“I don’t unders
tand. What kind of island is this anyway?”
“A private one.”
“Well, don’t the other homeowners—” She broke off, flustered. “What’s so funny? Damn it, what are you laughing at?”
“Isla de la Pantera is mine.”
She stared at him. “Yours? You mean, you own it?”
“Exactly. All of it, from the harbor we docked at up to the ridge and down to the sea on the other side.”
He owned an island? The idea was hard to get her head around. The truth was, everything about Roarke Campbell was hard to get her head around.
“Well, then,” she said grudgingly, “I have to be grateful to you for taking me in last night. But—”
“You came here two nights ago.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
Roarke rocked back on his heels and folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you remember?”
“No,” she said in a thin voice, “I don’t. Are you telling me I—I’ve been asleep for—for—”
“Unconscious, asleep, call it what you will. You’ve been floating in and out for almost thirty-two hours.”
The news stunned her. How could you lose a night, a day, and another night, and never be aware of it?
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked cautiously.
He sighed. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember talking with you at all, except that first night.” Her heart tumbled against her ribs. “Did I—did I say anything—anything…”
“Indiscreet?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you mean?”
“No,” she said quickly, knowing immediately that she hadn’t. Instinct told her that she wouldn’t still be here if she’d babbled about how she’d set out to stalk and follow L.R. Campbell. Even though she’d ended up with the wrong man, Roarke would not take kindly to knowing he’d been hunted. “No,” she said again, “it’s—it’s just a little upsetting not to know what you’ve said or done for almost two days.”
“Well, you’ll lose more than that if you push your luck. You have a concussion.”
“I remember you telling me that. But you said it was slight.”
“It is, compared to what it might have been. And you’ll be fine, so long as you take it easy for a week or so.”
“A week? No, that’s impossible,” she said, thinking of her flight back to the States on Monday. No. Wait. She’d been here two days? Then she’d already missed the flight!
“…indeed, impossible, but Mendoza says that’s what it’s to be.”
“What?”
“I said, Mendoza says that’s what it’s to be, and I’m stuck with it.”
Jennifer flushed. “You’re not ‘stuck’ with anything,” she said coldly as she pulled the towel from her hair and thrust her fingers into the dark locks, fluffing them away from her face. “After I’m dressed, if you’d be good enough to arrange to have a boat take me back to San Juan—”
“Oh, yeah. I’m just about to do that, aren’t I? Let you take go back to the city and suddenly develop symptoms you never had while you were here, symptoms you and some fast-talking attorney conjure up between you.”
She stared at him. “I’d never—”