“What?” she asked at last.
“I was waiting to hear you beg.” He swiveled around and grabbed his beer, which was already beaded with sweat.
“I don’t beg for anything,” she said at last, lifting her chin. She grabbed her glass and turned back to the open area. When she glanced his way, she was unsettled to find him watching her again. She was still stinging from his earlier comments, not to mention the begging remark. “I suppose you think you’re some kind of hero, then. I mean, the irony of it—I push toilet paper and you save dolphins.”
“Not at all.” He took a sip of beer, scanning the crowd. “I put some of these dolphins where they are. It’s my duty to get them out.”
“What do you mean?” Despite his pigheadedness, she found herself wanting to know more about him.
“It’s a long story,” he said with a shrug.
“You’ve got a whole beer to go. Tell me.”
He glanced at that beer as if it had betrayed him. “I worked at Aquatic Wonders down in the Keys for nine years. I started as the fish boy and worked my way up to head trainer, but in between, I also went out and caught wild dolphins for the park and to sell elsewhere. That was before I realized how unhappy they were in captivity, how wrong it was to keep them from their real home. Now I’m only trying to make up for my wrongs.” He shrugged, as if it were all so inconsequential, though she knew by the look in his eyes that it wasn’t. When he reached out and took hold of her wrist, she jerked responsively. “I hope your watch didn’t get ruined when you fell in the pool.”
His fingers felt cool and wet on her wrist. Because he was leaning close, she caught a whiff of shampoo and sea air. She glanced down at her diamond watch with the steamed face.
“I hadn’t thought about it, actually.” That watch had been her treat to herself the first year she made one-hundred-thousand dollars. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He wore the kind of watch that looked waterproof to about a thousand feet. “Or you can buy another one.”
“Yes, I could do that, too.”
“What kind of car do you drive?”
She found herself wanting to lie for some reason. “A BMW.”
“I knew it.”
“What do you know, mister almighty?”
“You’re a status girl, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“A Beemer, a diamond watch, you’re probably wearing designer clothes and perfume, too. Probably even designer underwear,” he added in a low, intimate voice that shivered through her.
As a matter of fact, she was, now that she thought about it. That’s what she’d always worn, at least since her mother had married her wealthy stepfather.
“My underwear is none of your business. And so what if I am? What’s it to you?”
He shook his head lazily. “It’s nothing to me, Miz Lucy. Not a thing. Ah, you can’t help it—you’re another victim of the Great Green Lie.”
“The what?” Why did it feel as though they spoke different languages?
“Green, money, the idea that money makes you happy, and the more you have the happier you are.”
“I am happy.” She wanted to shout it out, to somehow make him see how happy she was. “I am exactly where I want to be in my life. Not many people can say that when they’re thirty. Can you?”
He lifted his chin in thought. “When I was thirty…let’s see, I was in jail.” He tipped back the rest of his beer and set it on the counter, then stood and pulled out some bills. “Have a nice vacation, Miz Lucy.”
She watched him weave around the tables and out the front door, not a glance backward or a smile to soften his words. Her fingers clenched around the glass stem on her drink. She knew what he was trying to do: throw her off so she wouldn’t talk to him the rest of her stay. And in case that didn’t work, the jail thing might even scare her off.
Well, he didn’t have to worry about that. She had no use for a man with an ocean-size chip on his shoulder. She realized then that she’d come down here to eat, and he had distracted her. She ordered ribs and people-watched as she ate.
When the bartender brought her bill, she said, “My drink’s not on here.”
“Your man paid for your drink, miss.” He shrugged, giving her a sympathetic look. “All that sex talk and begging, and he still leave. Maybe next time you should play coy.” He batted his eyelashes.
She wanted to bat him. “If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it, okay?”
He smiled. “No problem, mon.”
She merely shook her head and slid off the barstool. This was not her night for men, and that was a fact.
3
THE BAHAMIAN SUN seemed even brighter and warmer than the one in St. Paul. Especially now that fall was moving in, rendering the air crisp and the skies muddy. But here in this strange world, the air was muggy and warm even at seven-thirty in the morning.
Lucy’s heels clicked loudly across the concrete and echoed off the buildings as she made her way to the park’s office. At lunch she would go shopping for something casual. She had resolved that under no circumstances would she even glance at Liberty’s pool, but her gaze drew right to it. And right to Chris. All she could see of him was that head of curls and his shoulders gleaming in the early morning sun. Instantly she remembered his sultry words about seeing him naked. Worse, her body remembered, too, becoming hot and steamy itself. He wasn’t serious. And just because he was sexy didn’t mean she wanted to see him naked. As he started to glance up at the noise her shoes created, she averted her gaze to the wooden shutters of the office.
The air was warm and stale inside, without sign of an air conditioner anywhere. Just one old-fashioned fan that made the articles taped to the walls flutter. She propped the door open with a pink conch shell filled with cement. Once safely inside the office, she opened those shutters and peeked out over the other pools to Liberty.
“Good morning, Miss Lucy!” Bailey said in a loud, cheerful voice that made her jump.
Her fingers involuntarily slammed the shutters closed with a loud clack. She turned to his beaming face and tried not to look irritated, or worse, guilty.
“Good grief, Bailey, make some noise before coming in like that.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I jus’ wondered if you needed any help with the figures, or deciding on whether to keep the place open.”
“No, but thank you. Being left alone will be the biggest help.” She opened the shutters again, but did not look out. “I see the wicked man is back.”
“Yah, in the wee hours this morning. I t’ink the man is part fish.”
“That
