“On occasion. He is also involved in . . . I suppose you would call it environmental protection.”
“And that‟s what you do?”
“Yes. Marine protection, exploration, and salvage.” Morgan‟s eyes gleamed. “Amazing the things one finds underwater.”
Zack‟s fork clattered.
Liz felt control of the conversation slipping and grabbed for the serving dish. “More chicken?”
“Thank you.” He took another leg, some rice, the last length of sausage.
Even Ben, before his health failed, hadn‟t attacked his food like this.
Liz watched Morgan heap food on his plate, aware she hadn‟t cooked for an adult man in a long time.
Morgan looked up and smiled, his teeth very white. “You have stirred my appetite.”
Her breath snagged in her throat. She was light-headed. Dizzy. Dismayed.
This man was not Ben. And the hunger he stirred in her wasn‟t anything she should feel. Certainly nothing she could
satisfy.
“This was one of Ben‟s favorite dishes. My husband, Ben.” She grabbed her wine to steady herself.
“Then I am honored you prepared it for me. I expected you to serve seafood. Lobster.”
Liz choked.
While she reached for water and a napkin, Morgan turned to Zack. “What did you do with them?”
Zack jerked his shoulder. “He took them. The cop.”
“Frustrating,” Morgan observed.
“Whatever.”
“Unless you can get more.”
Liz stopped her frantic blotting of the tablecloth. Zack regarded Morgan through his lashes and said nothing.
“Where did you find the lobster?” Morgan asked.
Liz held her breath.
“In the water,” Zack muttered.
“Four meters down? Forty?”
“What difference does it make?”
“None to me,” Morgan said blandly. “Though I am interested to know how you brought them to the surface.”
He was questioning her son at her dining room table. That was wrong. But she wanted answers. She was tired of battering
herself against the wall of her son‟s silence. There was a certain guilty relief in letting Morgan bear the burden of interrogation
and the weight of Zack‟s resentment.
At least he hadn‟t stomped off to his room. Yet.
“What does it matter?” Zack shot back. “It‟s over.”
Morgan‟s shoulders lifted in elegant imitation of Zack‟s shrug. “Until you do it again. Once you give in to it, that kind of
thrill is hard to resist.”
“What thrill?” Liz asked. “Stealing? Zack doesn‟t need to—”
“The sea,” Morgan said. “It‟s in his blood now.”
Zack‟s pale face flushed. “It‟s not. I‟m not . . . I did it for the money.”
Nerves roiled Liz‟s stomach. She crumpled her napkin in her lap. “Zack?”
He wouldn‟t look at her.
“If you needed money, all you had to do was—”
“I‟m too old to run to you every time I want something,” he flashed.
Liz lifted her chin. “I was going to say, „Get a job.‟ ”
Morgan laughed shortly.
Zack‟s face sagged before he shaped it into his usual scowl. “I can‟t. I have to watch Em.”
“I think today proved you and Emily would both be better off with some other arrangement,” Liz said as calmly as she
could. “Tomorrow I‟ll look into options for her. You can walk into town and see if any of the stores are hiring.”
Zack‟s chair scraped as he thrust to his feet. “That‟s bullshit.”
“Sit down,” Morgan ordered.
“She can‟t tell me what to do.”