Beyond the Ice Limit

7

GIDEON FLUSHED FROM embarrassment. God, he felt like an idiot. He untied his shoes while Alex stood over him, not bothering to conceal her triumph. He stood up and dusted himself off. His embarrassment began to turn to something else as she handed him the wallet and wristwatch.

“You’re not angry?” she asked, recovering her composure.

He looked at her standing there, face aglow, agate eyes twinkling, long glossy hair in unruly coils over her tanned shoulders, breasts still heaving from the recent hilarity. Here she’d humiliated him—and what was his reaction? Overwhelming desire.

He averted his eyes and swallowed. “I guess I deserved it.” He glanced at the bartender but he was inscrutable, as if he’d seen nothing.

“You still want me to show you the crew quarters?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She turned and strode out of the bar and through the dining room while he followed. They navigated another maze of corridors and stairs—through a bulkhead hatch, and into a long narrow corridor with rooms on one side.

She stopped at a door and opened it. “The scientists have private rooms. This is mine.”

He followed her in. It was surprisingly spacious, with a queen-size bed, two portholes, built-in dresser, writing table with a laptop computer, mirror, walls painted cream-white.

“Here’s the bath.” She threw open another door to reveal a small bathroom with a third porthole.

“Very nice,” he said. “Quite the room for a…well, a scientist.”

She turned. “I’m not just a mini sub driver. I’m the mission’s head oceanographer, as I’m sure you know. I’ve been with EES for five years now.”

“Actually, I didn’t know. I haven’t really been briefed, either. How come I’ve never met you before?”

“You must know Glinn’s mania for compartmentalization.”

“And your position vis-à-vis Garza?”

“He’s an engineer; I’m a scientist. EES doesn’t have a normal corporate structure, as I’m sure you’ve realized. Things change from mission to mission.”

He nodded, watching her move around the room, smoothly and gracefully. She had a swimmer’s body, lithe and athletic. He had sworn, absolutely sworn, that he would not get into another romantic entanglement. Given the medical death sentence hanging over his head, it wasn’t fair, either to him or to the woman. But that was theoretical; she was real.

“What’s your room number?” she asked.

“Two fourteen.”

“That’s at the end of the hall. Let’s check it out.” She headed out the door and he followed.

They went down the hall to the door marked 214. He took out the magnetic key card he’d been given when being processed earlier in the day, waved it at the lock, and the door clicked. He pushed it open and switched on the light—to be greeted by a luxurious, spacious cabin, with a row of portholes, a king-size bed, a sitting area with a sofa and two chairs, The floor was covered in thick cream-colored pile, the lighting soft and indirect. His luggage had already been placed in one corner, neatly arranged.

“Wow,” said Alex, stepping inside. “And what’s your position at EES to merit all this?”

“I don’t know. Slacker in chief?”

He followed her in and watched as she took a turn around the room, her hand stroking the quilted bedcovers, adjusting the lights. She opened the door to the bathroom. “A tub, no less!” Making herself quite at home, she next explored the sitting area, where there was a kitchen nook with a microwave oven, coffee machine, and small fridge. She opened the fridge. “And look—Veuve Clicquot!” She took out a split of champagne and waved it at him.

“Great, let’s open it and celebrate.”

She put it back, shut the fridge door firmly. “Two’s my limit, remember? And you’re already over yours. I need you clearheaded for tomorrow’s dive. And besides, I don’t drink champagne in strange men’s rooms.”

“Me? A strange man?”

“Art thief, nuke designer, magician—very strange.”

“We’ll enjoy it tomorrow evening, then. You and me.”

“We’ll be wiped out after our shakedown dive.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, I’d better be getting back to my quarters. I’ve got a lot of work to do before bedtime.”

He walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder as she turned to go. What was he doing? He knew that third drink was a mistake, but he wasn’t going to stop now. He felt his whole body aching with longing. She paused at his touch and he leaned toward her. But then she deftly ducked out from under his hand and stepped aside. “None of that, mister. Not on a ship. You know better.”

“I wish I did know better.”

“Breakfast at oh five thirty, remember; then we go to the DSV hangar and prep. See you then.”

And she was gone.

He sat down on the bed with a sigh. He also had a ton of work to do: files and documents to review, a computer to set up and get networked into the ship’s system. And he couldn’t go to Glinn and argue himself out of the dive—not after three martinis, smelling like a drunk.

He stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head. Alex’s faint perfume remained in the air and he inhaled it, feeling another surge of longing. What was wrong with him? He should be pissed off at the way she’d humiliated him, but instead it seemed to be having an altogether different effect.

Alex, he decided, was right about one thing: he had better get himself under control or this was going to be a very long voyage indeed.