There was a part of Sly Stowell that wanted to drive the woman off his boat, but he had the feeling that was a conversation that wouldn’t go quickly and he was out of time. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that he’d lose.
A part of him thought that losing to her might not be such a bad thing. His eyes were finally recovering enough from the riverine’s glaring lights to inspect her by the Well Deck red night-ops lighting.
She was a nicely built craft, trim in all the right places and generous in the others. There—
She arched one of those fine eyebrows at him and his attention snapped back to reality. He’d been admiring things that a decent man didn’t admire on a new Chief, even if she was a Steward and not a Petty Officer.
And if he didn’t get on some hustle, he was going to be late
