wrought-iron railings cupped the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows from the outside. They had a little bump-out on the bottom, six inches wide at most, just enough to hold some balcony boxes that overspilled with fragrant blooms she didn’t recognize. She’d grown up in Maryland and wasn’t familiar with the flora and fauna of the tropics.
She didn’t want to step into the boxes—didn’t want dirt on her feet that might be hard to explain away, didn’t want to leave trampled flowers behind that someone might question later.
She grabbed the railing and placed one foot onto an ornamental scroll in the design. Flat, square bars would have been so much easier. She wished she were wearing anything else but a long gown. She focused all her attention on the task, balancing her weight as she leaned out over the moonlit garden.
Steady now. A tumble to the paved walkway below wasn’t in the plans. And I won’t. Not a good idea to be thinking about falling. Focus on the task. If the mission succeeded, she could erase the worst period of her life and heal the rift in her family, start new with a clean slate. To her, that was worth any risk.
“You can’t get a building permit for that patch of land. I tried before. Environmental setbacks. Same as at Pirate’s Cove,” somebody was saying in the next room.
She could see a sliver of their window and the light spilling from it, but no one stood close enough to glimpse. Not altogether a bad thing, since that meant they couldn’t see her, either. And in any case, she couldn’t have spared a hand to take a picture. Balancing on the curves of the ironwork was tricky enough already.
Noise from the garden below caught her attention. A couple strolled by, holding crystal glasses, having a heated discussion in Italian. Anita held her breath, not daring to step down from the railing, fearing that one might catch the movement from the corner of an eye. She would have looked like a jumper as she was. She didn’t need that kind of attention.
They stopped right under her window.
Diosmio.
The man fell silent. The woman kept on, breathlessly and with high emotion. Then the guy put his free arm around her waist and pulled her to him so suddenly that some of her champagne splashed from the glass. They were kissing the next second.
She felt a small pang of jealousy. When was the last time a man had touched her with so much passion?
“Zoning can be changed,” the words came from the other room, drawing her attention.
Was that Cavanaugh?
Would the couple in the garden hear him and look up?
Probably not, she decided after a second. She could barely hear as close as she was. She didn’t think the people below would catch anything but a low murmur, and even that would probably be drowned out by the general buzz of conversation filtering out from the downstairs windows that were much closer to them.
“I sure hope so, I’d hate to lose all that money,” said yet another man next door.
How many of them were in there besides the two she had seen entering?
“Some guy is coming your way.” Gina’s voice sounded urgent in her ear.
Anita glanced toward the door. There were at least a dozen rooms opening off the hallway. What were the chances that whoever was coming would come into hers? She could hear doors open and close. Whoever it was, he was looking for someone. Probably one of Cavanaugh’s friends coming late to the meeting.
She stepped off the balcony railing, anyway, just in case. And not a moment too soon. Her door opened slowly, revealing a dark silhouette.
“There you are. I thought I saw you come this way. Still alone?” Michael Lambert stepped into the path of the moonlight and strolled toward her with a satisfied smile.
She took a slow breath and willed her clamoring heart to slow. She could have been caught. “The cigar smoke was starting to bother me. I thought I would grab five minutes of fresh air and some quiet.” She watched him. Was he buying it?
He smiled like a man who did, so she relaxed a little.
“May I just say that you’re the most beautiful woman here tonight?” He stood in front of her, too close, and held her gaze. His eyes looked black in the dark.
She couldn’t remember their real color from earlier.
“Thank you.” She accepted the compliment that would have felt even better if he weren’t interrupting her surveillance. Still, it had been a while since she’d been alone with a handsome man who found her desirable and told her so.
“So what do you do on the island? I detect a lovely accent from up north.”
“Just started a new company, business consulting,” she said, and gave a few sentences worth of details. You never knew who he could be connected to.
“Impressive,” he said.
“And you?” Maybe she would recognize the company name. If he was ruining her eavesdropping, at least she could see if he might not be a possible link—maybe a way to get introduced to Cavanaugh.
“Land development,” he said.
Any connection to the real-estate deal being discussed next door? “Sounds exciting.” She smiled and tried to look fascinated. “Tell me more.”
“Heaven forbid.” He gave her another one of his sexy grins. “Boring a lovely lady is an unforgivable offense. Especially when there are so many other fascinating things we could talk about.” He unleashed a slow grin. He was a charmer and he knew it.
“Such as?” She played along.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these receptions before. Are you new to the island?”
“—going up.” Gina was saying something at the same time as Michael talked, so Anita caught only part of it.
“Relatively,” she told Michael. Didn’t matter if they got caught now. It would look like they were up here with romantic intentions. She doubted anyone would bother with them. “You’ve been here long? I hardly know anyone here.” Hint: I wouldn’t mind some introductions.
“Hardly anyone is worth knowing,” he murmured and leaned forward. “Present company excluded.”
Before she knew what was happening, Michael was brushing his lips against hers. But despite how easy this could have been, her hands came up to his chest and pushed him away, even as her brain registered how nice it was to have that kind of human contact again.
Her heart beat a confused rhythm in her chest as the door opened behind her. Michael raised his head.
Busted, she thought and turned just in time to see Brant Law, FBI agent extraordinaire, walk into the room with a disapproving scowl on his face. He was a lawman through and through, right down to his stance—a perfect fit for his name.
He flipped on the lights and the sudden brilliance of the chandeliers forced her to squint. What on earth was he doing here?
“WOULD YOU LIKE to tour the facilities and see how the project is coming along, sir?” The man’s voice was
