When She Was Bad...

The young woman behind the registration desk hadn’t batted an eye when the name on the credit card had been Pepper Rossi instead of Irene. Thank heavens, Cole had slipped into the gift shop, and so he’d missed the whole transaction.

“Enjoy.” Gari set down two scooped-out pineapples filled with pink liquid and topped with a straw and a colorful, little umbrella. Remembering what the young man had said, Pepper eyed the drink doubtfully.

“Try it. You’ll like it,” Cole said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she replied.

“And take these.” He pressed two pills into her hand.

When she met his eyes, he continued, “Aspirin. You rubbed your temples three times while you were standing in the registration line, so I got some from the gift shop.”

Oh, good, Pepper thought. Not only did the man have eyes like a hawk and truth serum at the ready, but he was going to turn out to be a mind reader too. And she’d been so hoping her luck had changed. She popped the aspirin into her mouth and took the first taste of her Island Fling.

Smooth, sweet, and tangy, the liquid slid easily down her throat, and she was very tempted to take another swallow. Then another and another.

“Dangerous,” she murmured. She’d had a similar reaction the first time she’d had a chocolate milkshake. She’d given in to temptation and drained the glass then.

And she’d had the same reaction to Cole the first time she’d kissed him. Would she find it impossible to stop when she kissed him again?

She’d automatically thought when, not if, she mused staring down into the drink. Her mind seemed to be in tune with her body on that point. Very deliberately, she pushed the pineapple away.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Cole asked.

She turned to look at him. It was a definite mistake, but she couldn’t keep her eyes averted forever. His dark hair was still windblown from the ride, and his eyes were camouflaged by sunglasses. The now almost familiar itching sensation in her palms had her clenching her hands into fists again.

If there was ever a time to pretend to be someone else, this was it. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t think it would help to try and be someone else. She didn’t think there was any way to escape this overwhelming attraction.

He took a sip of his Island Fling, then set it back on the table. But he said nothing.

In one part of her mind, she knew exactly what he was doing. Lesson number five in PI school had been on interrogating witnesses. One of the suggested techniques was silence. If the interrogator said nothing, often the person being questioned would be tempted to fill up that silence.

Cole Buchanan looked so competent, and she’d gotten herself and her family into one huge mess. Each minute she sat in the sunshine, listening to the play of waves on the nearby sand, increased her desire to tell him everything.

But she couldn’t tell him about Irene and her forty-year long-distance affair with Butch Castellano. Even if he could understand, she didn’t want to betray her aunt. Irene had never told anyone—not even her brother and nephews—about her relationship with the former criminal. Only Pepper knew about the letters they’d exchanged over the years. Irene trusted her, and Pepper cherished that trust. No one had ever had faith in her the way Irene did. She’d never known her mother, but Pepper wanted to believe that her mom would have confided in her and trusted in her the way her aunt did.

Plus, if she told Cole everything and asked for his help, how would she ever prove to her family that she was good enough to work at Rossi Investigations? And what if he didn’t understand why Aunt Irene had felt she had to steal the painting? No, she couldn’t do it.

This time she let out a sigh as she took another sip of her Island Fling. Then she set it carefully back on the table. “Nothing’s going on.”

Cole leaned a bit closer. “Liar. Let’s start with what I already know.”

She was reaching for her pineapple, but he beat her to it and placed it out of her reach. “I wanted to loosen your tongue, but I don’t want you incoherent.”

She frowned at the pineapple. “That lethal, huh?”

“According to Butch Castellano, the owner, they don’t call it the Island Fling for nothing.”

“You’ve met Butch?” That couldn’t be good, she thought. “How…how long have you been here?”

“I arrived yesterday evening.”

She frowned at him. “Gari told me there’s only one flight here a day and it gets in at noon.”

“Yeah. This isn’t the easiest place to get to. I arranged to charter a small plane right after you booked your ticket for today.”

“Ah.” Pepper’s mind was racing. Perhaps that’s what Irene had done. She glanced up at the sky. If she could just get away from Cole and make a few phone calls…

“I wanted to do a little investigating before you got here,” Cole continued.

Her gaze flew back to his. What could he have found out? As far as she knew, Butch wasn’t aware that Irene was bringing the painting. And Cole hadn’t mentioned her aunt’s name yet.

“I don’t have all the pieces, but I have enough to tell you that you won’t get away with it.”

She lifted her chin. She wasn’t sure what she would have said because the half-formed thought flew out of her mind the instant she looked beyond Cole’s shoulder. Two men were climbing the steps to the poolside café, and she recognized one of them instantly as Evan Atwell.

There was no mistaking that almost white blond hair. It had always made her think a little of Spike on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It took her a moment longer to place the tall man with the goatee and the beret as the man who’d taken the last seat on the plane.

As the two men stepped onto the terrace, she gripped Cole’s arm and pitched her voice low. “Don’t turn your head. Evan Atwell is coming up the steps from the beach. What on earth is he doing here?”

IT WAS COLE’S TURN TO frown as he studied her carefully. He could have sworn that it was bewilderment and concern he heard in her voice. With his free hand, he pulled the oversize sunglasses down her nose so that he could see her eyes. “You should know. You came here to meet him.”

Her eyes widened in what he could have sworn was surprise. “No.” Then lowering her voice, she continued, “Why would I do that?”

“Because he’s your lover.”

She frowned at him. “No, he’s not. We were never lovers. And we broke up three months ago.”

It was Cole’s turn to frown. “You’re still bringing him to your father’s Sunday dinners.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “Evan wanted to continue to see me as a friend. His mother liked me, and he’s working up the courage to tell her we’ve broken up.”

She’d broken up with Evan. And they’d never been lovers. A flood of feelings poured in, but Cole pushed them aside. There was no time to sort through them now. What in hell was wrong with Evan Atwell? he wondered. This man had dated the woman for three months without becoming her lover. He wouldn’t have lasted through one night. Hell, he wouldn’t have lasted through one kiss if the damn Monet hadn’t disappeared.

Leaning back, he studied her for a moment. Gut instinct told him she was telling the truth. She was blushing as if he’d pulled something out of her that she didn’t want to admit. His whole interpretation of the facts surrounding the disappearance of the Monet had centered on his belief that Pepper and Evan were lovers. And he’d been so sure. This threw a whole new light on the evidence.

Cole had never known his instinct to fail him. But Pepper Rossi had been clouding his senses from day one.

Pushing her glasses back up on her nose, she leaned in to him. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want him to see me.”

“Why not?”

She glanced at the two men who were making their way to the shade at the other side of the pool. “I’m not sure. It’s just so odd that he’s here. His mother’s priceless Monet has been stolen. You’d think he’d be in San Francisco, holding her hand or at the very least pestering my brothers to find it.”

“‘Of all the gin joints in all the world’…?”

“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “Exactly.”

Cole simply stared at her. This time the flood of feelings wasn’t so easily ignored. She’d never before looked at him in that easy intimate way. Come to think of it, she’d never smiled at him so openly and genuinely. He felt something inside of him opening.

“C’mon,” she said, rising.

He took her hand as he drew her toward the bar. While he settled their bill and they waited for the picnic basket he’d ordered, she kept her back to Evan Atwell and peppered Cole with whispered questions.

“Did he sit down at a table?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What is he doing?”

“Just sitting with his companion.”

“Very informative.” Pepper risked a quick look, then turned back to him.