LEAD ME ON by Julie Ortolon (find a book to read TXT) 📕

and gave it to him, saying she hoped it brought him luck and kept him safe. He said he’d put it with the rest of Lafitte’s treasure to help him remember all the reasons he wanted to be a better man.”

“Apparently the charm wasn’t strong enough to protect him from a jealous husband,” Scott muttered, still making notes.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. This is great.” He tapped his pen against the legal pad. “Perfect, in fact. Not only is the item valuable from a monetary and historical standpoint, it has magical powers. My drug lord is going to be insane with greed to have it. I don’t suppose you’d let me read Marguerite’s diaries, though, since I’m using her as the background story?”

Allison hesitated. “I don’t know. We’ve never let anyone outside the family read them.”

“I swear I’ll be careful with them.” He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were a Boy Scout?” She asked in surprise.

“Uuh, no. But I do have lots of experience handling old documents.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded and turned to his niece. “In the meantime what do you say we check out this shipwreck?”

By the time Allison headed down to the pier with Scott and Chloe the day had warmed considerably. “We have everything you’ll need stored out here,” she said as they stepped from the beach onto the wooden pier. Waves lapped at the old pilings beneath them as they made their way to the end. A pelican sat atop one of the storage bins that doubled as a bench, and she had to shoo it away to lift the lid.

“The water’s pretty murky for the first twenty feet,” she said. “Then it gradually starts to clear. Below forty feet, you could have excellent visibility depending on how much the storm the other day stirred things up.”

“How deep is the cove?” Scott asked as he looked over the various tanks.

“Close to sixty feet, the deepest in Galveston Bay,” Allison answered. “The ship is directly ahead of us, pretty much smack-dab in the middle of the cove. This chain here”—she pointed to a chain attached to the end of the dock that disappeared into the water at an angle—“will lead you to the ship. It has depth markers for your stops coming back up. As for the ship, it’s resting partially on its side, and most of it is buried under silt, but you’ll be able to see some of the forecastle and quarterdeck.”

“How’d it get buried?” Chloe asked, tugging on the shortie wetsuit she’d borrowed from Allison. The suit fit her snugly, and showed off a figure that was far more developed than that of the average twelve-year-old.

Scott gave his niece a disbelieving look. “Ever hear of the Great Storm?”

“No. Should I have?” Chloe asked.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay, your third report will be on the hurricane that nearly wiped Galveston off the map.”

The girl’s face fell. “Damn, Uncle Scott, how many papers are you gonna make me write?”

“What, three isn’t enough?” He raised a brow. “I’ll be happy to add another on why young girls shouldn’t curse.”

“No, three is fine.” She held up her hands. “More than enough. Really.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Scott picked out an air tank, weight belt, and fins for Chloe, then helped her get them on.

“This stuff always makes me feel like a turtle with a whole house strapped to my back.” Carrying the fins, she plopped down on a second storage chest so hard she nearly toppled backward.

“Careful.” Scott chuckled as he peeled off his shirt, tossed it aside, and presented his beautifully nude back to Allison.

The sight struck her dumb—just when she’d been congratulating herself on how well they’d slipped back into their proper roles of innkeeper and guest. Now he stood before her, with sunlight shining off his tan muscles, and she wanted to run her tongue right up the middle of his spine.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You going to help me with the tank?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Laughing and blushing, she lifted the air tank so he could slip his arms into the buoyancy vest.

“What sort of shape is it in?” he asked, turning to face her. His biceps rippled as he fastened the buckles to hold the vest and tank in place.

“Great shape,” she breathed, then cringed. The ship. He was asking about the ship. “I mean—it’s in great shape considering it suffered two direct hits from a cannon.” Her gaze strayed back to his chest as he fastened the last buckle. “I wish you’d let me ask Adrian if you could borrow his wetsuit. You’re going to freeze in nothing but swim trunks.”

“The water’s not that cold.”

“Tell me that after you’ve been down at sixty feet for half an hour.”

He glanced up, straight into her eyes, with a lopsided grin. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Okay, well.” She blew out a breath and tried to focus. “One thing we ask all the divers is that you try not to stir up the bottom.”

“You don’t want me to stir things up?” The double meaning sparkled in his eyes and she realized how close they were standing.

“No, I...” She stepped back and caught the heel of her sandal on a wooden plank.

Scott grabbed her arm, steadying her. Time hung suspended as he looked into her eyes.

Her gaze moved to his lips and he longed to lean forward and kiss her.

“Uncle Scott, are we going in or not?”

He dropped his hand. “I’m coming.”

Turning away, Scott slipped on his mask and clamped the mouthpiece for the breathing regulator between his teeth. He held them in place as he giant-stepped off the end of the pier. The water engulfed him in a whoosh of bubbles. When he surfaced, he patted the top of his head to signal that he was okay and for Chloe to follow. She jumped off the pier like a cannonball, sending a giant splash onto the dock. Allison shrieked and barely jumped back in time. Scott held up his hands in a gesture