Nat Ryan grinned as Wren Collins, clad in skin-tight neoprene, adjusted the weight belt around her waist.

            “Stop that,” she said without looking up.

            “Stop what?” Nat replied, innocently.

            He’d seen Wren clothed in a variety of ways, from elegant formal to ballet tights to a swimsuit but the wetsuit gave him an entirely new appreciation for her svelte form.   She looked up at him through hooded eyes and felt a catch in her throat as she in turn admired his tall muscular body.  She sighed.

            “Okay, just this once, you may leer,” she said.

            The dive master who squatted nearby checking gauges on the tanks snorted.  He was a former Navy SEAL assigned by Agent Miller to instruct the two teenagers in SCUBA.  He’d expected typical teen attitudes but was pleasantly surprised by the tall young man’s concentration on every aspect of diving.  The girl, though reluctant, proved every bit as capable as the boy.  It was their first open ocean dive and though they had several hours with tanks in a pool it had not required a wetsuit.  Now, not far off San Diego’s Mission Beach, the cold Japanese Current flowing down from the arctic had lost only a few degrees of its chill.  He had to admit two things, the girl WAS well worth leering at and the boy was probably the most physically imposing man he’d ever met, including his buddies in the Seal team.

            “It seems the leer goes both ways,” Nat said with a grin.

            Wren gave him a blank look then one corner of her mouth lifted.

            “Yes, it does seem so,” she agreed.

            “Okay, you two, enough eye raping each other,” the former Seal said.  “Get on your tanks and get your asses in the water.”

            Nat held up Wren’s tanks with one hand as she slipped into the straps.  As she began tightening up the gear, he pulled on his own tanks.  They check one another’s gear as they’d been taught, then Nat checked the Dive Master’s as Wren pushed her curly black hair back and pulled the hood up over her head.  With her arms up like that, the SEAL had to admit she was damn hot then he caught himself.  She was also younger than his own daughter.  A moment later the three sat in a row on the gunwale of the boat and slipped on fins.

            “Just like in the pool,” the SEAL said.  “Space it out a bit so we don’t hit each other then stop at about ten feet then we’ll go down and see what we can see.”

            He’d chosen their first dive to be over the former HMCS Yukon, a 366 foot Canadian destroyer that had been sunk in 2000 to form a reef.  It was 70 feet down and had just begun to truly display the amazing colors found in these waters.   He’d given them specific instructions not to venture to close to the wreck because he didn’t want to have to tell someone’s parents their kid drown because they’d gotten caught in on a shipwreck.

            In sequence they rolled off the boat, stopping at about ten feet to let the bubbles clear.  Up top it was a brilliant June day and the sun was directly overhead providing them with enough light to see the wreck below them.  After check his charges for signs of panic, not that uncommon in his experience, he pointed down and tipped over.  Both followed without hesitation.

            Sunlight dappled the hull of the ship spotlighting the myriad of anemones that covered nearly every square foot of the wreck.  Reds, pinks, purples, lavenders, whites and even some yellow patches created a quilt work of color dotted here and there with a splash of deep purple and orange of a Spanish Shawl nudibranchs, sea slugs.  The trio moved in to within a few feet of the ship and hovered, the teens entranced by the beautiful scene.  The SEAL, waved and pointed to a brittle star as it slowly crept toward a cluster of barnacles.  Nat caught Wren’s hand and directed her attention to something.  For a moment she could tell what he was indicating then a small fish moved slightly, destroying the perfect camouflage it had adopted.  When she looked at him through their face masks she could see his childish delight in everything they saw.  She hadn’t been very enthusiastic about learning to dive but at that moment, it was all worth it.  Half an hour later they rose to the surface and pulled off their masks.

            “Either of you cold?” the dive master asked.

            Wren gave a little shake of her head while Nat grinned.

            “I’ve been surfing these waters all my life,” he said.  “I don’t even notice the cold.”

            “Well, we are further out then any sane surfer and you aren’t in swallow water that heated by the sun so start noticing the cold,” the diver said.

            “Yes, sir,” Nat said.

            The SEAL gestured for Nat to board first and as soon as he’d pulls his flippers free, the tall surfer reached down and took Wren’s hand, lifting her to the deck of the boat in one smooth effortless movement.  The diver raised an eyebrow.  Sure the girl was probably pretty light but the kid made it look like he was lifting a kitten.  By the time he’s made the deck, both of the teens had stripped off their tanks and set them in their racks as they’d been instructed.

            “You both did good,” he said.

            Wren pushed back her hood freeing the mass of black curls then pulled down the zipper of her wetsuit.  Nat helped to pull it down over her shoulders to reveal a canary yellow one piece swimsuit that looked even better on her than the neoprene.  As she stepped out of the wetsuit, the master diver set his own tanks in place and turned back to them.

            “Coffee in the thermos,” he said.  “I’ll get us underway.”

            Nat peeled off his own suit.