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“You’re sarcastic, to boot.”
“Sorry. If I bug you that much, you might remember that I claimed this tree first.”
She stiffened and started to rise.
He caught her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll leave you to your tree,” she told him, teeth grating.
“I said I was sorry. It’s just that you came over here and started attacking—”
“I didn’t attack.”
“You accused me of…something. I just don’t know what you want from me.”
She hesitated, feeling his hand lingering on her arm. His eyes were so steady on her. So sincere.
Why couldn’t she have met him at one of her brother’s small get-togethers? At the yacht club, or on a local dive trip? Why couldn’t he have been an old school friend of someone, anyone, who could be trusted? His touch was the kind that made little jolts of electricity tease the bloodstream, and when she was close to him like this, all she wanted was to touch and be touched.
She gave herself a serious mental shake. He wasn’t one of her brother’s old school friends, and she had met him under very strange circumstances. And she seemed to be having trouble answering him, though he wasn’t pressing anything. He was just looking at her, and they were very close. Close enough so that she knew she liked the arch of his brows, the strength of his features, the way his jaw could seem as hard as a rock until his smile changed everything about him.
“Beth, seriously, I don’t know what you want—”
“The truth,” she murmured.
He released her and leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky.
“The truth?” he asked, sounding edgy again. “I don’t know anything about anything. My motto is simply to be very careful. That’s the truth. I just think you should be careful, too, that’s all.”
“Because Brad and Sandy were behaving suspiciously?”
“Because you think you found a skull—and you’re pretty much letting everyone know.”
It was her turn to be aggravated. “There you go—talking in circles again. I think I found a skull. If I didn’t find a skull, then what is there to be worried about?”
“Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.”
“Do you know you’re incredibly exasperating?” she demanded.
That rueful smile slipped easily into place again. “Do you know the line that should come after that one? Let’s see. ‘You’re incredibly beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.’ But that wouldn’t sound much like the truth to you, either, would it? And it’s probably something you’ve heard a million times before.” The fact that he didn’t touch her then, or move closer to her in any way, made his words seem all the more compelling. She felt the urge to move closer, but she forced herself to maintain her distance. She felt as if there was at least a grain of honesty in his compliment, and she doubted he was a man who got turned down often.
“Thanks,” she murmured uneasily, and looked at the swaying palms against the night sky. She worked with the public herself, knew how to smile and play a part, how to manipulate—and when she was being manipulated.
She turned to him squarely, “Actually, it sounds like the kind of line you use when you’re trying to change the subject.”
“I’ve just offered all that I can on the subject that I’d be changing,” he told her.
Her eyes fell on Lee’s yacht. “Quite a boat,” she murmured.
“A seventy-five-foot motor yacht,” he agreed. “You should have come aboard. She’s one glorious lady.”
She turned to him. “You could show her to me in the morning.”
He seemed surprised by the suggestion. “I could, yes.” He watched her curiously for a moment, a slow smile creeping over his lips. “Ah. You’re going to check her out. Look for bodies or evidence of evildoing.”
Beth averted her eyes. “No such thing. She’s a beautiful boat. I work at a yacht club.”
“So you see lots of beautiful boats.”
“I love to be able to discuss them with the members.”
He laughed easily. “You can check her out. No problem.”
“Which means, of course, that if you were concealing something, it would be well hidden,” she informed him.
“Did you study criminology?” he demanded. “Or do you suffer from an overdose of cop shows on television? If you’ve been paying attention, one more time, Ms. Anderson, it’s smart to keep out of things that don’t concern you.”
“So I shouldn’t go on the boat?”
He groaned. “You’re more than welcome to see the boat. I told you—we’re not pirates.”
“Does that mean you’re not pirates but you are some other kind of criminal, or that some people are pirates, even though you and your friends aren’t?”
“If I say good-morning when I see you and the sun is up, will you be dissecting those words, as well?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He stood, reaching a hand down to her. “Well, I suggest we get some sleep and find out,” he said.
She hesitated before accepting his hand. As he helped her to her feet, she came up against him. The length of her body brushed against his. When she was up, she remained close, thinking—hoping?—he was going to touch her.
She thought she might lose all sense of reason and reach out and touch him, place her fingers on his face.
“No line,” he said softly. “You are…like a flame. I’d give my eyeteeth to be the moth that was consumed.”
She blinked. His voice was deep, sincere, and yet he was distant. He didn’t even try acting on his words. If anything, they were wistful.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, and a dry smile twisted his lips. “I know how to pine from afar.” He hesitated. “You really don’t need to be afraid of me,” he assured her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied.
“You’re not?”
“Only a little.”
“Actually, you should be. I’m dying to touch you,” he said.
The breeze whispered. The ghosts of the island, she thought. The cool air caressed her flesh. She was tempted to step forward and tell him that she was afraid, but willing to take her chances anyway.
Just to be touched.
To her absolute amazement, she heard herself say, “Maybe you should be afraid. Maybe I’m dying to touch you, too.”
His hand rose. His knuckles and the back of his hand just brushed over her cheek. His eyes met hers. For once there seemed to be honesty in them. “You’re like a dream, perfect in so many ways.”
She swallowed hard. “Not perfect,” she murmured.
He laughed, dropping his hand, easing back a bit. “Smart, gorgeous, sexy…and good on a boat. That’s a dream to me. And I’m insane for saying this. I don’t think that I’m what you want. I don’t know if I can be.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “And now we should get some sleep.”
They stood there for what felt like forever but was probably no more than a dozen seconds.
“Still want to see the boat in the morning?” he asked.
“Yes. And I’m not a complete coward, you know.” What did she mean by that? She wasn’t certain herself.
He smiled and stepped back, and she could almost believe she had imagined a moment more intimate than any she had ever shared.
“In the morning, then,” he said, and she wondered if his voice was as husky as it sounded, or if she only wanted to think so.
“Yeah…in the morning.”
“Should I see you back to your tent?” he teased.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few feet away.”
He smiled the rueful half smile that seemed to tear away sanity. “I’ll just keep an eye on you from here,” he assured her. “Apparently you didn’t bring your pepper spray.”
She shook her head, studying him, and lifted her hands. “No pepper spray. Should I have carried it?”
He groaned, then laughed. “Good night, Ms. Anderson. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“It is a lovely evening,” she murmured.
Suddenly he pulled her close, and she thought he was going to kiss her, take her in his arms and really kiss her, and if he did, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
But he didn’t. He just held her. She felt the electric heat and force of the length of his body, not at all dissipated by the cotton between them. He brushed the top of her head with his lips, then pulled back again. “Go, go on back,” he told her.
She stepped away, staring at him.
“Trust no one,” he told her.
“Not even you?” she whispered.
“Not even me. Go on.”
Husky had been replaced by something that resembled harsh. She backed away for several steps before turning to head to her tent.
When she reached it, she turned back.
He was exactly where she had left him.
Watching.
Somehow, she knew that when she went into the tent, he would remain there, watching—though for what, exactly, she had no idea.
But he would be there through the night. Of that she was entirely certain.
Just as she was certain she was the one who was the moth coveting the flame. In her life, she had never actually planned anything the way she was planning it now.
But there was an ache inside her.
Whether she burned to ashes or not, she had to touch the fire.
HANDS OFF.
That was what he had warned the others. They had business to attend to here.
But there was the other business, as well. And that kept him thinking, curious—and determined to find out everything he could about their fellow campers.
Clenching his teeth, he reminded himself that it was no surprise that tourists had come to Calliope Key for the weekend. But he couldn’t allow anger to waylay him, nor could he allow himself any emotional involvement. All he could do was seek justice now. And put an end to it all.
Beth Anderson was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
Keith swore softly in the night.
Then he spun, instantly alert at the smallest sound.
Matt, stretching, looking as if his joints ached and he wasn’t ready to pull a shift on guard duty, eyed him cautiously.
“Quite a conversation,” Matt said.
“I couldn’t exactly force her to go back to bed,” Keith reminded him.
“She’s something, huh?” Matt said, and grinned. Then the grin faded and he shook his head. “It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want her to wind up…hurt.”
“She won’t,” Keith snapped out.
“If she—”
“She won’t,” he repeated.
“Hell of a story you told the other night,” Matt said, sounding somewhat sharp, as if the words were an accusation.
“It’s a well-known legend.”
“Did you tell it on purpose?”
Keith shrugged. “Why not? Throw it out there.”
