Free Blue Moon by Linda Windsor Page B

dropped the weapon on the faded blue indoor-outdoor carpet.
    â€œGood boy!” Gabe shoved up from the chair. “He hasn’t learned to sheath it but, frankly, I’m rather proud of his progress to date.” Taking up both mugs, he motioned Jeanne up the steps. “If we’re to have a discussion, I’d as soon have it in the privacy of the bridge.”
    â€œWhat, you think Arnauld can read our lips?”
    â€œNo, but I’d like to have some more coffee. Join me?” Without waiting for her reply, he took the steps.
    â€œWhere’s Manolo?” she called out, climbing to the bridge after him.
    â€œShooting the bull at the bait shack with Don Rudolfo.” Nemo at his heels, Gabe disappeared into the companionway leading to the galley.
    Recalling the last time she’d been in close quarters with Gabe, Jeanne opted to wait for him to return to the salon. Spying the sheath for the knife discreetly mounted beneath the cushion overhang on the captain’s bench, she used the hem of her T-shirt to grab the hilt and shove the knife into the sheath.
    What kind of a man kept a knife like this practically hidden, much less threw it for recreation? And involved an innocent dog to boot? If Jeanne weren’t so sure of Blaine’s resources for checking out Gabe, she’d be having some serious second thoughts, instead of the Lord, please make this work desperation that knotted in her stomach.
    â€œHere we are.”
    Straightening, Jeanne rubbed her hands on the terry shorts she’d donned over her one-piece swimsuit and took the steaming hot mug of coffee that Gabe handed her. As she sat on the canvas-covered sofa, she examined the rim for any remnants of lipstick.
    â€œDifferent cup.”
    â€œWhat?” she asked, clueless at first until the captain’s knowing look registered. Since he had her dead to rights, she might as well say what was on her mind. “Speaking of Pamela, I saw her leave a few minutes ago.”
    Gabe took the seat beside her and nodded to a book sitting on bulkhead. “She dropped off that book for Primston to sign.”
    If the captain was embarrassed by his errant insinuation from the previous night, it didn’t show. But Jeanne wanted it to, enough to rub it in his face.
    â€œSo you were wrong about Arnauld. He wasn’t just buttering Remy up. He actually did have the book.”
    â€œThe binding isn’t even cracked.” Gabe chuckled as she checked the lift of her coffee to her lips. “Go on . . . have a look. It’s a new copy, undoubtedly purchased after he had Genesis checked out. I tell you, Arnauld leaves little to chance.”
    With a grudging sigh, Jeanne set the steaming cup down and stepped over to the bridge where Remy’s book on the preservation of marine antiquities lay. Even as she opened the front cover, it cracked with newness. But that didn’t mean that Arnauld hadn’t read about Remy’s work. And Gabe still had no right to set the schedule of the project.
    â€œWhich is why I am not leaving Punta Azul until the Prospect has cleared the area,” he added.
    Jeanne tossed the book back on the carpeted dash. “To my way of thinking, you haven’t given me one reason aside from your obvious dislike for Marshall Arnauld to believe he is anything but what he presents himself to be—a wealthy playboy and treasure hunter on his way to Belize because he lost a bet with his two”—she did a hasty edit—“ lady friends.”
    Gabe’s fingers tightened on the mug handle, the only sign that she was getting through. “From the moment Pablo began to gather equipment for the project and make the appropriate contacts with CEDAM, Marshall Arnauld has been gathering information on you and everyone associated with this enterprise. He certainly knew enough about you and Remy to keep you two talking your heads off.”
    Jeanne eased back on the sofa, her mind