Page 41 of Ruining His Smirk

At two in the morning, the upper deck was usually mine. That was precisely why I came here often. Sometimes to sketch, sometimes to just think. I took a few steps across the deck, already feeling some of the tightness ease from between my shoulders.

I stopped abruptly.

A person was standing at the railing, near the far edge of the helipad, heavy parka broad across the shoulders and a woolen hat pulled low over the head. Both forearms rested on the top rail as the person stared out over the channel.

I scowled at the intruder’s back. That was my spot.

Then he turned. I inhaled sharply.

Landry.

Shite.

My first instinct was to turn around and run.

Too late.

He had seen me.

There was no chance in hell I was turning my back now and scurrying through the door like a startled rodent. I would rather walk directly into the dark blue water beside the ship. Myshoulders went rigid. My chin rose. What had been a peaceful stroll toward the helipad became a military advance Keith would be proud of watching from the bridge above us.

I hated how Landry always managed to throw off my equilibrium. He was doing my head in and I was reaching my limits.

He watched me approach with a grim set of his stupid square jaw. For some macho reason, he had the jacket sleeves rolled up and his forearms were on display for the whole world.

I went to the railing and stood at a spot far enough that no part of us could accidentally touch, but close enough that it wouldn’t look like I was afraid of him. This was my deck and my ship, dammit.

I turned toward the ice, placed my gloved hands on the railing, and stared straight ahead. He did the same. Okay, fine, if this was how he wanted to play it, I could play along.

The wind moved over the deck. I concentrated very hard on the scenery, but my eyes weren’t registering anything. The silence expanded like an overfilled balloon.

This was fine. I was not bothered. Not at all. Especially not by his veiny brawny forearms. I kept my eyes fixed on the iceberg that had kept the whale skeleton intact for me. The one he was going to help me recover. And the very same man I’d kissed. Twice.

I reminded myself that did not mean every subsequent interaction had to mean anything. We were adults. Professionals. Surely, we could stand here and speak like ordinary colleagues who had never had their mouths on each other.

The silence was killing me. I just needed to say something. But what if I made a complete arse of myself? Jesus! Was I even listening to myself right now? I had two doctorates. I routinely spoke to international research teams, schoolchildren, fundingcommittees, and journalists. I could manage one sentence to a Texan butthead of a man with annoying veins running down his arms.

Carefully, while giving nothing away, I glanced at Landry from the corner of my eye. His face was carved out of stone. Nothing in his expression suggested friendliness. His lips were set in a straight line, but I had begun to understand some of Landry’s physical language.

He was awkward too.

Okay, that was helpful data.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

11

Nate

“The weather’s quite nice.”

Landry turned his head slowly and looked at me.

Okay, I would settle for the sea ice splitting open and swallowing the entire ship. That was fine too. I wasn’t picky.

His gaze traveled down my body and back up. “Yeah,” he said at last.

I nodded.