Page 3 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

He stretches out his arms, palms up, in an innocent gesture. “Purely professional, I told you.” His eyes dance before he turns away.

I open my mouth to reply, but Fraser has opened the door, and the guys are heading out. I watch them go and blow out an irritated breath. He only asked me because he didn’t want to go to the awards dinner alone. That was sneaky.

Still, it’s an opportunity to do something different for a few days, and I haven’t dived since I took my certificate, so it’ll be fun to do so in an archaeological context. I don’t know much about maritime archaeology as Joel rarely talks about himself or his job when we’re all together, so it’ll be interesting to find out firsthand what he does.

And we’ll be going to the Awards Dinner, too. That’ll be interesting.

Elora has finally finished locking the apartment door, and she comes over to where Hallie and I are finishing clearing up the dinner things. “Did I hear you talking about going up to the Bay with Joel tomorrow?” she asks.

I fill the chili pot with water and set it aside to soak. “Yeah. He’s excavating the Relentless, and he thinks we might be able to find the Mair Necklace.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, that would be amazing!”

“He’s also invited me to the ANZAS dinner tomorrow. How posh do you think it’s going to be?”

“It’s black tie,” Hallie says.

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “What? He said, ‘you might like to bring something special to wear.’ Talk about an understatement.”

“Does that mean he’s going to wear a DJ?” Hallie asks, amused. “I’ve never seen him in one.”

“Neither have I.” He usually wears cargo shorts or swim shorts in summer, and faded jeans in the winter, with scruffy tees, the occasional creased shirt, and hoodies. “If you look up the word ‘unkempt’ in the dictionary, there’s a photo of Joel next to it,” I add. “I can’t imagine him in a tux.” I push away a ripple of interest at the thought of Joel Bell dressed to the nines. That’s never going to happen. He’ll turn up in black trousers and a creased white shirt, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t own a hairbrush, so his hair will all be standing on end.

Even so, there are going to be a lot of people there involved in the business, and I don’t want to look like an idiot. Panic rises inside me. “I don’t own anything suitable for an event like that.”

“Neither do I,” Elora says. She dresses like a librarian and is even less likely than me to own a fancy gown.

“It needs to be floor-length,” Hallie says. “And made from silk or satin, ideally. Hmm.” She taps a finger on her lips. “I’ve got an idea. I’ve still got the bridesmaid’s dress I wore last year.” Her sister married her childhood sweetheart in what Hallie called ‘a sickeningly wonderful wedding’ in Fiji last summer.

“You’re taller than me,” I point out.

“Only by an inch.”

“And you have bigger boobs.”

She looks down at them. She’s on the curvy side. “Well, now I do, but I lost a lot of weight for the wedding. And anyway, you’re not exactly flat chested.” She gets up and retrieves her keys from the table. “I’ll go and get it, and you can try it on. It’s a beautiful dress, and it’ll go well with your hair.”

“If you’re sure…”

She grins and goes out, closing the door behind her.

Elora gets up and slides the chain across, then checks it a few times. She was assaulted in her teens and developed OCD as a result. We don’t talk about it now, but it makes me sad to see how much it continues to affect her.

Still, there’s a glow about her tonight, due in no small part to the fact that Linc is here. “So… you’re seeing him tomorrow?” I ask, because I heard them making plans.

She gives a nonchalant shrug, but her eyes aren’t nonchalant at all. “He’s going to see if he can track down what happened to the Bell Ring. We might meet up for a coffee or something.”

My lips curve up. It’s lovely to see her cheeks flush as she talks about a man.

But she waves a hand and says, “Don’t give me that look. He’s off on his cruise soon, and after that he’s going back to the UK, so there’s no time for anything to happen.”

“There’s always time,” I say, amused. “It doesn’t have to end in marriage. He looks like the perfect guy to have a holiday fling with.”

Her face turns scarlet. “Oh my God, Zoe! I couldn’t!”

I laugh and get up to pour myself another glass of wine. “You’re both young, free, and single. What’s the problem? Don’t you think it would be fun to hook up for a few nights?”

“Zoe, stop. I don’t want to talk about it.” She’s serious now, flustered and embarrassed.

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