times before.” The fact that he didn’t touch her then, or move closer to her in any way, made his words seem all the more compelling. She felt the urge to move closer, but she forced herself to maintain her distance. She felt as if there was at least a grain of honesty in his compliment, and she doubted he was a man who got turned down often.
“Thanks,” she murmured uneasily, and looked at the swaying palms against the night sky. She worked with the public herself, knew how to smile and play a part, how to manipulate—and when she was being manipulated.
She turned to him squarely, “Actually, it sounds like the kind of line you use when you’re trying to change the subject.”
“I’ve just offered all that I can on the subject that I’d be changing,” he told her.
Her eyes fell on Lee’s yacht. “Quite a boat,” she murmured.
“A seventy-five-foot motor yacht,” he agreed. “You should have come aboard. She’s one glorious lady.”
She turned to him. “You could show her to me in the morning.”
He seemed surprised by the suggestion. “I could, yes.” He watched her curiously for a moment, a slow smile creeping over his lips. “Ah. You’re going to check her out. Look for bodies or evidence of evildoing.”
Beth averted her eyes. “No such thing. She’s a beautiful boat. I work at a yacht club.”
“So you see lots of beautiful boats.”
“I love to be able to discuss them with the members.”
He laughed easily. “You can check her out. No prob-lem.”
“Which means, of course, that if you were concealing something, it would be well hidden,” she informed him.
“Did you study criminology?” he demanded. “Or do you suffer from an overdose of cop shows on television? If you’ve been paying attention, one more time, Ms. Anderson, it’s smart to keep out of things that don’t concern you.”
“So I shouldn’t go on the boat?”
He groaned. “You’re more than welcome to see the boat. I told you—we’re not pirates.”
“Does that mean you’re not pirates but you are some other kind of criminal, or that some people are pirates, even though you and your friends aren’t?”
“If I say good-morning when I see you and the sun is up, will you be dissecting those words, as well?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He stood, reaching a hand down to her. “Well, I suggest we get some sleep and find out,” he said.
She hesitated before accepting his hand. As he helped her to her feet, she came up against him. The length of her body brushed against his. When she was up, she remained close, thinking—hoping?—he was going to touch her.
She thought she might lose all sense of reason and reach out and touch him, place her fingers on his face.
“No line,” he said softly. “You are...like a flame. I’d give my eyeteeth to be the moth that was consumed.”
She blinked. His voice was deep, sincere, and yet he was distant. He didn’t even try acting on his words. If anything, they were wistful.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, and a dry smile twisted his lips. “I know how to pine from afar.” He hesitated. “You really don’t need to be afraid of me,” he assured her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied.
“You’re not?”
“Only a little.”
“Actually, you should be. I’m dying to touch you,” he said.
The breeze whispered. The ghosts of the island, she thought. The cool air caressed her flesh. She was tempted to step forward and tell him that she was afraid, but willing to take her chances anyway.
Just to be touched.
To her absolute amazement, she heard herself say, “Maybe you should be afraid. Maybe I’m dying to touch you, too.”
His hand rose. His knuckles and the back of his hand just brushed over her cheek. His eyes met hers. For once there seemed to be honesty in them. “You’re like a dream, perfect in so many ways.”
She swallowed hard. “Not perfect,” she murmured.
He laughed, dropping his hand, easing back a bit. “Smart, gorgeous, sexy...and good on a boat. That’s a dream to me. And I’m insane for saying this. I don’t think that I’m what you want. I don’t know if I can be.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “And now we should get some sleep.”
They stood there for what felt like forever but was probably no more than a dozen seconds.
“Still want to see the boat in the morning?” he asked.
“Yes. And I’m not a complete coward, you know.” What did she mean by that? She wasn’t certain herself.
He smiled and stepped back, and she could almost believe she had imagined a moment more intimate than any she had ever shared.
“In the morning, then,” he said, and she wondered if his voice was as husky as it sounded, or if she only wanted to think so.
“Yeah...in the morning.”
“Should I see you back to your tent?” he teased.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few feet away.”
He smiled the rueful half smile that seemed to tear away sanity. “I’ll just keep an eye on you from here,” he assured her. “Apparently you didn’t bring your pepper spray.”
She shook her head, studying him, and lifted her hands. “No pepper spray. Should I have carried it?”
He groaned, then laughed. “Good night, Ms. Anderson. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“It is a lovely evening,” she murmured.
Suddenly he pulled her close, and she thought he was going to kiss her, take her in his arms and really kiss her, and if he did, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
But he didn’t. He just held her. She felt the electric heat and force of the length of his body, not at all dissipated by the cotton between them. He brushed the top of her head with his lips, then pulled back again. “Go, go on back,” he told her.
She stepped away, staring at him.
“Trust no one,” he told her.
“Not even you?” she whispered.
“Not even me. Go on.”
Husky had been replaced by something that resembled harsh.
