let out a sigh. “What’s the matter with you? You never used to be paranoid.”
“I’m not paranoid.”
“Listen, Beth, we’re surrounded by people here, half of the people we know. Nothing is going to happen.”
“You scared me,” she protested. “Creeping up behind me like that. You might have made yourself known.”
“I didn’t know who you were,” he told her.
“Aha!” Beth declared. “You were worried. Admit it.”
He sighed. “Beth, nothing’s going to happen,” he responded. “Trust me, huh?”
“I do trust you,” she told him.
“Then act like it.”
“Okay.”
“Can we go to sleep now?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Beth realized that he was waiting for her to be safely tucked back into bed. She smiled and nodded ruefully, then crawled back into her own tent and into her sleeping bag, where she lay staring at the fabric above her in the deep darkness of the night.
She rolled over. It was better in that direction—the girls were still sleeping with the little lantern flashlight on.
She tried to close her eyes and sleep.
She had heard something.
Or had she? Maybe it had been only the natural rustling of the wind in the leaves. Had she simply made up something in her mind, and become truly paranoid?
Or, on the other hand, was she just being sensible?
Trust me....
She did trust her brother. He would gladly die for his daughter, she knew, and would probably do the same for her, and for Kim.
She just hoped to hell he was never called upon to do so.
She tossed again, yearning to go to sleep.
It was a long time coming.
* * *
Amanda Mason was definitely a flirt. She made a point of crashing into one of the guys every time she hit the ball.
Usually himself, Keith decided wryly. He wasn’t letting it get to his ego, since she also liked to tease Lee—she’d seen the boat, and they’d all said it was his. She didn’t much mind brushing against Brad, either, even though he was here with his girlfriend. But so far, no one had taken their makeshift volleyball game too seriously. So far, everyone was laughing.
He, Amanda, Brad, Lee and Kim were one team. Sandy, Amber, Gerald, Matt and Ben made up the other. Roger Mason sat on the sidelines, being the ref.
So far today, they hadn’t even seen Ms. Beth Anderson.
“Outside!” Matt yelled in protest of Keith’s serve.
“It was not outside—you just missed it,” he returned.
“Where’s our referee?” Matt demanded.
“Sleeping, despite the noise,” Amanda said, chuckling affectionately as she pointed to her father.
It was true. Roger had leaned back in the hammock and gone straight to sleep.
“It was definitely outside,” came a voice.
Keith spun around. She was up at last, yawning despite her late appearance. She held a cup of coffee. Sunglasses covered her unique marble-toned eyes, and she was in a bathing-suit top and chopped-off Levi’s pedal pushers.
His serve hadn’t been outside, and if she had been watching, she had seen that. He wondered why she had decided that they were enemies from the first moment she had seen him.
Other than the fact that she’d been trying desperately to hide her discovery from him.
He forced a smile. “Hey, Matt, the lady says you’re right.”
“Beth Anderson, you’re blind!” Amanda protested irritably.
“It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Beth asked politely.
“I’m going to have to speak to the commodore and make sure you don’t ref any games at the club,” Amanda said, a teasing note in her voice that was meant to hide her still-obvious dislike.
Beth managed an icy smile and an easy laugh. “You do that, Amanda,” she said.
“Aunt Beth, come play,” Amber urged.
“I think I like Roger’s idea best,” she said.
“Sure—wake the rest of us up in the middle of the night and then sleep all day,” Matt teased. “I don’t think so.”
“No, of course not, come play,” Hank urged. “And you can ref my game any old day,” he teased.
“Come on, Beth, play,” Ben urged.
“I’d make the teams uneven,” she protested.
Roger, who had appeared to be so peacefully sleeping, rose. “I’ll join in and make it even,” he offered.
He walked past Beth, smiling. “Fifty-eight, and I guarantee I can take on you kids.”
It was interesting, watching the group dynamics, Keith thought. Everyone seemed to get along fine except for Amanda and Beth.
Was Beth jealous?
Or was it vice versa? Amanda was petite, ultrafeminine. Beth seemed...
Elegant, he found himself thinking. A strange adjective, since she was in beachwear, as casual as any of them.
The teams readjusted. Beth took the serve.
It was wicked.
From the rear corner, he barely returned it. Ben caught the ball, and Roger, bless him, attempted a slam. Amazingly, Beth caught it low, setting it up for her brother, who went in for the kill.
“Point,” Beth said calmly, reclaiming the ball.
The game was neck and neck from then on. Sandy was the weakest link, but she made up for it with her good humor and refusal to give up.
Beth was a superb player, in excellent physical condition. She wasn’t just shapely, she was sleek. Perfectly toned. She played not so much to win as simply to play hard. There was a vibrance about her, a love of life, of activity, a passion that seemed to come through in everything she did and said, in the way her eyes seemed to burn like a crystal fire when they met his across the net.
