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A few days. Dean will be mine, all mine, no boats or guns or henchmen involved, for a few more days.

I grin back at him. I’ll make the most of it.

EPILOGUE

JUNE

I surface,popping up on the aquamarine water like one of the porpoises I saw playing earlier in the day. The ocean around me is thick with frenzied activity; a research vessel equipped to haul up and process large archaeological finds hums as its dive team suctions sand.

The seafloor beneath me has transformed in the month since I first reported theSantu Espiritu,the sand carefully gridded and plotted. Dipping my mask back in the water, I take one last look at the ghostly remains of the ship then swim back to my new boat.

Grant money is good.

Throwing my flippers onto the deck, I climb up, carefully setting my tanks down. Warm terrycloth meets my skin and I smile, toweling off. My phone sits in the captain’s chair cupholder, and my gaze dips to it.

Slipping a lightweight tee over my head, I pick up the phone and read the new text.

Dean: missing you

I haven’t heard from him much since he’s been in DC. Most of the month, not the few days we thought, unable to talk during the day or even have his phone on him, thanks to classified protocols. In the few snatches of conversations we’ve managed, he made it seem like he was headed back to South Texas soon.

Another message pops up.

Dean: see you soon

I frown at it, confused. Surely he would have said something sooner if he was coming into town. Excitement blossoms, spiraling into full-blown butterflies.

A new sound enters the already loud fray and I look up, shielding my eyes against the sun. Not another group of archaeologists. They don’t drive anything like that. This boat is sleek, closer to a pleasure cruiser than a research vessel.

Damn.Probably some tourists in search of a great fishing spot.

I chew my lip. If they got too close, they’ll kick up all kinds of debris and silt and ruin the progress we’ve made. The strains of Jimmy Buffett fill the air, and the huge boat slows to a stop, a safe distance away from the precious grid. I exhale a sigh of relief. Though it’s still a little too close for comfort. Wake is a pretty serious thing, especially after the fate of theBetty.

Dark hair longer now, a broad, chiseled chest on full display has my heartbeat picking up speed. I squint, trying to make sure my heart isn’t lying to me. Dean would’ve called first, would’ve let me know…

“June!” Dean throws back his head and laughs, an enormous grin on his face. His chest ripples as he springs off the side of the boat, diving into the water. My eyes dart back to the boat, where Thompson waves a few times before he turns the wheel and takes off into the gulf.

I don’t bother watching him go. All my attention is now on the man cutting through the water like his life depends onit. A half second later, I’m in the water, swimming towards him. He pulls up short, dog paddling in front of me, so impossibly handsome. Even better than my memory can handle, his aggressive jawline and sensuous mouth nearly stopping my heart.

“June.”

I crash against him and he catches me in his huge arms, pressing me to his chest, kicking hard enough to keep us afloat.

“You came.” My hands can’t seem to stop skating over his skin, his now wet hair. His cheeks. He turns into my palm, closing his eyes before opening them again, a huge smile on his face.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “You know? What kind of a response is that?”

His smile grows, but he doesn’t laugh. “I know because I’m in love with you, and every minute I couldn’t be with you this last month was a minute wasted. I’m taking a step back from work. Running admin instead of ops.”

I hardly hear the last half of what he says. “You love me?”

“Hook, line and sinker.”

“I love you too,” I whisper. His lips meet mine, and I melt into him until my research team starts whooping from their boats.