Wickedly Wonderful (Baba Yaga, #2)(12)
No, Beka was taking in the unexpected magnificence and grace on the boat directly in front of her as Marcus Dermott methodically scrubbed the deck and fittings of the Wily Serpent. It was obvious that particular boat wasn’t heading out to sea this morning; Marcus was the only one to be seen on board, and the bustling activity of the other ships was notably absent on the Serpent.
Dressed in only a pair of denim cutoffs, Marcus looked even larger and more imposing than he had the previous day. Muscles formed by hard work rippled across his broad back as he faced away from her, and his large hands moved quickly and easily across the deck’s surface. Beka had a momentary flash of what those hands might feel like on her body and felt a blush heat her face. What was it about this man that pulled at her so?
He was attractive, yes, but not in a way that would grab your eye from across a room. It was more that he was somehow so self-contained within his skin—masculine and strong and real in a way that was rare in the world where Beka spent most of her time. No fun-seeking surfer or Renaissance fair reveler, this one. He was clearly a man who’d lived a hard life on his own terms, and he bore the scars to prove it. To Beka’s mind, they only added to the attraction.
Of course, the wavy brown hair, flashing hazel eyes, and strong chin didn’t hurt either.
Alas, she couldn’t stand there all day staring at him. Sooner or later, someone would notice and ask her what the hell she was doing. Besides, she was on a mission. Not one she had a lot of faith that she’d succeed at, but she had to try. Maybe he’d gotten over being mad about the net.
And maybe fish could fly.
Beka walked down to stand next to the boat and cleared her throat loudly. “Good morning,” she said in as cheerful a voice as she could muster. “Can I talk to you?”
Marcus straightened up and turned around, dropping his sponge into a bucket of water with a splash. “Oh, for the love of god,” he growled. “What are you doing here?”
Beka sighed. She’d known this wasn’t likely to be easy. “Nice to see you again too,” she said. “I came to hire you. Well, the boat. I can explain, if you’ll give me five minutes.”
Marcus crossed his arms over his lightly furred chest, an expression she couldn’t read lurking at the back of his eyes. “You have three,” he said. “I have work to do. Thanks to you, I have to mend a net before we can go back out.”
Beka had to resist the temptation to snap her fingers and fix the hole in the net herself. It wasn’t all that large, and she could have persuaded the fibers to grow back into one another in the time it took her to draw another breath. She might be the youngest, newest Baba Yaga in the States, but she was plenty powerful. A dangerous combination, her mentor always said. So Beka had learned to be cautious with her magic. But, oh, she was so tempted to see the look on his face when he went to repair a perfectly good net.
Still, that would raise too many questions. And she had work to do too.
Three minutes. Fine. “I’ve got a lead on a salvage job,” she said, speaking quickly and trying to bend the truth rather than break it. After all, she was trying to salvage the Selkies’ and Merpeople’s home. “And I need to do some diving in the area where you were out fishing. I know that most fishermen tend to have a route they use, so I figured that meant your boat would be the only one that went out to that part of the ocean regularly.”
He opened his mouth, a no clearly forming on his lips, and she hurriedly added, “I wouldn’t interfere with your fishing. You could drop me and a dinghy and come back for me when you were done for the day. You’d hardly even notice me.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt it. I can’t imagine a circumstance under which you would be anything less than noticeable.”
Beka wasn’t sure how she was supposed to take that, but his comment had her heart beating faster despite her uncertainty.
She pulled out a bag with some gold coins in it, like the ones she’d given him the day before. “I’d pay you well for the ride out there and back.”
The smile disappeared, vanishing behind the cloud of his usual black scowl. Thick brows pulled together as he moved in an effortless leap from the ship to the dock, leaving him suddenly standing only inches away. “Are you insane? You want me to just drop you in the ocean?” he asked. “Put that away. It’s not happening.”
Beka felt his nearness like an electric humming in her blood, and his anger washed over her in a magenta-hued rush of emotion. She returned his glare, with interest. “It’s not like I took the gold out and flashed it at you,” she muttered. “What the hell are you getting so worked up about?”
“I’m not talking about the gold,” Marcus said through clenched teeth, his tone even and measured, as if he were talking to a not-very-bright child. “I’m talking about the fact that you think I would leave you out alone in the middle of the ocean. Diving by yourself is dangerous.”
Beka rolled her eyes. Of course, she couldn’t tell him why she’d be as safe in the sea as she would be in her own bed, but still, he could have a little faith. And a lot less crappy attitude.
“I dive by myself all the time,” she said, matching his tone. “What’s more, I am an accomplished surfer, and that can be a lot more dangerous. I assure you, I know what I’m doing. I just need to hitch a ride on a boat to do it, that’s all.”