She’d blithely agreed to go on a nocturnal jaunt with him, the moonlight cruise a celebration of sorts, the anniversary of their six month dating mark. A record for her. It would now also mark the date of her death. At least the bastard toasted her with champagne before hip checking her off the boat with an exaggerated “Oops.” Then, he’d had the nerve to laugh when she’d asked him for help as she treaded water, incredulity not making her see the obvious at first.

It didn’t take her long to clue in, and then she unleashed a litany of curses that would have made most seamen blush. Of course, the way she screamed in glaring detail the way she’d maim him when she got her hands on him might have factored in Cameron’s decision to go through with his deadly plan-or precipitated it? She should have probably left off the gruesome details about how she’d emasculate him. But still, what other reaction did he expect given his action?

Megan heard his derisive laughter for a long time after he steered the yacht away in the dark with only the stars to guide him. Hours later-or so she assumed given the numerous scenarios she’d had time to run through her mind where she survived and got her revenge-she floated at the ends of her endurance and strength, fighting to live even though she knew she had no hope of surviving.

A large wave rolled over her head and she floundered under the water for a moment, almost giving up, too tired to care. Then she saw it.

A light!

Disbelief made her stare under the water at the bright beacon hovering just above her head. Rescue? She didn’t question the improbability of it, just strained toward the brilliance using her last ounce of strength. Her head broke the surface of the ocean and she blinked in the bright glare, then blinked again as her body began to rise out of the water. Did I die? Is this how my journey to heaven begins? Sopping wet and pissed? Not to mention she’d always expected a much, much warmer reception when she finally did kick it. A poster child for pure living she wasn’t.