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kil ed off a wide section of coral in only one section, which was surrounded by unmarked and dangerous coral heads just below the surface of the water. Deadly traps for even the smal est boats.
    The pale swath of white sand under the water could only be seen from the air, making the canal an obstacle-dense, extremely dangerous, path to Cutter Cay harbor. Three sides of the seven-acre island were made up of sheer granite cliffs surrounded by a ring of almost impenetrable coral. That sandy path was the only way a boat could approach the island. And even if a person knew the canal was there, navigating the shards of coral would be as complicated as trying to fish a fal en screw out of a carburetor. In other words, one wrong move and you·d be FUBAR.
    It was an excel ent place to store treasure. The Counting House sat front and center, right near the dock and marina. The imposing building was a gateway to the homes and cabins on the hil side. Three large dive boats waited in the marina, as did half a dozen sailboats with primary colored sails. As a backdrop, the green hil s rose to the flat-topped peak. Untidy rows of brightly colored cabins were strung up and down the hil s like gaudy wooden beads. Some of them were occupied by local residents, and some were kept ready by the Cutters for visitors, like friends or investors. The large, ultra -modern house on the windward side was Zane·s.
    Teal rubbed her upper arms and scowled into the spray. She·d said no. She·d meant no. Yet here she was. Had Sam real y wanted her here?
    Whether that was fact or fiction, emeralds as big as Zane claimed they were would go a long way in paying her father·s medical bil s and setting her up in her own business. She·d never have to rely on anyone else again. Of course, the presence of emeralds the size that Zane had bragged about could be B.S. And they might not discover any treasure at al . A percentage of nothing would be a big fat zero.
    She heard Zane laugh as he talked to the men, but didn·t turn around. She hated feel ing like a kid with her nose pressed to the toy store window. Go over there, she told herself. You·re part of the team, too . But her feet stayed glued to the deck.
    Out of the corner of her eye she watched the blond guy tel what was apparently a hilarious story that involved broad hand gestures and comical facial expressions. Even though she couldn·t hear him, she smiled.
    The smile froze as her gaze shifted to Zane³his bare chest gleamed in the sun, and his earring winked as his shoulders shook with laught er. He looked vital, and more alive than any man she·d ever seen in her life. Zane Cutter was a force of nature, and seeing him so carefree and gloriously, unabashedly happy made her chest ache, and her mouth go dry.
    She hadn·t been the only one who·d gravitated to the youngest Cutter when she·d first met him years ago. Everyone on the islands loved him. He was everyone·s friend. She envied him his capacity to have fun and his innate ability to make and keep friends. He was everything she wasn·t. The chaos of her conflicting feelings for him infuriated her.
    She watched him as he tossed back his head and roared with laughter.

    Sunlight tangled in his dark hair and glinted off the little gold pirate hoop in his ear.
    He punched his friend Ryan on the shoulde r, then started a story of his own that made the men laugh harder.
    She realized she was staring and snapped her head around to gaze out at the water. What the hel was she doing waving good -bye to land ho and sailing the high seas with a pirate?
    She·d lost what little was left of her mind.
    In the distance, the shadowy forms of smal neighboring islands seemed to float along the horizon. None of them were close enough to swim to, either. She actual y loved being in the water, but because of the seasickness, she hated, loathed, and detested being on it. Tough when she was en route to more water. It was hard to reconcile what her eyes were tel ing her³calm