Page 37 of Spencer

Tabitha glanced over at Spencer again.

Freakin-frick. His babies would be so flipping adorable, all flashing dark eyes and thick, mahogany hair. Was fortune so cruel that it would dump this man in her lap when there was no shot at a future of them being together?

If she slept with him…

Hah.There was no “if” about that.

Shewasgoing to sleep with him, as many times as she could between here and dry land. Once her feet were back on solid ground, she’d have to jettison any thoughts of “more”, pick up her rental car, head back to Logan Airport, and fly home.Yup. So, there it was. She was going to fricking exhaust herself with lust while she could, grabbing onto not only Spencer’s fine ass, but every second of their time together.

And in that regard, the normally fickle-fates had intervened nicely this time.

The captain wasn’t going to weigh anchor for a while. There might even be a few days of down-time, depending on how things went.

Tabitha and the captain had met while Spencer was finishing his decompression protocol, and together they’d contacted the company who had hired her for the surveying operation; a company with whom she’d worked for years without a problem.

After an explanation of what had occurred, and a regaling of the current circumstances they found themselves in, the CEO had been more than awesome. He’d immediately hired the Atlaua to salvage Tabitha’s sub—at no cost to her—with assurances that their extensive legal department would intervene on her behalf with her insurance company to make sure all damage and recovery charges were eventually paid for.

It had been a huge relief to let them take over. Tabitha hadn’t relished untangling the red-tape that inevitably went along with an accident, uh—act of nature—like hers.

The biggest difficulty with the salvage operation was that—even though the Atlaua had the crane and equipment to raise the sub—Spencer was the only diver aboard besides her, and he was the single crewman who had the experience to rig her craft up for extraction.

Problem.

There was no way Spencer would be cleared for any more diving for at least two weeks.

The captain, however, had not been deterred. He’d spent the next half hour—after their successful phone call—on his radio. He’d finally located a Merchant Marine vessel that was moored approximately one hundred miles to the north. Albeit a smaller ship, they had several experienced divers aboard. They’d gladly agreed to help out, and would dock with the Atlaua sometime during the night. Operations would begin first thing in the morning.

How badly her sub was wedged beneath the concrete would determine the amount of time needed to complete the salvage, but everyone was hoping for no more than three days, since foul weather was predicted to move in by the weekend.

As of tonight? Everyone—after an exhausting day—had the night off, with the exception of the one sailor on watch who would take up Spencer’s normal post.

Which meant her man-crush had nothing on his docket.

If he was up to it—and she had a feeling he would be—she had fantasies they’d sequester in her little closet of a room and bang away for the duration.

After all, it was only fair to get all that good stuff accomplished ASAP. She’d be leaving once they got into port, and there grew a desperate need to fill herself with enough Spencer to last a lifetime. Or at least until his Merchant Marine travels brought him to Florida where she might be able to get a brief recharge every now and again.

Thinking of Florida, however, reminded Tabitha she needed to call her sister.

She took her phone from her pocket and dialed Sheila. She had a lot to disclose.

“Hi Tabbi,” Sheila greeted, having picked up on the first ring. “I had chocolate pudding after supper tonight.”

That’s right. It was past time to eat. Tabitha’s stomach was telling her it needed filling.

“Don’t make me hungry. I haven’t eaten yet,” Tabitha snorted. “It was an extremely long day.”

“What happened?” Sheila asked. “I can tell something happened. Your voice says something happened.”

Damn,Sheila was astute.

Tabitha thought about fibbing, but that would probably just come back later to haunt her, so she’d go with the truth but simply downplay it a bit.

“You’re right, as always, Sheels. There was a…mishap with the sub, and now it’s out of commission, still submerged. Which means I’m going to be in Maine for a few days longer than we expected while the people on this ship—and another one coming to help—get my sub off the ocean floor.”

“Sub is on the bottom. Got it. Down deep. You’re okay, though, right? You’re okay?” Sheila’s voice rose a little bit piercingly, as it often did when she was becoming agitated.

“I’m fine. Perfect,” Tabitha assured her quickly, before she could get too far up into her head. “Not a scratch on me. A very nice diver came down and helped me out of the sub, then brought me to the surface.”

---