from a woman pushing a small Vespa motor scooter along the edge of the road.
She was wearing snug navy pants that ended just below the knee, spanking-white sneakers and a loose white T-shirt knotted on one hip. Tendrils of dark hair had escaped her loose ponytail to cling to her cheeks and neck. Her face was flushed and her white cotton shirt clung to her back. Just how far had she pushed that thing?
Sean immediately tugged the steering wheel and pulled off the road. When she darted him a suspicious glance, he realized that his Good Samaritan act might not be so interpreted by a woman alone on a quiet stretch of road. So, along with a smile, he pulled out his wallet. The one with his badge tucked inside.
“Hey, there,” he called as he got out of the Jeep and flipped open his wallet. “Do you need some help? Sean Gannon, Deputy U.S. Marshal.” His smile widened as she paused. “In case you thought I was the St. Thomas stalker or something.”
He’d expected…Well, he didn’t know. Some flash of humor or even exasperation at his lame attempt at charm. He hadn’t expected the real flash of…Fear was too strong a word. But she’d definitely tensed up a bit at the term “stalker.”
“Is there one?” she asked, finally finding an amused smile. Her voice was smooth, a bit melodic…almost familiar-sounding.
“One what?” he asked distractedly. Then his brain clicked into gear. Damn, he really did have to get out more. “Oh, no, there isn’t. I just didn’t want you to be alarmed.”
She leaned the motor scooter against her thigh and turned to face him more fully. “You have an odd way of putting a woman at ease.”
“It really has been too long, then,” he murmured more to himself than her.
“Since what?” she asked.
He evaded answering that by saying, “Something tells me you’d hold up just fine, even if I wasn’t a Good Samaritan.”
She smiled fully then, and he found himself wishing she’d take those dark sunglasses off so he could see her eyes.
She nodded at the wallet he was still holding out. “So, Deputy Gannon. You here on business?”
“Yes, ma’am.” And listening to her, he finally realized why she seemed familiar to him. “What makes you think I’m visiting, though? We have offices here on the island.”
She nodded at his Jeep. “Rental.” She smiled again when he nodded in appreciation of her deduction. “Nice tan, though.”
He chuckled. “Actually, I just got here. That’s from sun glare off the snow back in Denver.”
“And you were forced to leave the cold and the snow to come here. Tough assignment.”
“Yeah, it’s hard work.” He grinned. “But they let me out nights.”
“Which you spend rescuing damsels in distress. Don’t you know how to take time off?”
“Are you asking because you also need help in that department?”
She looked surprised. “What do you mean? For all you know, I spend all my time scootering around exotic islands.”
He gestured to her scooter. “Rental.”
She fought a smile. “So?” she challenged. “Maybe I don’t like the burden of ownership.”
He pointed to her blindingly white shoes. “Your sneakers…brand new.”
“Maybe I’m obsessive about dirt.”
He nodded in appreciation of her savvy defense. A shame it wasn’t going to hold up. “And you have a tag. Hanging from the back of your shirt.”
She reflexively reached behind her and the scooter swerved around her leg, about to roll to its side.
Sean closed the distance between them in two long strides and grabbed the Vespa before it could hit the ground. “Sorry,” he said sincerely, tugging the scooter away from her and balancing it upright again. “I should have just said ‘it takes one to know one’ and left it at that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
She eyed him closely—at least as best as he could tell through those large, dark lenses. “I almost believe you mean that,” she said.
He laughed. “How else did you think I pegged you?”
“Because you’re trained to be astutely observant?”
He laughed, enjoying her quick wit. “Oh, absolutely. That and the fact that, other than the official attire you see right now, everything else I have to wear while I’m here was bought either in the Denver airport or in the hotel lobby this morning. I probably have the receipts on me somewhere.”
Now she flashed another smile. “I guess flowered shirts and bathing suits aren’t necessary in Colorado.”
He looked at her in mock disbelief. “How did you know I favor tacky island wear? What gave me away?”
She laughed and he felt…He couldn’t put a name to it. Freer?
“Just a guess,” she countered. “Although, to be honest, you look more like a faded-sweatpants-and-ancient-college-T-shirt kind of guy.”
He grinned. He’d jogged in that exact ensemble this morning. “You win.”
“My father would be so proud.”
“Is he back home in Louisiana, I hope?” He lifted a hand as she stiffened and backed away. “It was the accent that gave you away. I have family in Baton Rouge.” He let the South back into his voice as he said it.
“Ah.”
She didn’t offer any additional comment and Sean spent a moment casting about for something else to say. Then he just came out and asked what he really wanted to know. “So, are you here with family?” Not as clumsy as blurting that he wanted to know if she was married, but it ran a close second.
“No,” she said, but once again didn’t elaborate. “You?” she asked after a moment.
“No. I’m solo. Here and in Denver.” Oh, great, how desperate and pathetic did that sound? But, if anything was going to happen—and he’d be a fool to say no, right?—well, he didn’t want any misunderstandings. So he braved it out. “You?”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, as if it wasn’t of any consequence to her. “Solo. By choice.”
“Obviously,” he said with an appreciative smile, then winced when she merely rolled her eyes. “Too strong, huh? I’m a bit out of practice.”
That got a small snort out of her, which made him laugh.
“Honest,” he told her. “The workaholic thing. Makes dating and relationships a bit tough.”
“So you don’t make it down to the island office often then.”
“This would be the inaugural time, yes.”
