head and looked away.
“You just don’t trust me.”
“No, I don’t.” She let out a sigh.
He laughed. “By the way, what happened to your brother’s friends?”
“Pardon?”
“The guys who were supposed to be joining you. You know, the great big lugs who can open beer bottles with their teeth.”
She stared at him with a deep frown, having no idea what he was talking about at first. Then she remembered what she’d said when they met.
“I guess they got...sidetracked. They’re not coming.”
“And they never were.”
“Okay, so I don’t trust you much now and I certainly didn’t trust you at all when we first met.”
He looked forward again and spoke softly. “Well, we’re not pirates, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t suggest you were pirates. Pirates belong in ghost stories.”
He shook his head, looking her way again. “No. Modern-day pirates are very real. Ask your brother. Sail in the wrong direction and you’re asking for trouble. Think about it—the sea is vast. You can be close to civilization, but on the water, far, far from help. Don’t ever think of pirates as being something from the past!”
She frowned, surprised that he had spoken with such passion.
“Pirates, because of the drug trade?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Pirates because some men will always covet what other men have.” He watched her intently, then turned away again. “And pirates because sometimes what another man has is knowledge that’s worth its weight in gold.”
The way he spoke sent shivers down her spine. She was sitting close to him, not touching, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stumble quickly to her feet and say good-night, or move closer into the aura of his warmth. He was definitely a compelling man, built like rock and steel, with his strange easy smile and chiseled features. And chemistry.
She knew she should be drawing back just because she wanted to move so close. She realized in shock that she was envisioning sex with the man.
Not a good thing when she didn’t trust him at all, much less what was happening here on the island.
He seemed to be warning her again.
“Go back to your life tomorrow. Forget anything you might have thought while you were here. And for God’s sake, don’t talk about it,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “You’re very scary, you know.”
“Am I?” He looked away again. “I don’t mean to be. It’s just a good thing not to get involved.”
“A good thing how? And involved with what, exactly?”
He let out a sound of impatience, flicking at a few grains of sand from his knee. “You’re trying to make a mountain out of a molehill,” he said, shrugging. “Just leave it alone. When you dig for one thing, you may find something else that you don’t expect—or want.”
The breeze seemed to grow chilly. She was silent for a moment. “Just what is it that you know, or at least suspect? Why were you so determined that Brad and Sandy shouldn’t see us today?”
He groaned. “There you go. I don’t know or suspect anything. Hey, I’m a diver, remember? I like the sea, the sand, the wind...going down deep where it’s peaceful and calm and the world doesn’t intrude. I like fishing, islands, Jimmy Buffett and the easy life. So I keep out of things that don’t concern me. And that’s what I’m strongly advising you do, too.”
She stared back at him, shaking her head. “You’re talking in circles, and the strangest thing is, no matter what you say, I don’t believe you.”
“Oh?” He arched a brow, features slightly tense, then easing as he offered her a rueful grin. “Is that a challenge? Or an accusation?”
“Neither. I’m just saying that I don’t trust you.”
“How amazing. I never would have realized—especially since we’ve just discussed that fact.”
“You’re sarcastic, to boot.”
“Sorry. If I bug you that much, you might remember that I claimed this tree first.”
She stiffened and started to rise.
He caught her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll leave you to your tree,” she told him, teeth grating.
“I said I was sorry. It’s just that you came over here and started attacking—”
“I didn’t attack.”
“You accused me of...something. I just don’t know what you want from me.”
She hesitated, feeling his hand lingering on her arm. His eyes were so steady on her. So sincere.
Why couldn’t she have met him at one of her brother’s small get-togethers? At the yacht club, or on a local dive trip? Why couldn’t he have been an old school friend of someone, anyone, who could be trusted? His touch was the kind that made little jolts of electricity tease the bloodstream, and when she was close to him like this, all she wanted was to touch and be touched.
She gave herself a serious mental shake. He wasn’t one of her brother’s old school friends, and she had met him under very strange circumstances. And she seemed to be having trouble answering him, though he wasn’t pressing anything. He was just looking at her, and they were very close. Close enough so that she knew she liked the arch of his brows, the strength of his features, the way his jaw could seem as hard as a rock until his smile changed everything about him.
“Beth, seriously, I don’t know what you want—”
“The truth,” she murmured.
He released her and leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky.
“The truth?” he asked, sounding edgy again. “I don’t know anything about anything. My motto is simply to be very careful. That’s the truth. I just think you should be careful, too, that’s all.”
“Because Brad and Sandy were behaving suspiciously?”
“Because you think you found a skull—and you’re pretty much letting everyone know.”
It was her turn to be aggravated. “There you go—talking in circles again. I think I found a skull. If I didn’t find a skull, then what is there to be worried about?”
“Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.”
“Do you know you’re incredibly exasperating?” she demanded.
That rueful smile slipped
