They were conchs.

He kept his speed slow while exiting the no-wake zone, then picked up as they headed out in a southwesterly direction. The sound of the motor kept them from talking much, nothing more than, “Want a water?” And, “Sure!” And then his thank-you to her as she produced the plastic bottles from the ice chest.

At last he slowed the boat; there were charters out in the area and a number of smaller craft, as well. He set their dive flag out, and went for his equipment.

She slipped into a skin, telling him that she hated running into jellyfish, and they helped one another with their tanks, rinsed their masks, held them and back-dove into the water. He had taken one of his underwater digital cameras for the day, not planning to do any professional work, but seldom without a camera.

It was good to have Katie with him.

It was good to be down.

The deepest the area went was seventy-five feet or so, but most of the reefs and the fish were found at depths shallow enough for snorkelers to enjoy the water, too.

They kept a distance of about five feet apart, and the dive was everything he’d wanted. Crystal clear water, just cool enough to be pleasant, warm enough to be comfortable. Tangs in a variety of colors shot around the reef, anemones flared and larger fish appeared as well, one giant grouper, a curious barracuda that politely kept its distance and, beneath them, a number of little nurse sharks.

Katie, in her light dive skin, hair flaring out around her, eyes large and beautiful behind her mask, made a perfect subject for quick takes with his camera. She frowned when he first started snapping, but he shrugged, and he saw her smile around her regulator.

It’s what I do, he reminded her silently.

Especially where there was such an abundance of colors. And since they weren’t deep, the sunlight penetrated beautifully. He had shot and filmed in so many exotic places. And yet, his own backyard offered some of the most enchanting underwater locations around.

He saw something in the sand and headed down, touching the granules to find a little ray nestled there, happy to move, even sit in his hand and puff as Katie joined him. He shot the little ray, and Katie’s finger just brushed a wing. But then her attention was diverted.

And it was while they were there, kneeling in the sand at about forty feet, that Katie suddenly made one of her startling and frightening changes again.

She was touching the little ray…

Then she was frozen.

Staring wide-eyed.

And she wasn’t breathing. No bubbles were escaping from her regulator.

He dropped his camera and the ray and gripped her shoulder. Her eyes met his. He couldn’t begin to understand what he was seeing in them. And those eyes of hers, framed and huge behind the lenses of her mask…

She didn’t appear to be afraid of him.

In fact…

She wasn’t afraid at all.

She suddenly looked as if she were about to cry.

He tapped her chest. She inhaled; her bubbles began again.

He signaled that they go topside. She shook her head, but he was firm. She lowered her head, and then she nodded.

He crawled up the stern ladder first, doffing his flippers and then, once up, his tank. She removed her flippers and threw them over and he reached to help her up with the weight of her tank. She stripped off her dive skin and accepted the bottle of water he gave her. He studied her, and waited for her to speak.

She sat in the cushioned seat behind the helm and said nothing.

“Katie.”

“Hmm?” She looked at him and smiled.

“Katie, what the hell is going on with you?” he asked.

She looked out at the water. She started to speak, hesitated, then didn’t. Then she looked at him. “Do you…do you believe in dreams, or hunches, or…I don’t know, the mind trying to tell us things that maybe we just can’t really understand logically?”

Like seeing an image in the sea of Tanya trying to communicate?

He shook his head. “Katie…no. Not really.”

“Experts know that our dreams reflect our lives,” she said defensively.

“I’m lost, Katie. What are you talking about?”

He didn’t want to be lost. Her hair was tousled and soaked and flying around her head, and she was just curled on the cushion, staring off. She was still beautiful. He wanted to reach out, touch her, tell her that whatever it was, it was okay.

Her legs were endless, muscled and lean, her breasts were full against the bathing-suit top. She had a belly-button ring, a little dangling silver dolphin, and it made her belly seem like the most desirable stretch of bronzed flesh ever imagined…

“I just had a dream last night, that’s all,” she said.

“Good dream, bad dream?” he asked her.

“Good dream.”

“Are you going to tell me about it?” he asked. It wouldn’t explain what had happened in the water, but it might lead to an explanation.

“I don’t want you to laugh at me-or hate me,” she turned her gaze from the sea to stare at him.

“All right. I swear, I won’t laugh at you. And,” he added, hearing his own voice grow huskier, “I won’t hate you.”

She spoke quickly, suddenly. “I dreamed about Tanya.”

He started to move; the words made him want to bolt, no matter what he had said.

“It was a good dream,” Katie said. Her hand fell on his knee.

His knee had never felt so naked. Nor had he had ever known that a kneecap could suddenly be such an erogenous zone.

“Tell me,” he said. His voice was tight.

“She didn’t know who had killed her in the dream. She did know that you didn’t do it.”

“Great. We can put that in the newspaper.”

She flushed. She looked as if she would have walked away from him-if she could have walked away.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t really believe in that kind of thing. I mean, maybe dreams are a reflection of our lives. You don’t want me to be guilty, and since I swear to God I’m not, I’m grateful that you feel that way. But…” He leaned toward her. A mistake. She still smelled faintly of her intoxicating cologne, even though she was drenched in salt water. She seemed to emit an aura of warmth that lured him closer, or made him want to drown in touching her.

He eased back. “Katie, last night was scary. And freezing like that when you’re diving, well, that’s damned scary. Why did you freeze in the water?”

She looked away again and chewed on a thumbnail. She shook her head. “It won’t happen again,” she told him.

“Katie-”

“Sorry. I believe in dreams. And it’s nice. She loved you-in my dream. She knows that you’re innocent-in my dream.”

“She’s dead,” he said bluntly.

“Yes, she is. But I dreamed about her.” She inhaled. “And then I saw her in the water. Not in a bad way. She’s trying to help.”

“What?” David said sharply. What was this? Was she taunting him somehow? Torturing him. Foolish, it was long ago. His heart had hardened.

Not enough, maybe.

She wasn’t taunting him. Maybe it was worse. Maybe she was just crazy. He didn’t want her to be crazy. He cared about her…far too quickly, and far too deeply. He needed to remain rational.

“Katie, I am a big believer in the power of suggestion. And with everything going on…”

He let his voice trail with its own logical suggestion.

“Yes, that’s it, of course. It’s nice, though, that this kind of power of suggestion is a good one-the images I’m seeing in my crazy little suggestible mind seem fond of you, hurt for you.”

“Katie, look, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

She looked at her watch, all business all of a sudden. “Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry. It’s gotten so late. We need to head back-I have to get to work. I ruined your diving day. I’m so, so sorry.” She was sincere and contrite. And she didn’t seem to be really angry with him.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not,” he told her softly. And he did touch her. He touched her cheek, and he met her eyes, and he realized that whatever it was that made a man attracted to one woman and not another, he had just found it in Katie. He wasn’t just attracted. He was entwined.