance before my eyes, silently calling for my touch. Sweet hell.

  I grab at my wetsuit zip and tear it down, before struggling to peel the wretched thing down my arms. As I’m wrenching the material down my left arm, Cooper grabs hold and peels it effortlessly from me.

  My brain’s screaming ‘danger’ but I’m not listening. I’m reacting. Against my better judgement, I lean into his body while his heat surrounds me. I hold onto his waist as he struggles to pull the right sleeve off. My fingers tingle against the thick muscle that flexes and fills beneath my fingertips. I have seconds bathed in heat before I mentally restrain myself and drag my body away.

  Holy freaking hell. The heat from his hands, the expert way he moves me and the wet
suit in opposite directions until I’m divested of everything but my swimming costume, tells me he’s well used to undressing women. I’m not surprised.

  ‘Thanks. I never get good buddies like you. Someone taught you exceptionally well.’ I chuckle, knowing that I’m flirting but telling myself I can handle it.

  He grins that sexy smile he’s given me before, where one side of his mouth lifts and his cheek plumps and creases. His eyes get a half-closed look, which reminds me of a post-coital satiated gaze and my stomach takes a rollercoaster ride.

  I suck in two breaths of salty air before I turn in his direction. He’s peeling his wetsuit down his legs. Thighs better than I remembered emerge. Well-defined, deliciously huge thighs streaked with sinew. His knees are overshadowed by quads swelling with tight ripples. He turns his back as he peels the wetsuit lower. His back flexes as he tries to pull the wetsuit from his ankles. But it’s the rounded globes of his butt that hold my gaze. Oh, dear heaven. What a butt.

  He needs help. Reluctantly I move in front of him, grab the wetsuit and help to pull it over his feet. Wide feet, with broad toes. Feet I’d like to…

  Whoa!

  This public dive boat is no place for these thoughts to be taken further.

  Swathed in a towel, I have my defences up before he returns from taking both wetsuits to the bucket on board. He pulls on shorts and a T-shirt before leaning against the boat rail beside me. I can’t decide if I’m glad he’s covered up or not. Everyone’s on board now, so we head back in.

  Continuing flirting would be fun but instead I speak about the dive. ‘There were so many fish down there.’

  ‘And so friendly. I don’t think I’ve had fish come up to my face like that.’

  ‘I’ve been to lots of dive spots but they’re much friendlier here. That’s why I keep coming back.’

  ‘Do you come here often?’ he asks.

  ‘Every year for the past six or so years. I can’t stop coming.’

  ‘Why? There are lots of diving holidays.’

  I look from the lagoon to the island, the twin peaks to the east, the scooping dip of land in the middle of the island, and to the western hills. My lips twist as I list the reasons. ‘The diving here is as good as anywhere else, and the snorkelling is as good as the diving. There are walks if you feel like climbing a hill. And it’s safe. I can roam around after dinner and never worry about my safety.’ I pause and tip my head to the side. ‘And the food’s great.’

  ‘Do you always travel alone?’

  ‘I prefer to. I’ve travelled with friends but it usually ruins the friendship. I’ve travelled a lot for work, in groups, so holidays alone are important for my sanity.’

  He nods in a way that makes me think he understands. ‘How long are you here for?’

  ‘Ten more days. You?’

  ‘Two weeks. Each year I do a dive holiday somewhere and I’ve not been here before. I usually go overseas.’

  ‘Why overseas when there are so many great sites in Australia?’

  He shifts as if uncomfortable before shrugging and avoiding my question. ‘Would you mind…’ He pauses before beginning again. ‘Are you doing more dives?’

  ‘Yes, every day, at least one. A night dive tomorrow if they have enough people. You?’

  ‘I haven’t booked ahead. I wasn’t sure what it’d be like.’

  As the boat pulls into the shore, the gangway lowers, and Cooper leans close. His breath drifts over the edge of my ear, down my neck, and skims across my collarbone. Goosebumps cover me. It’s delicious.

  ‘Would you mind if I buddied with you for your dives? Or is that too pushy?’ He leans back and a cross between a smirk and a smile flits across his face.

  A thousand thoughts scramble through my head. I’d like to be cool and say no, but it’s game playing and I’m no longer playing those games. He’s a great buddy, I can’t deny I enjoy his company. My hesitation stems from my attraction. Can I handle myself without falling over him? I pause, running the tip of my tongue along the seam of my lips. Surely I can control myself. ‘I’d like that.’

  Together we unload and rinse our gear. We work together and chat about the dive while my mind muses. His muscles are huge, he must play footy. He’s from Melbourne so it must be AFL, since Victoria is virtually governed by Aussie Rules. But he’s kind of short, although what else would he play in Melbourne? We head to the office to book the rest of the dives.

  ‘Do you play AFL?’ I ask Cooper the question as we walk out of the dive shack. It’s probably a little impertinent or maybe I should have led into it so it isn’t so abrupt but he just chuckles when I ask, as if he expects my directness.

  ‘Not that brand, but football, yes.’

  ‘Hence the muscles.’ Another brand of football, in Melbourne, who would have guessed?

  He laughs. ‘Yeah, they’re a bit hard to miss, aren’t they?’ His self-deprecating response makes me smile.

  ‘They kind of hide under a wetsuit.’

  He grins and a knowing look appears in his eyes. ‘I did notice the effect of removing it.’ He lifts his eyebrows quickly and I can only laugh.

  I mock-punch his shoulder and immediately regret my action. It’s like punching a cement wall. I pull away and rub my knuckles.

  ‘Big mistake, Sammy.’ He slides his hand over mine, his fingertips brushing across my knuckles. My gaze locks on the contrast between my small hand and his huge paw. A sensation of warmth floods me again and that’s before he leans over and presses his lips to my knuckles. ‘That should make it all better.’

  Lust tears right through me. My knuckles tingle but my body buzzes. I meet his gaze and the air between us grows hotter. I can hardly draw a breath. In a split second I know I can walk towards him and be lost in him, or I can step back and cool things down.

  He’s a footballer. Women fall over him all the time.

  I step back, dragging my hand away from his grasp. ‘Thanks for the dive. I might get going and get some snorkelling in.’

  ‘Where’s the best spot to snorkel?’

  So much for cooling things down. It doesn’t look like I’m going to lose him. We head to town, his steps matching mine. It’s a comfortable togetherness even after the heat.

  ‘If you want big fish, Neds Beach is my favourite spot. One of the locals feeds the fish in the afternoon and it’s brilliant to snorkel as the fish mill around waiting for him. Big kingfish, tailor, mullet, wrasse, garfish, silver drummer, and spangled emperors are all there. Reef sharks come in too. It’s awesome. But hang out the back, you don’t want to get into the feeding frenzy because there are people everywhere and it’s crazy.’

  He’s grinning as if it’s Christmas and I can’t help but offer an invitation. I can imagine his face when he sees it and I want to be there, with him. ‘Do you want to grab something to eat and come with me?’

  His gaze locks with mine and the heat of a few moments ago returns, making me almost regret my invitation. ‘I’d like that. Thanks.’ But he doesn’t step any closer, he doesn’t touch me and we keep to our companionable walk.

  I should be pleased but damn it, I want lust swamping me again. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that. Cursing myself silently, we make our way to the town centre and food. I hope I don’t end up eating him…well, not today anyway.

  Chapter 2

  After grabbing sandwiches and drinks, we walk across the island to Neds Beach, munching along the way. There’s not a lot of chatter as we fill up but I learn he plays rugby league in Melbourne and travels a lot. When we arrive at Neds, I point to the area in front of the shed. ‘That’s where the fish feeding happens.’ I lead him further up the beach. ‘I usually snorkel from here, away from the feeding. It’s easy to swim into the back of the channel and get amongst the big fish without the hassle of the crowd.’

  ‘How would you know about the fish feeding…if you don’t pick up a ready-made tour guide?’ He gives me a quarter-wattage of that knee-wobbling sexy grin and my legs ar
e only a little jelly-like.

  ‘See the yellow sign in front of the shed? It tells you what time’s feeding and warns about the fish eating you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘People get shocked if fish nibble them, even if they do stand in the water while the fish are being fed. You know, people need warning signs.’

  He chuckles, hopefully agreeing with me and not thinking I’m a cynical bitch. We shed our outer clothes, grab snorkels and masks and head for the sea. I try to keep my eyes on the water, the beach, anywhere but his body, in Speedos, beside me. As he walks, muscles ripple across his stomach, shoulders, thighs, calves. Not that they capture my attention in any way. I’ve seen them before, now I’m immune.

  I wish!

  ‘No fins?’ He asks as we wade in.

  ‘I don’t need them snorkelling. You?’

  ‘Same. But I don’t have little feet.’

  ‘My feet aren’t little.’ I look down and then across at his. Mine are tiny. I’ve never considered myself small, but standing near him I have to concede to his point. ‘My feet don’t kick, my legs do.’ And since I run, they are fairly powerful. Although, next to his, they could be considered toothpicks.

  His gaze lands on the tips of my unpainted toenails, slides slowly along my legs and pauses for too long at the juncture of my thighs, before slipping up over my breasts. His stare could be lasers, it burns. Every thought in my brain is fried, except there’s a surge of pride. My legs, delineated by long muscles, have been deliberately accentuated by high cut swimmers. I have a waist that pulls in snug beneath my ribs. My breasts, not large, are enhanced by a brightly-coloured bikini top. There’s a part of me that preens beneath his gaze, knowing I’ve worked hard to achieve a body that still looks good in a bikini.

  ‘Do they have a nude beach here?’

  His question throws me. ‘Ah…no…I don’t think so. Why?’

  ‘Just thought you’d look better without the bikini.’