Tropical Depression (Billy Knight Thrillers 1)

But I guess the food was pretty good, too. We ate all of it, and I didn’t try to sneak out without paying.

After I paid we walked out along the docks. They are very solid docks and go out a good long way. We went all the way.

We admired a number of the yachts in their slips. We stopped to look at one that impressed me. It was a fifty-foot sailboat, the Warrior. Hanging off its spars I could see every electronic device in the catalog, and some I could only guess at.

Nancy asked about them, and I explained the difference between GPS and Loran and what a waypoint was, and VHF and sideband, and what digital mapping and plotting were, and how radar was used on small boats, and how an autohelm worked. And I guess I was talking a lot more than I had been, and Nancy started to find it funny and then so did I, and the two of us stood on the dock by the Warrior, hooting like loons.

Two men came out from below and stood on the deck, looking at us. They were tan and very fit-looking.

As we stopped laughing for a moment, one of the men leaned forward and took a photograph of us. The flash nearly blinded me. Nancy thought it was pretty funny. I don’t think the two guys did. Anyhow, they didn’t laugh.

We did. But we moved on, stifling our laughter as we strolled to the end of the dock.

At the end of the dock we stood and stared at the water for a while. The laughter died down and we talked about a lot of things, picking up where the talk on the airplane had ended.

There’s something about a night by the water in Southern California. Somehow it gives amazing potential and promise to whatever it is you’re doing or thinking about. Maybe that explains a lot about the area. Maybe it’s not cocaine and ego at all, but a drug made of pure moonlight and water and a breeze so dry and soft you feel it as an emotion instead of a sensation.

And maybe that explains how I was able to come so far back from the grave, back from the bad memories and nightmares and from all I had done to run and hide, and in just a few hours of Southern California moonlight come all the way back to life, to kissing Nancy Hoffman, in the moonlight, on the dock, by the water.

Nancy Hoffman kissed me back, too. A lot of people who have tried to describe a kiss usually sound like elfin dorks. So I won’t try, beyond saying it did everything a kiss is supposed to do and then some.

Nancy came up for air first. I could have stayed under, lips to lips, all night.

“Whew,” she said. “Slow down, Billy.”

“It’s too late to slow down,” I said. My lips felt tight and heavy. My whole body did, like my blood supply had just doubled.

“Yeah, well, you bet

ter try. While I can still stand up.” She ran her fingertips across her lips, then across mine. I almost bit them off. Nancy chuckled. “Billy,” she said. “Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy-boy. What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re doing it,” I told her, and dove back into another kiss. It started a little slower this time. I chewed softly on her lower lip. It tasted like fresh lemons, tart and coppery at the same time.

Sometimes you kiss someone and you’re thinking about what comes next. You use the kiss to lever open the door to other kinds of pawing and snorting.

But kissing Nancy Hoffman, all I was thinking about was the kiss. It was the most complete kiss I’ve ever been a part of. Time stopped, and nothing else mattered.

The next time we came up for air, we paused a little longer. It was pretty clear where we were headed, and I guess both of us needed to think about whether we really wanted to go there.

So we sat on a dock box, snuggled together close, and watched the ripples in the water break up the reflection of the moon. We talked some more.

“Where does all this passion come from?” she wanted to know.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess I’ve been alone awhile.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I guess I’ve needed to be.”

She looked out over the water and squeezed my hand. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

I squeezed back. “Me either. But here it is.”

“I’m not quite sure what I want.”

I reached a hand over and gently turned her chin. Just seeing those golden eyes again stopped my breath for a moment. “I know what I want,” I said.

She gave her low, honey-throated chuckle. “I’ll bet,” she said. “Let me guess.”