Diana Bronson looses her husband during the search for a sunken ship, known to arbor a treasure. Encouraged by a long time friend to pursue the search, she considers his referral, Greg Allison - a tall Texan - as replacement.

Despite her disappointing marriage which has left her leery of men, Greg Allison sparks her interest and she hires him. The only drawback is she cannot shake the feeling that he has a hidden agenda of his own.

Greg Allison lands a job on the young widow's salvage ship to conceal his search of  stolen plans for a prototype of a new stealth aircraft. What better place for concealment than an old, worthless shipwreck?

He is a willing deckhand; the boss' big violet gaze has him seeing stars. But the Widow Bronson is not the meek woman he was led to expect when he was handed the assignment.

Attracted to each other, but each fighting that attraction, before long they find themselves teaming up and fighting outside forces which may spell the end of not only their developing love, but also their own lives.

Excerpt:

"Are you interested in the job?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I am."

She rose to her feet. "Okay. I'm on my way out to the ship now. How long would it take you to get your stuff together?"

He hesitated, a frown marring his handsome features. "I have just one condition. On Saturday nights I need to be back in Tacoma. Is that going to be a problem?"

Her violet eyes narrowed. "I don't care what you do or where you go. Just don't come back to my ship hung over, stoned, or unable to do your job," she said coldly as she swept her package into her arms.

"No problem," he said with a disarming smile. "I don't drink much anyway, and never enough to have a hangover. And I don't do drugs." He raised his eyebrows as she reached for the door. "You're still offering the job?"

She turned to face him. "I shouldn't but you're the only candidate I have. I'd hire a trained chimpanzee right now if one were available." She grinned at the wry expression on his face while he wondered how favorable a comparison that was. "How soon can you get your things together?"

He nodded toward the dock as they exited the door. "My boat's down there at the end. All my gear is on board."

"Great. I need to load my boat with the supplies I bought, and then you can follow me out to the Ray of Hope."

"I'll give you a hand," he replied, falling into step with her when she turned to go back up into the parking lot. "Is it okay if I leave my truck parked here?" He nodded toward a black four-wheel-drive pickup across from them.

"Sure. I leave my car here all the time while we're out. Jim keeps a sharp eye out, so he probably already knows which vehicle is yours. But you can leave the information with him if you'd feel better." She stopped beside an old blue Datsun and unlocked the hatchback. With the seat folded down there was a lot of storage room, and it was packed full with bags and boxes of groceries.

His eyebrows shot up again. "How often do you stock up?"

She looked sideways at him. "Most of this will only last a week. Whoever is on kitchen duty cooks for a week and is responsible for making up the menus. I pick up the groceries from the menu, or whoever cooks can." She shifted the bag to a slim hip and reached for another one. "You do cook, don't you?"

He set several boxes on top of each other and picked the stack up. "Yes, ma'am. My mama believed in women's lib way before it was popular and made sure the three of us kids knew how to cook. It came in handy when she had to go back to work."

They carried repeated loads down to a 19-foot red and white boat with The Sea Ray painted on the bow, and stowed everything into it. "I'll give you a lift down to yours," she offered as she untied the bowline. He nodded and untied the stern line while she started the engine. She carefully backed out of the slip and turned toward the end of the dock.

"Which one is yours?" Several boats were tied near the end.

Greg pointed to a 28-foot blue and white Bayliner. "At the end there. The West Winds." She took in the twin engines on the expensive boat. She pulled in close so he could jump onto the dock near his boat. Once on board he cast off the lines and fired the engines, then waved to let her know he was ready. She pulled out slowly until he backed out and followed her. They went south past Tacoma, through the Narrows and around Fox Island to turn northwest around Nisqually Reach. He grinned as he realized she was leading him in circles and backtracking on herself to try to confuse him. By following her twists and turns, they finally reached Admiralty Inlet in northern Puget Sound. They throttled back when the ship came into sight.

The Ray of Hope was anchored in about 70 feet of water. At first glance it appeared to be a large pleasure craft - white with blue stripes, 120 feet in length; a crane spoiled the clean lines of the aft deck. On closer inspection, the renovations, the vacuums, and screening devices added to the base of the crane were more apparent. Greg's lips pursed in a soundless whistle at the sight of it as he dropped anchor to keep his boat secure.

Diana hailed him to come over in his skiff, and together they unloaded the supplies into the two smaller boats and headed over to the big ship. Passing his load up to one crewmember, Greg patted his pocket to assure himself that his pack of cigarettes was still intact.

She caught the gesture and frowned. "I must ask that you refrain from smoking inside the ship."

He looked up with a quick smile. "I'm trying to quit. Maybe that will give me inspiration. I'll only smoke up on deck," he said.

"Not even in your own cabin?" she asked dubiously.

"Not even in the cabin," he agreed. "I swear."

After all the supplies were on board Diana got on the intercom and asked the rest of the crew to meet in the galley. Once everyone was assembled she said, "I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our team, Greg Allison. Mitch Perkins recommended him to me and I have hired him." Greg noticed a few dark glances, but Diana appeared oblivious to them. "This is Sierra Ramirez, my right-hand man. Sierra is in charge of all diving and is second in command to me. In his real life Sierra is a realtor."

A realtor was the last label Greg would have pinned on him. Maybe an ex-boxer. He was a short, muscular Hispanic who was giving Greg an appraising once-over. Greg had the disconcerting impression of coming up lacking in the shorter man's eyes. Only about five feet six inches and very muscular, his head barely came to Greg's chin. His curly blue-black hair was cropped short and clung to his head like a cap. He gripped the hand Greg had offered in a deliberately hard clasp, his dark eyes challenging in his acne-scarred face.

Diana's voice carried his attention away from Sierra and his aching fingers. "This is Pete and Dan Taylor. They are construction workers who decided to take the summer off." Both men smiled as they shook hands with him. One of them had helped unload the skiffs, but Greg really couldn't tell them apart. They were both close to six feet; broad shouldered, blonde, green-eyed, and had the chiseled good looks associated with Greek statues.

Diana continued to the remaining crewman. "This is our medical expert, Dr. Tom Baker. He just finished his residency and wanted a vacation before joining a practice."

"Some vacation." Tom grinned and engulfed Greg's hand in a massive paw. "Welcome aboard, Greg," he growled. Except for his bright blue eyes, he had an uncanny resemblance to a shaved grizzly bear. Greg felt like a high school boy looking up at his six foot five inches of bulk.

"Don't tell me." Greg grinned. "You went through medical school on a football scholarship."

The surprise in Tom's eyes was genuine. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"You look like a linebacker." Diana laughed, swatting him lightly on the arm.

Tom picked up Greg's duffel bag in one hand and easily swung it over his shoulder. Greg raised one eyebrow in surprise. His weight belt was in the duffel bag; with the rest of his gear and clothes he had in it, he knew it had to weigh at least 75 pounds.

"Come on," Tom rumbled. "I'll show you to your cabin." He led the way down the passageway toward the stern. There were several mahogany doors with brass fixtures opening off each side, and Tom named their occupants as they passed. "The first one here is Dan's. Pete's is next to it. On the other side of the passage is mine. Sierra's is here." He indicated the doorway on the right. "Right next to the head. Yours is on the other side." That put Greg's cabin closest to the stern. "The cabin across from you is empty. We use it for storage. The skipper's cabin is near the bow." He opened the door to Greg's cabin and set the duffel bag inside the door. "Go ahead and unpack. If you're not afraid of botulism, I'm on KP this week. This is my first turn, so I'll have plenty of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on hand too." He grinned and turned away.

Greg chuckled and entered the cabin. Judging from the size of the cabin, he thought that originally it would have held about four people. He quickly put his things away in the dresser and small closet and bounced experimentally on the hard bunk, his expression turning thoughtful as he unrolled his sleeping bag.

From the size of the ship and the equipment he had glimpsed, Diana Bronson was either independently wealthy, or was heavily in debt. Either way, his mission was clear; he had to find the stolen plans before they fell into enemy hands. He couldn't let anything sway him from that objective, no matter how pretty the face or how vulnerable the expression behind her violet eyes.

Author Bio: