Free Fall

By Kate

As promised, this is the story that contains a family background for Chip. In A Thousand Yesteryears, the line that started the whole thing was this: “The brother Chip had lost in childhood, the father who died years later.” I had nothing firmly in mind when I tossed that line into ATY, but I’ve since decided to change it. The new line is: “The father he had lost as a small child, the brother who died years later.” It just fit better with what I wanted to do when I started thinking about Chip’s childhood and background.

There is another distinct plot line in this story involving Lee and to a smaller extent, Harry. For that I have to give a special round of thanks to Theresa. She dangled an idea in front of me that had me running off on a creative tangent. I’ve taken a lot of liberties with this one and I realize not everyone will like what I’ve done but, personally, I like this story. A lot.    

There are several O.C.’s involved this time around. I had the very lovely and talented Jane Seymour in mind when I was envisioning Alyssa Halston. And now I have a whole family for Chip - - I LOVE world-building! <g>

Special thanks to my wonderful betas Theresa, Liz and Diane Kachmar for their invaluable feedback and input. Comments are welcomed at veniceplace12@verizon.net

It would have been just as easy to use the downstairs powder room, but Chip Morton wasn’t above a moment of snooping. He trekked upstairs on the pretext of rummaging for aspirin in the medicine cabinet, but he was really on a hunt for photographs. 

For as long as Lee Crane had owned the upper-end chalet on its secluded stretch of beach, Chip had enjoyed free run of the house. He knew it almost as well as he knew his own townhome, tucked just a few miles from the Institute. But unlike his comfortably lived-in home, Lee’s beach house was far from casual. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his friend had gained a strong appreciation for the finer things in life.

From the car he drove to the way he lived, Seaview’s captain liked to flirt with extravagance. In Chip’s mind, it was Lee’s way of filling a void. He’d grown up without a father, his childhood less than ideal. Somewhere along the line that lack of affection had translated into surrounding himself with luxury - - filling the void. He was far from ostentatious but freely enjoyed a lifestyle steeped in comfort. He’d certainly earned that right, having spent the bulk of his childhood in a bare-bones military school and most of his career on cramped submarines. Seaview, of course, was different, the Taj Mahal of nuclear subs. Lee’s rank as captain, combined with his position’s accompanying salary, gave him the means to indulge at home.

But Chip hadn’t traipsed upstairs to look at pricey furnishings and decor. He was looking for candid shots. Recent ones. Hitting the bathroom for aspirin, he fished through the medicine cabinet but came up empty. He grinned appreciatively, deciding it gave him a legitimate excuse to stick his head in the master bedroom.

He walked down the hallway, bypassing the rear staircase, flipped on the light and frowned. The bedroom was immaculate as always - - contrasting shades of navy, sage and cream offsetting teak furniture, a gas fireplace and a private balcony with a panoramic ocean view. He shot a glance at the nightstand and dresser but didn’t spy any photographs.

The loft!

Mentally, he snapped his fingers. Lee had converted it to an office shortly after moving in. Careful not to alert his friend he was snooping, Chip retreated to the opposite end of the hallway, hovering at the edge of the loft. There were multiple framed photographs on the walls, but nothing he hadn’t seen before  - - several of Lee with him, the admiral and/or the crew, one large blowup of Seaview, and a few of old, decommissioned lightships. He craned his neck toward the desk but saw only a familiar framed photograph of Ellen and Grayson Crane taken with Lee when he was seven.

Chip scowled. He’d been positive after nearly two months of dating the same woman, Lee would have a photo of her in his house. His friend had been nothing short of evasive whenever Chip tried to question him about her, to the point it was starting to get a little freaky. He wouldn’t even share her name.

“Hey, Chip! Come on. What’d you do - - fall in up there?” Lee’s voice drifted up the stairs from the family room. “You’re going to miss the end of the game.”

“Coming.” Flicking off the hallway light, he headed down the steps. Lee was exactly where he’d left him, relaxed on the sofa, a bottle of Molson in one hand, an almost-empty pizza box dead center on the coffee table. Dressed in jeans and an N.I.M.R. tee-shirt, he’d kicked off his shoes and had his stocking feet crossed on the table.

Chip flipped open the lid of the cardboard box and helped himself to the last slice of pizza. Folding it lengthwise, he bit into the tip, savoring a taste explosion of spicy pepperoni, zesty sauce and melted cheese. He would have added mushrooms and anchovies, but Lee had drawn the line at dead fish. “So . . . did we score?”

“Not even close.” Lee looked up at him. “Did you find the aspirin?”

“The what?”

“Aspirin. I thought that’s why you went upstairs.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Chip coughed to cover his lapse and tapped a finger against his temple. “It’s working already.”

“That’s interesting.” Lee reached into his pocket and pulled out an aspirin bottle. “Because after you went upstairs, I remembered I’d taken this from the medicine cabinet earlier.” He tossed it to Chip. “Catch, genius.”

Chip snatched the plastic bottle on the fly. “Smartass,” he grumbled.

“So what were you really doing in my bathroom?”

“I wasn’t. I was in your bedroom. And the loft.” Chip plopped on the couch beside him, swallowing another mouthful of cheese and dough. “Admiring the décor.” He plunked the container of aspirin onto the coffee table. 

“Bullshit.”

Chip grinned. Caught red-handed, it was obvious he’d been snooping. Fortunately, his relationship with Lee was strong enough that his friend wasn’t likely to get overly miffed. 

A glance at the TV confirmed the Dodgers were losing, and the game was a bust. Deciding to go for broke, Chip angled comfortably into the corner of the sofa and shot Lee a devilish glance. “Well, if you’d just show me a picture of this new woman who’s got you wrapped around her little finger, I wouldn’t have to snoop. I mean, I don’t even know her name. What happens if I need to call you some night when you’re camped out at her place until dawn?”

“That’s what I have a pager for.”

Chip snorted and swallowed the last bite of pizza. “I don’t get it, Lee. Is she whacked or something? A vampire priestess trying to turn you into her eternal lover, or . . . I know.” He sat upright, snapping his fingers. “She’s one of those tree-hugging radicals who think we have no business in the ocean, and you’re afraid I won’t like her.”

“Your mother is a tree-hugging radical,” Lee pointed out. “And she’s fine with ocean exploration.”

“Quit avoiding the question. We’re not talking about my mother.”

“We should be. She called the other day and said you hadn’t checked in for awhile.”

Chip clamped his teeth together. “Stop stalling and spill your guts, Crane. What is it about this woman you don’t want to tell me?”

“What makes you think there’s something I’m hiding?” As soon as he asked the question, Lee dipped his head, taking sudden interest in the foil label on his beer bottle. He picked at the corner, dark lashes lowered. Five seconds into the scrutiny he sighed and sat forward, clasping the bottle loosely between his hands. “It’s complicated, Chip.”

Complicated? That was not the answer he’d been expecting. He’d been jabbing lightly, looking for something fun to hold over Lee’s head and suddenly his friend had veered into red flag territory. “What’s so complicated? I thought you were kind of gonzo on this woman?”

“I am. That’s part of the problem.”

One and one were falling far short of equaling two. “So what’s the glitch?”

Lee shrugged, looking away. “She’s a little older than me,” he mumbled.

“Is that all?” Chip felt a flood of relief. “How bad . . . five years? Six years?”

“Sixteen.”

Chip’s jaw dropped. “Are you insane? You’re dating a fifty-year old woman?”

“You haven’t seen her,” Lee said quickly, his eyes flashing back again. “She doesn’t look anywhere near her age. She’s, um . . . kind of had a career in the limelight.”

Chip’s eyebrow climbed into his bangs. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lee grew instantly evasive. “Just trust me. She’s unbelievable. But it isn’t just her looks. We connect on a lot of levels. I’ve never felt such an instant rapport with any woman. Her age shouldn’t matter.”

“Okay . . .” Mentally, Chip tried to climb down off the walls. He wasn’t completely enamored by the idea of Lee dating someone so much older than himself, but it wasn’t the end of the world. And for all he knew, his friend could just be having some fun, enjoying the company of a beautiful, sophisticated woman. “So the age thing isn’t ideal and might create a few hurdles, but is that a reason to keep everything hush-hush? If you don’t have a problem with it and she doesn’t, why should you care what anyone else thinks?”

Lee stood, slipped into his shoes and paced to the French doors overlooking the deck. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Chip frowned. “Lee, you’re really starting to irk me. Will you just spit out whatever’s wrong and get the damn thing said?”

“It’s not that simple.” Lee turned to face him, waving his beer to bump aside the whole discussion. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not now. I’m not ready.”

If Chip had sensed warning flags before, his inner radar was preparing for a rocket launch. “No way.” Standing, he paced closer. “You’re not getting off the hook that easy. You can’t dump crap like this in my lap, then slam the door in my face. Lee . . .” He hedged, fearing the worst. “You didn’t do anything stupid did you?”

His friend shot him a curious glance. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” The hell he didn’t. “Like elope?”

Lee burst out laughing. “You have a warped imagination, you know that?”

“Well, what the hell do you expect me to think with you being so damn cryptic?” He deflated, feeling slightly gratified to know elopement, at least, was a false alarm. Doing anything so spontaneous would have been out of character for his usually deliberate friend, but Lee had been known to throw him a curve ball every so often. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Then you’re going to have a long wait, and I don’t want a permanent houseguest.” Heading back to the coffee table, Lee retrieved the empty pizza box and carried it into the kitchen. 

Chip trailed on his heels, watching as he shoved it into the trash. There were a few items scattered on the countertop - - plates, napkins, oregano, black pepper - - all of which Lee began returning to their appropriate spot in the cupboards. Scowling, Chip propped his back against the nearest wall and folded his arms across his chest. In the background, he could hear the sportscaster reporting on a ground out to first. “You know  . . . that recognition dinner for Dr. Darcy is right around the corner,” he commented mildly.

Lee ignored him, wiping off the counter top. 

“It might be a good time to introduce everyone to your secret lady love.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Lee said, not bothering to look up. 

Surprised, Chip raised an eyebrow. “Why the hesitation?”

“I need to talk to someone first.”

“Who?”

“Chip.” Lee stopped what he was doing and glared. “Just back off. I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Got it?”

Chip’s scowl dug deeper, but he nodded. He’d pushed one button too many and knew it. Any other time he might have kept at it, but Lee’s firm evasiveness told him the discussion had run its course. It didn’t help that his friend’s refusal to talk about the mysterious woman sent his curiosity level skyrocketing into the stratosphere. The only thing he knew for certain was that Lee had met her at a charity function, and they’d begun dating shortly afterward. What made it even more interesting was that Lydia Starke, wife of Admiral Jiggs Starke, had hosted the event, and it was tied directly into Seaview’s next cruise. Admiral Nelson had given Lydia carte blanche to run with the ball and, of course, she had insisted Lee attend. It was no secret Mrs. Starke had an incredible soft-spot for Seaview’s dashing young captain. The event had been held in Hawaii, not far from COMSUBPAC, the money going to help a children’s hospital, badly in need of updating and expansion.

Chip knew among other items, two ‘tickets’ had been auctioned off to the highest bidder, the ‘prize’ a guest cruise on Seaview - - hence Lydia’s insistence that Lee be there. In four more days, Seaview would be leaving port, taking the winners on a two-day exploration of the ocean bottom. Chip had to admit it was ingenious. It wasn’t just any day the public had a chance to acquire a front row seat on the greatest submarine in the world. He’d learned from Lee the fund-raiser had been enormously successful, the children’s hospital reaping amazing rewards. Regardless of what Chip might think of Jiggs Starke, there was no question the man’s wife was extremely resourceful. The names of the winners hadn’t been publicized yet, but Chip had heard through the grapevine that the woman owned a modeling agency and the man was a free-lance writer. High profile magazines were supposedly already bucking to be first in line for any exclusive he might offer.

Sighing, Chip walked to the refrigerator and helped himself to another beer. It was time to refocus. “So when did my mother call?” he asked.

“Yesterday.” Lee confiscated the beer from him, forcing him to grab another. He flipped the top off with a bottle opener then passed the opener to Chip. “She worries about you. It’s that, uh . . .” He hedged, his eyes flashing away briefly before returning to Chip’s face. “. . . that time of year.”

“I know. But come on, Lee, it’s been . . .” Chip paused, doing the mental arithmetic.  

“. . .twenty-two years.” Had it really been that long? Sometimes the memories were as painful as if the events had just happened yesterday. Forcefully, he shoved the ugly thought aside. “She’s the one who gets melancholy, not me.”

“That doesn’t stop her from worrying about you. Your dad’s there to look after her, and Veronica’s close by, but she worries you don’t have anyone checking up on you.”

“I thought that’s why I kept you around.”

Lee grinned. “It’s nice to know I’m good for something.” He gave Chip a clap to the shoulder and started past him. “How about some air? It’s too nice to be cooped up inside.”

Chip followed him onto the deck. The ‘June Gloom’ of early morning, a phenomenon typical to Santa Barbara, had passed hours before, burned off beneath the gold-soaked kiss of the sun. The breeze from the Pacific was cool, keeping the temperatures agreeably pleasant in the upper seventies. Overhead, the sky was a vivid aquamarine, threaded with the white lace of a few scattered clouds. 

Hunching forward, Chip braced his arms against the railing and stood looking out over a glittering stretch of beach to the pounding surf beyond. He could see why Lee had chosen this spot, probably paying through the nose for such a prime location. When he couldn’t be at sea, Lee still lived in the shadow of the ocean - - the siren-call of wind and waves, the crescendo and ebb of the surf, each with a magic all its own. 

Chip had always loved the water from the time he was a child, but there had been a few dark years when he’d never wanted to see it again. It was amazing how time healed even the deepest wounds, transforming the rawest pain into a manageable scar. He knew part of the reason he tended to be overprotective of Lee was because of Conner. 

Had he lived, his brother would have been a few months younger than his friend, far different in temperament than the often too-serious Lee Crane. It would have been interesting to see what he thought of Seaview’s perfection-driven captain. Free-thinking and artistically-gifted, Conner might have been a challenge for Lee and vice-versa.

“You know,” he mused aloud. “I often wonder what Conner would be doing right now, if he’d lived. Career, family . . . that kind of stuff.”

Lee joined him at the railing. Turning sideways to face him, he braced his hip against the wooden barrier and set his beer on the top rail, keeping his hand locked around the bottle. “Think you’d be an uncle?” he asked with a slight smile.

Chip grinned back at him. “I’d be a good one. But I don’t know . . .” He trailed off, glancing to the ocean again. “I can see Conner being single, jet-setting from New York to London to Paris, giving recitals to royalty and heads of state. People that talented just shouldn’t die. He really had a gift with music.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Stupid kid should have known better, swimming too close to that dam.” I should have known better. I should have been paying attention. I should have made him get out of the water when I did.

If he could only spin back the clock and do it right this time, erase all the hurt and pain of the last twenty-two years. He tried to tell himself his mother didn’t blame him. True, Lee had said she’d called, worried about him, but deep down inside he couldn’t help thinking there was a small part of her unwilling to forgive. He had no reason to think it except the quiet nagging of his own guilty conscience. Sometimes, he was sure she sensed that and, as a result, their relationship was occasionally strained. He knew she loved Lee . . . treated him as if he were that other son, the one she’d lost when Conner was only eleven-years-old. 

Chip knew part of her reason for reaching out was because he hadn’t picked up the phone and called her. But he’d been busy, more so than usual. Seaview’s last mission had been a rough one, the boat sustaining heavy damage in an encounter with a deep sea mutation. Chip could have sworn the thing that wrapped itself around the sub was a Goliath-sized hagfish - - more commonly called a slime eel - - especially when it tried to bore inside, resulting in power and circuitry failures but, thankfully, no hull breach. The damage had been extensive, sending the boat to the bottom with flooding in several compartments. It had taken almost eighteen hours to get the main systems operational again, and then they’d had to putter along at half power. They’d limped back to base where Seaview had been undergoing extensive repairs ever since. The admiral was anxious to return to the area where they’d encountered the hagfish, but first there was the promotional cruise, a commitment he couldn’t escape.

All but minor repairs had been finished, and the boat was set to sail in four days.

It would be good for Chip to be at sea. It would keep his mind off Conner and his mother.

Lee seemed to read his thoughts. “Sometimes life is beyond our control, Chip. God knows, I wish Conner had lived, but did you ever stop to think that your life might be different if he had?”

Chip sent him a pensive glance. “You mean like I wouldn’t be on Seaview or I wouldn’t have joined the Navy? Maybe I wouldn’t have met you.”

Lee frowned. “Maybe.”

“No.” He shook his head, not buying it. “My mom might be all about Save the Planet and Save the Whales, but my dad was career Air Force before he retired. Conner and Veronica might have gotten my mom’s artistic side, but I inherited my dad’s practicality. “

Lee looked at him levelly and automatically Chip knew what he was thinking. Major Nathaniel Morton wasn’t really his father. But the man who’d raised and loved him from the time he was five, legally adopting both he and Conner, was the only father he knew. His true father, Eric Tournay, was sadly just a shadowy memory. The commercial airline pilot had died in a crash when Chip was only three, Conner just a year old. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, Eric had passed his physical characteristics to both sons. Before his hair had started to silver prematurely, Nathaniel had been just as blond but, unlike Eric, his eyes were a dark chocolate brown. Chip had always thought it odd that his mother, Grace, as free-thinking as she was, and - - okay, for being a ‘tree-hugging radical’ as Lee jokingly sometimes called her - - had married a military man. But his parents were perfect together, as much in love today as when they’d first married. Together, they’d given Chip three wonderful sisters - - Melanie, Abby and Veronica. He’d always known Veronica had a crush on Lee, but as she was ten years younger, only twenty-four, his friend had never done anything to encourage it.

“Practical or not,” Lee countered, skipping the reference to Chip’s father, “Things have a way of changing when you least expect them. You can’t fix the past, but you can go home and give your mother a call. We’ll be leaving port in four days. It wouldn’t hurt to check in with her before that happens.”

“All right.” Chip nodded, knowing his friend was right. The anniversary of Conner’s death was just a few days away and, although twenty-two years had passed, his mother would fare a lot better if she were able to talk to her remaining son. “I know she loves me Lee, but sometimes I think . . .” He stopped, unable to finish the thought. Sometimes I think she blames me.

“What?”

Chip shook his head. “Nothing.” Straightening, he made an elaborate show of stretching and working a kink from his lower back. “I think I’ll head home now. The game’s a bust, and you probably want to give your mystery lady a call… ”

“Chip,” Lee warned with a dark glare.

“Yanking your chain, buddy.” Chip grinned and pushed his half-finished beer into Lee’s hand. “Stay out here and enjoy the scenery. I’ll show myself out.” His smile twitched higher. “And I promise not to snoop along the way.”

Lee shook his head and watched him go. 

**********

Two days later, the captain of the Seaview reclined in the embrace of a plush white couch, thoroughly preoccupied. He’d long since forgotten the glass of wine abandoned on the end table, had even tuned out the soft lilt of Celtic harp and flutes piped through recessed ceiling speakers from a central stereo.  

Alyssa Haltson’s living room was a combination of opulent white, antique-gold and cream. Glass tables accentuated champagne-colored carpet, breezy white walls and towering windows. In the last two months, Lee had become intimately familiar with every room of the upscale condo, often spending the night when Seaview was tucked in her subpen. 

In a little under forty-eight hours, the sub was scheduled to embark on the short good-will cruise intended for the winners of Lydia Starke’s charity auction. Angie had handled all the paperwork, including insurance and liability waivers, but Lee was certain the admiral would have glanced at the documents, mentally registering the names of the winners. And if he hadn’t, he surely knew their identities now. News had leaked yesterday one of them was an ex-fashion model, sending local reporters scrambling for an exclusive. Nelson had said nothing, but then Lee didn’t really expect he would. 

Which made the guilt he’d been dragging around for the last six weeks harder to swallow. Time was slipping away from him, the clock ticking faster than he could keep up, yet he kept side-stepping the inevitable.

Coward, he mentally chided.  

The whole thing was mind-boggling when he thought about it, the odds lumped somewhere in the category of when-pigs-sprout-wings-and-fly. He should have talked to the admiral immediately when he’d first learned the truth, but for the last six weeks he’d been looking for just the right moment - - fully aware it was never going to happen.

He sighed, scraping a hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Alyssa Haltson joined him on the sofa, settling next to him with lithe elegance. She tucked her legs onto the cushion beside her, her body flowing as gracefully as a current of air. 

God help him, but the woman did things to him he couldn’t explain. He knew their connection was more than physical, but sometimes he couldn’t think straight when she was so close. With creamy rose-colored skin, clear gray eyes and flowing auburn hair, she was every bit as bewitching as any siren of myth. Years of recreational dance and yoga had kept her body fit and toned. It was easy to see why she had once been the ‘face’ of everything from perfume and fashion to cosmetics and jewelry. He’d been smitten from the moment he’d met her, but it wasn’t until they’d been two weeks into a relationship that she’d come clean about her past.

He knew he should have been angry . . . was for a time, but couldn’t hang onto his irritation long enough for it to snowball. He was in over his head and knew it but didn’t have the desire to back out. Not yet. The whole thing was destined to fail, but he couldn’t help thinking the impossible might happen and everyone would walk away happy.

“You’re thinking about Harry aren’t you?” Alyssa asked. She set a glass of white wine on the coffee table, the long-stemmed flute tinted with the palest flush of lavender. The fading sun bled through the sheer curtains of her upscale condo, snaring on the beveled crystal, sending a prism of light dancing across the tabletop. She wrapped her hands around his arm and snuggled closer, leaning against his shoulder. “I thought you were going to talk to him.”

“I haven’t had a chance.” That wasn’t entirely true. He’d had multiple opportunities; he’d just been too gutless to take them.   

Alyssa looked at him skeptically, sensing he wasn’t being completely honest. “Seaview sails in two days, Lee.”

“I know that.” He said it a little too sharply and immediately grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge about this cruise.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he drew her closer and brushed a light kiss against her temple. She smelled of water lilies and jasmine, the heady scent as intoxicating as the press of her body against his. Palming the creamy column of her neck, he slid his hand higher, tipping her face up for a kiss. It was easy to drown in her loveliness, her features echoing the flawless beauty of Aphrodite and Venus. It was no wonder he was besotted. “You’re like a drug,” he whispered against her lips. “I can never have enough.”

She smiled under his kiss. “You’re not exactly lacking in that department yourself, Captain. Are you forgetting I’m the one who set the trap for you?”

He chuckled, drawing back long enough to press his lips to her hair again. She hadn’t exactly set a trap, but she’d known precisely what she was doing when she’d attended Lydia Starke’s auction. Thankfully, the two women didn’t know each other. Alyssa had only been in Santa Barbara a short while, a satellite office of her modeling agency and her primary residence newly relocated from New York, when she’d decided - - very deliberately - - that she wanted to meet Commander Lee Crane.

She was one of the winning bidders for the cruise, so naturally Lee had met with her to extend his congratulations. He’d felt a spark at that initial introduction, and had been astute enough to realize she had too. Fifty minutes later, they were having dinner together away from the hubbub of the auction. He’d never been one to follow pop culture so hadn’t recognized her name. Only later, through research, had he realized her career had been synonymous with glamour and fashion. She’d stopped modeling twelve years ago, preferring to step back from the spotlight and represent others. Her age had caught him by surprise - - he would have guessed she was no older than forty - - but he’d dismissed it as being an issue the moment he’d learned the truth. She was lively, intelligent, fun-loving and intoxicatingly sexy. In short, the woman was lethal.

And then two weeks into their relationship she’d confessed something he literally couldn’t believe. He could still remember the shock he’d felt as he stood on the balcony off his bedroom, the night air cool against his bare skin. He’d pulled on his pants to trek outside, but was barefoot and bare-chested, the light of a full moon splashed on the floorboards around him. He’d thought Alyssa was sleeping, drowsy from their lovemaking, but ten minutes later she’d wrapped herself in his shirt and joined him.

When she’d finally told him the secret she’d been keeping, he’d thought he’d heard her wrong.

“Say that again,” he insisted incredulously.

In the moonlight her gray eyes were darker, black as a patch of starless sky. “Harriman Nelson is my ex-husband,” she repeated.

 And just that quickly the world seemed to buck beneath him. He stared blankly, unable - - or unwilling - - to accept the impossible. 

She moved to his side, one hand locking onto his arm as she gazed up at him. “Don’t be angry, Lee. It was a long time ago. We were both so young. I was fresh out of college, and he wasn’t much older. We thought we could make it work, but our lives just veered in different directions. After three years, we called it quits.”

Lee’s blood pounded against his temples. He’d heard wrong. Either that or he was dreaming. She simply wouldn’t keep something that significant from him, knowing how close he was to Nelson. He’d told her about his relationship with the admiral. Granted, he hadn’t gone into detail, but she knew enough to know Nelson was one of the most important people in his life.

“Damn it, Alyssa!” Infuriated, he wrenched away, pacing to the opposite side of the balcony. He’d just slept with the admiral’s ex-wife. “How could you keep something like that from me?”

“And if I’d told you from the start?” she challenged. “Would you have continued to see me? No - - you would have backed off immediately. Lee, I’ve had several failed relationships, and I buried my last husband eight years ago. I haven’t seen Harry in over twenty years. Do you understand how long ago that was? It’s no longer important.”

“It’s important to me,” he snapped, still angry. “You knew I worked for him. And you know what his friendship means to me. Didn’t you ever stop to consider it might bother me to be sleeping with his ex-wife?”

She folded her arms over her chest, growing irate. “The operative word being ex. We’re both consenting adults. No one forced you to crawl into bed with me. If the thought is that distasteful, Captain Crane, we can end this right now.”

He heard the whip-crack of anger in her voice and knew they were both coming dangerously close to saying something they didn’t mean. “No. That’s not what I want.” God help him, he didn’t. Exhaling loudly, he paced off a tight circle in an effort to squelch his frustration. “I just want to understand why.”

“Because everything changed after I met you,” she said, just as sharply as before. “I’ve followed Harry’s career over the years, as I’m sure he’s probably followed mine. I knew about Seaview and I knew about you. I saw the charity auction and thought it would be fun, especially after I saw your photo. Do you have any idea how attractive you are, Lee? I just wanted to meet you . . . maybe have dinner, spend a few hours in the company of a handsome, successful man. Yes, I went after you, and yes, I knew you worked for Harry. I thought that one night would be the end of it, but once I met you, I knew I wanted more than just a casual acquaintance. If I’d told you then I was Harriman’s ex-wife, you’d have left a dust trail a mile long in your wake.” Her voice grew quieter, her expression softening as she took a step nearer. “So I kept it to myself as long as I could, but I knew it wasn’t fair to either of us.” Her lashes dipped, black as velvet against the rose of her skin. “If you decide to walk away, I’ll understand.”

And, of course, he didn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. In the beginning, it would have been easy, but after two weeks he’d been in too deep. Now, six weeks later, there was no question his heart was involved. He just needed to work up the courage to tell Nelson. If he looked at it logically, it shouldn’t even be that big an issue. Alyssa was right. She’d parted ways with Nelson over twenty years ago. It wasn’t like they’d only recently split or that a possibility of reconciliation lingered in the wings.

So why did it feel so . . . wrong?

Because, as usual, where Nelson was concerned he was likely over-analyzing things. The admiral wasn’t just his boss. He often looked to the man as a surrogate father. What if Nelson resented his involvement with Alyssa?

He sighed, knowing there was no easy way around the dilemma. If he was going to sleep with the admiral’s ex-wife, then he was going to have to own up to the relationship instead of trying to hide it.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he promised. 

Alyssa smiled up at him, pleased by his decisiveness. “I couldn’t imagine going on a cruise with the two of you if everything wasn’t out in the open. It’s bad enough the newspapers have latched onto my career.”

Lee grinned. That discovery had snowballed into a publicity blizzard over the last twenty-four hours. “You’re getting more media hype than Seaview. It has to be doing wonders for your modeling agency.” 

Not that the firm needed an extra push. Alyssa had already been well-established in New York before relocating to Santa Barbara. In the last twenty-four hours, however, her picture had been plastered everywhere, super-imposed with Seaview in the background. There were shots of her in her heyday when every fashion designer and cosmetic firm in the country had been after her to represent their products . . . more recent shots of her attending social functions and ribbon cutting ceremonies. Even a splash on her agency.

There was no question she was every bit as glamorous and beautiful as she’d always been. Gracious too. She’d consented to one or two interviews, knowing exactly what to say to shift the focus from herself to Seaview, lauding the work N.I.M.R. was doing for the scientific exploration and continual preservation of the world’s oceans.

News from the naval grapevine said Lydia Starke was positively preening. Not only had she snared a cultural icon for her auction, but Alyssa had talked up the children’s hospital too, resulting in more donations from concerned viewers. N.I.M.R. was abuzz with excitement, most of Seaview’s crew already planning to line up for autographs. Lee knew when they did eventually make it out of port, he was going to have his hands full with a star struck crew. 

He’d tried to take the whole thing in stride, but knowing Nelson’s connection to Alyssa and his own intimate involvement, he was beginning to feel the glare of the spotlight. It was almost like the other winner - - a man named Bryan Johnson - - didn’t even exist.

Alyssa snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’d rather have you alone than have to deal with eager publicity hounds.”

“Mmm.” He made a vague sound, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. When he thought about it, he could do with some down time too. Just the two of them . . . no thoughts of the admiral, the cruise and especially not the press. “That sounds like a plan,” he murmured, tipping her face up for a kiss.

There were far worse ways to spend an afternoon.

**********

Chip hung up the phone. 

He hadn’t called his mother when he’d promised Lee, but he’d eventually gotten around to it. Conner never came up in the conversation, which suited him just fine. It wasn’t so much she wanted to talk about the past and commiserate about the child she’d lost when he was only eleven, so much as she wanted to connect with Chip near the anniversary of Conner’s death. He’d never really understood why as he’d always believed there was a part of her - - if only subconsciously - - that blamed him for what happened. And yet it was the same year after year. She needed to hear his voice. 

And so, dutifully, he called.

They’d talked mostly about Arizona. It had been three years since she and his father had made the move from Chicago. Nathaniel had retired from the Air Force with a sizable pension and was currently doing consulting work as a computer analyst. Chip’s mother, Grace, and his youngest sister, Veronica - - who’d made the move with them - - had opened an art studio together. Situated in Sedona, it had taken off quickly, keeping both women busy. Chip had never gotten any of Grace’s artistic genes, but Veronica was talented with both oil paint and jewelry designs. Conner had been the musician in the family, destined for Julliard well before his sixteenth birthday.  

Of Chip’s remaining sisters, Melanie was still in Chicago, selling luxury real estate and making a mint, while Abby had moved to Baltimore to accept a highly coveted position with a prominent marketing firm. They were spread out across the map, but he was sure his sisters worried about his mother too. It was the one time of year when she allowed herself to embrace more than a healthy bit of melancholy. At least Veronica was nearby, and his father was with her.

With a sigh, Chip paced into the living room and plopped onto the couch. He knew he should visit soon. By plane it was practically a hop, skip and a jump to Sedona. His mother would want him to bring Lee if he went. She always enjoyed the way he teased her about her lifestyle, including her organic/vegetarian diet, yoga, meditation and multitude of protest movements. Lee was fond of asking her “What are you saving today, Grace?” 

Were Chip to voice the same question, he was sure he’d get a frown and a whack on the back of the head, but Lee was always rewarded with a hug and a laugh. That was the difference between being a son and an adored guest.

Veronica was even worse. He knew she’d always had a crush on Lee. Thankfully, four years of college and another two of graduate work meant they hadn’t crossed paths in several years. Lately, according to his mother, she tended to favor the long-haired hippie type and was even making noises about getting serious with someone named ‘Mason’ whom his mother despised. Chip didn’t know the guy and already disliked him. If he ever did hop on a plane and fly to Sedona, he’d have to set his youngest sister straight. After all, that’s what big brothers did.

And he was the only brother left in the Morton family. 

Closing his eyes, he sank lower into the cushions of the sofa. Seaview’s last cruise had taken a lot out of him, especially after the incident with the giant hagfish, but he was looking forward to setting sail. It would get his mind off Conner, off his mother.

And, as crazy as it seemed, they were going to have a model onboard. A world-famous model! That was an especially nice dollop of icing to plop on the cake. He’d seen pictures of Alyssa Haltson. For once, the scenery aboard Seaview was actually going to surpass the vibrant blue ocean that cradled her. He’d probably have to ride herd on a few of the more eager crewmembers - - Kowalski and Riley sprang immediately to mind - - but overall, he was looking forward to such an intriguing diversion. 

He grinned. No question the woman was a looker. He’d have to wrangle an autograph from her. His father would get a kick out of it, maybe his mother too. She needed something to perk her up. Hell, if he was honest, he needed the jolt and the distraction.

It’d been years since he’d had nightmares about that cursed dam, but they’d come flooding back last night with a vengeance. Maybe it was just because he’d talked to Lee about Conner, even going so far as to wonder aloud what his brother would be doing, had he lived. He never should have opened that door . . . never should have thought about Conner married and happy, or world renowned and successful. Life hadn’t played that way. Fate hadn’t played that way. 

God, if he’d only been paying more attention. Instead, he and Kevin had gotten out of the water, digging for nightcrawlers on the bank. They weren’t even supposed to be there; they’d only picked the spot because they’d heard it made the best fishing. Everyone knew the biggest and fattest fish were found near dams. It had just been so wretchedly hot they’d thought nothing of stripping down to their shorts and wading into the murky river. Justin had been the one to suggest it . . . Justin, who’d stayed in the water with Conner, when he and Kevin had climbed back onto the bank.

Chip closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temple. He could still recall how spongy the soil had felt when he’d dug beneath the moss and algae . . . could recall the smell of black, wet earth in his nostrils, the press of water-logged grass against his knees. And as always, with those impressions, came the sound of Conner’s scream.

He’d had only that single glimpse, coupled with Conner’s terrified shriek. He’d snapped his head up just in time to see his brother and Justin, trapped in the current, plummet over the dam. And in that pulse-pounding, freeze-frame of time, it felt like his heart exploded. Neither boy came up, neither resurfaced. 

Justin’s body was eventually found but, despite dragging the river for days, police and rescue were never able to locate Conner’s remains. It was just another grisly knife in Grace Morton’s heart that she couldn’t bury her son. He’d never been given the closure he deserved.

I should have been paying attention. I should have made him get out of the damn water when I did.

Aggravated, Chip stood and roamed around the rear of the couch. Wasn’t he the big brother? Hadn’t it been his job, his responsibility to look out for Conner? 

His stomach twisted.

Why was everything coming back now and with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years? 

Sometimes he thought his mother might have fared better if she’d had Jean Brenner to share her grief. But unable to bear the loss of their child and unwilling to live in the area where the river was a constant reminder, Alex and Jean had packed up their remaining son and moved out of state within six months. Chip had gotten a letter about a year later from Kevin. It had been mailed from a small town in New Hampshire. He’d written back but had never received a reply and had never heard from Kevin again. Perhaps it was just as well. His friend had lost a brother too. The strongest memory of their childhood was one of tragedy. It certainly wasn’t a bond to carry into adulthood.

Deciding he was being far too morbid for his own good, Chip resolved to get out of the house. He needed to be busy and occupied. It wasn’t a work day for him, but there was plenty he could do on Seaview. The final repairs had been scheduled for completion earlier that morning. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to poke around and get a status update. At the very least, it would take his mind off Conner and his mother. 

Grabbing his keys off the coffee table, Chip headed out the door. 

**********

N.I.M.R. had turned into a three-ring circus. Lee had to wade through a glut of reporters just to make it onto the grounds. Fortunately, security cleared a path for his Cobra, waving him through the gate before promptly slamming it shut on a horde of photographers and journalists clustered outside.

Inside the Institute, it was just as bad with phones ringing off the hook and most of the administrative staff scrambling to answer questions or calm rumors. 

“No, Sir, I assure you, Seaview is not being used for a fashion shoot,” Lee heard Nelson’s secretary, Angie, say into the phone as he passed her desk. He could see half a dozen other lights flashing on her console, illuminating it like a Christmas tree. She rolled her eyes at him and waved him toward the admiral’s office, all the while talking non-stop into the receiver. “No, Admiral Nelson is not interested in subbing out Seaview for a swim-suit issue…”

Lee stopped listening when he heard something crash behind the door to the admiral’s office. Bursting in without knocking, he found the older man stooping to pick up a wooden “in” box that had just met with the hard paneling of the adjacent wall.  Papers and folders were scattered over the floor in a haphazard mess. Given Nelson’s temper, Lee had the distinct feeling the admiral had sent the clutter flying off his desk or hurled the box in a fit of anger. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to talk to the man about Alyssa.

“Admiral? Is everything all right?” Concerned, Lee dropped his briefcase on the nearest chair and bent to scoop up the scattered papers.

“Just leave them.” Nelson waved brusquely at the mess. “Angie will only show up with two dozen more requests in the next hour anyway.”

Lee looked at the papers he was gathering before returning them to the admiral’s desk. “Requests for interviews?” he guessed.

Nelson grunted. “Absurd, isn’t it? What started out as a simple idea - - a charity auction - - has turned into a complete fiasco? This . . . this woman . . . this Alyssa Halston . . .” He batted the air with a grimace of disgust, “Has made it impossible for anyone to function on a reasonable level. All we’re doing is running interference for the press.”

“Sir . . .” Lee hedged. Knowing Alyssa was the admiral’s ex-wife, he was a little taken aback by his obvious anger. Alyssa had told him she and Nelson hadn’t kept in touch after their divorce, but she’d never indicated there was animosity between them. More than likely the admiral was just upset by having his usual order upstaged and thrown into a shambles. Fortunately, the press had yet to unearth his brief marriage to Alyssa, but Lee knew it was just a matter of time. She’d had a different name then - - Alison Hagan - - the marriage happening years before the launch of her career. With any luck, that bit of knowledge would stay out of the newspapers until after Seaview left port.

Still . . . the boat was scheduled to depart tomorrow. He had to get the truth on the table while he had the guts to do it. “Actually, Sir, I wanted to talk to you about Ms. Halston…”

Nelson wasn’t listening. He’d already turned away, mumbling to himself. “We’re going to have to reschedule our departure time.” Snagging his jacket from a nearby chair, he gruffly shrugged his arms through the sleeves. “I don’t want our launch turning into a photo op. We’ll let it stand with the press as 1200 hours, but we’ll reschedule it for 0600. With that much of a gap, we should be able to slip out under the radar.”

“Sir…” Lee tried again.

“I’ll have Angie contact Ms. Halston and Mr. Johnson with the new departure time. I would think even Ms. Halston would agree with my reasoning.”

“Sir, about Ms. Halston . . . I really need to talk with you.”

“Of all the people to win that blasted auction,” Nelson continued, still wrapped up in his fuming. “We had to get a model. The crew is going to be unbearable, not a single one of them able to concentrate.”

Lee frowned. “Admiral, they’re all professionals.”

“And behaving like besotted schoolboys.” Heaving out a sigh, Nelson grabbed his cap from the desk, itchy for flight. “I’m sorry, Lee. You came in here for a reason. What did you want?”

It wasn’t the time. He could see that clearly. Nelson stood balanced on the balls of his feet, mentally halfway out the door. “Nothing that can’t wait, Sir.”

“Fine. Good.” Nelson breezed past him, snapping off words with the rat-a-tat cadence of a machinegun. “You’ll take care of the schedule change; see that all the duty crews are informed?”

Grabbing his briefcase, Lee followed behind him. “Yes, Sir.”

Nelson paused only long enough to scribble out a message for Angie and dump it on her desk. She looked up, the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she pushed buttons, toggling between callers. “Sir?” she queried, but Nelson kept going, striding down the hall, his pace brisk and agitated.

Hopefully, it was nothing more than the aggravation of having his beloved Institute overrun by a gaggle of reporters looking for a celebrity scoop. In one vein it was amusing when Lee thought about it - - a model and a man of science. No wonder they hadn’t been able to make their marriage work. 

He just prayed the ex-spouses were still on speaking terms.

**********

Somehow, despite the chaos of the rest of the Institute, Lee’s office stayed fairly quiet. His secretary fielded the worst of the phone calls, leaving him free to address legitimate business. The admiral returned briefly after lunch, but when he popped his head in the office to grumble a new set of orders at Lee, he seemed even angrier than before, prompting Lee to keep his silence about Alyssa.

Chip dropped by to say hello and to give him an update on the repairs, but he’d no sooner stuck his head in the door than he was summoned away for a phone call. Forty minutes later, Lee’s secretary buzzed him on the intercom to report Mr. Bryan Johnson, the other winner of the auction, had shown up unexpectedly and wanted to speak with him.

Probably thrown off by all the attention Alyssa’s getting, Lee thought, but consented to the unscheduled meeting. Johnson was a freelance writer which meant he should crave the spotlight but even Lee had to admit it was spiraling out of control. A smart man would use the two days on Seaview to write about the cruise and get first-hand impressions from the very model who had initiated the ruckus. The man had a goldmine in the making if he played his cards right.   

Amazing the domino effect something could have. Combine a world-renowned submarine with a high-profile fashion model and suddenly a feeding frenzy was underway. He’d seen the results splashed on the front page of Santa Barbara’s most prominent newspaper. ‘Beauty and the Boat,’ it had screamed. He’d gotten a chuckle out of it. 

Until he thought of Nelson. Until he thought of his own tangled part in the chaos.

“Captain Crane?” 

The man who stuck his head in the door was tall and trim with thick blond hair and vibrant blue eyes. Dressed casually in gray slacks and a slate-blue shirt, he had an open, agreeable face - - the classic ‘boy next door.’ 

“Mr. Johnson.” Lee held out his hand, stepping around his desk to greet the writer. “I trust you’ve been notified about the change in our departure time.”

“Yes. Your secretary called earlier.” Still grinning, Bryan Johnson shook Lee’s hand. “And I fully understand the necessity given Ms. Halston’s celebrity status. To be honest…” His grin stretched a little wider. “…I’m not entirely disappointed. It’ll give me the chance for an exclusive.”

“I thought you might appreciate the switch.” Lee motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Johnson smiled agreeably as he took the proffered chair in front of Lee’s desk. 

They’d met only once before at the charity auction when Lee had been present to congratulate the winners. He hadn’t gotten a strong impression of Johnson then, just a congenial expression and a man who’d seemed eager to shake his hand. Now, seated across from him, Johnson appeared a little less eager, a little less open.

“I appreciate you’re seeing me on such short notice, Captain. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before we sail.”

Lee nodded, curious but certain the discussion would spiral back to Alyssa and potential magazine articles - - which amounted to a waste of his time. He wasn’t about to commit to anything on behalf of his guest, let alone his lover. If he were Johnson, he’d have already analyzed the most effective means to capitalize on a cruise with the media’s current darling.

“Mr. Johnson, if this is about Ms. Halston…” he started, anticipating where the conversation was headed.

“I assure you, Captain, it’s not. And actually, my name isn’t Johnson.”

Lee blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He hedged a moment, then met Lee’s gaze unflinchingly. “As shocking as it may sound, my name is Morton. Conner Peter Morton.”

The hell it was! Surging to his feet, Lee slammed his fist on the desk. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of gall coming in here with that story.”

“Only because it’s true,” Johnson persisted. “I know it sounds impossible…”

“’Impossible’ isn’t even close. I’ll have you thrown out of here.” Blood pooled against Lee’s temples, his heart thudding in his chest. In the span of a single pulse-beat he went from calm and professional to hostile and enraged. “You have the audacity to claim …”

“You don’t understand,” Johnson interrupted hastily. Like Lee, he too shoved to his feet. The color drained from his face but his eyes were intense, blazing with flame. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I didn’t stop to consider how you’d react? You’re his closest friend. Why do you think I came to you instead of going directly to my brother?”

“Stop it,” Lee spat. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I promise you if you breathe one word of this charade to Chip…”

“It isn’t a game,” Johnson interrupted. “Look at me and tell me you don’t see my brother in my face.”

Lee drew back, clamping his mouth shut. True, Johnson was blond and blue-eyed, matched closely in height and weight to Chip but so were a lot of people. And yes, there was a similarity of sorts around the mouth and eyes, but that didn’t mean there was a blood tie between the two men. Connor Morton was dead. He’d died twenty-two years ago, pulled under by the crushing current of a river dam.

But his body was never found.

The thought popped into Lee’s head, staggering him a step. 

Johnson honed in on his expression reading his thoughts. “I had no memory of anything when I washed up on shore. The woman who found me had recently lost her son. She took me in, gave me her name. Within days, she’d whisked me to another state, determined no one would ever find us. I grew up knowing nothing different.”

Lee shook his head. “You can’t expect me to believe this.”

“I know it sounds far-fetched. I know it sounds impossible.” Johnson leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Four months ago I was in a car accident. A bad one. It left me unconscious for three weeks. When I recovered, all the memories were there, just like before. I knew who I was. I knew about Chip.”

“Stop it.” Agitated, Lee paced to the window. It was absurd. A man didn’t just show up after twenty-two years and announce he was a long-lost brother. There were loopholes, glaring errors in the story, yet for all the flaws Lee couldn’t think straight. His head was pounding, his mind reeling with the unlikely probability. What would Chip think? What would he say?

Lee had always known his friend carried a massive hole in his heart over the loss of his younger brother. He rarely spoke of it, rarely acknowledged it, yet it was there, underlying everything he did. It was one of the reasons Lee let him fuss and hover. Somewhere in the course of their friendship, Chip had assumed the role of big brother, picking up the mantle he’d abandoned when Conner died. It gave him purpose and so, for the most part, Lee tolerated his over-protective nature, letting his friend rant whenever he ventured too far toward the danger zone.  

But this…this was crazy. This was unacceptable.

“Even if I did believe you,” he said, turning to glance over his shoulder. “Chip never would. He’s too sensible.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then why are you here?” Lee challenged. “Why are you telling me your story instead of him?”

Johnson’ eyes dipped, and he wet his lips. “Because after twenty-two years, I’m afraid we’ll be nothing but strangers. You’re his friend. I was hoping you could ease the path for me.”

“You’re out of your head.”

“Captain.” Johnson pressed his lips together. “You wouldn’t say that if you had any idea how long I’ve planned this. If you knew the amount of research and work I’ve invested to ensure I could see my brother again. The auction was just a convenient stroke of luck. I would have spent any amount of money to get close to Chip. The timing couldn’t have been better.”

Lee’s gaze was flat and hard. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

“That’s not my intention.”

Before Lee could snap a reply, the door to his office opened and Chip blundered in, talking even as he thrust the door wide. “Shit, Lee, did you see that circus out there? The admiral’s going to blow a gasket.” He came to an abrupt halt just over the threshold, belatedly realizing he’d interrupted a meeting. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone.” He squared his shoulders in an attempt to recover, his smile quick and apologetic as it flashed between Lee and Johnson.   

“That’s all right,” Johnson said. “I was just leaving.”

Lee struggled for something to say, his eyes on Chip as the exec glanced toward his ‘brother.’ He wanted to discount any possibility of truth in Johnson’s story, but was surprised to see Chip look at the man strangely. Almost as though he recognized him.

Then just as quickly the vague recognition was gone from Chip’s gaze. “You’re not a reporter,” he guessed.

“No. A writer. Perhaps that’s just as bad.” Grinning, Johnson held out his hand. “I’m Bryan Johnson, the non-famous winner of the charity auction.”

Chip chuckled, shaking his hand. “If I had to be upstaged, I’d settle for Alyssa Halston’s shadow.”

“Agreed.” Johnson’s smile grew. “You must be Seaview’s executive officer, Chip Morton.”

Chip nodded. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

“That’s enough,” Lee said sharply, prompting both men to glance in his direction. Self-conscious, he cleared his throat. “That is . . . Chip, see if you can have security do something with those people at the gate before the admiral returns.” He sent a glance to his watch, hoping to move his exec along. “I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes, and I’m already running late.”

Johnson took the cue, backing toward the door. “And I’ve got a million and one things to do if I’m heading out on Seaview tomorrow.” He inclined his head toward Lee. “Captain. I appreciate your time and your . . . consideration.” He smiled on the word, the double meaning obvious. “I’ll trust you to keep our discussion under wraps until I’m ready to address it personally.” His gaze shifted to Chip. “Mr. Morton.”

Chip watched him go, his smile morphing into a frown. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.” Lee crossed to his desk and started shoving files into his briefcase. If he had his way, Johnson’s name would never be mentioned again. “The gate, Chip,” he said without looking up.

“Aye, Sir.” There was a hint of petulance in Chip’s acknowledgement, but in the next second, he’d left the room, professionalism and training overriding curiosity.

Heaving out a sigh, Lee sank into his chair and tilted his head back, gazing toward the ceiling. He had no clue what Johnson was up to, but one thing was dead certain - - it would be a cold day in July before he let the scheming bastard get anywhere near Chip with his preposterous story.  

Twenty-two years. He’d lived through and experienced the impossible countless times over, but this was one instance where gut instinct told him the improbable was every bit as absurd as it seemed. Reaching for the phone, he punched ‘9’ for an outside line and dialed Arizona.

***********

It didn’t take long. By six o’clock that night the news media had put two and two together, connecting the dots tracing Alyssa Halston to Alison Hagan and one short-lived marriage to a young Academy man named Harriman Nelson. A feeding-frenzy commenced that had Lee fighting off a splitting headache.

Like the rest of Santa Barbara and most of the U.S., N.I.M.R. was abuzz with the hype. Work ground to a standstill on Seaview as the crew dissected the latest round of scuttlebutt. The admiral had been careful to keep his personal life under wraps, so the marriage came as a complete shock to everyone. Even more staggering was the seemingly impossible knowledge his ex-wife had once graced the covers of Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue.

According to the grapevine, Lydia Starke went through the roof when she made the connection, feeling foolish that her husband - - who’d known Nelson since their days at Annapolis and who therefore surely knew of his marriage - - hadn’t told her that Alyssa and his closest friend had once been husband and wife. She yelled at Starke, Starke phoned Nelson to grouse, and Nelson grumbled and complained, ranting to Lee and Chip. Later that evening, he called Lee into his office, launching into a tirade for no other reason than the sheer desire to vent.

“Idiots!” Nelson stuffed his hands in his pockets, pacing back and forth behind his desk. “Try to drum up an ounce of interest regarding the impact of climate changes on marine life and everyone sits with their eyes glazing over. Put one ex-super model on my submarine and suddenly reporters are knee-deep at the door.” Fuming, he stopped long enough to shake a cigarette from the crushed pack in his shirt pocket. He lit the tip, tossed the lighter onto his desk and sent a string of smoke swirling into the air with an aggravated exhale. “Not one of them gives a rat’s ass about planktonic microfossils. All they care about is what color sheets we had on our bed and who did the grocery shopping. Imbeciles, every last one of them!”

Lee stood silent, debating whether or not he should interrupt. He still hadn’t told Nelson about his relationship with Alyssa, but based on the man’s present temperament, decided admitting the truth would be nothing short of suicidal. It was starting to look like he was going to have to address it after they left port.

If at all.

“Sir, you have to admit your marriage came as a shock to everyone,” he offered evenly.

“Why?” Nelson shot him a hostile glare. “Why should it matter? It was a long time ago. I haven’t even spoken to the woman in over twenty years. She went her way, and I went mine.”

“Hard feelings?” Lee guessed, deciding to live dangerously.  

Surprisingly, Nelson shook his head. “Our paths just never crossed again.”

“So you don’t feel awkward about tomorrow?”

“Why should I? Alyssa got what she wanted - - fame and a career in the limelight. I got what I wanted with Seaview and the Institute. I’ve always wished her well, admired her success. If it weren’t for those damn fool reporters, I’d enjoy seeing her again.” He took a drag off the cigarette, pausing to flick the ashes into a chrome ashtray on his desk. “Maybe when we leave port and put the chaos behind us, I’ll be able to look at the whole thing differently. God knows I’ve always held a soft spot for the woman.”

Lee felt a twinge he couldn’t identify. Once they set sail, he’d be occupied with the daily operation of the boat leaving Alyssa ample time to reminisce with the admiral. What if that stroll down memory lane rekindled the spark of an old flame?

Given the field day the press was having with Nelson’s marriage and divorce, it would only add fuel to the fire if they stumbled onto Lee’s relationship with Alyssa. The headlines would be less than flattering - - younger man, older woman. And the icing on the cake - - boss’s ex-wife. He grimaced. Even the crew would balk.

He was just going to have to tell Alyssa they needed to ride it out in secrecy for a few more days until everything died down. It wouldn’t take long for a new scandal to crop up, shifting the focus to someone else. The press was notoriously fickle. By the time Seaview returned from her two-day cruise, the excitement would already be growing stale, some other piece of gossip deemed far juicer. He could only hope.

The hard part was going to be spending two days in close proximity with a woman he was intimately involved with and whom he had to pretend he didn’t know. 

He sighed, pressing his fingertips to his temples. It was no worse than having Bryan Johnson aboard and being forced to run interference between the freelancer and Chip. He’d made a phone call to Chip’s father, discreetly fishing for information on Conner’s death but had come away no better informed than before. At face value, he couldn’t pinpoint a motive for Johnson’s charade but had no intention of standing idle while the imposter reeled in his best friend. He had no reason to disbelieve the man any more than to believe, but gut instinct told him Johnson was lying.

Whatever he was up to, Lee was certain it would end with Chip being hurt. 

He’d already started to poke into the man’s background but had hit some surprisingly blank walls. Time constraints had forced him to set aside his digging temporarily, but it wouldn’t stop him from monitoring Johnson’s every movement on Seaview. He’d thought about discussing the man’s preposterous claims with the admiral then decided against it given Nelson’s present agitation. 

As an added precaution, he’d pulled Kowalski aside and told him he wanted Johnson monitored closely while onboard, with any unusual activity reported directly to him. It had been easy to hint that Johnson might be too nosey for his own good given his profession as a freelancer. With Kowalski’s help, Lee decided he might just be able to juggle Chip’s supposed brother and Alyssa for the next two days - - if he could get past the colossal headache already forming behind his eyelids.

Nelson frowned, watching as he massaged his temple. “The whole thing is giving me a damn headache too. Did you take care of rescheduling the departure time?”

“Yes, Sir.” Lee straightened, dropping his arm to his side. “And according to Angie, both Ms. Halston and Mr. Johnson saw the wisdom in making the switch.”

Nelson grunted. “Thank God the woman has sense enough not to feed the publicity hounds.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s late, Lee, and we have an early start tomorrow. You better get out of here while you can. You never know when a new batch of reporters might set up camp at the gate.”

Lee nodded, but it wasn’t the press that bothered him. It was Nelson’s relationship with Alyssa and the potential damage Johnson could do to Chip. At least with them all aboard Seaview, he’d have everyone in one place.  

“Good-night, Admiral,” he said, heading for the door. Now all he had to do was break it to Alyssa that they were officially strangers for the next two days.

**********

“You should have just told him, Lee. I’m tired of this farce.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled with it either.” The deception was bad enough, but concealing the truth from the man he looked to as a surrogate father made it far worse. He didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not with Alyssa nestled in his arms and the cool, salt-laced air of the Pacific blowing through the open balcony doors into his bedroom. Lee could smell a hint of rain on the breeze, feel the reckless energy of a leashed storm waiting to burst over ocean and sand. Moonlight splattered the bed, tinting the navy sheets with a faint sheen of silver. Half-tangled in all that decadent silk, Alyssa lay cuddled against him, her body sculpted with tantalizing contours of shadow.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Lightly, he traced his fingertips across her hip, curving lower to dust her thigh. He was delighted when she shivered. She’d been wearing something short and satiny when they’d gotten into bed - - pale lavender trimmed with rose to match her panties. It hadn’t taken him long to dispense with both, the shimmery fabric long forgotten on the floor. He still wasn’t sure he loved her. Not completely, not the way a man should love a woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with - - but there was no question they were good together in bed. It made him realize how difficult it was going to be to have her aboard Seaview and treat her like a stranger. 

When it came to his career he was a competent professional, poised and in control. But in the realm of his personal life, she’d become addictive, a narcotic he couldn’t live without. It scared him to think he might be falling in love with her.  

Alyssa rolled onto her stomach, folding her arms on his chest as she gazed up at him. The heat of her bare skin flamed against his, hot and golden as the molten kiss of the sun. Smiling, she traced one French manicure-tipped fingernail over his lips. “And exactly when do you plan to make it up to me, Captain?”

He grinned. The woman was a vixen, insatiable. “I’m not twenty-four anymore, Alyssa. Even I run out of steam.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing forward to kiss him. “I suppose I’ll let you off the hook given you have a boat to command tomorrow.”

He felt her bare leg between his and wondered if he didn’t have an encore in him after all. Hugging her closer, he deepened the kiss, losing himself in her scent. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t get enough of her, like his heart would break if he let himself go. There’d been women after Mae - - the spirit of Seaview and the only woman he’d ever truly loved - - but none that had lasted more than a brief time. None that made him feel the emotional desire to chance his heart.

Until now.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, palming her hair. In the moonlight it gleamed like burnished copper tinted with gold. He nuzzled her ear, and she settled into the curve of his arm, snuggling against him. It was enough for the moment - - the warmth of her body nestled beside him, her fragrance as exotic and aromatic as the rain-kissed night air. He was content to hold her, to cuddle. To fall asleep with her in his arms, the remembered heat of their lovemaking sweeter than any dream. Drowsy, he started to drift.

She murmured something against his ear, but he was already fading beneath the heavy veil of sleep. His brow knit as he tried to make sense of the words. 

They’d sounded suspiciously like ‘I love you, Lee Crane.’

**********

Lee stood on Seaview’s deck, flanked by Nelson and Chip as the visitors were aided across the gangplank by Chief Sharkey. The admiral’s rescheduling of the departure time had worked, the Institute grounds and main gate blissfully free of reporters. Even Nelson seemed in better spirits, smiling openly as Alyssa and Bryan Johnson approached. 

Like the admiral and Chip, Lee was dressed in full khaki uniform, the crease of his trousers razor-sharp, jacket and cap precisely fitted. With the three of them so smartly-attired, and Alyssa positively breathtaking in a low-cut cranberry silk blouse, pewter slacks and heels, they would have made the perfect front-page photo op had anyone been the wiser. Fortunately, there were no exploding flashbulbs or pushy reporters jostling for a better position. Only the somewhat obvious loitering of the deck crew as they went about their duties indicated something out of the ordinary was taking place. For his part, Sharkey looked mildly uncomfortable, uncertain how to proceed with introductions. Sensing his hesitation, Alyssa stepped smoothly into the silence.

“It’s good to see you again, Harry.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“And you, Ali.” Nelson took both of her hands in his. “You look as radiant and lovely as always.”

The strange twinge Lee had felt the previous night returned, stronger this time. Ali. It was a pet name. An intimate name. Before he had time to dwell on exactly why that made him uncomfortable, Nelson motioned in his direction. “I believe you met Captain Crane briefly at the auction, and this is Lieutenant Commander Morton, Seaview’s executive officer?”

“Gentlemen.” Alyssa smiled at them both.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Halston,” Lee greeted with easy professionalism. “We’re pleased to have you as a guest on Seaview for the next two days.”

“The men are anxious to meet you,” Chip added with a welcoming grin.

“I hope that goes for me too,” Bryan Johnson joked, stepping forward to shake hands. “I’ve never been on the cover of Vogue, but I’m a halfway decent kind of guy.” He grinned smoothly, having met all three men previously.

Despite his casual friendliness, Lee couldn’t stop a reactionary frown. In the early morning light, his fair hair haloed by the first silvery rays of dawn, it was easy to picture the tall, slim man as Chip’s younger brother. He felt his hackles rise and mentally chided himself for the knee-jerk reaction. If Johnson really was Conner Morton, he should be doing everything in his power to reunite him with Chip, not getting hung up on suspicions.   

“I hope I’ll be able to get a tour of the boat,” Johnson continued, immune to his scrutiny. He looked expectantly at Chip.

“Of course,” Nelson inserted, speaking before his exec could answer. “That goes for both of you.” He smiled at Alyssa, settling her hand on his forearm then covering it with his own. “But you have to understand, certain areas are classified and therefore off limits. They’ll be clearly marked so there won’t be any confusion. We post men on watch as a matter of routine whenever we have visitors onboard. You shouldn’t take it personally.”

“We did, however, confiscate your camera from your gear,” Lee said with a glance for Johnson. Luggage for both guests had gone through screening earlier with word passed down to him on the results. “You must have missed the part on our waiver that stated no photographs.” His voice was flat leaving little question he knew the stipulation had been deliberately ignored.

Johnson chuckled. “You can’t blame me for trying, Captain. It’s how I make my living.”

“We’ll keep you entertained and occupied.” Chip’s smile was quick and effortless.

Lee’s frown dug deeper. For some reason Chip was naturally open to Johnson, behaving with an instinctive camaraderie, the same way he had the other day. Before he could dwell on it further, Nelson gave orders for Sharkey to have someone bring Alyssa and Johnson’s gear aboard, then offered to personally escort them below.

Chip gave a low whistle once they were out of earshot. “Can you believe the admiral was married to her? Pictures don’t even come close. I think I must have died and went to heaven and that’s what angels look like.”

Lee gave an unintelligible grunt, still puzzling over Chip and Johnson. Seconds later he realized his friend stood staring after Alyssa, hands on hips, his expression dazed.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” he said a bit too sharply. Was the whole cruise going to be like this? It was one thing to have reporters trailing after Alyssa like a pack of lap dogs, another to have his crew operating in a star-struck fog.

Chip gave a start, grinning sheepishly. “Come on, Lee. Don’t tell me you aren’t a little dazzled. The woman’s got to be close to Nelson’s age, and she doesn’t look a day over…” He stopped suddenly, abrupt comprehension dawning on his face. “My god, it’s her, isn’t it? The woman you’re dating?” Flabbergasted, he pivoted to confront Lee. “You said she was fifty . . . that she’d had a career in the limelight, and there was someone you had to talk to about her. Holy shit! You’re sleeping with the admiral’s ex-wife!”

“Keep your voice down,” Lee hissed. He flushed with agitation, immediately squaring his shoulders in an effort to regain his poise. “Besides . . . I never said I was sleeping with her.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” Chip rolled his eyes. “You forget I know you, pal.”

“Captain.”

Chip snorted. “Rank doesn’t change basic instinct. So did you come clean and spill your guts to Nelson?”

Lee deflated, realizing there was no sense denying the obvious. In one respect it felt good to have someone to talk to about the impossible situation. “No. I never had the opportunity.”

“The shit just keeps getting deeper, Lee. I’d bet a hefty wad of cash opportunity isn’t your problem.”

“And you’d go home rich.” Lee sighed and shook his head. “I just can’t seem to work up the nerve. I told you it was complicated.”

“It’s more than that. Look at the facts.” Chip held up one hand, ticking off points on his fingers:  “Younger man/older woman. Ex-super model. Boss’s ex-wife. Three strikes and you’re out. Maybe you could eke by with one albatross around your neck, but all three?” He shook his head. “I sure hope she’s worth it, Lee, because you’re setting yourself up for a dangerous fall. When reality kicks in, there’s going to be nowhere to go but down.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about that. Two weeks into the relationship when she’d told him about her marriage to Nelson, he’d known there was likely to be sacrifice involved. What it boiled down to was exactly what he was willing to forfeit.

“I’ll handle it,” he said with more faith than he felt. “And for the next two days, Alyssa and I will behave like complete strangers.”

“On Seaview? In cramped quarters?”

Lee sent him an arched glance. “It might surprise you, but I do know how to practice restraint, Chip.”

His friend chuckled. “What about her? She can’t be too happy about your charade.”

“She understands the need for it. At least for now.”

“All right.” Chip shook his head, clearly not convinced. “Then maybe we should get below and see what your Lady Fair is doing to the rest of the crew. Did you know Riley found a swimsuit shot of her from her heyday, printed off a bunch of 8” x 10” copies and was selling them to anyone who wanted to chase her down for an autograph? I have a feeling the crew’s quarters is going to be pin-up heaven before we get back to port.”

Lee closed his eyes, biting back a groan. He’d dated stunningly beautiful women before. He’d just never dated anyone so . . . so . . . public. It was hard enough juggling her marriage to Nelson without having to share her with the rest of the world. “Riley’s a born opportunist,” he muttered, heading briskly for the hatch to the conning tower. 

Chip followed on his heels. “Ms. Halston aside, what do you think of Johnson?” he queried out of the blue, matching his stride to Lee’s.

“Why?” Lee sent him a sharp glance.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him . . .” Chip shrugged, searching for an explanation, coming up empty. “I feel like I should know him from somewhere.”

That detonated a rocket flare. “He’s a freelancer, Chip. It’s his job to put people at ease  . . . make them feel comfortable, like an old friend. It’s all part of getting a story.”

Chip raised one blond brow. “I didn’t realize you’d become such an expert on writing.”

“Forget it.” There was an edge in Lee’s voice as frustration took hold. “Let’s just concentrate on getting out of port. We’ll worry about Johnson and Alyssa later.”

“Sure.” Unflustered by his tone, Chip gave a shrug and ducked into the hatch behind him. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

Chip grinned brazenly. “It’s Ms. Halston to you, Captain Crane.”

**********

Chip decided it was a good thing he’d learned how to keep his expression neutral because he was tempted to burst into laughter every time Alyssa Haltson showed up in the observation nose or the control room. And that came from observing Lee . . . Captain-I’m-besotted-but-I-can’t-show-it-so-I’ll-just-pretend-to-be-an-impassive-stone-Crane. Watching his friend juggle his emotions while trying to keep them secret was as humorous as it was painful. He was certain Lee would take his head off if he even suspected Chip found the situation amusing.

For his part, Nelson had given his ex-wife and Bryan Johnson a tour of the submarine, allowing the crew to fuss over Alyssa like the celebrity she was. Chip had to admit she was gracious, answering questions, complimenting the men on their dedication, signing autographs and even telling stories. The crew ate it up and, surprisingly, so did Nelson. Chip couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the admiral so relaxed.

By contrast, Lee was too formal, much too polite and the only one on the boat who didn’t appear smitten with their super-model guest. Alyssa made a point to ask him a few questions about Seaview, all of which he courteously answered, but even the crew picked up on his unusual reserve. The only thing Chip could figure was that Lee was bothered by Nelson’s presence and feared showing even a hint of warmth toward Alyssa with the admiral nearby. He also caught Lee wincing more than once when Nelson addressed his ex-wife as ‘Ali.’

He almost felt sorry for Lee, trapped in an impossible situation and made plans to grill him later about why he’d gotten involved in the first place. He didn’t envy his friend the task of eventually coming clean with the admiral. That was going to be a wretchedly difficult conversation. “You see, Sir . . . I’ve been sleeping with your ex-wife for the last two months, and I didn’t tell you because I thought I could get away with it.”

Chip chuckled.

Lee was screwed. And it had nothing to do with his sex life.

He was glad when he could get out of the control room. Nelson had invited Alyssa and Johnson to lunch in the observation nose, promising them a view of vibrant coral beds and areas dense with marine life. Lee had plotted simple courses for the next two days, selecting coordinates guaranteed to provide their guests with spectacular vistas of the ocean floor. They would even pass a decades-old shipwreck certain to be teeming with schools of fish and other aquatic life. The admiral had a few tricks up his sleeve too, planning to demonstrate Seaview’s prowess without touching on anything classified. Basically, the two days were designed to give the winners of the charity auction the ‘biggest bang for their buck.’

Right now that included lunch in the observation nose and a fidgety captain whom Chip guessed was a little jealous of Nelson’s ease around Alyssa. There was certainly no animosity between the ex-spouses over a divorce that had happened so long ago. From what he’d picked up, Chip knew the crew was delighted to see the two of them together. Nelson’s hush-hush marriage and divorce had initially come as a staggering shock, but it was now bandied about like a trophy. Their admiral had once been married to the toast of the modeling world. You would have thought he’d discovered Atlantis for all their high-octane enthusiasm.

Chip was glad to clear out of the control room for awhile, if only to side-step an unusually stoic Lee. He spent an hour in the circuitry room, running routine diagnostic tests and double-checking operations. After the damage they’d suffered tangling with the giant hagfish, he wanted to make sure the repaired circuits were functioning at peak efficiency. They’d already discovered some erroneous course data from the ship’s computer and had been monitoring it carefully. Afterward, he swung by Sick Bay to check in with Jamie and to get the doctor’s impression of their world-famous guest.

“I hear Lee isn’t overly smitten with her,” Jamie noted a few minutes into their conversation. “Patterson said he’s as cool as ice around her.”

“Probably just doesn’t want to set a bad example for the men,” Chip countered, mentally chuckling over the mess his friend was making. By trying to appear indifferent and decorous with Alyssa, Lee was unintentionally drawing attention to his attitude. “As captain, he probably feels he has to be above everything.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Myself, I can’t wait to meet her. Truth is I had a little crush on her about twenty-some odd years ago.”

“You should have bought one of Riley’s pin-up shots for an autograph. I hear most of the boat has them.”

Flushing with embarrassment, Jamie turned toward his desk and slid a glossy black-and-white photo from a manila envelope. He held it up with a sheepish expression. “Guilty as charged.”

Chip burst out laughing and clapped him on the back. “I can’t really fault you, Doc. I’ve got one tucked away too, but I snagged her for an autograph early.”

“The benefit of being on the command crew.”

He couldn’t argue the point. The moment he’d seen Riley flashing around the photos, he knew he’d wanted one. The woman was sinfully beautiful, and like any typical man, he wasn’t above behaving like a testosterone-driven fool every now and then. He could have easily put the kibosh on Riley’s side enterprise but instead had doled out the appropriate sum of cash and bought an 8” x 10” glossy just like everyone else. He didn’t know who he envied more - - Nelson for having been married to Alyssa, or Lee for being involved with her now.

He continued to chat with Jamie for a few more minutes then headed back toward the control room. Taking a short cut through officer’s country, he encountered Bryan Johnson roaming the corridor.

“Mr. Johnson?” Chip was surprised to see him. “I thought you were having lunch in the observation nose with Admiral Nelson, Captain Crane and Ms. Halston?”

Johnson’s grin came as easily as it always did. “They wound down to dessert, so I took the opportunity to excuse myself.” He shrugged. “Not much of a cherry cobbler person, I guess. I was headed back to my cabin for a notebook, but I took a wrong turn somewhere.”

Chip was about to provide the correct directions when Kowalski rounded the corner. Knowing the rating was part of the A Watch crew, presently on duty, he frowned. “Kowalski, why aren’t you at your station?”

“Tanner is covering, Sir,” the younger man answered, but he looked a bit put out to have stumbled across Chip with Johnson. He hesitated only briefly. “Uh . . . Captain Crane asked me to retrieve something from his cabin.”

“Very well. Carry on.” Chip watched as he disappeared around the corner, headed in the direction of Lee’s cabin. It wasn’t unusual for Lee to give the senior rating an assignment that took him out of the control room, but those tasks were usually of a vital nature, not a simple errand. Kowalski was far too valuable a crewmember to be playing courier. Puzzled, he shoved the thought aside and refocused on Johnson.

“I can point you in the direction of your cabin, Mr. Johnson.”

“Maybe you could just walk me there,” Johnson suggested with a companionable grin. “Put me on a submarine, and I turn into an idiot. These corridors all look the same to me. And call me Bryan. I’m not big on formality.”

Something about the ease with which he said it made Chip grin in return. He felt a flash of the same strange sense that had plagued him ever since he’d met the man - - that he should know him from somewhere. “Bryan,” he agreed. He extended his arm, indicating the path down the corridor. “My friends call me ‘Chip’.”

Johnson fell in at his side. “I suppose on the boat I should address you as ‘Mr. Morton.’”

“You’re a civilian. It’s not required.”

“But proper. At least in front of the crew. Actually, I was hoping I could chat with you sometime. As the executive officer, there’s a lot you could tell me about Seaview . . . even some of the missions you’ve been on.” He held up a hand to forestall the obvious protest. “I don’t mean anything classified, Commander. Your admiral and captain have already made it abundantly clear what I can and can’t have access to. I meant some of the safe stuff . . . the fun stuff.”

Chip raised an eyebrow. “Fun?”

“You do have fun occasionally, don’t you?” Johnson grinned as they turned a corner. “From what I’ve seen, the crew is lively and animated. Even Admiral Nelson is surprisingly approachable and open. I just wish I could say the same for Captain Crane.” He shook his head as if saddened by the thought. “He’s not an easy man to talk to.”

Chip found the observation odd, coming from someone who’d only been on board seven hours. “Lee’s the captain,” he explained, defending his friend. “The safety of the crew, the boat . . . even you and Ms. Halston falls directly on him. He’s just preoccupied.”

“I thought this was a routine cruise,” Johnson countered. “Through some of the safest waters on the planet.”

“Any time you take something mechanical and put it under water, there’s always risk,” Chip countered. “Regardless of how safe the plotted trajectory might be. Plus, we suffered some damage on our last cruise, and this is the first we’ve set sail after completion of the repair work. Lee just has a lot on his mind. Trust me - - he isn’t intentionally snubbing you, if that’s what you think.”

“Hmm.” Johnson pressed his lips together, silently weighing the observation. “I guess you’d know better than most. From what I’ve heard bandied about by the crew, the two of you are very close.”

Chip was surprised he would have picked up on that so soon. “We went through Annapolis together and have been friends ever since.”

“I hear you treat him more like a younger brother.”

Chip came to an abrupt halt, disturbed by Johnson’s tenacity in shifting the conversation to a personal level. “Do all writers nose around like this?”

The other man laughed. “Sorry, Commander. I guess that was a bit out of line. It’s just . . . I had a brother once too but there was an accident and, well . . . I haven’t seen him in years. I never connected with anyone after him. It’s hard for me to imagine someone else in his place. Not even a close friend.”

Chip narrowed his eyes, the openness he’d felt becoming more guarded. It was almost like Johnson knew he’d lost Conner and was insinuating he’d allowed Lee to take his place. As much as it irritated him, there was another part of him that silently snapped to attention and took notice. Is that what he’d done? Yes, he thought of Lee as a younger brother, but he’d never imagined Lee in Conner’s place. Had he?

Uncomfortable, he shifted. “Your cabin is right around the next corner, Mr. Johnson.” He pressed his lips together, reverting to stiff formality. “The next time you can always ask a crewman for directions.”

“Okay, I guess I deserve the ice-treatment. Sorry, Commander.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to offend you. And you’re right - - as a freelancer, I am nosier than most. Sometimes, I forget there are lines I shouldn’t cross. You just seem like a decent guy, and I overheard one of the crew saying something about how you’d lost a brother when you were a kid. I know what that feels like. And I know I still struggle with it today. I just thought maybe we could share war stories.”

“I don’t think of what happened to my brother as a war story,” Chip said, his expression stone. Mentally, he racked his brain trying to determine who on the crew knew about his childhood. Maybe a handful of people, but that past certainly wouldn’t be anything someone would mouth off about at random.

Johnson nodded. “My mistake. When you cool down, I’d still like to talk to you. I think you’d find what I have to share very interesting.”

“Captain Crane can give you just as much perspective on Seaview as I can,” Chip said flatly.

“I’m not talking about Seaview, and I think you know that. Aside from which, I’m not overly fond of your captain.” He paused deliberately. “And I don’t think your brother would be either.”

Chip ground his teeth together to stop a hostile retort, but Johnson merely turned away and rounded the corner, disappearing from view. Irritated, Chip balled his hands into fists. He was too much of a professional to chase after the man and read him the riot act, but he wanted to vent, to explode.

Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten and headed back toward the control room.

God help the unfortunate crewman who ticked him off.

**********

It was hard watching Alyssa with Nelson, especially since the admiral was so comfortable with her. They talked and chatted as easily as if they’d never been apart. Occasionally, Nelson would rest his hand over Alyssa’s or they’d lean together in a moment of laughter, their foreheads practically touching as they shared some memory. Lee told himself he wasn’t jealous but, with every minute that passed, he feared their reminiscing rekindled buried affection.

And when it came right down to it, Nelson was brilliant, almost as famous as Alyssa. True, his face wasn’t plastered on the cover of pulp magazines, but his name was synonymous with scientific discovery, and he was renowned the world over as one of the greatest thinkers of his age. The military catered to him, and the government welcomed his consultation. He was influential, wealthy, an unquestionable genius. More, he carried himself well, distinguished in appearance and manner. He might not be thirty-four years old, but he turned female heads with little effort. Lee didn’t want to think of it as a competition for Alyssa’s affection, but he was starting to feel shabby by comparison.

She and Nelson had history together. The admiral was only three or four years older which meant they’d shared many of the same life experiences. It was one of the stumbling blocks in his relationship with Alyssa. Being a good deal younger, he couldn’t relate to many of the things she remembered from her childhood and young adult years. Nelson had lived them. To Lee, they were history lessons, things he’d read about but never actually experienced. It put him at a distinct disadvantage during lunch when Nelson seemed determined to talk about the past.

Alyssa made an effort to include him in the discussion, and for his part Nelson did too, but Lee had the impression the admiral would have preferred to spend the time with Alyssa alone. Or “Ali” as he called her, yet another thing that had Lee fighting down an inner twinge of jealousy. He knew he was being ridiculous, even irrational, and hated the fact he was beginning to view Nelson as a rival. They didn’t speak of it openly, but it was no secret Lee looked to the older man as a father-figure.   

Fortunately, Kowalski provided a diversion shortly after dessert when he clattered down the spiral stairs, a familiar black book clutched in his hand. “Pardon me, Skipper,” he called.

Lee excused himself from the table, thankful for the distraction. Motioning the seaman closer to the plotting table, he lowered his voice. “What is it?”

“Here, Sir.” Kowalski passed him his log book. “I’m sorry, but I had to go into your cabin. I ran into Mr. Morton and that freelancer, Johnson, in the corridor and didn’t have a valid excuse for being there. I told Mr. Morton you asked me to get something from your cabin, so I grabbed this.”

“Mr. Morton was with Johnson?” Lee felt an instinctive flicker of alarm. He’d known Kowalski had left to trail the man as instructed, when Johnson bowed out of lunch early. He hadn’t really expected Kowalski to unearth much of anything but was disturbed to learn Johnson had hooked up with Chip so quickly. “What were they doing?”

“Just talking, Sir.” Kowalski shrugged. “I left them there and went to your cabin.”

“You left them?”

“Sir, Mr. Morton told me to carry on. I couldn’t very well stand there and eavesdrop.” His brows drew together in a frown. “Is there a problem, Skipper? Should there be a constant tail on Johnson?”

“No, nothing like that.” Lee shook his head, disturbed he was letting his paranoia carry over to Kowalski. “It’s nothing to worry about. You did fine, Ski. Just go back to your station and forget what I told you. I’ll deal with Johnson from now on. Disregard my previous orders about keeping an eye on him.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kowalski didn’t seem entirely convinced but did as he was told. 

As he returned to the sonar station, Chip descended the topside stairs, his expression gruff. Surprised, Lee set the log book on the plotting table and waited for his executive officer to join him.

“Lee.” Pressing his lips together, Chip gave him a clipped nod of greeting.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” Chip retrieved a slide rule and immediately went to work on course calculations.

Lee watched for a moment before deciding he needed to broach the subject of Johnson. A glance toward the observation nose revealed Nelson and Alyssa still immersed in conversation. “Kowalski mentioned he ran into you and Johnson in the corridor,” he said casually, watching Chip’s face.

“That’s right.” Chip’s eyes stayed on the table as he marked off a line on the chart.

“What did he want? Johnson, I mean.”

Chip’s eyes flashed to his face before dipping back to the map. “Nothing. He was looking for his cabin and took a wrong turn.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” Aggravated, Chip shot him a perturbed glare. “What is it with you and that guy anyway? You act odd every time he’s mentioned.”

Lee drew back, his eyes narrowing. “I do not.” He twisted the onyx ring on his left hand. “I just have a feeling he’s not what he seems. I’d rather you steer clear of him, Chip. At least for now until I can ascertain his motives.”

“His motives about what?” Chip’s exploded in exasperation, drawing the attention of more than one crewmember. Realizing he was out of line, he dropped his voice and straightened, contrite but formal. “I’m sorry, Captain. I just get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me. Or he’s not telling me. For the record, he’s as unflattering about you, as you are about him. For two people who’ve only known each other a matter of hours, I can’t help but feel there’s something else going on.”

Lee wet his lips. The truth would come out sooner or later, but he wasn’t ready for it to tumble into the open just yet. “It’s on a need-to-know basis,” he said evenly, then turned his attention to the plotting table, cutting the discussion short. “Carry on, Mr. Morton.”

He didn’t have to look at Chip to sense his black glare. “Aye, Sir.”

**********

Though Lee had officially ended a double watch earlier, he finally finished with his nightly tour of the boat at 2240 hours. The day had been uneventful, designed as entertainment for Seaview’s guests. He maneuvered the sub through deep underwater arroyos and shallows rich with coral. They even ran on the surface for a while, picking up a school of dolphins. Later, he was able to locate a pod of whales that made for breathtaking views from the observation nose. The crew demonstrated some basic operation drills, and Nelson put the icing on the cake by taking Alyssa and Johnson down in the diving bell for an up-close glimpse of exotic marine life.

Dinner was a lavish affair by sub standards, held in the officer’s wardroom complete with appetizers and a single champagne toast. Lee managed to be social and correct at the same time, fully aware he was setting himself up as a target of scuttlebutt among the crew. Even Nelson had begun to look at him strangely. For some reason, the crew found his overtly proper behavior toward Alyssa out of place, given how smitten everyone else appeared to be. It was as if he was the sole person aboard Seaview she’d been unable to charm, and that made for interesting gossip among the officers and crew.

Disgusted with himself for making a bad situation worse, Lee headed toward his cabin. Fortunately, he only had one more day of pretending - - or, at the very least, pretending under the scrutiny of Nelson and the crew. Tired and mentally exhausted by the inane charade, he looked forward to crashing into his rack and closing his eyes for a solid eight hours of sleep. He’d almost reached the connecting corridor to officer’s country when he hesitated at a cross junction. A left turn would take him toward the guest cabins and Alyssa.

It was late, there was no one about, and it certainly wouldn’t be unheard of for the captain of the boat to make sure his guest had everything she needed for the night. He realized he wanted very badly to see her . . . to talk to her and ascertain for himself that her innocent flirting with Nelson had been nothing more than a harmless trip down memory lane. A few minutes inside her cabin and no one would be the wiser he’d even stopped to talk to her.

Detouring, Lee located the cabin and rapped his knuckles on the door. He leaned close to the frame, pitching his voice low. “Ms. Halston, it’s Captain Crane. I wanted to make certain you had everything you need for the night.”

“Come in, Captain,” he heard her call.

Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him. Before he could so much as smile, she knotted her fingers around his tie and tugged him urgently forward. He felt her free arm lock behind his neck as she pushed up on tiptoes to kiss him.

And just that quickly all his thoughts about a brief visit shattered beneath a heated wave of desire. She smelled and felt divine, her hair fragrant with the cherry blossom shampoo she’d used earlier that morning, her skin soft as silk. She wore something short and skimpy, the lacy fabric the bewitching blue-green of sun-soaked tropical waters. Her matching robe was only slightly longer but it had fallen open, exposing her bare legs, sending his blood pulsing against his temples. Gathering her close, he groaned into her kiss.

She kept one hand locked around his tie, tugging his head down. “You were dreadful to me today,” she complained against his lips. “Cold as ice.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He threaded his hand into her hair, pressing his lips to her temple, holding her there. “I’m no good at pretending when it comes to you.”

“It’s not that difficult, Lee.”

“It is when I see you with the admiral.” He drew back slightly, gazing down on her upturned face. Her eyes were veiled, gray and smoky as twilight, her lips still moist from his kiss. He could feel the curves of her body pressed snuggly to his chest and thigh, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the heat in his blood. Dipping his head, he nuzzled her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “You enjoyed being with him today.”

“Of course I did.” She looked puzzled. “I enjoyed talking about old times and catching up on what he’s been doing.” Flattening her palms on his chest, she took a single step backward, abruptly sensing where he was headed. “Lee, you don’t think . . . Harry and I . . .” A delighted smile curved her lips. “Are you jealous?” she asked incredulously.

“No.” It sounded ridiculous. He released her far too quickly, giving a gruff shake of his head. “You just looked so . . . happy . . . together,” he settled for wont of a better word. 

“Like old friends,” she persisted. She gripped his arm, forcing him to look down on her. The smile was still on her lips, her eyes dancing with pleasure. “You are jealous…”

He opened his mouth to deny it.

“…and I think that’s incredibly sweet.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close, resting her head against his chest. “But you don’t have to worry. I might enjoy talking with Harry and laughing with your crew, but there’s only one man I want to kiss me and he’s wearing a silver oak leaf.” She tipped her lips up toward his, her loose hair spilling down her back in a gilded waterfall. “In case I wasn’t clear, Captain, that was an invitation.”

Chip was right to compare her to an angel, her skin like rose-flushed porcelain, her lips the lush red of full-bodied wine. Unable to resist, Lee cradled the back of her head and covered her mouth with his. He’d meant to keep their interaction light and romantic, but she whimpered beneath his kiss, pressing intimately against him. His blood shot through the roof, his sudden arousal making it difficult to think. He skimmed his fingertips down her spine, slipping his hand beneath the hem of her short, lacy robe. Her skin felt on fire, hot enough to make him want to drown in eternal flame. Lost to passion, he cupped her bottom, and groaned low in his throat.

The intercom flared to life with a routine page - - Mr. O’Brien, report to the control room - - and just that quickly, he came to his senses. 

Confused, he wrenched backward. “Alyssa, I can’t do this. Not here. Not on the submarine.”

She bit her lip uncertainly, but it only made her look all the more provocative. With her hair tumbled around her shoulders and the negligee gaping low over the tantalizing curve of one bare breast, she was tempting enough to make him forget his pledge of restraint. 

“I didn’t expect to go to bed with you tonight, Lee,” she said softly.

He closed his eyes, feeling like an idiot. He was the one who’d behaved like a muck-up all day, and the one unable to control himself now. “I should go.”

She laughed lightly. “Probably, but not so fast. You might want to give yourself time to . . . um . . .” She smiled again, her eyes dancing with amusement. She motioned toward his pants. “I don’t think you should go out into the corridor just yet.” She giggled. “Not looking like that.”

He cursed the tell-tale proof of his arousal but grinned at her obvious delight. “You enjoy doing this to me, don’t you? You’re going to be my ruin one of these days.” Before she could answer, he yanked her against him and kissed her long and hard. When he drew back, she was breathless. 

“That’s going to have to satisfy us both until we’re off this sub.”

“Mmm . . .” She had difficulty speaking, dazed by his kiss. “Does that mean you’re going to be the Ice King personified again tomorrow?”

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’ll make it up to you once we’re off the boat.”

“And I suppose you’ll expect me to fall into bed with you?”

“Of course. I’m irresistible. I seem to remember you took one look at my photo and turned into a stalker.”

She smiled at his teasing. “I shouldn’t give you such a swelled head, but you are gorgeous.” She palmed his cheek, kissing him lightly. When she drew back, her eyes dipped below his waist. “I think you’re safe to leave now. Pity. But I’ll make sure I fix that once we’re off Seaview.”

He grinned and gave her one last kiss before heading out the door. In the corridor he paused to straighten his tie and adjust his collar. Behind him, he heard the sound of someone distinctly clearing his throat. Caught just outside Alyssa’s door, Lee turned to find Bryan Johnson staring at him pointedly. 

“Checking to make sure Ms. Halston is settled for the night, Captain?”

Lee flushed with anger. “As Seaview’s commander, I’m ultimately responsible for the hospitality of the boat and the comfort of her guests.”

“I can see that.” He eyed Lee’s tie. “Does that hospitality include sexual favors?”

“Why, you son-of-a… ”

Johnson held up his hand. “There’s no need for hostility. I really don’t care what your relationship is with the woman - - though Admiral Nelson might find it interesting. The press too, given your age and status as Nelson’s commander.”

Lee ground his teeth, attempting to salvage what he could of the uncomfortably compromising position. “I told you. I was here to check on…”

“Save it. I did my homework before I came aboard. Your relationship with her hasn’t been as invisible as you’d like to think. It’s kind of amusing to watch you treat her so coldly, given the two of you can barely keep your hands off each other under normal circumstances.”

“I’m warning you, Johnson…”

“Morton. Conner Morton. Why don’t we go to your cabin and talk about that, Captain? I gave you the opportunity to help me, but I realize now you’re more of an obstacle than an ally. I’ll give you one last chance to listen to my story and then - - with or without your help - - I will tell my brother who I am.”

**********

Lee shut the door to his cabin and stalked past Johnson to his desk. “Start talking. I have limited patience, Mr. Johnson.” Still seething from the veiled threats and innuendo the freelancer had tossed around regarding Alyssa, he was in no mood to be courteous. “You should know up front, I don’t believe a word of the story you told me before, and I’m only listening to you now for Chip’s sake.”

Halting just inside the doorway, Johnson folded his arms over his chest. “So you expect me to believe you have his best interest at heart? When you won’t even give me the benefit of the doubt?”

Lee’s glare was combative. “Prove to me you’re his brother. Tell me something only Conner Morton would know.”

“All right.” Accepting the challenge, Johnson paced slowly into the room, deeply wrapped in concentration. “That day on the river,” he ventured at last. “It was the four of us . . . me and Chip with Justin and Kevin Brenner. Chip had just gotten a new fishing rod and wanted to try it out. I was the only one without a pole, but Chip told me I could trade off, using his. It was hot, and we were anxious to get to the dam, so we took a shortcut through old man Bricker’s backyard. Chip was wearing a green shirt our mother had bought for him the day before. The edge caught on Bricker’s fence and ripped a big tear in the left side. We knew we’d be in trouble for cutting through his yard, so Chip was going to tell her he tore it climbing a tree.” He shot Lee a sideways glance. “He wasn’t even supposed to be wearing it. She’d bought it for him to wear to a party we were attending that weekend - - my uncle’s birthday.” Defiant, he raised a brow. “Should I keep going?”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Because you don’t want it to. If you don’t believe me, ask Chip . . . about the fence, the shirt and Bricker’s yard. What is it you’re afraid of, Crane? I don’t care what kind of friendship you have with my brother or how he treats you . . . you’re never going to take my place.”

Disbelieving, Lee shook his head. “Is that what you think this is about?” It was late, he was tired, and the day had been entirely too stressful. Running out of patience, he bit his words off in anger. “I never said I was - - or wanted to be - - a replacement for Conner Morton. Chip is a friend. An exceptionally close friend, but that’s it. I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re definitely not his brother. And that…-” He jabbed an index finger at Johnson, “…is why I’m not going to let you carry on with this farce.”

“Why is it so hard to accept what I’ve told you?”

“Because your story is preposterous!” Lee shouted. “A man doesn’t forget twenty-two years of his life, then wake up one day with everything neatly in place.”

“If you don’t believe it’s possible, ask your Dr. Jamieson. I think you’ll find he can attest to a history of documented cases exactly like mine.”

Agitated, Lee pinched the bridge of his nose. “I checked you out, Johnson. I contacted the police and hospitals in the town where you claim to live, and there is no record of a car accident like you described or a three-week hospital stay.”

Johnson narrowed his eyes. “You looked into my past?”

“Did you think I was just going to swallow your claim at face value?”

Before either man could speak there was a knock at the door. “Lee,” Chip’s voice drifted through the barrier. “If you’re still awake in there, I need to talk to you.”

Tensing, Lee shot a glance at Johnson. “Come in.”

Looking almost as surly as he had in the control room, Chip stepped into the cabin. When he spied Johnson, he came to an immediate halt. Surprised, not entirely pleased, he flicked a glance between Lee and the freelancer. “Am I interrupting?”

“No.” Lee shook his head. He knew the tension in the room was highly palpable, his own posture rigid with hostility. “Mr. Johnson was just leaving.”

“Actually, I think now would be a good time to address the matter we were discussing,” Johnson countered. “Especially, given Commander Morton is here.”

“No!” Lee’s voice cracked with the authority of a whip.

“I’m not one of your men, Captain. You can’t order me to be quiet.”

Lee shot him a belligerent glare. There was more than one way around that problem. “Chip, you’re dismissed,” he told his executive officer.

Johnson pressed his lips together, his posture combative. His eyes darted to Chip. “He’s only dismissing you, Commander, because he doesn’t want you hear what I have to say. He doesn’t want you to learn the truth.”

“Lee?” Chip hesitated, torn between carrying out his captain’s orders and getting to the bottom of the clash between Johnson and Lee. He could see conflict on his friend’s face . . . anger warring with something he didn’t understand. He wasn’t entirely enamored of Johnson, but something about the man clearly had Lee on edge. He looked wound tighter than the steel cable of the diving bell. “Lee, what’s he talking about?”

His friend stiffened. “There’s a reason you came to see me, Mr. Morton. What is it?”

Chip chanced a glance at Johnson, uncertain if he should continue. Given Lee had prompted him, he drew a breath and plowed ahead. “We just got a sonar reading similar to what we experienced last time.” He didn’t have to spell out ‘hagfish,’ but knew Lee would understand what he was referring to. “It could just be a thermal layer giving a false reading. Riley’s on watch and monitoring. I thought you’d want to be aware of it.”

“Very well.” Lee looked ready to dismiss him then apparently decided against it. His eyes shifted to Johnson. “This man has something he wants to tell you. I think you should hear him out, if for no other reason than to dismiss his story and put an end to this nonsense.”

Curious, Chip studied Johnson. There was little question the man was the source of Lee’s antagonism. What he couldn’t understand was how his friend could develop such an intense dislike of someone in so short a time. For the most part, Lee was open and accepting, willing to give the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t do knee-jerk reactions without reason.

“Well?” Lee spat at Johnson when the silence dragged on too long. “Tell him what you told me and see if he believes you.”

Johnson ignored him. “I didn’t want it to be under these conditions, Chip.” He took a hesitant step forward, his expression sincere, somehow oddly familiar. “Your captain . . . your friend,” he clarified, “Doesn’t trust me. I guess I should appreciate the fact he’s looking out for you, but I can’t help feeling his motives are completely selfish.”

Chip frowned. “You’re not making sense.” He didn’t like anyone talking about Lee in a derogatory manner, but had to admit when it came to Johnson, his friend had been behaving erratically. He looked intently at the blond-haired man and felt a startling tug of déjà vu. Once more he was struck by the certainty he knew Johnson, that if he only dug deep enough he’d unearth a connection between them. “Who are you?” he said at last. “I feel like I should know you.”

Johnson smiled broadly. He spoke over his shoulder to Lee. “There! You see, Captain?” he crowed triumphantly. “He does know me.” And then to Chip:  “I realize this is going to come as a shock, but there’s no easy way to say this. I wish I had the time to break it to you gently, but Crane has forced my hand. I’m your brother, Chip. I’m Conner. I didn’t drown in the river all those years ago. I never…”

But whatever else he intended to say was cut off by Chip’s violent explosion. “Bullshit!”

Lee smiled grimly. Circling around his desk, he joined Chip, confronting Johnson face-to-face. “You have your answer. Now get the hell out of my cabin, before I toss you out. For the rest of this cruise you are confined to your quarters.”

Johnson’s eyes widened. “You can’t!”

“I will not have a disreputable influence on my boat, especially as it relates to my executive officer.”

“Wait!” Chip’s voice thundered between them. It felt like his world was careening out of control . . . like he was living a dream, slogging through the muddy coattails of improbability. Johnson’s claim was preposterous, yet he couldn’t deny the certainty that he knew the man from somewhere. If he looked closely enough, maybe there really was a hint of Conner in his clear blue eyes. He would have trusted Lee with his life, and his friend was clearly suspicious, but Lee was a friend of circumstance, not of blood. As much as he loved him . . . as much as Lee had become the brother he’d lost, he’d never be Conner.

“My brother died when he was eleven-years-old,” he told Johnson. He knew his expression was severe, every nerve in his body wired to snap. “He drowned in a river…”

“The Millrow,” Johnson interrupted. “At the West Bend Dam. I was there, Chip. Justin Brenner and I went over together. All I remember was the current, pushing me down . . . and the pressure, so strong I couldn’t breathe. I must have blacked out. There was a woman who found me. She’d just lost her son, who was about the same age I was. She was mentally unstable but smart enough to realize she had to run. I couldn’t remember anything.” Johnson shook his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. “She packed up and took me to another state. It must have been the trauma of the accident, of almost drowning . . .” He started pacing now, his gaze turning inward as he resurrected the past. “I didn’t remember anything. It was like a complete blank when I woke up. The woman gave me her name, and I became Bryan Johnson, her son. That’s how I lived for the next twenty-two years. I would have been content with that. She provided for me, even if she wasn’t overly demonstrative with affection.”

He looked toward Chip. “Then four months ago I was in a bad car accident. I spent three weeks in the hospital. For a while, they didn’t think I was going to live. And when I woke up, everything was clear as a bell. I knew who I was. I remembered the past . . . the river, the dam, like it was yesterday. God, Chip, I know this sounds far-fetched, but I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for the fact you’re my brother.”

Chip shook his head. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and turned away. What Johnson told him was insane. “I don’t believe you,” he snapped.

“Then listen to me.” Johnson pushed forward, relentless. “My name is Conner Peter Morton. I was born in Chicago, Illinois, on October 19, 1942. My natural father is Eric Tournay, my mother Grace Marie Littleton Morton. I was adopted by Nathaniel Morton when I was three years old.”

“Shut up!” Chip spat.

“I have three sisters:  Melanie Rose Morton, Abigail Jane Morton and Veronica Victoria Morton. My brother is Charles Phillip Morton. If you don’t believe me, ask me anything.” He threw his arms wide in exasperation. “As a kid you wanted to be a pilot like our father, then an astronaut. It wasn’t until you were twelve that you started talking about the Navy. You rode a red Schwinn Tornado bike, liked Superman comics, beat Kevin Brenner two times out of three every time you played marbles, drove our mother nuts by sneaking snapping turtles into the house, and kissed Marybeth Kramer behind the soda fountain on a dare. She was three years older and gave you a black eye for being so brazen. Your very first date was with Sue Fetter off, and you bought her a corsage saved up with money from your paper route. Damn it, Chip, this isn’t any easier for me than it is for you!”

Chip shook his head. Unable to process the information overload, he slumped against Lee’s bunk. “It’s not possible,” he whispered. He felt his friend beside him, Lee’s voice low and solicitous as he slid a hand onto his back. 

“Chip, I don’t think you should take any of this at face value.”

But he was beyond hearing, beyond thinking rationally. Was it possible his brother had survived? They’d never found Conner’s body. As crazy as the story sounded, it wasn’t completely out of line. How many times had police and rescue dragged the damn river? Surely, they would have found something. Bewildered, he lifted his head. “Why me?” he asked. “Why didn’t you go to Mom or Dad?”

Sensing he’d broken through a barrier, Johnson stepped closer. “I wanted to, but I thought it would be easier if we went together. You were there with me that day on the river, Chip. The day when everything ended. Do you have any idea what it was like when I realized who I was? The last twenty-two years of my life had been a lie. As much as I loved the woman who took me in, I couldn’t help harboring resentment. God knows I didn’t want to, but it was all so confusing. Despite her intentions, she stole my life. I realize I may never get it back completely - - you, Mom, Dad, our sisters - - but I have to try. I thought if I could make you understand, you could help me make them understand.”

“I…” Chip’s voice caught in his throat. He felt sick to the stomach, unsure if he wanted to laugh in celebration or double over and wretch. He could sense Lee beside him, hovering in an uncharacteristically protective mode, his belligerence as plain as if he wore it like a coat. It was strange when he thought about it. Lee was usually the one who found himself in trouble, in need of protection. Over the years Chip had grown comfortable in that role, looking after his friend as if he were a younger brother.

As if he was Conner.

He swallowed hard. “I need some time to think,” he said. “This is all happening too fast.”

“Chip, I checked with the police and the hospitals in the town where Johnson lives,” Lee interjected, still hovering close. “There’s no record of the accident he refers to or the time spent in a hospital.” 

Johnson frowned. “I didn’t expect your captain to be so dogged in his determination to disprove me,” he said darkly. “The accident happened when I was traveling, covering a story up north. I didn’t realize I was going to have to provide actual documentation of my claims.”

“That would help,” Lee snapped.

“If that’s what it will take . . .”

Chip shook them both off. “I need some time to think.” He stood, acutely aware of Lee’s hand sliding from his back. It was too much to absorb in one night, but if the impossible had happened and Johnson really was his brother, he would have expected Lee to be glad for him. It bothered him to find his friend so close-minded and unflinching. For the last seventeen years, Lee had been his closest friend, but it suddenly felt like a chasm opened between them.

What if Johnson was Conner? How was he going to balance a relationship between the friend he loved like a brother and the sibling he’d lost? Clearly, Lee had no liking for the other man.

“I have to think about this some more . . .” He moved toward the door in a daze.

“Chip.” Lee’s voice was rife with concern.

He waved him off. “Not now.” He glanced at Johnson from the corner of his eye. “I pray to God you’re really who you claim to be.”

“I swear it.”

He nodded solemnly, thinking of all the things Johnson had told him. Some of them, things only Conner would know. He felt like he was operating in a dense fog, the world telescoping down to seal him in a coffin. “I can’t talk about this right now. Maybe tomorrow.” He wrenched the door open and stepped into the corridor, his mind on overload. Behind him he heard Lee curse savagely.

It was nothing compared to the turmoil he felt inside.

**********

Lee paced, edgy and irritated over the situation with Johnson and Chip. He’d barely slept, tossing and turning throughout the night. Waking early, he’d showered and dressed, downing a cup of coffee and a piece of rye toast in the wardroom before most of the morning watch crew was even functioning. 

He’d considered talking to the admiral or Jamie, sharing what he knew of Johnson and the man’s outrageous claims, but feared it would only make the situation worse. Chip would resent having his life, more importantly his past, put under a microscope - - especially if that scrutiny initiated with Lee. Chip trusted him to keep certain things private between them. No admiral, no Jamie, no matter how inclined Lee might be. Conner’s death had always been a touchy subject for Chip. The fewer people who knew about Johnson’s claim, the better. This was one mess Lee was going to have to sort out on his own.

Two hours into the morning watch, he sealed himself in the observation nose. He’d deliberately closed the inner crash doors, blocking off the rest of the control room. Mentally, he needed the quiet and privacy as he worked out a plan.

He was going to have to confront Chip . . . lay everything on the line and make his friend see how skewed Johnson’s story was. There was just enough plausible truth floating through it to make it believable, but all Lee saw were holes. Large, gaping holes. What he couldn’t figure out, and what had kept him up most of the night, was Johnson’s motive. What did he gain by pretending to be Chip’s brother? 

Was he possibly an enemy agent, attempting to lull Seaview’s executive officer into parting with inside information? Or could it be something as basic as money? Chip made a good salary and was far from destitute. Maybe Johnson was just running a scam, looking for a handout. 

Or maybe he really was Conner Morton.

Troubled by the possibility, Lee began to pace. Johnson was just one of his worries.

He’d checked in with sonar early, but there had been no further blips to indicate the giant hagfish they’d encountered on their previous voyage was lurking anywhere nearby. At least he could be grateful for that. They’d come off on the short end of the stick by tangling with the slime eel, and he wasn’t looking forward to round two. Their course was different, nowhere in the vicinity of where they’d clashed with the monster before, but the sonar blip had been similar. Hopefully, it had been nothing more than a false echo or a thermal layer.

He paced deeper into the nose, pausing beneath the herculite observation windows. Outside, multi-colored schools of fish darted in jerky stop-and-go fashion, zipping through clusters of gently swaying plant fronds. Lee stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring without really seeing. He knew he’d have to open the inner crash doors soon and return to the routine of the morning, but for the moment he enjoyed the solitude. The crew was still chattering about Alyssa, operating in the same animated mode they’d adapted ever since she’d come aboard. He’d overheard Riley and Patterson talking earlier, speculating on why he was so cold to her. Thankfully, he only had one more day of the inane charade . . . one more day before life on Seaview could return to normal. Unfortunately, he had Chip and Johnson to contend with too.    

Surprised by the sound of high heels clacking against metal, he turned in time to see Alyssa descend the topside stairs. She looked fresh and relaxed, dressed becomingly in a white silk blouse and black slacks, her hair loose and curling around her shoulders. It was the way he liked it best. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help feeling an instant flush of pleasure at her presence.

“Alyssa. I thought you’d still be at breakfast.”

She glanced toward the closed crash doors and wandered closer. “All alone by yourself, Captain. Does that mean I’m allowed to kiss you good morning?”

He extended his hand, pulling her close for a quick kiss. 

“Mmm . . .” She fondled his tie, slipping her fingers around the knot. It had become something of a game between them.

He could still remember the first time they’d ended up in bed together and how she’d taken immense pleasure in loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He’d found it amazing she could turn something so simple into something so wantonly erotic and stimulating. Ever since, all she’d had to do was touch the knot, and his blood spiked in response. It was a completely male reaction which she still used to her advantage. Like last night.

Like now.

He closed his fingers over hers, deliberately transferring her hand to his shoulder. “I think we should draw the line at a simple good morning kiss. Without the crash doors closed, we wouldn’t even have that luxury.” 

She looked toward the interlocked doors. “Problem or privacy?”

“A little of both, but don’t worry about it. You just need to go mingle with the crew. You’re like a glittery package on Christmas morning. They’re already moaning about how they’re going to miss you after today.”

She sighed. “I’ve enjoyed my time with them. It’s obvious they respect you a great deal, Lee, even if they don’t understand why you treat me so coolly. I just wish we didn’t have to play out this silly charade. I feel like I’m deceiving them.”

“That’s my fault. I should have been truthful with the admiral from the start.”

“Like I was truthful with you?” Her eyes dipped in shame.

“Stop it.” He kissed her. Yes, she’d kept silent about her marriage and divorce for the first two weeks of their relationship, but he refused to blame her for their present predicament. Love did that to a man.

The thought staggered him, the acknowledgement catching him off guard. He hadn’t really been sure of the intensity of his emotions before. He’d felt strongly toward her, but love? There were so many hurdles and obstacles between them, he wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge.

“Alyssa . . .” His arm was still wrapped around her waist. He used his free hand to tip her chin up until she gazed into his eyes. “Do you really think this can work?” He didn’t have to explain what he was talking about.

“Why not?” She looked wounded by the question. “Because you’re so much younger than me, or because of the press?”

He hadn’t really considered either. “I was thinking of the admiral.”

“And why wouldn’t Harry want us to be happy? If he cares for you as much as I think he does, I can’t see him standing in your way.” Her hands tightened on his shoulders as she tried to make him see her point. “You should hear how he talks about you, Lee. I spent two years dating that man and another three as his wife. There aren’t many people he feels strongly about, but I’d be willing to bet you’re near the top of his list.”

The truth burrowed through his gut. “Which is why I won’t do anything to hurt him.”

“And you think caring for me will?”

“No.” He traced his thumb over her cheek, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers. “But loving you will, and I’m afraid that’s what I’m feeling. I’ve fallen in love with you, Alyssa.”

She smiled beneath his kiss. “Forgive me if I don’t consider that a bad thing, as I happen to love you too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against him.

His mouth moved over hers, and he threaded one hand into her hair, kissing her like he’d kissed her last night . . . without thought or restraint, content to drown in the honey of her lips and the welcome promise of a future together. He lost track of himself, aware only of her body twined with his and the heady wine of her kiss. And then on some subconscious level, the noise of the control room intruded. He heard the beep of the sonar, the soft whir of the computer as it worked through a series of calculations . . . felt the sticky weight of a sudden, shocked silence like the crush of a tidal wave.

“Captain Crane!”

His gut plummeted. He’d know Nelson’s tightly controlled voice anywhere. 

Without looking, he realized someone had opened the crash doors from the other side. Fearing the worst, he shifted to find every face in the control room turned toward him, Chip and the admiral standing by the plotting table. The crew stared openly, clearly dumbfounded to find their captain locked in a kiss with a woman he’d been treating like a leper just ten hours before. Chip shifted restlessly, uncomfortable on his behalf, while Nelson glared, his expression black with thunder.

“Sir.” Concerned more for Alyssa than himself, Lee released her but stayed by her side. “I realize I have some explaining to do.”

“To put it mildly, Commander.”

“Harry…” 

Lee snared her wrist, holding her back when she would have stepped forward. He gave a minute shake of his head before refocusing on the admiral. As uncomfortable as the situation was, he never lost his poise. “Perhaps we could discuss this in your cabin, Sir?”

Nelson’s glower was less than encouraging. He gave a curt nod and exited by the spiral stairs. Lee exhaled, only then realizing he’d been unconsciously holding his breath. At his side, Alyssa searched his face, her eyes wide and anxious.

“I’ve caused a problem for you.”

“No, it’s all right.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. With the cat out of the bag, he no longer had to hide his affection. “Stay with Chip.” He shot a glance to his friend who looked almost as worried as Alyssa. “He knows about us.” His smile faltered. “The admiral and I will work things out. Don’t worry.” He kissed her lightly and headed for the stairs, fully aware the longer he kept Nelson waiting, the worse it was likely to be.

He felt the eyes of every man on watch trail behind him.

**********

Nelson was furious, there was little question about that. What surprised Lee was the reason for his anger.

“I don’t care if you’re involved with her,” the older man thundered, waving his hand in the air to emphasize the point as he strode back and forth behind his desk. “What I care about is that you chose to carry out a deceitful charade under my nose on my boat! Damn your audacity, Mister!”

Lee stood rigidly, hands at his sides, fully aware he was likely to have Nelson’s shoeprints over his back before the admiral was done with him. This was one time when he had no right to lash back. 

Nelson came to a grinding halt, pinning him with a murderous glare. “Explain yourself.”

“I can’t, Sir.”

“Then you damn well better find the gumption to try.”

Lee swallowed uncomfortably, imagining how it must have looked to Nelson - - and everyone else in the control room - - when the admiral had opened the crash doors to find his ex-wife and his captain locked in a kiss, framed in the center of the observation nose. It was like raising the curtain on a stage. For someone who’d tried to keep the relationship under wraps, Lee had made the biggest blunder of all by letting his guard down.

“Well?” Nelson snapped when he was silent too long.

Lee tried to salvage something from the disaster. “We didn’t mean to deceive you, Admiral. Or anyone else for that matter. The timing just seemed bad. You should know that Alyssa wanted to tell you long ago. I just never . . .” He trailed off and cleared his throat. How to explain he’d been a coward about it? He stood straighter, mentally preparing for the worst. “If you have to blame someone you should blame me, not her.”

Nelson gave a brusque snort. “Oh, that’s gallantly spoken, Commander, but it doesn’t change the fact you’ve made me look like a fool on my own boat.”

Appalled, Lee stepped forward. “Sir, I would never do anything to intentionally dishonor you.” He hadn’t looked at it that way and felt abruptly paralyzed by the ugly accusation. “Don’t you understand how difficult it’s been? She’s your ex-wife.”

“Which you knew about from the start!”

Lee clamped his mouth shut, refusing to confirm or deny.

“And you’re what . . ?” Nelson plowed ahead, quickly doing the math. “Sixteen years her junior. Were you more concerned for your reputation or hers?”

“Admiral, that’s not fair.”

Nelson held his ground. “I’m still waiting to hear why you didn’t tell me.”

Lee looked away. It was too hard admitting the truth, and he certainly wasn’t going to let Nelson know Alyssa had waited two weeks to tell him about her marriage. Better for the admiral to think he had known from the beginning and gone into the relationship fully aware of the consequences. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Nelson grunted. “That’s damnably convenient, Captain. Since we have another twenty-four hours to get through with our guests onboard, I suggest you keep your affection under wraps and not make a public spectacle of yourself again.”

Lee flushed, his eyes dipping to the floor. “Yes, Sir.”

Nelson turned his back. “You’re dismissed.”

Despondent, Lee walked to the door. He opened it, but hesitated with his hand on the knob. “Admiral?”

Nelson didn’t bother turning. “What is it?”

“For what it’s worth, I really do love her.”

He stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

**********

The crew of Seaview was not above a moment of completely irreverent fun. It was Lee’s fault he was so casual with discipline that they felt nothing of giving him a standing ovation when he clattered down the spiral staircase into the nose. He would have chewed Chip out for allowing the watch team such a lax attitude, but his friend led the pack, grinning ear-to-ear as he applauded. 

“Way to go, skipper!” Someone yelled from the back of the control room, and there was a hearty round of laughter. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the unorthodox greeting was in response to the scene he’d made with Alyssa.

Appreciating his crew’s enthusiasm, he grinned. “All right, that’s it. Fun’s over. Get back to stations, everyone.” It was going to take a while to live down his ‘stage performance.’ Hopefully, the watch team would spread the word not to make too much of it in front of the admiral.

Lee joined Chip at the plotting table as the rest of the crew returned to their posts, still sharing some last minute ribbing. The captain slanted a glance at his executive officer. “Why do I get the feeling you enjoyed that a little too much?”

Chip tried to look humble but failed. “Maybe because it’s not often I get to see you behave like an exhibitionist …Sir,” he added cheekily. “By the way, the crew was wondering what the odds were of you and Ms. Halston giving a repeat performance. The guys on B Watch are upset they missed the show.”

“You’re pushing the line, Mr. Morton.”

Chip grinned. “Aye, Sir.” He waited until the control room had returned to its usual structured order before venturing further. “So how did it go with the admiral?” 

Lee shook his head. “Not now.” He knew his friend would respect his preference not to discuss it. Taking the hint, Chip steered the conversation elsewhere, explaining that Alyssa had wandered back to her cabin and that Bryan Johnson was off bending Chief Sharkey’s ear.

“He wanted more information for an article he’s writing,” Chip elaborated. “So I put him with Sharkey, given you didn’t stand firm on that confinement-to-quarters order. Conner…er, Bryan,” Chip corrected himself, looking mildly self-conscious. “Reminded me he still has a living to make.”

Lee caught the slip. He would have liked nothing more than to have Johnson locked in his cabin, but that would have driven a wedge between him and Chip. The last thing he needed was to have his friend siding with Johnson against him. “So you’re convinced he’s your brother?”

Uncomfortable, Chip shrugged. “I’m not sure what I think, Lee. He came to my cabin late last night and we talked some more. He knows a lot about my childhood and the things Conner and I did together. About my parents and my sisters.”

Lee drew an unsettled breath. They’d been keeping their voices low, but he could see by the expression on Chip’s face his friend was leaning more and more to believing Johnson’s story. For Chip’s sake he wished it were true, but he couldn’t silence the gut reaction that told him Johnson was lying. Chip had been his closest friend for the last seventeen years. Lee liked to think that if Conner Morton really were alive, he’d feel friendship, not animosity, toward the man. Johnson was nothing like Chip. 

Lee simply couldn’t imagine any brother of Chip Morton’s being as shady as the freelancer. He still couldn’t shake the lewd insinuations Johnson had made about his relationship with Alyssa. Surely Conner would never imply anything as ugly as hinting Lee had been granting her ‘sexual favors.’

He frowned. “All right, Chip. I want you to think about something.” He dug for the only ammunition he had. “If he really is your brother, why is he a writer? From everything you’ve told me, Conner was a musical prodigy. He was bound for Julliard before he was sixteen. Don’t you think someone that talented would be a musician by trade . . . at the very least, involved in the field?”

Chip hedged, uncertain. He fiddled with his pencil, pretending interest in their most recent set of coordinates. “He had a bad accident. He didn’t even know who he was for the last 22 years. Maybe it affected his ability.”

“That’s bullshit.” Lee pressed his mouth into a tight line. “Talent is talent, I don’t care who the hell you think you are. It’s not something you learn, it’s something you have. Instinctively. Ask him about it. If he really is who he claims, he should be able to sit down in front of a piano and blow us both away.”

Chip was silent. From his expression, Lee could tell he struggled to find a loophole in the observation. It made his gut clench, realizing Chip wanted to believe Johnson’s assertion regardless of the truth.

“Conner’s been through an ordeal,” Chip said patiently. “It might have cost him his ability, his talent. The mind’s a funny thing, Lee . . .”

Conner.

He grimaced. Was his friend really that far gone that a false reality was more important than the truth? He could almost understand. When he’d been reunited with his father several months ago, he’d been willing to sacrifice almost anything to have him back in his life. He imagined Chip was feeling the same, ready to deny everything and anything to make the improbable possible. Grayson had been returned to him for a scant few days, and his world had been turned upside down. How much different would it have been if he could have had his father back in his life permanently? What would he have been willing to overlook? To sacrifice?

Chip refocused, obviously wanting to put an end to the conversation. “Interesting cruise between Alyssa and Conner. At least I’ve managed to keep my skeletons low profile.”

Lee frowned, recognizing a change of tactic when he saw it. Deciding to let his friend off the hook, he played along. It wouldn’t hurt to get Chip’s impression of Alyssa. “What do you think of her?” His glance was guarded. “Honestly?”

Chip gave a soft snort. “Aside from the fact you’re the envy of every man aboard?” His grin dimmed slightly. “She’s gorgeous, Lee. And nice enough. But she lives in a different world. Are you ready to face that?”

“You mean the press?”

“Yes, the press, but that’s only the icing on the cake. I’m talking champagne and red carpet, society galas, fashion spreads . . . the limelight. You never struck me as someone who liked the public eye.”

“It’s just temporary.” He tried to find an out but an unsettling feeling ripped through his gut. “She doesn’t model anymore. The press is just dredging this up because of the charity auction. Once it passes, everything will return to normal.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Chip raised a brow. “Are you prepared to swallow the consequences? You’re sixteen years younger than she is. If the media latches onto that they’re going to have a field day. Given her fame, I’m sure they’ll have more than a few names for you that aren’t exactly flattering.”

Lee squared his shoulders. “What I feel for her is stronger than that. It won’t matter, Chip.”

“And what about the admiral?”

That was the kicker. Lee clenched his jaw and looked away.

He loved Alyssa, but he loved Nelson too. He’d never say it out loud but, buried deep in his heart, he could acknowledge the fact friendship and respect had grown into something much deeper. Nelson had become a father to him, and the thought of alienating him - - of driving a wedge between them - - ripped a hole through his heart.

“It’ll work out,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes to the plotting table. He swallowed hard, deciding the conversation had run its course. “Kowalski,” he called to the senior rating. “Anything new on sonar?”

He couldn’t have put an end to his discussion with Chip with any more finality than if he’d left the room.

**********

It was uncomfortable being around Nelson. The admiral popped in the control room briefly, but his manner was clipped, and he was noticeably curt with Lee. The crew picked up on it immediately. Lee did his best to stay out of the man’s way until he’d had suitable time to cool down, but Nelson’s infamous temper remained at a boil. He took a few potshots at his captain, barking orders and snapping when Lee didn’t answer him quickly enough. Basically, there was little he could do to satisfy Nelson with the older man in so foul a mood. Their discussion in the admiral’s quarters appeared to have done little good.    

He took it as long as he could, but Nelson’s veiled comments and constant berating of everything he did eventually took their toll. He bit his tongue in an effort to keep from snapping a heated reply. Yes, he’d been wrong to conceal his relationship with Alyssa, but he could only stomach so much. His temper often operated on the same hair-trigger as Nelson’s. 

Unfazed, the older man looked at him steadily. “These coordinates appear to be off, Captain,” he stated, comparing the computer readout to the table chart. “Hopefully, you haven’t been so distracted lately you’ve forgotten how to plot a satisfactory course. If it’s beyond your skill, I’m sure I can find a seaman to educate you.”

Lee had taken all he was going to take. It didn’t help that the conversation took place at the plotting table, with most of the watch team glued to their every word. “Sir, if you have a problem with me, I suggest we discuss it in private.” He made no effort to lower his voice - - Nelson hadn’t for the last half hour - - and didn’t give a damn who heard. His glare could have melted ice at fifty yards.

“That won’t be necessary, Captain.” Nelson’s mouth tightened in a grimace. “I’ve said all I have to say. If there’s fault to be had, I’m sure you’ll find it if you look deeply enough.” Turning, he left by the topside stairs.

Lee watched him go, angry and hurt, uncertain which emotion was stronger. At his side, Chip sighed.

“Fix it, Lee,” he spat. “I don’t care if we do only have sixteen hours left. I’m not going to watch the two of you rip at each other for the rest of this cruise.”

**********

Lee dropped his logbook into his desk and closed the drawer. He had a half hour break before returning for the second half of his watch and used it for solitude in his cabin. Chip was right. He was going to have to talk to the admiral . . . humble himself, do whatever was necessary to repair the damage to their relationship. It irked him that by not wanting to cause contention between them and owning up to how he felt about Alyssa, he’d actually created a greater rift. Hindsight was everything. If he only had it to do over again, he’d handle the situation differently.

He was mulling the problem through when a knock shattered his concentration. “Come in,” he called automatically.

Alyssa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Thank God, I found you. I’ve been worried.” Her expression was anxious, but it was her eyes that cut him the most. The gray was deeper, sadder. She had a wounded look about her he hated to see. “I haven’t seen you since this morning in the observation nose, but I’ve heard the crew talking.” 

“You shouldn’t listen to the crew.” Lee stood and held out his hands

She moved swiftly, crossing the cabin and sliding her palms into his. “Harry is being difficult, isn’t he?” She tilted her head to stare up at him, sending the silken cascade of her hair spilling down her back. He loved the way it flowed, catching the light, infused with gem-bright fire. Enraptured, he threaded his fingers into that bewitching waterfall of glorious silk.

“I’ll talk to him again.”  

“I don’t understand.” Her brow creased in a frown. “He certainly doesn’t love me, Lee. He might have fond memories of the good times we had together but nothing to make him resent our relationship.”

“I don’t think that’s the problem.” He wrapped her in his arms, holding her closer. Dipping his head, he touched his lips lightly to hers. He didn’t know which was worse - - having to pretend how he felt about her or having his feelings in the open, only to have the admiral think badly of him. “This is my fault. I handled the whole thing poorly. I should have just told him from the start. I think I hurt his pride.”

“Oh, he’s just a pigheaded fool,” Alyssa said, growing frustrated. “He hasn’t changed an iota. He was always like this.”

Lee chuckled. “His stubbornness is part of what makes him so brilliant. I’ve never met anyone who inspires me as much as he does.”

The thought sobered her. “He’s a hard man to care about. That genius-level intellect of his makes it difficult for him to need anyone, but I do think he needs you, Lee. Underneath that impossibly headstrong exterior, he has a good heart. He’ll get over this.” She paused. “Once he stops being so obstinate.” She slid her palms onto his chest. “I don’t want to come between you. I care about you both.”

“I know that. It’s why I love you.” This time when he kissed her, it was with the same passion he’d felt in the observation nose.   

She sighed when their lips parted, nestling her head against his chest. “You are a corrupting influence on me, Captain. I’m already thinking about getting back to port and having you all to myself.”

“No press?”

“No press.” Keeping her arms wrapped around him, she tipped her head back, smiling up at him. “I’m in love with you, Lee. I’ve had my share of fame and fortune. After awhile, it gets lonely in the spotlight. If you asked me to, I’d walk away from everything I have.”

He swallowed hard. There’d only ever been one other woman who’d loved him with the same fervent passion and she was a creature of myth. Sometimes he thought he could still feel Mae’s presence when he walked through Seaview’s corridors late at night. He’d learned to let go of her and knew she’d done the same, if only for his sake. His heart had healed, but he’d never thought to find anyone else he’d love with the same intensity as he’d loved Mae. Was he just enraptured by Alyssa’s glow, falling too fast, too hard, or was he ready to consider a future together?

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I won’t ask you to do that,” he whispered, bending low over her lips. “I’ll adjust to the press. Knowing you love me is enough.”

For the moment, it was all that mattered.

**********

Harry took another look at the test slide clamped beneath the microscope’s objective lens. He scribbled a notation in his journal then cursed and scratched it out when he realized it made no sense. He was still dissecting the few cell samples they’d managed to lift from Seaview’s hull after their entanglement with the giant hagfish. He’d been scrutinizing them ever since, determined to learn what had caused its abnormal growth. For the moment his concentration failed him.

He felt horrible for the way he’d treated Lee, especially after the barb he’d lobbed at his captain in the control room about their course trajectory. They’d been having problems with the computer sporadically ever since they’d set sail, after the last round of repairs. If there was fault to be had it didn’t lie with Lee’s calculations but with the computer itself. And still he’d taken the potshot.

Disgusted, he tossed his pencil onto the open journal. Propping both elbows on the edge of the lab table, he bowed his head and ripped his fingers through his hair. God help him for a fool’s temper. He thought he’d feel better if he just chewed Lee out, clear the air and get it over with, but even his pointed criticisms had fallen short.

He still wasn’t sure what made him so angry - - that Lee had deceived him with the charade on the boat, or that the younger man had knowingly become involved in an intimate relationship with Alyssa and had never once thought to broach it. Wasn’t that common courtesy and basic respect? It wasn’t like he’d been looking for Lee to ask his permission, but some warning would have been nice. And what the hell was Ali doing with Lee Crane anyway? Her last husband had been a studio mogul. Since then she’d been linked to movie stars, directors and fashion designers who hobnobbed with the jet-set. If Lee wasn’t careful, he was going to get his heart broken.  

What had the fool said …“I really do love her?”

Harry swore. His overly sensitive captain was setting himself up for a free fall. When it came right down to it, maybe Ali was the one who deserved the bulk of his anger.

He looked up when he heard the wheel spin on the hatch to the lab. A second later the hefty steel barrier swung inward and Alyssa stepped inside. Harry’s mouth tightened involuntarily. Damn, but she was still a vision, easily passing for late thirties or early forties. He should have known looks and ambition would carry her to wealth and fame. He couldn’t really fault her. Not when he’d been every bit as driven and ambitious himself.

“Harry.” She struggled a bit closing the heavy hatch but was immediately poised when she turned to face him. “Chief Sharkey said I might find you in here.”

Retrieving his pencil, he refocused on the journal - - or at least pretended to. He heard the click of her heels against the decking, and knew she’d paused on the opposite side of the table. Even after all this time he could still sense her irritation and didn’t have to look to know her gray eyes were stormy and dark.

He gave a monosyllabic grunt of acknowledgement.

“Oh, that’s clever.” Alyssa wedged her hands on her hips. “It never fails to amaze me that for a man of such extreme intelligence, you can still sound like a complete Neanderthal whenever it suits you.”

He grinned slightly. “You haven’t forgotten how to spar, have you Ali?” 

She sat down on the stool across from him, elegant and self-assured. Even when they’d been dating, a part of him had always known she was destined for the spotlight. Of all the women he’d loved through the years, he respected her the most. She was beautiful, sharp-witted and focused. Yes, their ambitions had clashed, but he’d always admired her for the strength of her objectives. 

“You made it easy, Harry. Or perhaps hard. I missed that. Modeling is a different world.”

“It suits you.”

“Yes. Or it did. I don’t mind taking a backseat now and letting someone else enjoy the applause. My late husband taught me that fame doesn’t always ensure happiness.”

The studio mogul. Harry frowned. He’d made it a point to keep current with her career through the years and remembered something ugly about a scandal and infidelity. “I’m sorry about . . . him,” he said awkwardly, unwilling to address it.

“Don’t be.” Her eyes dipped briefly to the table. “The first affair I overlooked. The second was too public. I’d already started divorce proceedings, but he had a heart attack before I could serve him with the papers.” She paused, something sad and pensive entering her voice. “It’s amazing how you learn to go through the motions and never be happy. Chad and I should have never married in the first place.”

“Like us?” he guessed.

“God, no!” She laughed brightly, but the sound was a little too forced. “We were in love. Chad was a career move. As dreadful as that sounds, he used me and I used him. I would have stayed married to you, but I didn’t understand the sacrifice involved in being a Navy wife. Not then. Not when I had my own ambitions.” She tilted her head to the side, smiling wistfully. Her eyes skimmed the confines of the lab, settling briefly on the specimen tanks teeming with clusters of brightly-colored plants and fish. “You’ve done amazingly well, Harry . . . the Institute, Seaview, government consulting, rubbing elbows with heads of state the world over, even a Nobel Prize.” Her gaze returned, direct this time. “And still no Mrs. Nelson.”

“Somehow she never fit into the picture.”

“And no children?”

He scowled, looking away. “No.”

“But maybe someone you love like a son?” she suggested softly.

The bad part was he couldn’t deny it. Not with her. She’d always known how to read him, easily peeling away his layers of pretense. When it came to matters of the heart, they had always played straightforward and fast. “Don’t go there,” he warned.

The fire was back in her eyes. “You’re treating him horribly.”

“With reason.”

Her lips curled. “Says the great Harriman Nelson. Don’t you understand he couldn’t tell you because of the way you do feel about him . . . the way he feels about you? He thought he betrayed you.”

His glance was sharp. “Maybe he did.”

“Oh, don’t be an ass, Harry.” Disgusted, she shoved from the stool and paced to the corner of the table. She took a moment to collect herself. “I think there’s something you should know,” she told him carefully after a pause. When she faced him again, her eyes were clear but frank. “Lee had no idea who I was at the start of our relationship. I’d only been in Santa Barbara a few months when I heard of Lydia Starke’s charity auction. Knowing it was all tied to Seaview and that I might get to see you again, I thought it would be fun. And then I saw Lee’s photo in a promotional pamphlet for the auction, and, um . . .” Her eyes dipped and she smiled, self-consciously. “ . . . I was instantly taken with him.”

He was beginning to put the pieces together. “And who could compete with a wealthy ex-super model if she set out to win the auction?”

“I did want to see Seaview - - and you,” she clarified, the edge in her voice hardening a fraction. “I thought it would be a simple-and-done thing. I’d get to meet Lee, possibly charm him into having dinner. Is it a crime to want to spend the evening in the company of a handsome man? I was contributing to a good cause through the charity and looked forward to a quiet dinner and intelligent conversation. That’s all it was supposed to be.”

She wouldn’t lie to him. That much he knew. “So what went wrong?”

She sighed, twisting her hands together. “I don’t know. Your captain is much too charming for his own good.” She paced the length of the table, looking anywhere but at him. “He didn’t know about my career. Not initially, and certainly not about you and me. I told myself he was too young, that he worked for you, that the complications would only end up hurting us both. But I was smitten, so I convinced myself there was no harm - - not for a short while. And then everything became more involved, and I realized I still hadn’t told him about our marriage or that I even knew you.”

“He didn’t know?” Harry stood up slowly, staggered by the truth.

Biting her lip, Alyssa shook her head. “The more he talked about you, the more I realized you were more than just his boss and a friend. I was afraid to tell him. He’s so damn gallant. I knew he wouldn’t stay with me if he knew the truth. Not that early in our relationship when his heart wasn’t involved.”

“Damn it, Ali! What an incredibly selfish thing to do.” Harry ground his teeth together. With a shake of his head, he stalked to the wall of specimen tanks, letting anger wash over him. She’d been looking for a fling, something short and simple with a young, attractive man. Unfortunately, she’d bartered her heart and Lee’s in the process. “So when exactly did you decide to let him in on the secret?”

“After two weeks.” She looked understandably shame-faced. “He was furious at first then it just became this horrible burden hanging over his head.” She crossed to his side and slid her hand onto his arm, her gaze direct and imploring. “I know I was wrong, Harry, but I couldn’t keep deceiving him. By then I was starting to care for him.”

He looked at her levelly. “And now?” He sensed the answer before she spoke.   

“Now, I love him.”

 

He shook his head. “You’ve made a mess of things, Ali.” Even as he grumbled the accusation, he couldn’t help thinking Lee had done nothing to correct the misconception that he’d known about Ali’s marriage from the start. He’d just let Harry assume the worst of him, taking the blame rather than admitting Alyssa’s role in the deception. ‘Gallant,’ Alyssa had called him, but that didn’t begin to cover his chivalrous and completely self-sacrificing nature.

“Yes, I have made a mess,” she agreed. “Me. Not Lee. Which is why you need to stop being such a bear about the whole thing and quit treating him like the enemy.”

Amazing - - Alison Hagan more concerned for the man she professed to love than for her own ambition. He might have laughed, but she looked ready to chew his head off. “Does he know you’re here?”

“Of course not. The man’s as ridiculously stubborn as you are. He keeps telling me he’ll handle it.”

The hint of a smile touched his lips. That sounded like his captain. “I’m not a monster, Ali. If two people love each other they should be together - - although I don’t think either of you have adequately considered his age or your fame as stumbling blocks. It isn’t the fact you’re seeing one another that has me upset.”

“I know that. Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Harriman. I just explained why Lee didn’t tell you about us. And what happened in the observation nose was entirely my fault. I caught him alone and was a little too forward. You know your captain. Yesterday he went out of his way to make sure he didn’t so much as smile at me and give the wrong impression. Do you really think he would have stood there and kissed me like that if he thought someone was going to open those crash doors? If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

“That’s exactly what he said.” He sighed, feeling surprisingly foolish. “Just for the record, how long have you been seeing him?”

“A little over two months.”

“And you’re convinced you love each other?”

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” He looked at her levelly, worried for them both. “Just don’t make the same mistake you made with me, Ali. Lee is more important than a career.”

“I seem to remember our decision was mutual. You chose your career over me.”

“Yes. And you should know Lee Crane is every bit as ambitious as I was, with an incredibly bright future ahead of him. You and I both got what we wanted out of life, but Lee has yet to reach his potential.” He looked at her steadily. “Whatever you do, don’t take that away from him.”

**********

It wasn’t fair.

Chip pushed the mound of mashed potatoes around on his plate and tried to recapture the elation he’d felt last night. His brother was sitting across from him, downing a dinner of baked chicken, potatoes and green beans, but he couldn’t summon even a degree of the giddy euphoria he’d awakened with that morning. 

And it was all Lee Crane’s fault for putting doubts in his head.

The wardroom was mostly deserted, two junior officers lingering over coffee and Cookie’s famous double chocolate cake in the corner. Any other day, Chip would have moved onto seconds, but he was having trouble just downing what was left on his plate. Damn Lee for picking at the inconsistencies in Conner’s story! He knew his brother, would know him anywhere with or without a roadmap to his past. So what if he couldn’t play the freaking piano any more? People grew older, changed. Especially people who had survived traumatic events.

“Quiet in here tonight,” Conner commented. “Last night the place was packed, and we were all toasting Alyssa Halston with champagne.” He grinned snidely, studying Chip from under his eyebrows. “So I hear she’s made your captain the flavor of the week.”

Chip winced. “Don’t talk about Lee like that.”

“Why?” Conner gave a disparaging snort. “Hell, Charles, he’s a big boy. If he wants to screw around with a model he’s got to expect people are going to make unflattering comments about him. And her. He’s young enough to be her…”

“That’s enough,” Chip snapped before he could continue. It was bad enough Lee distrusted Conner, but he wasn’t going to sit idle while his brother slandered his friend. Pressing his lips together, he studied Conner frankly. “I know life dealt you a raw deal, but Lee is …” He broke off, uncertain how to continue. A brother? An irreplaceable friend?  The person I used to forget you? 

He swallowed hard. “Lee is a once-in-a-lifetime friend,” he said with earnest conviction. “I don’t want you talking about him that way.”

Conner scowled. “He’s your boss. He outranks you. Maybe you have to kiss his ass on the job, but you don’t owe him anything.”

“I never said I did.” Frustrated, fighting a prick of anger, Chip set his fork down. “You don’t get friendship do you? Don’t you remember what it was like when we were kids? You and me . . . Justin and Kevin Brenner?”

His brother shifted, uncomfortable. He looked away, flicking a glance at the two men in the corner, his mouth tightening in a pinched line. Chip waited, but when no answer was forthcoming, he tried another track. “Do you still play the piano?”

Conner gave an unconscious start. “The what?”

“The piano,” Chip reiterated. For a split second his brother’s gaze was vacant then comprehension dawned.

“No.” He squared his shoulders, looking down at his plate, his expression closed. “That part of my life is over.”

“How can it be over? Music was the most important thing in your world.”

“Was,” Conner said tightly. “Twenty-two years changes a lot. I don’t expect you to grasp that overnight. You grew up with people who loved you. I was a substitute - - a surrogate son for the woman who found me. Even when I didn’t know that, I sensed I was never good enough.” He shook his head, prodded a green bean with his fork. “She didn’t like music. I learned to like it less and less with every day that passed.”

Chip sat silently, his gut tight. “I’m sorry.” Lee was wrong. Sometimes there really were legitimate reasons for changes in people. His stomach curdled at the thought of his brother having something he’d loved so fervently stolen from him by circumstance.

Conner raised a brow. “Let me guess. Lee Crane put it in your head to ask me about the piano. He doesn’t trust me, Chip. He’s determined to create suspicion between us, to drive us apart.”

“That’s crazy.” Chip frowned. “He’s just looking out for my welfare.”

“It’s more than that. On your part too.” Conner sat back in his chair, eyeing him deliberately. “You have to quit treating him like a brother. He isn’t me.”

“Stop it.”

“You know damn well you do. I’ve heard the crew talk about it. Hell, I knew about it just from the general scuttlebutt I’d picked up kicking around Seaview and the Institute.”

“Then you didn’t dig very deep.” Chip sighed, realizing his voice was too sharp. “Lee and I go back a long way. He’s more than just a casual friend.” And I’m not going to sit here and justify our friendship to you. Mainly because he couldn’t. Because when all was said and done, Lee really was his brother at heart. He just didn’t think he was ready to admit that to Conner. Instead, he changed the conversation, diverting the topic to the past again.

They talked about Chicago, their family and even that fateful day on the river. Once more Chip was impressed by Conner’s knowledge, down to the smallest detail, of everything they’d done.  For both of them, the events were forever frozen in their memories. Before he knew it the food on his plate was cold, and it was time to head to the control room again. Ten minutes later, he found Lee at the plotting table. 

“A little late, aren’t you?” the captain asked mildly, looking up from a clipboard.

“I lost track of time,” Chip explained. “I was with Conner in the wardroom.”  He shrugged a little awkwardly. “We were talking about our childhood. And that day at the dam. It’s amazing what he remembers, Lee - - every last detail of what we said and did. There’s no doubt in my mind he was there.”

Lee nodded, but Chip noticed his expression grew darker. He bent his head, jotting a notation on the clipboard. “Did you ask him about the piano?”

The inquiry was casual, but it immediately put Chip on the defensive. Unconsciously, he clenched his jaw. “Yes, and I’m satisfied with his answer. Drop it.”

“Chip…”

“Listen to me.” It was time to put an end to Lee’s suspicions once and for all. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice, but there was a clipped edge on every word. “I don’t care what you think. He’s my brother. Do you understand that? If you want to continue to be my friend, you’re going to have to accept that.”

Lee balked, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me.” He hated playing hardball, but he wasn’t going to remain trapped in the middle between Conner and Lee. His brother was blood, his family. Conner had been cheated of the life he should have had - - the fame and world-renown that surely would have come through his music - - and Chip felt responsible. Wasn’t he the older brother? Wasn’t he the one who should have known better, who should have been paying attention? He should have insisted Conner get out of the water when he did. Instead, he’d let his brother get sucked under by the West Bend Dam, his life ruined.

Now he had a chance to right the wrong. Maybe Conner was different, but he’d lost everything - - his family, music, friends, the joy of a happy, fulfilling childhood. Chip owed Conner the future and if that meant severing ties with Lee in all but profession, he had no choice. He just prayed to God, Lee wouldn’t force his hand.

“I’m sorry, Lee.” He kept his gaze steady . . . hated the shock and hurt he saw mirrored in his friend’s expressive eyes. “Conner is in my life to stay. If you can’t accept that, then . . .” He swallowed hard, forcing the ugly ultimatum. “. . . maybe we need to reevaluate our friendship.”

He didn’t realize how truly hurtful the declaration was until he saw the color drain from Lee’s face. As a commander, his friend rarely let his emotions show, but the wound cut so deeply, so quickly, it shattered his defenses in one fell stroke. The anguish in his eyes was almost palpable.  

“Chip…” Lee faltered, his voice shorn. “Will you listen to yourself? You don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do.” Hell, had he really just put his friendship with Lee on the line? Seventeen freaking years! How could he let anyone - - Conner included - - come between them?

Lee stiffened, shock replaced by anger. “I’m not going to have this discussion in the control room.” Just that quickly, he moved from friend to commander. “Switch to this course, Mr. Morton.” Scribbling out a set of coordinates, he tore the top sheet off his clipboard and thrust it at Chip. “We’re going to give our guests a tour of a dormant underwater volcano before returning to port. You have the conn.” He dropped the clipboard onto the plotting table with such vehemence the clatter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of several startled crewmembers.

Chip watched him leave, knowing full well where he was headed.

**********

Lee was incensed. 

The sting from Chip’s ultimatum had faded, swallowed by rage. There were only a handful of people in his life who mattered and Chip, along with Nelson, was at the top of that list. He’d tried to be rational about Conner. Tried to point out the obvious flaws in his story, but for every hole, Conner had a plug. He knew about Chip’s past and knew what happened that day on the river. What Lee couldn’t figure out was how he knew and what he gained. One thing was certain - - he wasn’t going to let Conner sabotage his friendship with Chip.

Working up a healthy steam, he rounded the corner at a brisk pace, stopping outside the guest cabin assigned to Conner. He pounded his fist on the door, waited all of two seconds then flung it open without an invitation.

Conner had a suitcase open on his bunk, engaged in the process of packing. He didn’t look at all flustered by Lee’s thunderous entrance.

“Captain Crane. Let me guess - - you must have been chatting with my brother.”

“He’s not your brother.” Lee slammed the door, striding deeper into the room. “I don’t know who the hell you are or what your game is, but you’re not Conner Morton. And before this is over, I’m going to prove it.”

Rather than react with anger, Conner pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You know . . . considering this was supposed to be a ‘guest cruise,’ you haven’t exactly been very hospitable. I’m afraid any article I write is going to cast you in an extremely unflattering light, Crane. Let’s see . . .” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, mentally cataloging what he had. “First you try to play dumb about a sexual relationship with your boss’s ex-wife, making him look like a fool. And let’s not forget she was driving when you were still in diapers. You make a spectacle of yourself in front of your men, behaving like a teenager in the back seat of a car. Then I catch you - - the captain - - leaving Alyssa Halston’s cabin, after a tumble under the sheets…”

“Bastard!” Before he could utter another word, Lee lunged across the room, hooking his fingers into Conner’s collar. He slammed the man backward into the bulkhead, rage making him reckless. “You keep Alyssa out of the trash you write, or …”

“…or what?” Conner challenged. He grinned malignantly. “Are you threatening me, Crane? That’s even better. I can see the headline now - - ‘Sex and Violence on the Seaview:  What really happens when Santa Barbara’s Gray Lady leaves port.’”

Realizing the damage Conner could do - - not just to him, but more importantly to Alyssa, the admiral, N.I.M.R. and even Seaview’s crew - - Lee released him. “You don’t have any morals, do you?” Revolted, he tried to get his temper under control. Ticking Conner off would just make it worse. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to convince Chip you’re his brother, but no brother of his would ever be so unethical. You write trash like that, you’ll only be hurting him too.”

“Then I’ll stick to smut that sells - - like your love life. The tabloids will pay me a mint for what I’ve got on you and Alyssa Halston.”

Lee ground his teeth. It infuriated him to think anyone could make what he felt for Alyssa sound filthy and lewd. It took everything he had not to wrap his fingers around the man’s throat. “What are you after?”

“I’m not after anything. I just want my life back . . . my brother back. And I want you out of the picture.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” The haughtiness was gone now, cold finality on every word. “Chip doesn’t need a substitute brother. Not when he has a real one. I want you to back off, Crane. As of now, your friendship with my brother is over.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Lee shook his head in disbelief. “Even if I agreed to that, Chip never would.” But the exec’s ultimatum in the control room made him less than sure.

“We’ll see.” Conner pushed past him and went back to packing. “Unless I’m mistaken, Captain, you have a submarine to run. Do try to be cordial when we dock. I’d hate to have to tell the press you treated me rudely.”

Knowing he’d lost the upper hand, Lee left, slamming the door behind him. He silently vowed it wasn’t over, but in the back of his mind he feared Conner’s hold on Chip. He’d seen it grow, hour-by-hour, Chip’s loyalty to family stronger than his sensibility at times. 

He knew his friend. Knew that he carried guilt over what happened to Conner when they were kids. Chip rarely talked about that emotion but Lee knew it was there all the same. The problem with Chip was he was generally so even-tempered it was hard to tell when something was wrong. Between the two of them, Lee knew he was the moody one, giving rein to melancholy and fits of anger with the flip of a switch. Chip just held steady.

His friend had adjusted after losing Conner, fighting harder for the life and family he did have rather than sinking into despair. Lee remembered being amazed when he’d first learned about Conner. Chip had just always seemed so well-rounded and . . . happy . . . it was hard to imagine him with such a tragic loss hanging over his head.

Lee knew about loss. He’d never really recovered from the death of his father. The difference was Chip had a family who loved him - - Nathaniel and Grace, and his sisters. 

Lee had Mitchell Blake, a step-father who despised him.

Sighing, he stood, leaning into the bulkhead. Conner was convinced he could get Chip to walk away from their friendship. When it came right down to it, there was no blood between them. Yes, he loved Chip like a brother, but would that be enough? And what would he do if it wasn’t? Hadn’t Chip pretty much given him an ultimatum in the control room - - accept Conner as his brother or their friendship was over? 

He’d been stunned, then angry. The thought of losing Chip’s friendship clawed a hole through his gut. In four more hours they would be back in Santa Barbara. 

In four more hours, Lee was determined to debunk the mystery of Conner Morton.

**********

The underwater volcano was Nelson’s last hurrah for Seaview’s guests. Lee had to admit it made a spectacular finish to the cruise, its slopes rich with coral forests and a multitude of colorful sponges. Pink bubble gum corals, some as tall as eight feet, were home to schools of vibrantly-hued fish, sea urchins, red crabs, and a teeming host of marine life. A rainbow of color, the dormant volcano created a glittering monument under the sea.

Lee was uncertain what to expect of the gathering in the observation nose and could sense that the control room watch team was too. The galley staff had set up a table of refreshments - - coffee, tea, sparkling cider and a non-alcoholic punch. There were several trays of finger desserts, fresh fruit cups and petit fours.

Nelson treated him professionally and courteously, but there was still a cool distance between them. Lee maintained the same poise with Alyssa, careful not to do anything unbecoming his position, but no longer worried about maintaining a distance. He chatted comfortably with her, unconcerned who observed them, pleased by her obvious delight of the underwater vista. Chip and Conner were equally easy with one another, Conner returning to the affable personality he’d displayed when he’d first come aboard. It irked Lee to watch him shift gears so easily - - going from the slug who’d basically threatened blackmail in his cabin, to everybody’s best friend. It took all he had to maintain his professionalism with Conner, especially when he caught the man slanting a snide glance at him and Alyssa when no one was looking.

At one point, Lee broke off from the group and ran a computer printout to double-check their course. He had his head bowed, studying the reading when he felt a presence at his elbow.

“You should have told me,” Nelson said quietly.

Surprised, Lee glanced up. The admiral’s gaze was steady, bare of anger and indignation. Uncertain were he stood, Lee kept his voice low. There was no question Nelson was referring to his relationship with Alyssa. “I realize that now, Sir. I’m sorry.” He chanced a glance at Alyssa, deeper in the nose, engaged in conversation with Chip and Conner.

Nelson followed his glance. “She told me what you wouldn’t - - that she kept our marriage a secret from you until it was too late.”

Lee wasn’t certain if he was angry or relieved. He hadn’t wanted her involved, believing the problem was his to solve. “When?”

“A few hours ago. She came to the lab and basically told me I was an idiot for treating you so badly. Now that I’ve had a chance to cool down, I’d have to say she was right. I’m getting old, Lee.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, crooking a smile. “I don’t like being caught off guard. Especially, not on my own sub. And especially not by my captain doing a Valentino impersonation for the crew.”

Chastised, Lee flushed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You didn’t see the two of you kissing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir. It won’t happen again. Not for public display anyway.” He hedged, uncertain how to proceed. Although Nelson was being specific about what irritated him, he was also being open, his voice and manner indicative that he’d put his anger behind him and moved on. “What she and I have . . .” Lee tried to explain. “I don’t want it to change anything between you and me. I’m afraid you may think less of me because I didn’t walk away when I learned the truth.”

Nelson snorted, backhanding the air in dismissal. “You’re a man; she’s a stunningly attractive woman. What she and I had is ancient history. God knows, I want her to be happy. And you. Just, uh . . .” He shot a glance to Alyssa. “Be careful how you handle things. We may have eluded the press when we left, but they’ll be waiting in port when we return, incensed we tricked them the first time. Are you ready for that?”

Lee shifted, uncomfortable. By nature, he was private. His position on Seaview occasionally thrust him under a spotlight, but it was usually over and done with quickly. He didn’t relish the idea of having his relationship with Alyssa put on a public Petri dish. “As far as the press is concerned, there’s nothing to link her with me.” He refused to think of Conner’s insinuations and threats.

“Now,” Nelson stressed. “But sooner or later, someone is going to connect the dots. You need to be prepared, Lee. It won’t be flattering to either of you, given your age.”

Lee shook his head, convinced he could circumvent it. “The whole thing will blow over. When Seaview returns, Alyssa will handle the press, and I’ll be Commander Crane, nothing more. In a few days, everyone will have forgotten about the cruise and moved onto to some other topic of gossip. If, and when, our relationship does go public, it will be nothing more than a passing footnote.”

Nelson nodded. “I hope you’re right.” His eyes returned to Alyssa. “For both your sakes.”

**********

Chip swallowed a mouthful of coffee, vacantly staring at the underwater volcano through the herculite windows. The mood in the nose was festive with several off-duty officers mingling with Alyssa and Conner. 

He’d seen Lee and the admiral talking peaceably and surmised they had resolved their differences. He wished he could say the same for himself and the captain. It left his gut cramped in a tight knot, knowing he’d been so intentionally damaging to Lee. Somehow he wanted to make it right, but there simply wasn’t room for common ground. If he and Lee were going to repair their friendship - - assuming the captain was still on speaking terms with him - - Lee was going to have to adapt and accept Conner for who he was.

“Amazing.” Chip gave a start to find Conner at his elbow. His brother smiled openly and motioned to the volcano. “I guess you get to see things like this all the time.”

Chip grinned, pulling himself from his mental gloom. “It never loses its impact.”

Thoughtful, Conner nodded. “You’ve got a great life, Chip. Mom and Dad must be really proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. Your career, your position on Seaview . . .”

He squirmed. How proud would they be to know he’d possibly damaged a seventeen-year-old friendship beyond repair? They loved Lee almost as much as he did. Uncomfortable, he looked away.

“Something wrong?” Conner honed in on his disquiet, his concern transparent. “You seem upset.”

“No, it’s nothing.” Chip shook his head. “Just tired, I guess. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“I’m at fault for that. The last thing I wanted to do was turn your life upside down.”

“You haven’t.” He had to believe that. Lee, or no Lee, he owed Conner a new life - - a chance to pick up where they’d left off. Whatever happened, the mess was his to work through, not Conner’s. It helped to know his brother was so concerned about him.

“Everything will work out . . . you’ll see.”  He pointed toward the volcano, determined to change the subject. “You see that grouping . . . there on the left? Those are pink bubble-gum corals. I remember the first time I saw one that big we were . . .” And he rambled on, glad to be able to concentrate on something commonplace. Yet, even as he continued the story, he shifted a glance to the side looking for Lee among the crowd.

He wondered if his friend felt anywhere near as miserable as he did.

**********

As predicted, the press was waiting when Seaview returned to her subpen. Institute security had blocked them from N.I.M.R. grounds, but they were clustered at the gate, cameras and microphones at the ready. Lee stayed onboard, finishing up post cruise checks while Alyssa posed and chatted with reporters, handling them with ease. Conner hovered in the background, allowing her the limelight, not that his presence would have made a difference. The press was enraptured by her and seemed to have forgotten he existed beyond a token inquiry.

Lee listened to the live reports via radio and vid-cam as he finished up his post-cruise paperwork, proud of how expertly Alyssa fielded questions. She obviously knew how to work a crowd to her advantage. He would have liked to talk to Chip again, but his friend made it a point to be occupied elsewhere, exiting the boat as soon as he was able.

It was late by the time Lee finished and headed home. He knew Alyssa would be waiting for him and looked forward to a private reunion. Her sleek white Jaguar was already parked in his garage when he pulled in beside it. Inside the house, he found the lights dimmed in the foyer. Setting his briefcase aside, he placed his cap on top. “Alyssa?”

Unbuttoning his uniform jacket, he headed for the family room. She’d turned on the central stereo, setting it to low so that an intricate blend of cool jazz danced throughout the house. Like the foyer, the lighting in the family room was muted, soft and inviting against the darkness outside. Flames danced in the fireplace, a shifting tapestry of bronze, scarlet and topaz. He could smell something cooking in the oven, the aroma a savory blend of gourmet spices and seasoning.

“Lee . . .”

He turned in time to see her emerge from the dining room, his breath catching at the sight of her. She wore a provocatively low-cut negligee of pure white satin. It hugged the curves of her body, plunging low over her breasts, flowing in a drape of shimmery fabric to the floor. Her arms were bare, her back exposed to the waist. Incredibly sheer, it left little to his imagination, including the skimpy triangle of her lacy panties. In the glow from the fireplace, her hair was a lustrous veil of burnished copper and gold. 

He swallowed hard, feeling the restless thunder of his blood.

“I’m glad you’re home.” Moving closer, she smiled up at him, her full lips sultry and inviting. “You took your good time getting here, Captain Crane.” She pushed a long-stemmed goblet into his hand, but before he had time to appreciate the wine, she gripped his tie and pulled him down for a decadently sensual kiss.

He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. The moment she fingered the crisply-tailored knot of silk at his throat, he knew he was done. “If I’d known you were going to be dressed like that, I would have been here sooner.” He smiled against her lips, hooking an arm around her waist and dragging her forcibly against him. After what felt like an eternity of public scrutiny, he finally had her to himself. “I don’t like sharing you,” he murmured. He set the wine down on a nearby table and locked his hand in her hair. Her lips tasted of a sweet rosé and some exotic spice he couldn’t name. Two days at sea and he was ready for a night in the bedroom.

She played with his tie, loosening the knot. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.” Coyly, she looked up at him from under her lashes. “Or I can set the oven to low.”

Food was the last thing on his mind, especially when she eased open the top button of his shirt. “I was thinking more along the lines of a long, hot shower. With company.”

“Mmm. And dinner in bed afterward?” She raised a slender brow. “I think I can accommodate you, Captain. Once, I have you out of uniform.” She pulled on his tie, sliding the knot free until the black silk unraveled in a single line against his chest. After that, he simply couldn’t think. She was far too desirable and it had been much too long since he’d had her willing and eager in his arms, let alone his bed. 

The night unfolded at a languorous pace. He lost himself in the steam of the shower, her hands and lips making him forget everything but the moment. When he took her to bed, his heart shuddered with the depth of his love for her. In a single breath, he couldn’t imagine life without her. Much later, she lay nestled in his arms, the remains of a gourmet dinner forgotten on the nightstand, the afterglow of their lovemaking as seductive as the lazy heat still thrumming like an undercurrent between them. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke several hours before dawn, Alyssa cuddled against his side. The warmth of her body was intoxicating. She slept with her cheek resting on his shoulder, one slender leg draped over his thigh. He was loathe to disturb her and kept his arm looped around her neck. Her scent engulfed him, a tantalizing blend of vanilla body lotion twined with the lingering musk of their lovemaking. He told himself he wouldn’t act like a testosterone-driven male overcome by a sudden desire for sex. She was even more beautiful asleep than awake, her fiery hair tumbled over her shoulders, her skin petal-soft, tinted with a creamy flush of rose. Moonlight spilled through the balcony doors, haloing the bed in a pale-white celestial glow. It took him a concentrated effort to set the needs of his body aside and ignore the growing discomfort between his legs.

Letting his mind wander, he considered the events of the last two days, specifically as they related to his executive officer. He’d walked away from the boat without talking to Chip and attempting to bridge the chasm between them. There was no question Conner was at fault for that ugly gulf. Conner, who wasn’t Conner, but who continued to hold all the cards.

Lee sighed. Tilting his head back, he focused on the ceiling and restlessly threaded a hand through his hair.

Alyssa stirred. “Lee?”

“Right here.” He kissed her lips, her brow. “Go back to sleep.”

“What are you doing awake?” she asked drowsily.

He couldn’t resist touching her and traced his thumb over her cheekbone. “Just thinking.”

She shifted to look up at him, her head coming to rest on his bicep. “About what?”

He was going to tell her it didn’t matter, but she looked worried, the dove gray of her eyes deepening to smoke-pewter. “You’re not still worried about Harry are you?” she asked.

“No.” He palmed the hair from her cheek, smoothing it back from her face. “We talked and he’s fine. I was thinking about something else.” He decided to be honest. It was 3:00 a.m., an hour when questions, ghosts and angels converged in a riot of doubts and possibilities. “I was wondering why anyone would pretend to be someone they’re not.”

Her brows drew together in confusion. “Are you pretending with me, Lee?”

“Of course not.” He gave a startled laugh and caressed her cheek, kissing her deeply. “It’s a stupid observation. Go back to sleep.”

She nestled closer, snuggling against his chest again, layering her arm over his waist. Her eyes dipped sleepily. “Models do it all the time.”

The remark caught him off guard. “What?”

“Pretending.” She yawned. “We create fantasy worlds. The average person isn’t going to strut down a runway decked out in feathers and silk. We do it to sell the latest fashions, styles and products. Buy this perfume or that lipstick and the man of your dreams will sweep you into a fantasy world of wealth and glamour.” She smiled, her eyes still closed, sliding her hand higher on his chest. “Mmm . . . I think I’ve found the man of my dreams.”

“Fantasy?” Lee repeated as something connected in his head.

“You’re not listening, Captain.” She shifted, grazing her fingertips below his waist.

Lee sucked in a reactionary breath. “And you’re not playing fair.” He kissed her brow and promptly slid from the opposite side of the bed. “Go to sleep, darling. I have to check on something.” He reached for his briefs and trousers.

She sat up instantly. “You’re leaving me?”

He needed to have his head examined. The sheet plummeted to her waist. With her hair loose, all that gilded fire spilling over her bare breasts, her lips parted and moist, cheeks flushed with the rose-gold of sleep, she looked like an angel.

Or a seductive enchantress of myth, capable of trapping any man.

Lee pulled on his trousers and tugged up the zipper, leaving the snap undone. Bracing one knee on the bed, he leaned forward and gave her a hasty kiss. “I’ll be in the loft. Go back to sleep.”

She gripped his open waistband. “You’re not running off to Seaview are you?”

He grinned brazenly. “Would the man of your dreams lie?”

Alyssa released him and flopped back on the bed. “I’ve given you a swelled head, Lee Crane.” She snagged his pillow, hugging it close, burrowing deeper into the warmth where his body had been. “I wish I knew what I’d said,” she whispered.

He grinned. Without realizing it, Alyssa had told him exactly what he needed to know about Conner Morton.

**********

Before departing on Seaview for the charity auction cruise, Lee had delved into Bryan Johnson, the freelance writer as extensively as he could - - checking his background in the town where he was reported to live and following up on his career. What made that hard was as a freelancer Johnson was self-employed and had a legitimate excuse for travel, thus no permanent address. He’d found a way to explain why there was no police report of a car accident or medical records of a hospital stay by saying his accident occurred while he was on the road. And he’d apparently found an excuse to satisfy Chip as to why he didn’t play the piano any longer.

Camped out in his loft (which he’d converted to a working den shortly after moving in), Lee reviewed the information he’d gathered on Johnson/Conner. In all the research he’d done, he’d never once stopped to consider what Alyssa had struck on tonight - - a fantasy world. In the back of his mind, it all began to fall into place . . . why Conner knew so much about Chip’s childhood and why he could account for everything that had happened that fateful day at the West Bend Dam.

He waited as long as he could, fiddling around at his desk, even going downstairs to brew a cup of coffee, but eventually impatience got the better of him. By habit, Chip’s father, Nathaniel Morton was usually up early. A retired Air Force major, he’d never quite outgrown the practice of getting up before the crack of dawn. Lee checked back in the bedroom shortly after 0500 and found Alyssa sound asleep. Smiling, he pulled the sheet up around her shoulders, bent to give her a light kiss, then went back to the loft where he settled at his desk and reached for the phone.

Nathaniel answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Major Morton, this is Lee Crane.”

“Lee?” Nathaniel was clearly caught off guard getting a phone call so early in the morning from his son’s commanding officer. Immediate tension crept into his voice. “Is everything all right, Lee? Has something happened to Chip?”

“He’s fine, Sir.” Lee routinely called Chip’s mother by her first name, but his father would always be ‘sir’ to him despite Nathaniel’s insistence it wasn’t necessary. Eventually, the retired major had just given up, recognizing Lee’s military background as the culprit. The form of address was habitual to him, especially when talking to an officer, retired or not, of the armed forces.

“I’m sorry to be calling so early,” he apologized. “I need your help and I’m up against a time deadline. You remember that discussion we had a few days ago about Chip and Conner?” He’d phoned Nathaniel after first learning of Bryan Johnson’s preposterous claims, discreetly fishing for details on Conner. Unfortunately, he hadn’t walked way with much more information than he already knew.

“Sure I do.” Nathaniel was hesitant. “Why all this interest in Conner? Is Chip having a rough time of it this year? About his brother, I mean?”  

“No, Sir, it’s nothing like that.” It wasn’t in Lee’s place to explain what had happened. Nathaniel might not be Chip’s natural father, but he loved his adopted son every bit as fervently. Lee had seen them together often enough to know Nathaniel was infinitely proud of Chip and his coveted executive officer position on Seaview. They had a warm and supportive relationship, built on mutual admiration and love. It was the kind of relationship Lee envied between fathers and sons - - the kind he would have had with Grayson if his father were still alive. And the kind he never vocally acknowledged, but was there all the same, between him and Nelson.

“I’m trying to reach an old friend of Chip’s,” he explained, “and I thought you could help me. That day on the river - - can you tell me who was there?”

“I thought you knew that already . . . Chip and Conner, along with Justin and Kevin Brenner. The four of them were practically inseparable as kids. Justin was Chip’s age, and Kevin was a few months younger than Conner.”

“And Justin got caught in the current too?”

“Yes. Kevin was on the bank with Chip, and Justin and Conner stayed in the water. God knows, none of them knew the danger they were in.” Nathaniel paused and Lee could imagine him sadly shaking his head. “I don’t think Jean Brenner ever recovered from seeing her son’s body dragged from that river. Within six months the Brenners had packed up and moved on. I know it hurt Chip deeply to lose Kevin too - - the last of their foursome. He got a letter from him once, about a year later, but never heard from him again.”

Lee felt his pulse ratchet higher. “Do you know where they went - - the Brenners?”

“Someplace in New Hampshire. Why?”

“Do you know the town, Sir?”

Nathaniel chuckled. “Lee, if it’s Kevin Brenner you’re trying to reach, I can save you the trouble.”

Lee drew back, sitting straighter in his chair. His eyes flecked to a framed photograph of him and Chip, mounted on the wall. Taken at their graduation from Annapolis, they both looked impossibly young, grinning broadly, arms looped around each other’s shoulders. Such a long time ago.

It made him realize how strong his bond with Chip had grown over the years. In the beginning, at Annapolis, they’d been friends. But somewhere along the line they’d become brothers, and he wasn’t going to let Conner take that away from him. 

“I don’t follow, Sir,” he said warily.

Nathaniel sighed into the phone. “Several years ago, I tried to track him down myself. I wanted to surprise Chip. What I found was heart-rending.”

Lee was silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Kevin suffered a breakdown in his late teens. Apparently, he never recovered from the trauma of losing Justin. I don’t know if he blamed himself or simply couldn’t function on his own without his brother. From what I was able to gather, he suffered delusions and was prone to bouts of schizophrenia. He was in a mental institution the last I checked.”

A fantasy world.

Lee swallowed hard. “And that was several years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Have you checked since then?”

“No.”

“Sir, would you mind giving me the name of the institution? I’d like to do some investigating on my own.” Nathaniel gave him the name and he jotted it down.

“What’s this all about, Lee?” the older man asked.   

He hesitated. It wasn’t in his place to tell Chip’s father about Conner’s miraculous return, though he suspected the Mortons would find out soon enough. He ignored the prodding altogether. “One final question:  did Kevin Brenner have blond hair?”

“No.” Lee could almost imagine Nathaniel shaking his head. “He was a blue-eyed brunet, the only one of the four. The other three boys were all blond. You will tell me what this is about eventually, won’t you, Lee?”

“Yes, Sir. Just . . . I can’t explain it right now.”

Seconds later, he sat in the silent loft staring morosely into space. Of all the plots and ploys he’d imagined of the man claiming to be Conner Morton, he’d never suspected anything so tragic. A glance at the wall clock told him it was 0542. It would be three hours later on the east coast, already past 8:30 in the morning. 

Lee glanced at the piece of paper containing the name of the psychiatric hospital Nathaniel had given him. Praying he was wrong, he reached for the phone and dialed information.

**********

Lee kept busy for the next few days, waiting on word from the psychiatric hospital in New Hampshire. He had no concrete proof to dump under Chip’s nose, only gut instinct. He’d pulled strings through official channels to get the report since he wasn’t family. When it finally came through, confirming Brenner had been discharged eight months previously, he wasn’t surprised.

How to explain to Chip, that Conner - - who had initially claimed to be a man named Bryan Johnson - - was really his childhood friend? The only piece of truth in Conner’s whole story was the car accident. Kevin Brenner had been involved in one four months ago, and he had been hospitalized for three weeks. Apparently, from what Lee could tell, it had been the catalyst to push him over the edge.

Unable to accept the loss of his brother, Justin, and never fully recovering from that tragedy, he’d gradually assumed the identity of Conner Morton. What he wanted was a brother. His brother. Failing that, he’d decided Chip would fill the void. 

Height, age, weight and eye-color all fit. All he’d had to do was bleach his hair and create a plausible story to cover a twenty-two year disappearance. He’d waited for the right moment - - the charity auction - - and he had Chip ready to buy his story. What he hadn’t counted on was Lee’s dogged persistence in exposing his lies.

What had been driving the captain crazy from the start were the man’s motive and uncanny knowledge of Chip’s childhood. Now, he had an explanation for both. It only stood to reason Brenner would know everything that had happened that day on the river - - everything the four boys said and did. He’d been there. He was one of them. Of course, he’d be able to rattle off details from Chip’s childhood, talking about things like red Schwinn bicycles, snapping turtles, Superman comics and first dates. It had all seemed so believable, because it was. And what made it far scarier was that in some portion of his head, Kevin Brenner really believed he was Connor Morton.

Lee didn’t think he’d actually hurt Chip, but if the exec started to doubt him, psychosis could make him unhinged. He’d already proven to Lee he had a dark side by the ugly insinuations he’d made regarding Alyssa, and practically threatening blackmail if Lee didn’t bow out of the picture. No wonder he was so hostile.

Lee had always thought of Chip as a brother and vice-versa. To Kevin Brenner, believing he was Conner Morton, Lee was competition. 

Knowing he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, Lee headed for the Institute, determined to have it out with Chip. He was fairly certain his friend hadn’t broken the news about Conner to his family. If he had, Lee would have certainly heard from Nathaniel.

Alyssa was out of town for a few days, meeting with a promoter in San Diego about a potential cover shoot for one of her clients. He’d spent the night alone, a rarity any more. If she wasn’t at his beach house, he was usually at her condo. It was only their schedules that kept them apart. Seaview’s next cruise would be longer than usual and, although he knew the separation would be hard for both of them, the reunion would be twice as sweet.

It was going on 0900 when he pulled up to the security gate. The guard seemed befuddled when he greeted him, checking his ID, then waving him through. He parked in his usual reserved spot, getting a few sidelong stares from passersby in the lot. Inside, he barely had time to set his briefcase and cap on his desk before his secretary appeared in the doorway, looking as bewildered as the guard at the gate.

“Admiral Nelson wants to see you right away, Captain.”

Lee shot a glance to his calendar, thankful the morning was clear and it was only the afternoon that was lined wall-to-wall with appointments. “Did he say why, Nancy?”

“No, Sir.” A divorced blond in her late 40s, Nancy Overton was efficient and professional. Her secretarial work was flawless, and they certainly hit it off well enough. She’d been Lee’s administrative arm for the last fourteen months, ever since his previous secretary had left on maternity leave then decided to remain home permanently. In all the time he’d worked with Nancy he’d never sensed any hint of attraction from her, but he suddenly felt like she was looking at him differently.

Standing in the doorway, the tip of her pen between her teeth, she stared as though seeing him for the first time.

Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he narrowed his eyes. “Nancy, is something wrong?”

“No, Captain.” She smiled in a strangely secretive way. “You better see the admiral now.”

She turned away, but he distinctively felt her look him up and down before exiting to her desk just outside his office. Lee blew it off as nonsense and headed down the hall still in full khaki uniform. As he neared Angie’s desk, he saw her quickly fold up a newspaper and shove it into a drawer.

She smiled up at him, but there was something nervously off-kilter in her glance. He had the strange feeling she was looking at him in a new light, surprised by a side of him she hadn’t expected. “He’s waiting for you, Lee.”

He frowned, disturbed she, too, reacted differently than usual. Stepping inside Nelson’s office, he closed the door. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Seated at his desk, Nelson had the morning paper folded over in front of him, a cup of coffee at his elbow. Unlike everyone else who’d either greeted him with a sidelong stare or nervous smile, Nelson merely motioned that he take a seat. “How’s your morning going so far, Lee?”

“Fine, Admiral.” Lee sat in a chair before the desk, puzzled by the query.

“Then I guess you haven’t seen the society section of this morning’s newspaper?”

Lee shook his head. He hadn’t bothered, tossing the paper inside his door as he’d exited to the garage. If he had looked, the society page would have been the last segment he bothered with. “I know there are occasional functions you and I have to attend, Admiral, but since when is the Institute concerned with monitoring Santa Barbara’s society crowd?”

“Since you became center stage.” Leaning forward, Nelson flipped open the paper and shoved it under his nose.

Lee stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It took a minute for the picture and the headline to register . . . a minute for the shock to wash through him, chased by a flush of anger. The photographer had obviously used a telephoto lens, given he would have known if someone had snapped the picture. The image was over a month old, a little on the grainy side, but clearly showing him and Alyssa locked in a kiss. To make it worse, he was in dress blues, the braids on the sleeve of his jacket plainly visible. He could even pinpoint the incident, recalling a time just under a month ago when he and Nelson had taken FS1 to Hawaii to meet with Jiggs Starke and other members of COMSUPAC. Afterward, he’d gone to Alyssa’s condo and she’d greeted him in the open doorway, kissing him like she hadn’t seen him weeks. He remembered hooking the door shut with his foot, even as he’d kept his lips locked with hers, ushering her inside.

The headline over the photo screamed “MILITARY FASHION?” in heavy black type. The caption beneath was simple:  Cmdr. Lee Crane, Captain of the S.S.R.N. Seaview and Alyssa Halston, owner and founder of the Halston Agency, Inc.

Unaware he was holding his breath, Lee quickly scanned the article.

Has 34 year-old Captain Lee Crane of the S.S.R.N. Seaview become the latest fashion accessory for super-model turned agent, Alyssa Halston, 50? Renown for glossy photo spreads in Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Cosmopolitan, Glamour and other trend-setting magazines, Ms. Halston appears to be starting a trend of her own with the much younger Naval reservist. Employed by the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, and the right hand man of founder and four-star admiral, Harriman Nelson, Ret., Crane hardly fits the profile of Ms. Halston’s usual preference for jet-setting Hollywood-types and fashion gurus. One can’t help speculating how Crane’s boss and Halston’s ex-husband, Admiral Nelson feels about the May-December romance.  Given his young age and movie-star looks, Commander Crane apparently has other ‘talents’ to keep Ms. Halston entertained.

Unable to read any further, Lee flung the paper onto Nelson’s desk. “This is garbage.” Shooting to his feet, he paced to the window and back. He could feel his blood pressure soaring as he suddenly made sense of the strange looks and stares he’d received that morning. ‘Other talents.’ Incensed, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, each clipped step bristling with anger. “They’re making our relationship into something smutty and cheap. It isn’t like that. It never was. I can’t believe reporters don’t have anything better to do than create unfounded gossip and slander for the amusement of the public. My life with Alyssa is nobody’s business but ours. Who reads this trash anyway?”

Nelson let him vent. Calmly he folded the paper. “Judging from the phone calls I’ve received this morning, quite a few people. Fortunately, it’s only local news so the scope isn’t far reaching, but that’s only a matter of time. Since winning that charity auction, Ali’s become the toast of the fashion world all over again. She’s the current golden girl. I told you this would happen.”

Lee exhaled in frustration. Still pacing, he dragged a hand through his hair. His mind was in overdrive trying to sort through the mess and decipher a way to fix it. “I’m sorry, Admiral. I never meant to involve you or the Institute.”

“The Institute will survive, Lee, so will I. God knows, I don’t want N.I.M.R. to become fodder for the scandal page, but things have a way of blowing over. It’s going to depend on how you handle it.”

Lee stopped pacing abruptly. Nelson’s gaze wasn’t exactly critical, but it was pointed just the same. Okay, so he had a mess on his hands and if he went ballistic on the newspaper, calling up and ranting like a madman, it would only make matters worse. There would probably be phone calls to field, reporters banging on the door, but that’s why he had Nancy Overton - - so he wasn’t disturbed with trivial issues.

Mentally he groaned, understanding why she’d given him a subtle once-over with her eyes. He would have to put her in her place about that if it happened again. Odds were the whole thing would just blow over in a few days and life would return to normal - - if he handled it correctly.

“Sir, I think the best thing I can do is just ignore it and answer questions truthfully. If Alyssa and I try to defend our relationship, it’s going to make it seem . . .” He groped for the word. “. . . wrong. And it isn’t. I won’t have my personal life dictated by the whims of the press or some sleazy tabloid reporter looking for a fast buck and easy fame.”

“That’s all well and good, but you’re still going to have to hold up under the scrutiny for awhile.” Nelson steepled his hands, looking thoughtful. “My guess is that photo of the two of you is several weeks old. Am I right?”

Lee nodded.

“So who took it? And why hold off making it public until now?”

He hadn’t considered that before, but an ugly suspicion made him clench his jaw. Lee walked back to the desk and spun the paper around, flipping it open. His eyes went to the byline, noting the article was attributed to a staff writer. There was no credit on the photo, but he had a sudden vivid memory of encountering Conner just outside Alyssa’s cabin that first night on Seaview. 

The man had made several snide insinuations about what he’d been doing in her cabin, ending by telling him ‘your relationship hasn’t been as invisible as you’d like to think.’

“I’m not positive, Sir, but I have an idea.” He picked up the paper. “May I have this?”

Nelson nodded. Despite the gravity of the situation, a trace of humor danced in his eyes. “Try to stay out of the news for the next few days, will you, Commander?”

Lee smiled tightly, his lips pressed together. “Hopefully, one conversation will take care of it.”

Leaving Nelson’s office, he headed down the hallway to confront Chip.

**********

“Oh! Captain Crane!” Chip’s perky brunet secretary, Megan, wasn’t nearly as fast as Angie. She was openly engrossed in the society page when he strolled briskly toward her desk. Flushing to the roots of her hair, she hastily tried to cover up the newspaper, leaning forward on her elbows to partially conceal the photo of him and Alyssa. Her smile was noticeably fluttery and over-eager. “Commander Morton’s in his office, but …”

Lee didn’t let her finish, never breaking stride as he continued past her into Chip’s office, the newspaper tucked under his arm. His friend was behind his desk, just finishing up a phone call. Still irked, Lee forcibly clicked the door in place.

“Lee.” Chip hung up the receiver, not entirely surprised by his brusque entrance. Leaning back in his chair, he bridged a pencil between his hands. “Let me guess - - you’re ticked off because half of Santa Barbara thinks the camera caught your bad side, and the other half thinks you’re a gigolo.”

“Funny.” Lee flung the paper onto his desk so that it fell open to the society page. He pointed to the photo. “Do you know who took that?”

Chip glanced up, a blank expression on his face. “Do I look like a fortune-teller to you?”

“I’m not playing around, Chip.”

“Neither am I.” Standing, Chip gave rein to a surge of anger. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, underlying friction still churning between them. “Look, Lee, you want to play in the limelight, sooner or later you’re going to get burned. I don’t know what the hell you’re so upset about.” He waved brusquely at the photo. “You knew this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.”

“I’m upset because someone sold that photo to the newspaper.”

“Well, maybe you should be a little more discreet about what you do in public.”

“I wasn’t in public,” Lee spat. “I was at Alyssa’s condo which is private property. Someone took that damn thing with a telephoto lens.”

“And why is that my problem?” Chip challenged.

“Because that someone is the unprincipled jerk masquerading as your brother, Conner.”

He hadn’t meant to be so hot about the whole thing. He couldn’t even prove it, just knew in his gut that Brenner had decided to make life difficult for him. In retrospect, he should have taken a moment to cool down before confronting Chip. He needed to be rational if he hoped to make his friend see through Brenner’s carefully-staged deception. Instead, he’d let his temper get the best of him, alienating Chip by focusing on the damn photo. 

“You just won’t let it go, will you?” Chip’s gaze was baleful, his normally clear blue eyes hard as steel. “It’s bad enough you try to put doubts in my head, but now you want to blame my brother for your mistakes. Why would he take a photo of you and Alyssa Halston and sell it to the newspaper? Why would he even care?”

“Because he wants me out of the way. Short of that, he wants to hurt me any way he can. He sees me as a rival.”

Chip gave a deprecatory snort. “A rival for what?”

Lee drew back slightly, his anger draining as quickly as it surfaced. “He’s afraid you think of me as a brother.”

Chip looked at him steadily, his gaze unflinching. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore, do we - - Captain Crane.” His voice dripped with ice, the emphasis on Lee’s title drawing a definitive line between them. Even his stance reflected gruff belligerence. “You may be my boss and commanding officer - - that I don’t have a choice about - - but I do have the right to believe in my brother. From now on you should consider our relationship confined to a professional level. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Sir…-” More emphasis. “…I have work to do.” 

Lee knew he could have ordered him to hear him out, but there was no sense. He knew Chip well enough to recognize when his friend had reached a point he couldn’t push beyond. The smartest thing to do would be to back off and give Chip a chance to cool down. That Chip was angry enough to end their friendship cut to the quick. That he’d made it painfully clear he no longer thought of Lee as a brother was something the younger man hoped would change with perspective and time. He’d pushed Chip into a corner and had no one to blame but himself when the situation blew up in his face.

Chip had always been there for him - - from those first awkward days at Annapolis straight through to the present. Just several months ago, his friend had saved his life when an explosion had trapped them both in Seaview’s Sick Bay, Lee critically injured, his side impaled by lethal shards of metal and glass. He wouldn’t have survived if not for Chip. It was more than just the physical care his friend had provided, but the emotional support too. It hadn’t been the first time Chip had saved his life. To Lee, their friendship went much deeper than the surface. It was a bond between brothers, a bond he felt crumbling and was powerless to stop.  

“You’re being hard-nosed about this,” he said, making one last effort to salvage what he could.

“I’m not the one who accused Conner of trying to undermine you.”

“Damn it, Chip, he isn’t Conner!”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Chip’s face hardened. “I believe you’ve made your point, Captain.” Standing rigidly at attention, he looked past Lee to the wall beyond him. “Permission to return to my duties, Sir?”

Lee clamped down on a curse. “Permission granted, Commander.” Leaving the newspaper on Chip’s desk, he turned crisply and left the office.

**********

Chip waited until the door was shut before sinking into his chair. His gut was tight, the acid of recrimination pushing into his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was frustrated, angry, feeling guilty or just hurt. Maybe he was all of those things. Had he really just ended his friendship with Lee? He needed to have his head examined. Yes, Conner was his brother, his flesh and blood, but - - hell! - - Lee was . . .

He couldn’t even finish the thought. For seventeen years he’d played protective brother to the younger man. And for the last two, since Lee had taken over command of Seaview, he’d hovered discreetly, trying to balance professionalism and brotherly concern for his heedless-of-danger, injury-prone captain. Why couldn’t the willful-ridiculously-stubborn-pigheaded-inflexible idiot just accept Conner for who he was? 

And why would he ever accuse Conner of doing anything so revoltingly unethical as to sell a potentially character-damaging photo for profit?

Disturbed, Chip massaged his temple. The Lee Crane he knew wouldn’t make an unjustified accusation. Then again, Lee didn’t exactly have his head on straight, caught up in a complex, whirlwind romance. It was possible his anger over any damage done to Alyssa’s reputation made him react without thinking. He needed to blame someone and Conner was a convenient target. What made that claim even odder was that Conner wasn’t a photographer by trade, but a freelance writer. So why did Lee feel so strongly he was at fault? There had to be something that prompted the allegation.

Chip narrowed his eyes, wincing at the start of a headache. If he were honest, he had to admit Conner was equally derogatory about Lee. How often had he been forced to tell his brother not to make snide remarks about his friend? Did Conner see the dark-haired man as a potential rival?

He gave a soft snort, lacing a hand through his hair. The whole thing was ludicrous. He wasn’t some prize his brother had to win. Grown, rational men didn’t get caught up in games of popularity and affection. Conner and Lee just naturally rubbed each other the wrong way. Trapped in the middle, unable to find common ground between them, Chip was forced to choose. Lee had backed him into a corner. What else could he do? As much as he loved his friend, he couldn’t turn his back on his brother.

Could he?

He had a second chance with Conner, a miracle reunion most people only dreamed about. He should be doing cartwheels, smoking cigars, sending out flyers. So why hadn’t he told anyone? And why hadn’t he picked up the phone to call his mother and share the good news? Conner said he preferred to do it in person, to wait until they could fly to Arizona together. That certainly made sense on the surface, but a niggling nerve of disquiet remained in the back of Chip’s mind. What had Conner called Lee when talking about Alyssa - - the ‘flavor of the week.’

The brother he remembered was a starry-eyed dreamer who saw the good in everyone. Could twenty-two years and circumstance really change a person that much? He hated to think of the boy he remembered with his innocence stripped away, something ugly and tarnished in its place. And yet Conner was so open, friendly with everyone.

Except Lee.

“Damn it!” Chip ground his teeth together and paced to the window. 

He couldn’t think about it anymore. He’d drive himself insane. Conner had proved to him who he was by sharing everything he knew of the past. As much as Chip wished it could be different, there was no other way around the problem. Lee was going to have to be the one to bend, and if he didn’t . . .

Chip grimaced.

It hurt to even think about that part.

**********

Lee tossed a stack of folders into his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. The day had been longer than usual, the afternoon a string of wall-to-wall meetings with contractors, inspectors and technicians who were involved one way or another with Seaview and/or N.I.M.R. A few had thought nothing of making off-color jokes about the Society Page until he’d pointedly put them in their place. There had been the expected round of phone calls from gossip-mongers, most of which Nancy fielded, and even a few nosy reporters who turned up at N.I.M.R.’s gate, only to be turned away by security.

Fortunately, after the initial flurry of stares and whispers, everyone at the Institute went back to treating him per business-as-usual. If they thought to do any differently, they were wise enough not to do it to his face. By the end of the day, Nancy, Angie and Megan had grown so irritated with the press they were protecting him like a pack of lionesses with a cub.

Chip avoided him, talking to him only as needed for business. Somehow he was going to have to rectify that soon. Right now he just wanted to go home, grab something to eat, have a few beers  and relax. It was already going on 1900 hours. Alyssa wouldn’t be back for another day or two, finishing up with the client in San Diego. Hopefully, she hadn’t heard about the society page, and he could break it to her gently.

He was reaching for his jacket when the phone rang. “Crane, here,” he said into the receiver as he shrugged into the garment.

“Lee?” Alyssa’s voice struck him as being anxious and relieved at the same time. “Thank God, I finally reached you. I’ve been calling your house for the last two hours. I didn’t think you’d still be at the Institute.”

“Meetings,” he explained. “It’s been a long day.” Despite the ugliness of what had happened, the sound of her voice was a salve for his sour temper. “How is San Diego?”

“Forget San Diego. Have you seen the society page in today’s newspaper?”

He chuckled softly. “So you heard about that?”

“Heard about it? A friend showed up with a copy. Lee, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe, but I don’t like the things they’re saying about you.”

“And I don’t like what they implied about you. Alyssa, we knew this was going to happen sooner or later. It was a little uncomfortable this morning, but it’s settling down now.”

She was silent a moment, and he could picture her biting her lip. “How is Harry taking it?” she asked.

Lee thought of Nelson and their conversation that morning. “He’s holding up to the scrutiny. You’re forgetting he’s already been through the glare of having your marriage and divorce made public.”

A longer pause as she tried to determine if he was being totally honest. “How are you holding up?”

He laughed. “You think after what I’ve been through in my career - - Annapolis, Groton, the Navy, ONI and your ex-husband - - a gossip-sheet is going to affect me? When you get back, we’ll handle it together . . . attend a few public events. The press can’t make an issue out of something that isn’t being hidden. Trust me, it will blow over.”

“You’re sure?” She sounded doubtful.

“I’m sure.”

“And you’re not angry?”

“Alyssa, will you stop worrying. Just finish up with your client and hurry home. My bed’s cold.”

She sighed with affection, the innuendo serving its purpose. “That kind of talk will put you right back in the scandal sheet, Lee.”

“I know.” He grinned. “I might as well start living up to my reputation.”  

“Trust me, Captain.” This time the suggestive flirting was on her end. “They didn’t come close to doing you justice.”

**********

Lee pulled into his garage and killed the engine on his Cobra. The outside dusk-to-dawn lights had kicked on with the descent of twilight, the smoky veil already yielding to the heavier mantle of night. 

No reporters. 

He counted that as a blessing. The Institute kept his home address safely guarded, but he’d been half-afraid of what he’d find waiting at his beach house. Relieved, he pulled his briefcase from the passenger’s seat and climbed out of the car, already thinking ahead to a beer and something quick for dinner.

Alyssa kept him stocked on leftovers since they’d begun dating, saying he didn’t pay adequate attention to his diet. He had a tendency to skip meals or grab something he could throw together in a hurry if he was busy. The latter usually had little of nutritional value. Appalled by his eating habits, she’d started spoiling him with pasta and beef dishes, gourmet seafood and chicken, all with a healthy variety of vegetables. There was surely something worthwhile kicking around in his refrigerator.

He unlocked the connecting door to the house, giving it a nudge inward when he heard a rustling outside. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder, catching a rapid surge of movement from the corner of his eye. It happened far too quickly to register more than a hulking dark shape and the silver-kissed glint of a knife.

He threw his left arm up on instinct, flinging the briefcase with his right. It caught his assailant dead-center in the chest but couldn’t stop the downward momentum of the man’s thrust. The knife ripped through Lee’s jacket, tearing a bloody path from elbow to wrist. He clamped down on a curse as the pain raced up his arm, doubling him over. Off balance, he stumbled into a shelf lined with paint cans and cleaning solvents. Light exploded behind his eyes when his head cracked on the edge. The impact buckled his legs, driving him to the concrete floor.

Dazed, he lay panting, a loud ringing in his ears. He could feel blood dribbling into his eye, was vaguely aware the shelf had upended sending cans rolling like marbles. He heard the tinny echo of a lid spinning away under his car and realized one of the containers had ruptured, splattering his sleeve and pant leg with dark red streaks. The smell of motor oil and cooling rubber mingled with the overpowering-reek of paint. The ceiling spooled drunkenly off-kilter, taking his stomach with it. He heard the sound of tires in the driveway and winced when a sudden glare of headlights speared into the garage. Through the haze in his mind, he heard the swift thud of footsteps and knew his attacker had beaten a hasty retreat. He got his palms under him and tried to stand but only succeeded in smearing his leg through more paint.

“Lee!” A car door slammed, Chip’s voice slicing through the fog in his head. Seconds later he felt a firm hand under his bicep. “Shit, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“It’s paint.”

“I can see the paint, you idiot. I can also see the blood. Don’t move.” Chip scrambled into the house, returning faster than Lee would have thought possible. “Here . . . I got this out of the powder room. Should do the trick.” He wound a hand-towel around Lee’s lacerated arm, wrapping it tight. “Keep pressure on it.” He hovered close, frowning worriedly. “Think you can stand?”

Lee nodded, ignoring the fuzziness in his head. “Help me up.”

Chip hooked an arm under him and hauled him to his feet. 

Lee swallowed hard, shaken by an icy finger of pain splintering from his temple to his jaw. With an unsteady hand, he wiped at the blood dripping into his eye. “What . . . are you doing here?” 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just start walking. I want you off your feet.” Chip nudged him toward the door.

“What about my car?”

“What about it?”

He couldn’t help fearing the worst. “Is there paint on it?”

Chip made a vulgar sound. “Hell with it. I’m not going to worry about that overpriced toy with you standing here bleeding.”

Lee took a step and swayed. “At least get my briefcase, Chip. Whoever attacked me might be after Institute documents.”

Chip scowled, but he seemed to recognize the wisdom in the observation. “Okay. Just stay put.” He left Lee leaning against the wall long enough to retrieve the case. Back almost immediately, he gripped the captain under his bicep, holding firmly as Lee put one foot in front of the other. He hit the control for the garage and the motor kicked in, rolling the heavy steel panels shut. He steered Lee toward the house, guiding him through the interior door and into the family room.

Lee collapsed onto the couch with a grateful groan. He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the cushions as vertigo washed over him. Chip left briefly, returning with another towel to twist around his arm. Lee didn’t think the cut was deep, but the sting was wretched. He watched quietly as his friend sat at his side, inspecting the towel. At least they hadn’t tracked red paint over the carpet though it gleamed wetly on his sleeve and pant leg. There was nothing to be done about the couch. He’d just have to see if he could get it cleaned.

“Did you see who attacked you?” Chip asked.

Lee shook his head, instantly regretting the movement. A spike of dizziness left cold sweat trickling down the side of his face. 

“Well, given your photo is plastered all over the society page, I wouldn’t rule out some lunatic obsessed with Alyssa. Could be a deranged fan that’s targeted you as the competition.”

Lee frowned. “I’m not buying that. The Institute makes more sense.”

“Maybe.” Chip stood. “I’m going to call Jamie and have him meet us at the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital.” Lee tilted his head back to stare up at him. “The cut isn’t even that deep. The bleeding has already slowed down.” He winced. “It just hurts like hell.”

“And your head?” Gripping his chin, Chip turned his face to the side. “You’ve probably got a concussion. Look here…” He tapped his index finger to his nose. “I want to see if your pupils are dilated.”

Lee gave a soft laugh. “Jamie, you’re not. Besides . . . I thought I was at the top of your shit-list.”

“So I should’ve just left you bleeding in the garage?” Chip grimaced and dropped his hand. “We’ll talk about it later. After I know you’re okay.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and worked at swabbing the blood from Lee’s face. His mouth thinned, but there was exasperated warmth in his eyes. “I swear you’ve got a permanent bulls-eye painted on your back. I leave you alone and you end up with a knife wound and a head injury. Only you.”

“It’s not my fault,” Lee complained. “All I did was drive home and get out of my car.” He gazed up at Chip, wincing a little as his friend prodded the cut beneath his hairline. “Did you close the garage door?”

“Aye, Sir,” Chip answered dutifully. “And if you don’t remember, you must still be dazed.” He paused, frowning at the amount of blood on his handkerchief. “This cut is kind of gory, Lee. I think I should get something to clean it up. Your arm too. Afterward, we’ll decide if you need a hospital and I’ll get a cop out here to take down the details of what happened.”

Lee squirmed, anxious to keep medical and legal entanglements to a minimum. “Maybe you should check outside,” he suggested, hoping to divert Chip’s focus elsewhere. “See if whoever did this is lurking around. I can take care of myself.”

“I doubt that. And checking outside would be a waste of time. Whoever has an issue with you is long gone by now. I’ll go see what you have upstairs in the way of first-aid supplies. With your track record, you should have a hospital supply-house stashed away.”

“You’re a riot, Morton.” Tired, Lee sank deeper into the couch, keeping pressure on his injured arm, holding it close to his body. It felt as if the bleeding had stopped. Maybe once it was cleaned up, he’d be able to convince Chip all it really needed was some antibiotic cream and bandaging. He’d even concede to a temporary sling if it meant skipping the hospital. He was certain the cut wasn’t deep enough to require stitches.

He smiled slightly as Chip moved away. Despite the sting in his arm and the steadily growing ache turning his head into a battlefield, he felt content for the first time in days. Chip’s concern and familiar needling humor made it feel like their friendship had never jumped track. They still needed to talk - - there was no question the air had to be cleared - - but Lee was beginning to think they’d be able to put everything back the way it was.

He gave an unexpected start when the doorbell rang, unaware his eyes had started to drift shut.

Halfway across the room, Chip shot him an inquisitive glance. “Expecting someone?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t think your attacker is going to ring the doorbell. I’ll see who it is.”

“Chip - - wait.” Instinctively wary, Lee wet his lips. “Take a gun. There’s one in the top drawer of the desk.” He motioned across the room to a small mahogany desk, more ornamental than functional. He kept it stocked with a few tablets, pencils, paperclips, stamps and assorted odds-and-ends, his working desk upstairs in the loft. 

Chip waved off the suggestion. “Lee . . . since when do thugs ring a doorbell?”

Lee swore under his breath, listening as Chip headed for the foyer. Determined, he pushed himself from the sofa, swayed a moment, then made his way across the room and retrieved the handgun from a false bottom in the center drawer. He’d had the compartment added after Owen Cable had broken into his house, realizing the wisdom in keeping a weapon handy. Returning to the couch, he placed it beside him, covering it with a small throw pillow.

In the foyer, he heard Chip open the door.

**********

Chip’s decision to drive to Lee’s beach house was part spontaneous, part frustration, mostly guilt. It had been rough going through the mechanics of the day after the blow-up they’d had. He’d been determined not to dwell on the harsh words they’d exchanged, but no matter how focused he’d been on work, the ugly deterioration of their friendship lingered in the back of his mind. Squatting. Accusing. Pointing fingers. Gnawing at his conscience like some heinous hobgoblin. He’d gone home, changed out of his uniform, fixed a quick dinner and tried to relax, but nothing worked. He couldn’t get the stupid argument out of his head.

Determined to make Lee understand how important Conner was to him, he’d hopped in his car and driven to his friend’s house, arriving just in time to see someone running from the garage. His heart had catapulted into his throat when he’d spied Lee on the ground, blood on his clothing, grisly red blotches splayed over the floor. It had taken a moment to register the paint - - a gut-churning parsec in time when he’d thought all that obscene red splattered everywhere was Lee’s blood.   

And in that pulse-pounding minute, his world had ended, crashing down around him.

It made him realize nothing was worth sacrificing his friendship with Lee. Brother of blood, brother of heart - - it didn’t matter. He and Conner might have the same genes and DNA, but he had something far greater with Lee. He’d loved Conner the child, but as much as he wanted to, as much as he told himself he had to, he didn’t love Conner the man. What he felt toward his brother was obligation, tightly wrapped in the guilt he’d been carrying around for the last twenty-two years. By contrast, what he felt for Lee was pure brotherly affection. 

He couldn’t say exactly when during the last seventeen years he’d stopped thinking of Lee as a friend and started thinking of him as a brother. What he hadn’t realized before was that Lee had never been a replacement for Conner. His friend, and their bond, stood of its own merit. He might have adopted the role of protective older brother, but that wasn’t because of Conner. It wasn’t even because of him. It was because of Lee. His dark-haired friend just naturally brought his protective instincts to the fore.

No question he was going to have to right the wrong he’d done. He’d eat crow if necessary to get Lee to forget that damn ultimatum. And Conner was just going to have to understand that Lee was in his life for good. Period. End of discussion. Get used to it, Jack, ‘cuz there ain’t no changing it.

As far as Chip was concerned, Lee was every bit as much his brother as Conner. And if Conner couldn’t accept that maybe he was the one in need of an ultimatum. There would be no more snide insinuations about Lee as long as Chip had anything to say about it. 

Now all he had to do was get Lee cleaned up and pump him full of Tylenol. He fully expected his friend to fight him tooth-and-nail about a hospital. He was starting to think the knife cut wasn’t that bad, but the head wound worried him. Maybe they could reach a compromise if he got Jamie to agree to a house-call.

Entering the foyer, Chip craned his neck for a view outside, peering through an octagon-shaped window to the right of the door. He spied a familiar beige sedan parked behind his Chevy Blazer in the driveway.

Conner’s car.

Surprised, he wrenched open the door. “Conner?” He couldn’t keep the shock from his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” Conner flashed a lopsided grin. He stood with his hands stuffed in the pockets of a nylon jacket, completely relaxed and casual as if he’d been expected all along. “I followed you, but took a wrong turn two miles back. It took me awhile to figure out where you’d ended up.” He looked past Chip, making a show of peering inside the house. “I know this isn’t your place. Am I interrupting?”

“It’s Lee’s.” Chip frowned, oddly disturbed that his brother had been tailing him. “Why were you following me?”

“No reason.” Conner shrugged. “I know it’s getting late, but I thought maybe if you hadn’t eaten we could grab a bite and plan a strategy for Arizona. I should have called earlier, but I got tied up and just missed you as you were leaving your house. Uh . . . go ahead and finish up with Crane. I’ll wait in the car.”

“You might as well come in since you’re here.” Chip held the door, waiting as Conner stepped inside.

His brother gave a low whistle, making a show of looking around. “Vaulted ceiling, turned oak staircase, tile floor. This guy doesn’t like cheap, does he?” 

Nerves shot, Chip reacted instinctively. “Don’t…” He jabbed a finger under Conner’s nose. 

“…take potshots at Lee. Not now. Not ever. Got that?”

Conner balked. “Hey! What’s with the third degree? I just made an observation…”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Chip brushed past him, heading for the family room. “Come on.”

**********

Lee stiffened the moment he saw Conner appear behind his friend. For one split-second as Conner got a look at him, disheveled and splattered with blood, he thought he saw the other man’s lips curl in a sneer. Gone much too quickly to register, Conner replaced the malignant grin with a carefully-schooled look of surprise. “Captain Crane! What happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lee wasn’t about to explain. Especially not to an imposter who was only putting on a show for Chip, and who didn’t give a rat’s ass about Lee’s welfare. It galled him just to have the man in his house but, for Chip’s sake, he would tread carefully. “What are you doing here?”

Conner shrugged as if his unexpected appearance was no big deal. “Looking for my brother. I thought I could coerce him into a late dinner.” His eyes narrowed as he spied the red blotches on Lee’s pant leg and sleeve. “Is that blood?”

“Most of it’s paint.”

Chip sat down on the couch beside him, bumping up against the throw pillow Lee had used to conceal the gun. Fortunately, it stayed in place as his friend gingerly inspected his arm, peeling back the edge of the blood-soaked towel. “I think the bleeding’s stopped.”

“I said that awhile ago.”

“Good.” Conner immediately picked up on the exchange, shifting his attention to Chip. “Then you can come with me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Chip gave an incredulous snort. “Lee’s hurt. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Chip, I don’t need… ” Lee attempted, immediately silenced when his friend shot him a dark glower. He knew the look, the hard glitter in Chip’s blue eyes telling him he might as well plead his case to a stone wall. His friend had stubbornly dug in his heels. Off the boat, away from the pecking order of command and rank, Lee often relinquished the upper hand. And in this case, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. If he got rid of Conner, he could talk to Chip alone and explain who the man really was.

His friend stood as if the matter was decided. “I’ll grab the first aid supplies, then we’ll call Jamie.”

Behind him, Conner made a crude sound. “Quit fussing over him.”

“Excuse me?” Chip rounded on his brother in open surprise. 

“You heard me.” This time Conner’s voice was flat, his expression dark. “Quit fussing over him. He’s not your brother.”

“And you are?” Lee challenged, unable to stop himself. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up - - not on the spur of the moment without having time to adequately prepare Chip - - but it was too hard sitting on the truth. He glared, ready to force the issue, when he spied a dark splotch on Conner’s trousers above the heel. Paint. “How did you get that paint on your pants?”

“What?” A flicker of alarm crossed the other man’s face. He glanced down but recovered quickly, shrugging the spot off as inconsequential. “Careless, I guess. I must have stepped in it outside.”

“There isn’t any outside. It’s in the garage, and Chip closed the door.” It had never occurred to him that Conner might have been his attacker. He knew the man was unbalanced, but he hadn’t thought him disturbed enough to carry his hatred that far.

“So he closed the door. Big-fricking-deal! I probably brushed up against something ages ago.” Growing noticeably agitated, Conner turned toward the foyer. “Come on, Chip. Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait a minute.” Chip bent to finger the spot. When he drew away, his skin was stained red. “It’s fresh,” he said, rolling the sticky dampness over the fleshy part of his thumb. His eyes flashed to Conner’s face, his gaze chill as a winter sky. “You would have had to be in the garage to get this on your pants. I must be out of my freaking mind. It was you, wasn’t it? How could you? How could you attack Lee?”

“I never said I did.”

“Then explain this!” Chip spat, thrusting out his hand. Betrayal and rage warred for supremacy on his face. “You’re my brother. Damn you! I trusted you, believed in you. How could you hurt my best friend?”

“Because he needs help, Chip,” Lee said quietly. “He’s been playing a game all along, hoping to convince you of a lie. The reason he seemed familiar to you is because you do know him. But not as Conner. His real name is Kevin Brenner.”

Stunned, Chip rounded on Lee. “Kevin?” he asked, aghast.

“It’s a lie!” Conner snarled. “Don’t listen to him.”

But Lee could see a light had gone off in Chip’s head. He sensed his friend was remembering all the discussions he’d had with his supposed brother, realizing with a sinking heart, that Kevin would have been able to duplicate the memories. It was almost too perfect. Eventually perhaps the truth would have come out, but the damage would have already been done. As it was Chip was going to be left with ugly emotional scars. 

Still seated, Lee looked up at his friend. He needed to focus, but the pain trickling down the back of his head made it hard to think. He knew he’d likely lost color and fought to keep the creeping discomfort from his eyes. “Chip . . . Kevin Brenner never recovered from the loss of his brother. He spent most of his life after leaving Chicago in a mental institution…”

“Stop it!” Conner roared.

“///he was released eight months ago, but he was involved in a bad car accident and it triggered a relapse…”

“I said stop!”

“Since he couldn’t replace Justin, he decided to become Conner. It gave him a brother again, but he wasn’t satisfied because I was in the way. He saw our friendship as a threat, especially given I didn’t believe his story.”

“Damn you, Crane! I said shut up!”

Chip pivoted to face him, dazed and wary. “Kevin?”

“No!” The other man shook his head wildly. “He’s feeding you lies. Damn it, Chip, are you going to take the word of some . . . some substitute you used to replace me, or the word of your own brother?”

Chip’s mouth thinned. “Lee isn’t a substitute. And he wouldn’t lie to me.” Stunned, he could only stare. “Why? What would ever possess you to do something as heartless as posing as Conner?” He took a faltering step forward, holding out his hands. “Kevin . . . we were friends once. When I lost Conner as a kid, I needed that friendship more than ever. You don’t know how badly it hurt me when your parents packed up and moved. Why couldn’t you just . . .” He shook his head, unable to make sense of the cruel trickery. “Why couldn’t you just be honest? I would have welcomed you back as a friend.”

“But I’m Conner,” the other man insisted, a pathetic whine to his voice.

It occurred to Lee they were going to need a hospital after all, but not for him. Kevin Brenner was far from stable, his mental state deteriorating rapidly even as he watched. “Chip,” he suggested softly. “Maybe you should call Jamie.”

And just that quickly - - whether because he spoke, or because Lee dared address his friend - - Brenner snapped.

“This is your fault,” he snarled. “Damn you, Crane! I should have just shot you in the garage instead of trying to prolong your death with a knife.” He thrust his hand into the pocket of his jacket. 

Reacting on instinct, Lee jerked the gun he’d hidden from beneath the pillow. He caught a glint of bluing on the .45 Conner wrenched free as the weapons discharged in unison. There was a loud crack like the rattling peel of thunder. Chip plowed against him, thrusting him violently to the side. He heard a grunt, followed by the soft thud of a body striking carpet. Utter silence fell over the room, broken only by a drumming echo in his ears. 

He blinked . . . realized he’d been shoved to the floor, that Conner lay still and motionless and Chip was crumpled like a ragdoll in front of the couch. His gut contracted as he inched forward on hands and knees, fearing the worst. 

“Chip . . .” Tentatively; he touched his friend’s hair. “Come on, Chip. Talk to me.” Carefully, he rolled the exec onto his back. Chip moaned softly, his right arm flopping uselessly to the side. Blood oozed from his shoulder, seeping into the light weave of his shirt, staining it a sick and garish red. Lee’s breath caught in his throat. “Damn it!”

Propelling himself to his feet, he fumbled for the phone, punching out 9-1-1 for emergency services. Quickly, he relayed the need for an ambulance and police, dropped the phone back onto the table then dashed to the powder room. He grabbed a handful of towels from under the vanity, only half conscious of the blood trickling down his face. He stumbled once on the way back to the family room, got his feet under him, then focused enough to grab Conner’s gun and shove it into his waistband. 

He hadn’t aimed to kill, and his mark had been thrown wide when Chip plowed into him. He’d been shooting for the man’s shoulder, intending to wing him, but instead had clipped him on the side of the head. The wound bled freely but wasn’t life-threatening. With any luck, Conner would stay unconscious until the medics arrived and could tend to him themselves. Lee’s concern was for Chip.

He folded to his knees at his friend’s side, silently cursing Chip’s self-sacrificing mentality. Conner’s bullet probably would have buried itself in the couch if Chip hadn’t been so damn intent on shoving him out of the way. Of all the stupid, stubborn, utterly moronic . . .

He bit down on his lip, easing a plump towel under his friend’s shoulder. The slug had blundered through, exiting through the back, gory, but better in the long run. 

Chip moaned at the jostling, his lashes fluttering sluggishly. “Ughnn . . .”

“Take it easy,” Lee coaxed. He wrapped the edge of the towel over the front of the wound, pressing hard. “Damn idiot,” he muttered. “Why’d you have to go and do something so stupid?”

Dazed, Chip seemed to realize he was being addressed. His eyes opened, but his expression was clouded, dulled by pain. He blinked, wetting his lips. “Lee?”

“Yeah, I’m right here.” He kept the compress as tight as he could despite the pain he knew it caused his friend. His wounded arm throbbed with the pressure, his own make-shift bandages abandoned in a bloody pile on the floor. He could tell by the way Chip’s face was drawn that the agony in his shoulder ratcheted steadily higher.

“Conner?” Chip asked.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s out.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say. Chip closed his eyes, tormented by the thought. 

“God, Lee. I thought . . . I thought he was my brother.”

“I know.” Prompted by the shorn quality of his friend’s voice, Lee splayed his free hand over his cheek, sliding his thumb under Chip’s jaw. “Listen to me,” he ordered, reverting to a tone of command he normally reserved for duty. He gave a brisk shake, forcing Chip to look at him. “He brought this on himself. It isn’t your fault.”

“But how could he…”

“He was sick in the head, Chip.” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, think about it anymore. His friend was bleeding, a bullet blown through his back. A bullet that had never been meant for him to begin with. “I called for an ambulance.”

Chip’s mouth twitched. “They probably knew the address by heart. Captain Lee Crane . . .”

“Don’t get cocky. I’m not the one with a hole in my shoulder.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze hard. “Why the hell did you shove me out of the way?”

“You’re my commanding officer.” Chip’s eyes started to drift, weighted with fatigue. “Duty . . .  all that . . .”   

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, so you’re my friend. More than…” He grimaced, clenching his jaw as a wave of pain rocketed through his body. The color drained from his face and he drew a ragged breath. 

“- - more than a friend. You know that, Lee. Hell, everybody on Seaview knows it, but I was ready to toss the whole freaking thing away like yesterday’s trash. Seventeen years. I’m such an ass.”

Lee smiled faintly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. And did you really think I was going to let you walk away from our friendship? I don’t give up that easily, Chip.” He refocused on the wound, adding another towel. The bleeding had slowed considerably, but he knew the wound had to be excruciating. There was likely to be torn tendons and muscles. Hopefully none of the bones had shattered or chipped, strewing fragments in the bullet’s wake. He cast a glance over his shoulder, eyeing Kevin Brenner. “He knew exactly what to do and what to say. I, uh . . . I’m sorry he wasn’t your brother for real. I know you were hoping.”

 

“Conner died a long time ago, Lee. I miss him, but I’ve learned to accept that.” Chip clamped down with his teeth, drawing his knees up. “Damn! What the hell did he hit me with?”

“A .45.” Lee pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling for fever. He didn’t like the cracked-glass glow of his eyes, the blue a little too bright, kindled by pain. A thin sheen of sweat clung to Chip’s forehead, beading the pale fringe of his bangs. Lee wiped it aside, dropping his hand to squeeze the exec’s uninjured shoulder. “Do you want to try to sit up? Lean back against the couch?”

“Yeah, sure. Just hold the room steady, okay? I never liked those carnival rides that spun around in a circle.”

“Got it.” Lee started to slide his arm under him to leverage him upright.

“Wait a minute.” Chip halted him mid-movement. He eyed Lee doubtfully. “How are you going to help me when your arm’s ripped up?”

“Let me worry about that.” Lee followed through with the motion, helping him sit up so he could lean back against the couch. The pressure on his injured arm sent a lick of pain skittering from his elbow to wrist. Ignoring it, he focused on keeping Chip upright, worried the rush of blood to his head would send his friend toppling to the side. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” 

“I’m made of stronger stuff than that.” Chip closed his eyes in a grimace. 

In the distance, Lee could hear the faint wail of a siren rising in volume as it drew closer. Tired, he slumped down on the floor beside his friend, his shoulder bumping against Chip’s uninjured side. “Chip . . .” He could tell the other man was focused on keeping the pain at bay, the strain of concentration evident on his face. He also knew Chip didn’t want to look at Kevin Brenner, sprawled unconscious ten feet away.

“What?” Chip slanted him a glance from the corner of his eye.

“You saved my life tonight.” Lee cast a glance to the side. Somehow ‘thanks’ didn’t seem enough - - except between friends and brothers who understood it meant much more. He smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

Tired, Chip let his head dip back, the gilded fringe of his lashes feathering shut. “I’ve had lots of practice,” he murmured.

Lee gave a soft snort. “Of being a friend?”

“Of being an older brother. You’re family, Lee. Don’t ever forget it.”

**********

Twenty-four hours later, Chip was propped up in a hospital bed, thankful the latest round of pain medication was wearing off. He appreciated how thoroughly the drugs kept his discomfort to a minimum, but all he did was sleep, his mind fogged by a medicinal haze. Grateful for a rare moment of clarity, he looked to the man seated in the chair at his bedside.

“It’s almost nine o’clock, Lee. Visiting hours ended at 1900. They’re going to kick you out of here soon, captain’s rank or no captain’s rank. I swear to God I won’t shrivel into a dust ball if you leave me alone.” His friend had been camped out at his bedside since early that morning, leaving only briefly in the afternoon to attend to Institute business for a few hours. As much as he was grateful for Lee’s presence and enjoyed his company, it was time to send the good captain packing. “Why don’t you get out of here? Isn’t Alyssa due back tonight?”

Lee nodded. “I left her a message about what happened and where I was. Her flight won’t be in for another two hours.” He shifted, a hint of strain on his face. Chip knew his arm was still bothering him, but he was too stubborn to admit it, resorting to Tylenol only when it got the better of him. Which was going to be soon by the looks of it.

It had taken a few stitches despite Lee’s earlier protests they wouldn’t be necessary, his bandages hidden by the sleeve of his khaki uniform. The cut on his head had proved less troublesome, cleaning up without a single stitch or bandage, making Chip realize how fortunate the captain had been. He didn’t like to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t shown up at Lee’s house when he did. Having gotten the full story from Lee, he now understood how truly unstable Kevin Brenner had been.

His childhood friend had been positively I.D’d and transferred to a psychiatric hospital where he could be properly evaluated. It saddened Chip to think Kevin had degenerated so deeply into depression and madness, but it bothered him more to realize he’d almost let the man come between him and Lee.

His friend had brushed the situation off when he’d tried to apologize. ‘You weren’t yourself,’ was all Lee had said. ‘Forget it, Chip. The whole thing is behind us.’

He wished he could forget so easily, but lingering guilt hung over his head like a shroud. In time perhaps he’d be able to let go of his remorse. Lee made that effortless, his willingness to forgive and his eagerness to have everything back the way it was, similar to a healing salve. There was no question - - as a friend or a brother, Lee Crane was simply irreplaceable. It pleased him to realize how much the real Conner would have liked his friend. He believed that now without a shadow of a doubt. 

Contented by the thought, Chip sank deeper into the pillows plumped at his back. He’d had visitors off and on all day, including the admiral, most of the A Watch crew along with a few others, and Chief Sharkey. Amazing how quickly word got around when one of Seaview’s own was down and out. Jamie had taken over his personal care within hours of his arrival in the ER. Chip still had a few doctors from Santa Barbara General checking on him, but none dared make a move without the consultation and consent of Dr. Will Jamieson. Thankfully, he was due to be released in two days; otherwise he knew Jamie would have insisted he be moved to the Institute’s Med Bay. As it was, Chip was having a hard enough time adjusting to the sling holding his right arm trapped against his chest.

“You know what I don’t get,” he grumbled.

Lee raised one black brow.

“Every time you get shot in the shoulder or arm, it’s your left arm. How come I get hit in the right?”

“Because the Fates favor me.”

Chip rolled his eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of dumb luck. And speaking of dumb . . . if you don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to boot your ass-end into the hall.”

Lee gave an indelicate snort. “You couldn’t on your best day.”

“We’ll debate that when my arm’s healed, and you’re not wearing a uniform.” Chip grinned, playing along. It felt good to have the usual banter and even a hint of rivalry back in their friendship. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of striking a superior officer.”

“That won’t be a problem, given you couldn’t land a hand on me anyway.”

“Will you listen to the two of you?” A new voice demanded before Chip could lob a return shot. “One with a lacerated arm and the other with a hole in his shoulder. I swear you’re worse than a pair of puffed-up roosters strutting around a barnyard.”

Chip glanced toward the door in time to see Alyssa Halston step into the room. There was a faint hint of strain around her eyes which he guessed came from worrying about her young lover. Otherwise she was the picture of chic elegance, dressed in a dark green skirt, matching heeled boots and a shell-pink blouse. A dark green jacket was draped over her arm, a soft leather bag hooked over her shoulder.

“Alyssa.” Surprised, Lee stood. “I thought your flight…”

“I arranged for an earlier one when I got your message. I was worried.” Tossing her jacket and bag on a nearby chair, she crossed quickly to his side, pushing on tiptoes to give him a kiss. When she drew back, her eyes dropped to his arm. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Just a few stitches.” He grinned, slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You worried for nothing. You shouldn’t have rushed home.”

Realizing he wasn’t seriously hurt, she tipped her head to the side. “But I thought you told me your bed was cold?”

Lee stifled a groan. “Do you have to do that in front of Chip?” Despite the protest, there was obvious affection in his voice, the glint of amber in his eyes as warm as toasted-honey.

Chip grinned, amused by their flirting. He had to admit they looked good together. He never would have thought Lee possessed the patience to weather public scrutiny in his personal life, but he’d withstood the glare of the society page better than Chip had expected. Over twenty-four hours after the article had been published, Lee had adjusted to the stray stares that came his way and one or two curious reporters whom he’d handled with surprising finesse. It told Chip his relationship with Alyssa wasn’t just a passing dalliance. He was clearly willing to do whatever was necessary to make it work, including a few adjustments Chip found shockingly un-Lee-Crane-like.

“Chip, how are you feeling?”

Caught drifting, Chip blinked, surprised to find Alyssa focused on him. He grinned a bit stupidly. The woman was astoundingly beautiful, easily passing for her late 30s or early 40s. If the Fates favored Lee as he’d joked, they’d surely sent him a woman more beautiful than all the muse-daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne combined.

Or maybe he was just feeling besotted and more than a little envious of his friend’s high-profile, yet transparently heartfelt, relationship. Lee deserved someone who loved and understood him, who would support him, even when it meant taking a backseat to Seaview and the Institute. Who better than a highly successful model and businesswoman, whose schedule was no doubt as erratic and fast-paced as Lee’s to understand professional passion and ambition?

“I, uh . . .”  Chip cleared his throat, sitting straighter. It was bad enough to be stuck in a hospital bed, his arm pinned to his chest like a chicken-wing, but it was even worse to be draped in a cloth gown that left his backside hanging out. Self-consciously, he rolled the sheets a little higher around his waist. “Much better . . . thanks. Jamie says I’ll be out of here in two days.”

“You mean that lovely doctor from Seaview?”

Lee gave a discourteous grunt and Chip fought hard to not to burst out laughing. 

Surprised, Alyssa glanced between them. “What did I say?”

“It’s just that . . .” Chip rolled his shoulders, humor dancing in his eyes. “We don’t generally think of Jamie as ‘lovely.’”

“More like dictatorial,” Lee inserted. “Hawk-like. Fire-breathing. Tyrannical.”

“Overbearing,” Chip added his two cents. “Demanding. Bossy.”

“Bossy’s a good one,” Lee agreed, seemingly giving the matter great thought.

Alyssa looked appalled. “You’re awful! He’s such a sweet, attentive man.”

“You haven’t been on the receiving end of a Will Jamieson lecture,” Lee countered. “There’s nothing sweet about him when he’s reading you the riot act.” He grinned and kissed her temple. “We’re teasing you, Alyssa. We like Jamie a lot. He’s a good friend, a fine officer and an outstanding doctor. He’s just, um, very . . . uncompromising with his patients.”

“Which is why he’d tell you to get the hell out of here,” Chip added, seeing an opportunity to hustle his friend along. He shot a glance at Alyssa, realizing he had someone in his corner he could use to double-team Lee. “Alyssa, take him home. He’s been camped out here most of the day.”

“What about you?” Lee asked, before she could say anything. The inflection of his voice had changed, alerting Chip he’d moved from levity to subtle concern. “You going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Chip settled deeper into the pillows as though preparing for sleep. In reality it was the farthest thing from his mind but Lee didn’t need to know that. “My shoulder doesn’t hurt.”

Lee hesitated, his pause noticeable. “I meant about Conner,” he clarified, his eyes never leaving Chip’s face.

The hint of a smile traced over Chip’s lips. It felt good to have someone concerned about him, especially because of who that someone was. He’d grown up with the love and support of his parents and sisters, and for eleven wonderful years, he’d had Conner. Now he had Lee. When he thought of how close he’d come to doing irreparable damage to that friendship it made his throat tighten up. 

“I learned to live without Conner a long time ago,” he said quietly. He lifted his good arm from the bed. “Thanks for sticking with me even when I acted like a jerk.”

Lee gave a soft snort. He gripped Chip’s wrist, sliding his hand up the exec’s forearm until they were locked elbow-to-wrist. “I’ve had lots of practice,” he said, mimicking Chip’s words of the previous night.

Chip pursed his lips. “Of sticking things out?”

“Of acting like a jerk. Get a good night’s sleep, okay?”

Chip grinned. “Aye, Sir.”

**********

“So they just took him away?” Alyssa asked, trying to make sense of Lee’s story as it related to Bryan Johnson/Conner Morton/Kevin Brenner. “That poor man. I never would have guessed he was mentally unstable when I talked to him on Seaview. He seemed so approachable and friendly.”

Lee grunted, unwilling to comment. He wasn’t about to share the ugly insinuations Brenner had made about their relationship. If Alyssa wanted to remember him as friendly, that was fine with him. It was hard to feel pity for the man after having developed such a strong dislike of him. 

Brenner had been confined to a mental institution and would hopefully - - finally - - be able to make peace with the past. More importantly, Lee wanted him to forget about Chip. As unbalanced as he was, Lee was certain his brotherly affection for Chip had morphed into full-fledged hatred. Chip had rejected him as Conner. There could be no reconciliation after that. Perhaps years down the road if Brenner were truly cured, but otherwise . . .

Lee grimaced, thankful Brenner was locked away. He didn’t like to think how that mental instability would play out if the man ever came face to face with Chip again.

Alyssa sighed, snuggling closer under his arm, resting her cheek on his chest. They’d left the hospital several hours ago, and he’d followed her home to her condo. He’d heated up some leftover pasta for them in the microwave and opened a bottle of wine while she sorted through her mail and the messages from her answering service. Neither of them had really been hungry and after some light picking, they found themselves on the couch in front of the fireplace. She’d told him about her trip and the concessions she’d won for her client. By then he was starting to feel drowsy, the effects of the last several days catching up all at once. They’d left the lights off, the only glow in the room cast from the gas hearth. Combined with the wine, the mesmerizing dance of flames only heightened his tiredness until Alyssa suggested he get some sleep and they’d talk tomorrow.

In the bedroom, she’d helped him out of his shirt, worried over his injured arm. It had started innocently enough, but the feel of her hands on his bare chest had sent the fatigue plummeting to his feet. Once he’d kissed her, he hadn’t wanted to stop. He could still recall the intoxicating sensation of her fingers skimming down his chest and over his stomach to open the button on his trousers. When she’d tugged the zipper down, he’d known he was done. He’d taken his time with her clothes, relishing the way the cool silk of her blouse glided over the warm satin of her skin . . . how she arched against him when he stroked his hand down her back . . . the way her expensive designer skirt puddled at her feet when he freed the zipper. 

He’d made love to her with the same passion as that first night when everything had been glorious and new. Before the press, before the glare of the society page. They hadn’t talked about it, but he knew, sooner or later, it was an issue they’d have to face. For the moment all he’d wanted to do was drown in her scent and the warmth of her body joined with his. 

Afterward, he’d talked about Chip and Kevin Brenner, explaining what he could, skipping the more personal elements of his friendship with Chip. She seemed to sense there was something missing but respected his privacy and didn’t push.    

“I’m just glad Chip showed up when he did and neither of you were seriously hurt,” she said, nestling closer. The heat of her bare flesh against his was distracting.

He contented himself with brushing his lips against her hair. “It’s over and we can put the whole thing behind us.”  

She nodded, but he felt her tense as though something still bothered her. “I wish we could do the same with the society page,” she said.

He chuckled softly. “I thought as a model you’d be used to having things written about you that aren’t true.”

 

“I am.” She tipped her head against his shoulder to look up at him. “I just don’t want them dragging you into the mud with me. The press is such a damn nuisance. I have half a mind to call up that idiot paper and tell them what they can do with their snide insinuations.”  

“That’ll just make it worse. It’s no different than a storm, Alyssa. We have to ride it out.”

She stared for a long minute, apprehension clouding her eyes. “You’re willing to do that?”

Realizing she was afraid he’d get disgusted with the public scrutiny and walk away, he smiled and hugged her closer. “I even have a plan. The Institute is hosting a dinner reception for Dr. Richard Darcy next week. He’s a personal friend of Admiral Nelson.”

“You mean my ex?”

“He’s always going to be ‘the admiral’ to me, Alyssa.”

“I know that, Lee. I’m teasing you.” Rolling onto her stomach, she folded her arms on his chest and grinned mischievously. “Are you inviting me on a date, Captain?”

He lifted an eyebrow, spurred by her teasing. “A very public one.”

“Isn’t that rather high-profile?”

“Mmm.” He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head as he bent to kiss her.

“Sometimes the best way to weather a storm is to face it head on.”

**********

Held at the exclusive Regency hotel on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the recognition dinner for Dr. Darcy was attended by N.I.M.R. personnel, several high-ranking city officials, a Who’s-Who of leading scientists and a number of Santa Barbara’s most prominent citizens.

Lee wore dress blues like the rest of Seaview’s officers, his uniform complimented by Alyssa’s designer-chic burgundy gown. Strapless and form-fitting, it ended in a flirty flounce above her heeled gold sandals. She’d pulled her hair back with combs, adding more curl to the natural wave so that it spilled down her neck in a riot of spiral twists. Drop ruby earrings, a gold choker and a slim gold bracelet were her only pieces of jewelry. He thought she looked exceptionally beautiful and fully expected to be the envy of most every man at the dinner.

They arrived at the hotel in her white Jag and surrendered the car to the valet service. Inside, he found their place cards had them seated at a table with Chip and his date, Jamie and his wife, and Nelson’s secretary, Angie, along with her real estate attorney boyfriend. The admiral had come solo for a change and was seated at the same table as Dr. Darcy. 

Lee was pleased to find Chip functioning well, despite the fact his arm was still healing. Not involved in a serious relationship at present, Seaview’s exec had called on Janine Bingham, a once steady girlfriend who’d long since morphed into a no-strings-attached casual date. All three women at the table were delighted to be seated with Alyssa, and for a time the conversation revolved around fashion and travel. Eventually, it wandered back to Seaview, upcoming voyages, and Dr. Darcy’s latest contributions to science. 

After dinner, there were several speeches, including one by the admiral, who had the privilege of introducing Dr. Darcy and presenting him with an award, recognizing his many years as a leader in the scientific community. The food was cleared away, and the focus shifted to mingling and socializing. Lee took Alyssa with him, introducing her as he made the rounds from table to table, greeting key people he knew, chatting with others. He kept her arm linked through his, making certain everyone understood they were a couple and there was nothing awkward or hidden about their relationship. She certainly knew how to work a room, charming everyone she talked with, regardless of gender. Yet as polished and delightful as she was, Lee knew there was nothing artificial in her friendliness. The more he watched her, the more she stayed at his side, the more he realized how much he loved her.

He hadn’t looked at the society page in days, but he no longer cared what it said. They would get through the storm.

Tonight was proof of that.

**********

Harry took a swallow of Scotch and soda, surprised he wasn’t antsy to beat a hasty retreat out the door. Sometimes receptions, particularly those on the high-brow side, wore on his nerves quickly. But he respected Richard Darcy a great deal, and wanted the night to be a success. The man of the hour certainly seemed entertained, chatting with Lee and Alyssa, the glow on his face telling Harry he was smitten by the presence of an ex-model. 

Thank God the society crowd had moved onto other news, the press having spent the last two days in a feeding frenzy reporting on a leading city official who’d been caught cheating on his wife. It left him, Lee and Alyssa off the hook, the attention span of the people who thrived on smut thankfully short, always anxious for new dirt.

“They make an elegant couple, don’t they?” Harry prompted, having wandered over to Jamie and Chip. Most of the tables were empty now, the majority of people circulating throughout the room or on the dance floor. He found his two friends talking over a drink near the bar.

“Who?” Jamie asked.

Harry motioned across the room. “Lee and Alyssa. I never realized how incredibly photogenic they are together. No wonder those fool reporters wanted to splash their picture everywhere.”

Jamie rolled the ice-cubes in his glass. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what they had in mind, Harry. Thank God, they found greener pastures elsewhere, though I pity that poor bastard who got caught cheating on his wife. Politics and sex. That’s going to drag on indefinitely.”

“And keep Lee out of the press,” Chip inserted.

Harry shot him a glance. He hadn’t gotten the complete story on Kevin Brenner, but Lee had told him enough to make him fret over his executive officer. He’d visited Chip several times in the hospital, never sure how to broach the whole issue. It was hard enough discussing anything personal with Lee, let alone Chip, who tended to be far more stoic with the lines of their friendship. 

“How’s the arm feeling, Chip?” he asked, fully aware the younger man had started therapy. It had been over a week since the incident in Lee’s home, and although he’d gotten multiple updates from Jamie, he wanted to hear the answer directly from Chip.

“Good, Sir. I’m progressing nicely. Jamie says I’m ahead of schedule with therapy.”

“But shouldn’t over do it,” doctor stressed, shooting Chip a pointed look from under his brows. “In any event . . .” He glanced back to Harry. “He should be in shape for our next cruise if he continues with the strides he’s making.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Usually when one of the crew was unable to ship out on a cruise, it was because of an injury sustained in the line of duty. With Lee there was always the added aggravation of ONI. For Chip to have sustained a bullet wound just felt . . . wrong. He made a mental note to keep tabs on Kevin Brenner from time to time. If there was even a hint of the man being released or transferred to another institution, he wanted to know about it. In advance.

“That’s good news. I’m anxious to return to the area where we encountered the hagfish.”

Neither man seemed surprised. “I think we’ve all been expecting that, Admiral,” Chip spoke for both of them. “Including Lee.”

Harry grunted an acknowledgement. He looked across the room to where his young captain and Alyssa were still involved chatting with Richard Darcy and several others. His observation hadn’t been off base. Ali was stunning, but next to Lee Crane she looked positively breathtaking. And he’d never seen Lee so animated in a public forum, as if having Ali at his side naturally made him more approachable. It was strange seeing the two of them together, even stranger to realize he wished them happiness.

Lee had been worried about the reception and had phoned him earlier in the week to say he’d wanted to bring Alyssa. It wasn’t a request as much as advance warning with the hope Harry wouldn’t have an issue with his decision. He’d quickly put his captain’s mind at ease, mentally chuckling over the way Lee still pranced around his relationship with Alyssa - - at least where his boss was concerned.

“Excuse me,” he said, deciding it was time to meddle. “I suddenly have the urge to dance.”

**********

Harry surprised himself. After twenty-some years, he hadn’t forgotten how effortless it was to dance with Alison Hagan. The band was playing something slow and melodic. She’d graciously consented when he’d approached and asked her to dance, remembering perhaps, a time when they’d spent Friday nights at the newly opened USO hall. He was sure they made a spectacle on the floor - - the former super-model and her ex-husband. In her heeled sandals, she was just as tall as he, every bit as graceful as he remembered. He’d already squired her through one dance and was on a second.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he complimented. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

She smiled. “I am. Lee’s relaxed, so that’s a plus. He wouldn’t admit it, but I know he was worried about tonight.”

“The press has moved on, Ali. That has to help.”

“It does. We haven’t paid much attention to the society page, but Dr. Darcy told us about that dreadful politician and his wife. As badly as I feel for them, it’s nice to be yesterday’s news.”

“Especially for a man who isn’t comfortable in the spotlight.”

“Lee?” Her brows climbed elegantly on her forehead. “You know him well don’t you, Harry?”

“Well enough to know he stayed when he normally would have balked. I hope you realize how significant that is.” 

Before she could answer, Harry felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Behind him, Lee cleared his throat. 

“Sir. May I cut in?”

As if he had a choice. As if it hadn’t already been decided months ago when Alyssa Halston and Lee Crane had first looked into each other’s eyes. He glanced to Ali and saw warmth and love shining on her face when she looked past him to his captain. He grinned, realizing she was as besotted as Lee was. “I think you already have,” he told Lee, passing Alyssa’s hand off to the younger man. 

He walked a few paces away then turned to watch them draw together. Lee smiled down on Alyssa, taking her hand, stepping smoothly and effortlessly into the dance. Without a doubt, they were a vision together. He glanced around the room and realized that many people had turned to stare, watching appreciatively. Even the other dancers drew back, giving the Captain and his Lady room.

Acceptance.

Harry shook his head. 

He wasn’t a man who believed in fairy tales, but he was inclined to think this one might just end in a happily-ever-after at some point in the future. Stranger things had been known to happen.

Grinning, he headed back to the bar for another drink.

*****End*****-

Just a note, so no one fears I’ve gone off the deep end. I’m not changing the dynamics of the characters. Alyssa Halston will continue in my Voyage universe, but along the same lines as Grayson Crane and Mitchell Blake - - she’ll probably be mentioned in most stories, but only appear rarely (like Mitchell does). When I started writing this, I never intended to end it the way I did, but the characters had their own ideas. J

Return to Kate’s homepage

Our authors appreciate receiving comments on their stories. If you would like to send comments on this story, click on the author’s name at the top of this page.