The young woman blinked down at the hat and sunglasses that Vincent shoved toward her. The sunglasses, she was familiar with, as she had worn them before. But this particular pair was unnecessarily large, their black, plastic rims jutting far above and below the actual confines of her eyes. The floppy straw hat was even less practical, and she turned it over in her hands a few times before leveling a frank look at her companion. "These are goofy as hell, Vince," she informed him.

The man could not keep the grin from blossoming across his face. "Sure," he agreed easily, "but they are all the rage right now. It's what everyone is wearing."

Ray's expression twisted with mild disgust, her brow furrowing, her lips pursing. "I've never cared too much about what everyone else was wearing." She clutched the hat and sunglasses in one hand, and used the other to steady herself against the rail.

Obviously. But he bit the comment back, knowing better than to risk offending Rayleigh. She had a temper that was as wild and untamed as the ocean they crossed, and more than likely just as deadly. But the topic had been breached, and he knew that he would have no better opportunity than this to give her one more request.

"You look great," he began clumsily, attempting to smooth her over before taking the plunge.

It did not work. The mechanic's piercing jade eyes narrowed. "But?" she prompted, her tone skeptical.

"But," Vincent echoed, "I don't think those clothes are really going to help you fit in either."

Every line of the mousy woman's body grew rigid. The scholar winced. And there it is, he groaned inwardly. The temper.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Now she made no effort to hide the authoritative edge in her voice. For the moment, all thought of sea sickness was lost; she released the railing, and used her free hand to jab a finger against his sturdy chest.

His hands rose helplessly, but Vincent knew he could not back down. "Look around you," he urged gently, his cool voice working to quell some of her fire. When she finally paused to do so, tearing her gaze away from the taller man, she realized that he was right. Nearly every person who roamed the deck was in what Ray considered some state of undress. They wore pants that hardly hung to the knee, and tops that covered even less than the pants. One woman who lounged a short distance away wore what appeared to be a bedazzled lingerie set. It glimmered a blinding gold beneath the bright sunlight, and attracted Ray's attention straight to the woman's-

"Not that," Rayleigh stated, with staggering finality.

Vincent followed his partner's gaze, his jaw going a little slack at the sight. He glanced away quickly, agreeing, "no. Not that."

"Not something even close to that."

He dutifully shook his head. "Not even close."

Though she still eyed him, that seemed to relax Ray somewhat. "Fine," she conceded after a moment's hesitation. "But I pick it out. And you buy."

"I would expect nothing less." The small smile returned as Vincent turned back to look across the water's glass surface. The first hazy edges of the island's silhouette were appearing on the horizon. This was going to be fun.