Love on Loch Ness (2 page)

Gail thought back to the blood-curdling noise she'd heard earlier. There had to be a logical explanation: hoaxers, farm equipment, or tectonic plates moving… something.

Flynn started up the stairs. "Come with me. I'll show you to a spare room where Tom's been keeping his equipment. You can stay there, and I'll help you get set up."

"Thanks." Gail followed Flynn up the stairs to the second floor.

Flynn pointed to the room at the top of the stairs. "This one's my room, and the one beside it is Tom's. Although, you may not want to go in there because of the smell."

An eerie queasiness in her gut forced her to glance down one more time at Tom. He was still staring at that statue like Nessie was his idol. Something about his eyes bothered her. Somewhere she'd seen the man before. Maybe in some cryptozoologist article her dad had read?

Crazies. They're both off their Scottish rockers.

What had she gotten into? Could she stay here with these two men? The way Tom leered at her, then stared greedily at an image of something that didn't even exist seemed a little too overzealous. Good thing Flynn made up for Tom's weirdness by being both charming and hot.

But when she thought about what Flynn stood for, her attraction to a dreamer just like her father made her want to run screaming for those highland hills.

Ripples

Flynn started the motor in his cabin cruiser and the rush of adrenaline flooded his limbs.

This is it. This time I'm going to find her.

He'd been looking for Nessie all his life, and now he had two professionals to help him. Tom had excellent equipment, and Gail was a true marine biologist, not to mention the fact she'd be utterly gorgeous if she let down her ponytail, took off her round spinster glasses, and got rid of her closed-minded attitude.

His hands tightened on his camera.
I'll make a believer of her.
He had to if he was ever going to find Nessie in time.

Footsteps stole his attention, and he peered through the smudged cabin windows. Gail stumbled down the dock, carrying two large cases.

Where did she think they were going? The Loch Ness Hilton?

Flynn put down his camera and ran outside to help her. Tom leaned on the front railing, staring at a clump of peat moss floating in the water.

Wake up, man, there's a woman in need.
Geez. Where was chivalry in the modern world?

Passing by Tom, Flynn jumped from the boat onto the dock just as Gail reached the railing. "I'll take that."

She seemed reluctant to give up the cases. "Be careful."

"Of course." Flynn's hands touched hers as he took the handles, and connected with her smooth, cool skin. His heart beat a little faster, and he couldn't tell if the palpitation was from her touch or the extra exertion. The cases must have weighed sixty pounds each.

Tom spit into the water. "This isn't Gilligan's Island. It's only a ninety-minute tour."

"It's not for me." Gail shot him an icy look, her brown eyes hardening. "It's my equipment."

"Of course." Flynn tried to smooth over Tom's crude candor. He could be a real ape when we wanted, but L-PIB had insisted the videographer was the best man for the job. A friend of Tom's had called the agency, insisting he had "murky water" experience — whatever that was.

He set the suitcases down and gestured for Gail to take his hand. "Glad you could join us."

She gave him an uneasy look, as if he was the enemy, then slipped her hand into his. "You may not be so glad when I find proof of people faking Nessie's existence."

Flynn's heart broke all over again. How could such a beautiful woman have no imagination, no faith? Worse yet, if the marine biologist was right and she added fuel for the skeptics concerning the existence of Nessie, not only would he be out of a day job, but the truth would break more hearts than his.

Tabitha.

Flynn pushed thoughts of her from his mind. He wouldn't be able to concentrate if he kept thinking about how he was out here for her, chasing a wild dream. Flynn had to keep believing.

"You've got quite the surprise coming to ya, sista," Tom muttered under his breath and left for the cabin on the boat, as if he couldn't stand to be on the same deck as a nonbeliever.

Gail bristled, sending lasers at his back.

Flynn patted her on the back. "He's a rough-mannered guy, but I'm sure he'll grow to like ye as he gets to know ye."

"No thanks." Gail stepped away from his touch. "I'm just here to do my job. Not make friends."

"O-kay." Flynn raised an eyebrow in disbelief, then turned away to hide his disappointment. Somehow, being hard to get only made him like her more. He was a cryptozoologist. Mystery lured him, and Gail was a puzzle he wanted to solve. Something drove her to create such a hard exterior, such blatant skepticism. What was the secret behind Gail Phillips?

Watching Gail set up her equipment from the corner of his vision, Flynn untied the anchor to the dock and jogged to the controls in the cabin. The motor hummed as the boat slowly backed into the open water. The rise and fall of the waves under his feet made Flynn feel as if he was home. He'd spent thousands of nights just like this, scouring the lake waters and watching the stars twinkle like ambivalent observers or eager cheerleaders egging him on. The atmosphere depended on the night and his mood.

Low clouds on the horizon obscured the sunset, bringing on the gray twilight sooner than expected. A full moon peeked through the clouds and hung in the sky like a silver coin, reflecting on the black waters. Flynn maneuvered to the center of the inlet by their cabin, from which the strange, guttural calls most frequently emanated. He dropped anchor, casting his boat lights on the waters. The cool night air gave him an exciting sense of anticipation as he joined Gail at her equipment.

"So you're a captain as well?" Gail looked him up and down with what appeared to be a new level of respect.

"I run tours on Loch Ness. This is my boat, the
Nessie
."

Gail glanced at the wind-battered paint crusting on the cabin and the cracked wood under her feet. He expected some sort of wisecrack, but instead she smiled. "I like it. It's got character."

Makes sense a marine biologist would like boats.
Flynn shrugged as his neck grew hot. "Gotta do something to pay the bills."

"I have a boat too. It's a forty-two foot power boat. I bought the vessel with grant money to research the effect global warming has on the reproductive patterns of tuna." She pursed her lips. "Can't steer it, though, so the dead boat sits in Boston's Back Bay. The captain I hired just quit."

Was Gail hard to work for? Was he an ex-boyfriend? Flynn leaned on the railing as if this were just small talk when he was truly interested in getting to know more about her. "Why'd he quit?"

Gail flipped a switch and the screens on her equipment blinked to life. "He retired."

"Oh." An older guy. Not a boyfriend. Somehow, he was placated. "So, what's all this stuff?"

"Sonar and camera equipment." She pointed to a torpedo-shaped vessel the size of his leg. "This is a high-quality drop camera system. It'll take pictures of the bottom."

Flynn's eyes widened.

Gail held up a finger. "Don't get your hopes up. Because of the rotting vegetation, I doubt we'll capture anything exceptional."

Flynn had struggled over the years to photograph anything because of the peat moss. He'd tried a slew of underwater cameras in his day. "If you don't think anything is down there, then what are you looking for?"

"Fake fins, plastic humps, any proof of hoaxers." She moved to a box with a small screen. "This is a digital sub-bottom transmitter. The device can send out and receive sonar echoes."

"You mean you can talk to Nessie?"

"Or whatever else is down there, yes."

Flynn traced his finger across the screen. "That does seem helpful."

"Only if something's there to talk back. I've used the sonar waves on dolphins before, but never a mythical creature."

"She'll talk back. Nessie's lonely. She's the last one of her kind."

Gail stopped fiddling with the buttons and put both hands on her hips like he'd just told her the tooth fairy would leave a coin under her pillow. "How do you know?"

Flynn shrugged and gave her a wicked smile. His answer would rile her. "Just a hunch."

"A hunch?"

"Yup."

Gail took a deep breath. "The first recorded sighting was in AD six hundred sixty-five by the Abbot of Iona who claimed to triumph over a water beast in the River Ness. Sightings have been recorded ever since; in nineteen thirty-three by a local water bailiff and from nineteen sixty to nineteen ninety-one on the British Waterways' converted icebreaker tug,
Scott II
, which carried tourists on cruises."

"Yeah I've heard of all of 'em."

"What I'm trying to say is, Nessie couldn't possibly be that old. It's more likely a species of undiscovered fish, or a large strain of pike or Atlantic salmon. Maybe there are a bunch of them swimming underwater right here, right now." She dropped the drop camera into the water and it disappeared almost immediately, swallowed by the inky surface.

She'd done her homework, that was for sure. Too bad she was blinded by her scientific prejudices.

"There's only one. I can feel it."

"Well, I'm standing right next to you and I don't feel a thing."

Ow.
That hurt. Right like a jackhammer to the central aorta.

Flynn must have cringed because Gail gave him an apologetic smile. "I'll turn the equipment on, and we'll see."

They locked eyes. Did Gail hide her hopes as well under that tough scientific rigidity?

"Got something here." The urgency in Tom's voice grabbed their attention and they rushed to the opposite end of the boat where he stood filming with a handheld video camera. He'd also positioned cameras all over the boat in each direction, taping them to the railing, the cabin, and secured tripods.

Hope rushed through Flynn's chest. "What do you see?"

"Waves." Tom pointed to the water. "No boat."

Ripples, followed by larger waves, hit their boat and caused them to rock. All three of them grasped the front rail.

Gail's face paled, and Flynn repressed the urge to comfort her. She wouldn't like that one bit.

Her hands tightened on the rail. "Could be caused by the wind."

Tom licked his finger and stuck it in the air. "What wind?"

Gail scanned the horizon. "Or another boat."

Tom spread his hand, indicating the water around them. "Do you see another boat?"

"It's dark. In calm conditions like a lake, waves persist much longer than in the ocean."

Tom gestured to Flynn. "Check the radar."

Flynn ran back in the cabin. The radar was clear. Not a single canoe or kayak. Eager not to miss anything, he joined them back at the railing. "No boats."

Gail swallowed stiffly. "The wake of a boat can persist for up to thirty minutes if it's crossing another wake, and the constructive interference produces a large hump of water."

Tom took his eyes off his camera long enough to glare at her. "What? Are you an expert on waves?"

"As a marine biologist, I've seen my fair share."

Flynn held up his hands. "Okay, guys, let's break it up. Focus on the water. See if you can see anything."

The waves smoothed back to the calm, glassy surface, reminding Flynn of black ice. His hopes disappeared along with the ripples. Tonight would be like every other night on the lake. Just enough hints to keep him going, but not enough to satisfy his curiosity or bring any evidence back to Tabitha.

Tom settled into a plastic viewing seat and Gail sat on the opposite side. Flynn chose to sit with Gail. He leaned back in the chair as much as he could and stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles.

So many questions sat on the tip of his tongue. He turned toward her. "What is it? Why don't you want to believe?"

Gail crossed her arms. "It's not that I don't want to believe. I want the truth."

Her eyes held fear. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

They sat on the stern for almost an hour, watching for any ripples in the water. Flynn wanted to ask Gail a few questions, but even a whisper might disrupt the silence and scare Nessie away.

Gail started to lean forward more and more until she slouched sideways against him, resting her head on his shoulder, sound asleep. It had been so long since he'd had a woman sleep against him. Sparks crackled inside him, stoked by the light, rosy scent of her hair. She looked so peaceful once her eyes were closed. Flynn had the urge to kiss her freckled cheek.

"Quite a layover from Boston, eh?" Tom's snarky voice made Flynn jerk up, waking Gail.

Gail rubbed her eyes and repositioned herself away from Flynn. "The layover's a killer. I'm still adjusting to all those hours I lost."

Flynn's pocket vibrated. He pulled out his cell and checked the caller. Tabitha. Now wasn't the best time to talk with Gail and Tom present, so he shut it off, feeling a jab of guilt.
I'll call her back as soon as I get to shore.

"Well, it doesn't look like we're going to find anything else out here tonight, and Gail needs some rest, so I say we call it quits." Flynn stood and walked to the cabin just as a mournful call erupted over the water, rumbling the coffee he'd drunk an hour ago.

Flynn whirled around. Gail's eyes were as wide as two full moons. She sprinted to her equipment and read the screen. "It's coming from underwater, to the north."

Tom whispered, filming back and forth across the waters. "I can't see anything. Should we get closer for a better shot?"

"And scare it away! No way." Flynn turned to Gail. "Can you send Nessie back a message?"

Gail's gaze was glued to the controls. Her fingers flicked over the buttons. "Sure."

A sound much higher than the mysterious call reverberated underneath them. Gail whispered, "It's the call of a bottlenose dolphin. It's the closest sound I could find."

A long moment of silence passed as they waited for a response. Flynn squeezed his hands into fists and closed his eyes.