When She Was Bad...

“Trouble?”

“Hell, yes.” Butch began to pace. “She’s out there on a raft floating around with some ex-navy man who’s competed in the America’s Cup.”

“Sounds like she’s in good hands,” H said.

Butch whirled on him. “I don’t want her in someone else’s hands. What the hell has gotten into her?” He pounded a fist into his palm. “I want her right here in my hands.”

H said nothing. Butch badly wanted to throw something at him because he knew just what his friend and partner was thinking. “When she gets here, I’m going to tell her that.” He jabbed a finger at H. “And you’re going to handle the sailor.”

H said nothing for a moment, then reminded Butch, “Right now, we’ve got a meeting to go to.”

11

Friday, February 13—9:30 p.m.

IRENE LOOKED OUT OVER the water. It was dark, black in fact, and the moon was playing hide-and-seek behind an increasingly thick layer of clouds. But what worried her the most was that they were moving much more slowly than they had been an hour ago. No, that was an outright lie. What had her stomach tied in knots had nothing to do with the fact that they were presently stalled halfway to Escapade Island.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of super sailor,” Irene said, darting a glance at Happy.

“Even the best sailor needs a little help from the wind.”

Irene glanced up at the sails. They’d been filled before. Now they were flat. She’d already asked him if the motor could go any faster.

“Not to worry. Those clouds are a good sign. I expect the wind to pick up any moment.”

She decided to believe him. What choice did she have? He was the sailor.

“You got a plan for getting the Monet back?” Happy asked.

He was trying to distract her. All in all, he was a very nice man. How different her life might have been if at eighteen, she’d fallen in love with him. Instead, she’d fallen for Butch. “I figure I’ll locate the Frenchman, and then something will come to me.”

“If you need some help, you’ve got a volunteer.”

“Thanks. I suspect that my niece is on that island too, and she’ll help us out.”

“You think she’s on the island?”

“She was following me, and I’m assuming she made the right connection. Pepper’s a PI, a good one, and she wants to make sure the painting gets back to the owner.”

“She doesn’t trust you to take care of that?” Happy asked.

“She probably doesn’t trust Butch. And she’ll be concerned about me.”

For a few moments, the silence stretched between them. “I’m not worried about getting the Monet back. I’m a little worried about seeing Butch again.” In fact, her stomach felt like a troupe of circus acrobats was practicing in it.

Happy said nothing.

Irene let the silence stretch as she considered. The man was a good listener. She’d learned that much about him on the eight-mile hike along the beach. He rarely interrupted and he never judged or criticized. Maybe it would help to talk to him about what was bothering her.

“I’ve changed,” she said.

“So has he,” Happy said.

Irene gave a snort. “Not as much as I have. Men don’t as a rule. He’s probably still handsome. You don’t lose that as you age. I was never beautiful. But at least when I was younger, he thought I was pretty.”

“You’re a fine-looking woman, Irene. Besides, it sounds to me like he fell for more than your looks.”

“You think?”

“He sided with your parents and sent you away, didn’t he? That sounds like love to me.”

“Yeah it does, doesn’t it? I mean people make stupid decisions when they’re in love, don’t they?” Suddenly, she felt better.

“And they tend to see the people they fall in love with through rose-colored glasses.”

“Well, that should help some.” The wind suddenly picked up as if it was in tune with her spirits.

“Hang on,” Happy said as the sails filled.

Please, God, Irene prayed as the boat shot forward, Don’t let Butch be quite as stupid this time around.

AS GARI TOOK AWAY Pepper’s empty plate, she said, “That was marvelous.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Another bottle of champagne,” Cole said.

“Right away, sir.”

The moment that the waiter hurried away, Pepper leaned toward Cole. “If I drink any more champagne, I’m going to need a nap. And Evan and Jean Claude haven’t even arrived yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to uncork the bottle until midnight. I have some special plans for it.”

She smiled at him. “I can deal with that.”

She looked relaxed. That had been his plan. He had a pretty good idea that once her aunt arrived, the proverbial shit would hit the fan. His gut instinct told him that Irene would not have the Monet with her. This might be the last time they could spend like this while they were on the island.

Pepper rested her head against the back of the chair and pointed at the sky. “Look at the stars. There must be thousands up there. I never knew there were that many.”

Cole didn’t even bother to glance up. Ever since Gari had seated them at a table—the same one they’d been at earlier in the day—he hadn’t been able to look at much besides the woman who sat across from him. Lanterns were strung on the other side of the pool and around the bar, but here the illumination came from nature. And she was stunning in moonlight.

“Why can’t I see this many stars in San Francisco or in Philadelphia? I mean they have to be there, right? The galaxies just didn’t multiply overnight.”

“Light pollution. In a big city, you can’t see many stars because the intensity of the city lights blocks them.”

She rested her chin on her hands and studied him. “You’re a regular encyclopedia. Where did you learn that?”

He shrugged. “I took a wide variety of courses in college, and I already told you, I read a lot.” A glance at his watch told him that Evan and Jean Claude would arrive at any minute—if they kept their reservation.

“Why don’t we dance?” Without waiting for an answer, he took her hand and led her to the terrace above the pool bar where they’d cleared a space for dancing. The music was being provided by a local group, and the songs had catchy rhythmic beats.

As he drew her into his arms, she said, “You’re really into this date thing.”

“I’ve waited a long time.”

In a move that had her eyes widening, he swung her out and pulled her back into his arms. Then in a series of steps, he led her between other couples until they were at a railing that offered a view of the sea. She hadn’t missed a beat, and she was laughing and a little breathless as he swung her out again and pulled her back into his arms.

“You’re a good dancer,” she said.

“Good?” He made it sound like an insult. Then he twirled her out and this time he turned her in two fast circles before he drew her back.

“Where did you learn to do that? You must have taken lessons.”

“I did. When I was eighteen, I dated a dancer—Mary Jane Simonelli. She was older and she was eager to teach me everything she knew.”

Pepper met his eyes and her laugh came quick and easy. “I’ll just bet she did.”

“Of course, I’ve practiced quite a bit since then.”

He ran his hand down her back and spread his fingers over her bottom to draw her closer.

“I can see.” Her eyes had darkened, and her breath had hitched.

“I also asked you to dance because I wanted to hold you like this.” For a few minutes, he indulged himself, keeping her pressed to him and letting her swamp his senses. This was what he’d wanted to do since she’d walked out of that dressing room. In the high heels, her hair just brushed his chin. The exotic scent of the flower she wore over her ear blended with a scent that was uniquely hers—something that promised spice and heat.

He ran one hand up her back and down again and felt a tremor move through her. All during dinner he’d been imagining how the silk of the sarong would compare to her skin. The material was smooth and cool. Her skin was even smoother and hot.

The bow at her shoulder taunted him as it had all evening. An instant—that’s all would it take for him to have her out of the whisper of silk she was wearing. Minutes—that was all he needed to lead her to a secluded place on the beach. She would go with him, and he could quench the fire that had begun to build in him again. Even as the images flooded his mind, he pressed her closer, moved his hips against her.

“Cole—”

“Mmm?” He leaned down and tasted the skin at her shoulder. It was sweet, hot. And another tremor moved through her.

“This isn’t dancing.”

He drew in a breath and tried to gather his thoughts. He’d promised her a date. And hadn’t he promised himself that he would take the time to seduce her? Still, it took all his resolve to create a little distance between them. “You mean Mary Jane Simonelli steered me wrong?”