are your mother’s and father’s full names?”
“My mother is Margaret Jennings Eastwood. She goes by Madge. My father, I never knew. His name was Carl Eastwood. He died shortly after I was born.”
She nodded, sliding a small pad of paper and pen from her purse. Elizabeth wrote a few notes. “And the date of your birth?”
He told her.
“That makes you, let’s see…thirty-two?” He nodded. “Your mother’s current address and phone number?” she asked smoothly.
He stopped halfway into the bedroom and turned to face her, suddenly suspicious. “Why do you need to know that?”
“I’m sure she’ll be as interested as you are in your shared heritage,” she said with a brilliant smile. But her eyes shifted away from his before she’d finished speaking. He wondered if she might be concealing something he should know before giving her more information.
“If you need to speak with my mother, I’ll take you to her. What else do you need from me?”
She looked vaguely disappointed, but glanced down at her pad. Her tongue did its little lip-flick thing again. “Well…where were you born, Mr. Eastwood?”
“It’s Dan. In Baltimore, Mercy Hospital.”
She blinked, checked something she’d written a few pages back, then nodded. He sensed she was holding her breath as she asked the next question. “And have you always lived in Baltimore?”
“Until I graduated from high school. Then I enlisted in the Marine Corps. After that I took up permanent residence in Ocean City. We’ve been here ever since.”
A subtle blink of her eyes told him he must have given her a piece of information she thought valuable. That troubled him. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.
“Do you have any siblings?” she continued.
“No.”
“Not even half brothers or sisters by another father?”
Dan scowled, even more uneasy at the intimate turn of her questions. “What are you implying, Miss Anderson?”
“My friends call me Elly.” She beamed at him—all hazel-eyed innocence. Something tightened pleasantly in his stomach, and he couldn’t help smiling back despite his growing suspicion that she was setting some kind of trap for him. “It’s a simple question, really,” she continued. “These days, many families include step-kids, half siblings…yours, mine, and ours…. Women are allowed to marry more than once, you know.”
“My mother never remarried,” he stated quickly.
“I see.”
Dan wished he could get a look at what she was writing. Her pen was in constant motion now, scratching out far more than the few words of each of his responses. The sense that his privacy was being invaded in some mystifying way that he couldn’t yet understand became almost overwhelming.
“I have to change and get to that meeting,” he grumbled. “Unless you’re willing to be straight with me about what you’re really up to, Miss Anderson, this is the end of our discussion.”
Looking disheartened, she flipped the little book shut then shoved it and the pen into her shoulder bag. “I’m afraid, for the time being, anything more than what I’ve already told you is confidential.”
“Then you’d better leave,” he said gruffly. He told himself he was being an idiot, shaking off the prettiest thing that had crossed his beach in months. She looked as good indoors as she had outside in the salty air. If anything, her eyes seemed brighter, more alive than before—as if she was excited by something she had just learned.
But the meeting with his contractor really was important. And even as his libido urged him to get her phone number, his brain was warning him to distance himself from her. She was pure trouble, although what variety he hadn’t as yet figured out.
“I’ll let you know if I can tell you anything more,” she promised coolly then stuck out her hand to shake as if determined to conclude their conversation with a professional gesture, even if it had begun under less than businesslike conditions.
“Next time, maybe you’ll join me for a swim,” he suggested as he opened the door for her.
She laughed. “In November? Don’t hold your breath.”
Too bad, he thought as he stood alone in his living room a moment later, the knob still in his hand. I’d love to be the one to warm you up after a winter dip.
Elly sat in her car gripping the steering wheel, trying to compose herself. Her father would be furious with her for not getting everything out of Daniel Eastwood they so desperately needed. But things had started out badly. She’d nearly keeled over when he came up out of the water—all gleaming muscles and smooth, bronzed skin. A classic vision of Neptune in his younger years, sans trident. That skimpy red Speedo hadn’t left much to the imagination. Not much at all!
She felt a hot flush across her cheeks and brow and let out a yip of frustration. She wasn’t usually flustered by men. In fact, she’d become pretty much immune to these feelings from choice. It was her defense against getting involved. Involvement meant intimacy, and intimacy meant…
A flash of dark memory rocked her without warning. Suddenly, she could hear and see everything as it had been that night. The high-pitched cry in the night…her father’s frantic shouts into the telephone…the wretched look of helplessness on his face. And finally, her mother’s unmoving body glimpsed through the half-open bedroom doorway seconds before sirens shattered the silence in the little house.
Just as quickly as the horrible vision had struck, it passed, leaving Elly trembling, her body moist with sweat, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. She covered her eyes with her palms and drew in deep, calming breaths. “It’s over. It’s over,” she whispered until the fear slowly subsided and the pressure in her chest lessened and her brain cleared so that she could think again. Where had she been? What had she been thinking when…
Yes, she reminded herself, Dan Eastwood.
She opened her eyes and focused on the long line of gray-green surf on the other side of the sand from where she was parked. She could do this. She could do this!
Eastwood. Even if he hadn’t refused to answer any more questions, it would be torture to go back and attempt to grill him further. As long as those dark eyes rested on her, Elly knew her mind would wander to that scene on the beach and she’d be incapable of focusing on her job, and—Lord, help her—she might even fall apart as she had just now, only right in front of him. And she couldn’t bear that.
The real problem was, although she’d verified several basic points of their investigation she still didn’t have enough information to prove he was the one they were looking for.
She looked at her watch. Within a few hours, she’d have to call her father in Elbia with an update. They both knew that if she failed to find the person they were looking for within twenty-four hours, all hell was going to break loose in the international press. The London tabloid that somehow had been leaked information from the palace would reveal a scandal that might threaten the
