Free The Reef by Nora Roberts

lawyer?”
    “Never occurred to me,” Marla admitted. “Until I was heading on toward forty. A dangerous time for a woman. I can’t say I looked back when your father decided to retire. I did the same, and I thought I was more than content to drift with him, playing at treasure-hunting. Now seeing these things.” She picked up a silver coin. “Makesme realize we’re doing something important. Valuable in its way. I never thought to make a mark again.”
    “Again.”
    Marla looked up with a smile. “I made my mark when I had you. This is wonderful, and it’s exciting. But you’ll always be treasure enough for your father and me.”
    “You’ve always made me feel like I can do anything. Be anything.”
    “You can.” Marla glanced over. “Matthew, come join us.”
    “I don’t want to interrupt.” He felt out of his depth, and clumsy, stepping into the family unit.
    “Don’t be silly.” Marla was already on her feet. “I bet you’d like some coffee. I’ve got fresh in the galley. Tate and I are organizing our treasure trove.”
    Matthew scanned the scatter of artifacts over the table. “I think we’re going to need more room.”
    Marla laughed as she stepped back in with the coffee. “Oh, I like an optimistic man.”
    “Realistic,” Tate corrected and patted the seat on the settee in invitation. “My diving partner is far from optimistic.”
    Not certain if he was amused or insulted, Matthew sat beside her and sampled his coffee. “I wouldn’t say that.”
    “I would.” Tate dived into the bowl of pretzels her mother set out. “Buck’s the dreamer. You like the life—sun, sea, sand.” Nibbling, she leaned back. “No real responsibilities, no real ties. You don’t expect to find some crusted chest filled with gold doubloons, but you know how to make do with the occasional trinket. Enough to keep you in shrimp and beer.”
    “Tate.” Marla shook her head, muffled a laugh. “Don’t be rude.”
    “No, she’s hitting it.” Matthew bit into a pretzel. “Let her finish.”
    “You’re not afraid of hard work because there’s always plenty of time for lying in a hammock, snoozing. There’s the excitement of the dive, of the discovery, and always the turnover value rather than the intrinsic value of some small booty.” She handed him a silver spoon. “You’re arealist, Matthew. So when you say we’ll need more room, I believe you.”
    “Fine.” He realized no matter how he weighed it, he was insulted. He tossed the spoon with a clatter back onto the pile. “I figure we can use the Sea Devil for storage.” When she angled her chin, peered down her nose, he sneered at her. “Buck and I can bunk here, on deck. We can use the Adventure for our workstation. We dive from here, we clean the conglomerate and artifacts here, then transport them to the Sea Devil. ”
    “That seems very sensible,” Marla agreed. “After all, we have two boats, we might as well make full use of both of them.”
    “All right. If Dad and Buck agree, so will I. In the meantime, Matthew, why don’t you help me bring in another load from on deck?”
    “Fine. Thanks for the coffee, Marla.”
    “Oh, you’re welcome, sweetie.”
    “I’m going to have to run to Saint Kitts later,” Tate began as they started out. “To have the film developed. Want to come with me?”
    “Maybe.”
    She caught the edge to his voice and smothered a smile. “Matthew.” To stop his progress, she touched a hand to his arm. “Do you know why I think we work so well together down there?”
    “No.” He turned. Her skin was still an impossible alabaster even after weeks at sea. He could smell the cream she used to protect it, and the perfume that was salt and sea air that clung to her hair. “But you’re going to tell me.”
    “I think it’s because you’re realistic, and I’m idealistic. You’re reckless, I’m cautious. Contradicting traits inside ourselves and against each other. Somehow we make a