Blue Moon by Linda Windsor Page A

with it . . . you look like a woman who just spent a night of rapture in the arms of her lover. It’s enough to drive a man crazy,” he finished quietly, flipping a renegade lock of hair that had escaped her scrunchie away from her face.
    The cold, bold nerve of the man! Jeanne forced a laugh. “You are not only paranoid, Captain, but you are delusional. I look like I’ve been assaulted by a . . . a sexist bully. This is anger—no, outrage — that you see in my eyes. Our arrangement is strictly business. Don’t ever make it personal again—do we understand each other?”
    Jeanne tapped her foot, waiting for a reply, or some sort of reaction. Instead, Gabe merely stared at her. It was like trying to outstare a cat, a very big one capable of heaven-only-knew-what. Thankfully, Manolo Barrera spared Jeanne from finding out how long the contest would have lasted.
    â€œEh, capitán . . . doctora ,” the Angel ’s deckhand called out from the stern of the ship. “The engine part is here. Says the mecánico , it will make one hour before the Prospect will quit itself from Punta Azul.”
    â€œThat’s grand news, Manolo,” Jeanne answered, looking after Nemo as he bounded down to the stern deck and off the boat to greet his friend.
    â€œIf you wish to keep our relationship strictly professional, Jeanne,” Gabe hissed beneath his breath. “Then do not presume to comment on my personal business again.” He caught her arm as she started after the dog. “Do we understand each other?”
    Jeanne glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “I think so. But be aware that decisions made that affect this project must either be validated by explanation or they will be disregarded. I will not let some personal peeve interfere.” Nearly missing the first of the three steps to the stern deck, Jeanne recovered by the time she reached bottom, steady on her feet . . . to the naked eye at least. “Be ready to leave in an hour, Captain, whether Arnauld has left or not. This equipment is going to be tested today.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    â€œGood thing we didn’t go all the way to Isla Codo for this,” Stuart remarked later that afternoon. Self-conscious with Jeanne looking over his shoulder, he ran his fingers over his close-cut crop of reddish-blond hair and glared at the blank monitor connected to the magnetometer as though he could bully it into functioning.
    Feeling for the lad, Gabe focused alternately on the Fathometer and the waters ahead, instead of crowing about the decision he’d railroaded through by pointing out the logic and logistics of testing the equipment closer to base. Besides, while their postponed start was reason enough to test closer to base and avoid leading Arnauld some two hours straight to Isla Codo, he’d pushed Jeanne enough for one day.
    â€œWhat do you think the problem is?” Jeanne asked at Stuart’s elbow.
    The worst of it was, Gabe felt perfectly miserable about it. He could almost see the disappointment in those eyes that were as guileless as a newborn’s. Jeanne was smart and classy, but, as his father always said of Gabe’s mom, she wore her heart on her sleeve. And in Gabe’s zeal to protect her from a shark like Marshall Arnauld, he’d become one.
    â€œCould be hardware or software.” Shoving his glasses up on his nose, Stuart began tapping at the keys, fingers blurring over them. “I’ll recheck the config.”
    Jeanne patted Stuart’s shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that if anyone can work this out, you will.”
    His hunched shoulders fell in relief, his expression bordering idolization. Without even trying, she could make a man want to dance for her with that fascinating, childlike innocence and enthusiasm. Gabe knew exactly how the young student felt.
    From the moment that Gabe had thrown himself over the chart outside the cantina only to discover that