Cracking the Dating Code. Kelly Hunter
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reached her, but Poppy was somewhat beyond a mild-mannered reply.
‘You irresponsible, self-absorbed d—’ Poppy stopped herself just in time. Settled for glaring at him instead. He wasn’t one of her brothers. None of her business if he’d decided that death-by-misadventure was his preferred way to go. Besides, she was only here to deliver a message. And get him off the island. An action that, given the nature of the message, could prove remarkably easy. ‘Hi.’
‘What was that?’ he enquired smoothly. ‘I didn’t quite catch the last D word and now I’m all curious as to what you didn’t say. D for daredevil? D for drunk? Although I’m not, you’ll be pleased to know.’
He stood before her and dared her to pass comment. Man, his mouth, his fish and a lazy, teasing glint in his eye.
‘D for dog? Dirty dog? Because I’d argue that I’m probably quite clean right now. Briny fresh. Or is it the spear fishing you object to?’
‘I don’t object to you catching lunch. Watching you become lunch, on the other hand, is a little too out there for me.’
‘You mean the reef sharks?’ He glanced behind him and there they were. ‘Honestly, Poppy, they’re harmless. Puppies of the sea.’ He’d called her Poppy. Somewhere along the way that bit registered. Puppies and Poppies. Too many P’s.
‘They like sea urchins best,’ he said next and offered up a crooked smile. ‘You want to feed them?’
‘Feed them?’ She knew she was looking at him as if he was mental. That was because he was. ‘Feed them?’ He was dragging her attention away from her point. Points in the plural, actually, for she had several of them to make.
Poppy pointed to where the coral beds met deeper water and waited for the shadow and the fin to reappear and sure enough it did. No darting about for this dorsal fin, or the tail fin that followed some distance behind it—just the slow, smooth glide of a very accomplished predator. ‘You planning on feeding that one too?’
Seb’s eyes narrowed. The black-tipped reef sharks decided it was time to depart.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Not that one. That one’s just passing through. Thanks for the call out though. Appreciated.’ He pondered the mysteries of the unknown shark for a little bit longer. ‘D for dead in the water?’
‘Maybe,’ she murmured as the just-passing-through shark ventured into the shallows. Close enough to make out the shape of him, and the dark stripes across his back. A four-metre-long tiger shark, give or take a little refraction error on account of the water. She could be calm now that Seb was out of the sea. Calmer, at any rate. ‘Big, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Ever thought about stretching a nice little shark net across the mouth of the cove?’
‘Not ‘til now.’
The shark was moving slowly away, cruising the far shallows and finding nothing of interest. Sharks were very distracting. Time to get back to the point. The other point. ‘Wendy rang. She wants you to ring her back. She said, and I quote: “There’s a jackup leaking oil and gas in the Montara field.” It’s been evacuated and she’s getting more details from the parent company. Is it just me or is that shark looking for something?’
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