Page 3 of Researching the Pole

“Uh, Grant… where’s the second bedroom?”

“Only one bedroom, Doc. But the second bed is coming. Some shipping delay. Don’t worry. By the time we’re back from the scouting, it will be there.”

We were going to share this tiny bedroom? And a bathroom?

Shit.

2

Chapter 2

Thirty minutes later, I was sipping my third cup of tea and watching Grant rewire my brain. He moved with such purpose and confidence that the simple act of opening the zipper of his luggage made me think of him as Superman.

Or more realistically, it was just me. I was slowly losing my mind, apparently.

“First things first,” Grant said, pulling our dive gear from his luggage. “Let’s talk protocols.”

I nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of how his big hands grabbed all the stuff and laid everything out on the cabin floor with methodical precision—drysuits, thermal layers and the paraphernalia.

“I know you’ve got your twenty-five dives and dry suit cert,” he continued, checking the seals on the suits. “Of course you’d need that to be approved for this expedition, but Antarctic conditions are exponentially extreme, Doc.” He raised his head and looked at me with a smile. My stomach tightened. “Don’t mean to be patronizing. As your dive partner, it’s just my job to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

He was not being patronizing at all. But the fact that he cared about it was surprising. The image I had of him in my mind all these years didn’t really match with who he was. He used to be so cocky. So arrogant. He hardly spoke to me back in high school.

“I appreciate it,” I replied. “I’m a scientist first. I’ve only had my diving experience in cold water. All in preparation for this trip.”

He nodded and went back to his efficient preparation ritual. “Water temp hovers around twenty-eight degrees. Your body has maybe ten minutes before hypothermia sets in if something goes wrong. Again, this is not to make you panic. It’s to make sure you’re aware of the limits.”

He straightened and kept talking while he pulled his thermal shirt over his head in one smooth motion. My brain stuttered to a halt.

“We’ll do a shallow dive today. Thirty feet max, thirty minutes bottom time. Just to give you an idea of underwater conditions here. I saw that in your paperwork you’d requested that.”

He kept talking—something about buoyancy compensation and air consumption rates and checking for seals before diving—while casually stripping off his pants.

I fought to keep my eyes on his face. This was normal. Professional. Just a guy changing clothes to get ready for his job, Adrien! I was not looking down to check him out. Nope.

Except Grant Reeves was standing three feet away from me with absolutely nothing on except his underwear, and my mind had gone completely blank. His body was—holy hell, he was built like a ram who could somehow also do ballet. And I had apparently turned into a fucking poet now.

I stared at his broad shoulders, the way his abs flexed, the ripple of muscles on his powerful thighs. Was this normal? Should I be this decimated by a man changing in front of me? I mean, I did have a teeny tiny boy-crush on him when we were in high school, but didn’t everyone else? He was one of those people everyone crushed on!

With his back turned to me, he stripped off his underwear. I stared determinedly at the back of his head. His neck. His shoulders. Not at the curve of his—nope.

Panicking at 100% now, I shut my eyes and started cataloging marine mammal anatomy in my mind. I heard the rustle of fabric and knew he had pulled on the specialized thermal underwear. He was still talking like nothing was happening. “As you know, Doc, the key is layering—”

I made some kind of sound that I hoped conveyed agreement.

“You okay, Doc? You look kinda frozen.”

My eyes snapped open, and before my brain could do anything, my gaze dropped for just a second—completely involuntary—and I caught sight of the very obvious outline straining against the thin material.

And, oh, my lawd. The curve of the pole trapped in his underwear was suddenly so much more interesting than the South Pole that I’d dreamed of visiting all my life.

“Doc?”

Shit! I looked up into his eyes, attempting nonchalance, but judging from the expression on his face and the way he stopped mid-motion, I think I was failing spectacularly at subtle. He tilted his head, looking amused.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Just… processing the protocols.”

“Hmm.” His lips slowly spread into a teasing smile. “Yeah. First Antarctic dive can be intimidating.”