to drive to the club. She waved to the guard, parked, then ran up to her office and printed off the design she wanted.
She started down the stairs, ready to head out, when she paused, catching a glimpse of someone she shouldn’t have.
Or, at least, someone she wouldn’t have expected to see.
Not where he was. And with whom.
She didn’t go into the dining room. She didn’t need to. She could see just fine from where she was.
It was set for breakfast. In the morning, the restaurant manager used the colors of the flag—red, white and blue—and napkin holders in the shape of a captain’s hat. Seated at the table nearest one of the paned doors—open that morning, in honor of the beautiful weather—was Amanda Mason. She wasn’t there with her father, or either of her cousins.
Breakfast that morning was a buffet.
So was Amanda.
Keith Henson had apparently come for the buffet, too, though which buffet, Beth couldn’t be quite certain. To his credit, he had food in front of him.
He just didn’t seem to be eating it. Amanda was talking animatedly. Keith was listening. He was smiling; she was laughing.
There was a dress code in the dining room: shoes and shirts, cover-ups for all bathing attire.
Amanda had followed the code, but just barely.
She seemed to be spilling from the bathing top she wore. Literally. True, she had on a cover-up, but it was sheer gauze.
Belinda, one of the breakfast servers, paused next to Beth.
“You should see the bottom.”
“What?”
“Amanda Mason. Her bathing suit. You should see the bottom. Or lack thereof.”
“A string?” Beth inquired, surprised. They frowned on such things at the club. This was a family place.
“A two-string. A one-inch square piece of fabric in front and another in back. The strings are on each side. Want coffee? Are you having breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’m out of here,” she said, flashing Belinda a forced smile. “I have plans.”
“That’s right, it’s Saturday. You’re off. I guess we’re all used to you working so much overtime.”
Beth shrugged. “It’s not always work. When Ben and Amber are here, I’m just hanging with the family.”
Suddenly, she realized that Keith had turned, that he’d seen her. Was watching her.
But he remained with Amanda.
“Well, have a good day off,” Belinda said.
“What?”
“Have a good day off.”
“Oh, yes. Thanks.”
She hurried back out to her car, her head reeling. Once she was behind the wheel, she couldn’t quite put the car in to Drive. She just stared out through her windshield.
What the hell was he doing? He hadn’t just run into Amanda. He had said last night that he had plans in the morning. Amanda had been his plan? Then why come to her house?
She gritted her teeth. Maybe she was just mistaken about chemistry and some ridiculous inner sense of honor and decency. She didn’t really know him. It wasn’t as if he’d gone out of his way to seduce her. She couldn’t actually blame him for anything. She had wanted him.
Angry with herself, she started to drive.
Her radio was tuned in to one of the local stations. The hosts were doing a segment called “Dial a Date.” One DJ was telling callers to check out the “hotness” of their female guest on the Internet. Then one of the men dialing in asked her about her sexual experience. The guest purred that she knew what she was doing, and yes, if the guy was right—and the dinner good—she definitely slept with a man on the first date.
Beth was pretty sure the phone lines at the radio station were about to start ringing off the hook. She began to wonder if the entire world had come to think of sex as casually as they did breathing. Was that Amanda’s take on it?
Was it Keith’s?
Worst of all, was the whole thing about something unique, special and honorable—and sheer chemistry—all in her own mind?
MATT WOKE WITH A START. Alone.
He sat up, and his head started spinning. He felt ill.
“Amanda?”
There was no response. He leaped up, then staggered, holding his head between his hands. Sweet Jesus. Had he really had that much to drink? They’d hit the Jack Daniel’s on arriving…and she’d been with him every second. Aggressive, exciting, quite possibly the most purely carnal experience he’d ever had. Pushing him down, crawling on top of him…
“Amanda?”
He made his way out to the galley. She’d left coffee on, but no note. Matt reached into a cabinet for something to kill the pain. He swallowed six caplets, drank a glass of water. His head was still spinning. He leaned against the counter, fighting the sensation. He needed coffee, a bagel, something.
He didn’t bother to toast the bagel but ate it almost savagely. After a few minutes, his brain began to kick in.
He swore and went topside, where his voice rose as he cursed to the morning sun and the sea.
She’d taken the tender in.
He hurried back down to the cabin and searched it arduously. Nothing seemed disturbed. Nothing at all.
Still swearing, he judged the distance to the mainland, dressed in swim trunks and a tank, then went topside, furious with both the woman, and with himself.
He’d been had. Big-time.
He hit the water, glad the sea was smooth that day. As he swam, the salt, sun and sea began to clear his head.
But dull torture remained.
Did he tell the others?
“I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU ALL have decided to visit civilization for a while. Although…” Amanda smiled knowingly. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”
“You expected us?” Keith asked, smiling back. He didn’t need to lean in close. Amanda had taken care of that all by herself. She was at a table but somehow nearly on top of him. There was no way out of the fact there was something naked and almost primeval about her raw sex appeal. She practically reeked of female hormones. She’d had money and position all her life, plenty of time and opportunity to hone the “bad girl who could do whatever she wanted” image.
So
