The Vision Read Online Free PDF Page B

shrugged, accepting the beer with a quick “Thanks.” He looked up at Clint. “What
    kind of a diver are you?”
    “A good one. I have a master’s certification.”
    Thor gave Clint a long assessment, not a muscle in his face so much as ticking. “Sure.
    Take time off next week. But out on the boat, I’m not just captain, I’m God Almighty. If
    you can live with that…?”
    “Shit, yes,” Clint said, then caught himself. “Sorry, Genevieve.”
    “I think she’s all right with the word,” Thor said, smiling. Evidently he hadn’t forgotten a single one of her words to him.
    “No problem, Clint,” she replied. “And if you want, I’m sure you can go out with us, too,
    one of these days.” She hoped her sunglasses were every bit as opaque as Thor’s and her
    smile every bit as pleasant.
    “Cool.” Clint was still looking at Thor, as if for approval. After a moment, he moved
    away awkwardly, giving them a thumbs-up sign.
    “So, how was your day?” Thor asked her once Clint had moved on.
    “Fine, just fine.”
    “Nothing down there, huh?”
    “If there had been, I would have reported it.”
    “Nothing strange, I meant.”
    She forced another smile. “You know, I really don’t know who you think you are. I’ve been out on these reefs all my life. I know every landmark. And I’ll bet I make a
    discovery before you do.”
    He sat back, a small smile curving his lips. “You think you can outdo me, Miss
    Wallace?”
    “I know I can.”
    He shook his head, amused. For a brief moment, she wondered what the hell she was
    doing. He had a sixth sense when it came to finding what was lost beneath the sea.
    “Interesting,” he said. “You’re really throwing down the gauntlet.”
    Yes, she was. And that, she realized, seemed to take him from believing she was nuts in
    one way to believing she was nuts in another, saner, way.
    “Well?” she demanded icily.
    He shrugged. “Is this a dare? For real?”
    “You bet.”
    “You’re on.”
    “Good.”
    “We’re talking about a real relic—not imagined,” he said.
    “Absolutely,” she agreed.
    “All right. What’s the bet?” he asked.
    She shrugged. The stakes hadn’t entered her mind.
    “A round of beers?” she suggested.
    He shook his head. “Far too cheap.”
    She arched a brow. “I planned on a friendly wager.”
    “A friendly wager?”
    “Okay. So we’re far from being friends.”
    “Do you have so little faith in yourself?”
    “Should I be betting my house?” she inquired lightly, feeling ever-so-slightly ill in the pit of her stomach.
    He shook his head, his smile deepening. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your house.”
    “What makes you think you’d take it? And what would I be getting—when I win?”
    He laughed out loud then, truly enjoying himself. “I have a nice place in Jacksonville.”
    “But I have no desire to leave the Keys.”
    “As I said, I have no intention of taking your home, either.”
    He was intent on winning, she knew—despite the fact she couldn’t see his eyes. There
    was a tightening, barely visible, in his muscles. His male ego was taking over.
    Testosterone was racing. It was pathetically immature, she thought.
    She had started it.
    “You won’t get a chance to take my home,” she assured him coolly.
    “Well, a round of beers is too paltry, claiming your house too serious. I guess we could
    give this thing some thought overnight, hmm?” he suggested.
    “Whatever you wish, Mr. Thompson,” she said stiffly.
    “No, whatever you wish, Miss Wallace,” he replied mockingly.
    “Tomorrow morning, then, we decide the bet,” she said.
    “I’ve got an idea,” he murmured, looking amused. “But you won’t like it.”
    She was suddenly certain she knew the nature of his wager. It should have infuriated her.
    Instead, it just made the challenge greater.
    “Really?” she murmured, suddenly aware of her own muscles tightening with the same
    tension, the same sense of challenge and ruthless