rest of him wasn’t bad, either. She formed a fleeting impression of a broad chest, muscular thighs emerging from ragged cutoffs, and bare feet sporting worn leather flip-flops. Then those sea-green eyes flashed her a grateful look and he went down on one knee beside his nephew.
“You, young man,” he said as he helped the boy sit up, “are in deep doo-doo. You know darn well you’re not allowed to come down to the beach alone.”
“Buster needed to go out.”
“I repeat, you are not allowed to come down to beach alone.”
Zia shrugged off the remnants of the rage that had hit her when she’d thought the boy was allowed to roam unsupervised. She also had to hide a smile at the pitiful note that crept into Davy’s voice. Like all five-or six-year olds, he had the whine down pat.
“You said Buster was my ’sponsibility when you gave him to me, Uncle Mickey. You said I had to walk him ’n feed him ’n pick up his poop ’n...”
“We’ll continue this discussion later.”
Whoa! Even Zia blinked at the that’s enough finality in the uncle’s voice.
“How do you feel?” he asked the boy.
“’Kay.”
“Good enough to stand up?”
“Sure.”
With the youthful resilience that never failed to amaze Zia, the kid flashed a cheeky grin and scrambled to his feet. His pet woofed encouragement, and both boy and dog would have scampered off if the uncle hadn’t laid a restraining hand on his nephew’s shoulder.
“Don’t you have something you want to say to this lady?”
“Thanks for not letting me get drowned.”
“You’re welcome.”
His uncle kept him in place by a firm grip on his wet T-shirt and held out his other hand to Zia. “I’m Mike Brennan. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Davy.”
She took the offered hand, registered its strength and warmth as it folded around hers. “Anastazia St. Sebastian. I’m glad I got to him in time.”
* * *
The sheer terror that had rocked Mike’s world when he’d spotted this woman hauling Davy’s limp body out of the sea had receded enough now for him to focus on her for the first time. Closer inspection damn near rocked him back on his flip-flops again.
Her wet, glistening black hair hung to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were almost as dark as her hair and had just the suggestion of a slant to them. And any supermodel on the planet would have killed for those high, slashing cheekbones. The slender body outlined to perfection by her pink spandex tank and black Lycra running shorts was just icing on the cake. That, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a wedding or engagement ring.
“I think he’ll be all right,” she was saying with another glance at now fidgeting Davy, “but you might want to keep an eye on him for the next few hours. Watch for signs of rapid breathing, a fast heart rate or low-grade fever. All are common the first few hours after a near drowning.”
Her accent was as intriguing as the rest of her. The faint lilt gave her words a different cadence. Eastern European, Mike thought, but it was too slight to pin down.
“You appear to know a lot about this kind of situation. Are you an EMT or first responder?”
“I’m a physician.”
Okay, now he was doubly impressed. The woman possessed the mysterious eyes of an odalisque, the body of a temptress and the smarts of a doc. He’d hit the jackpot here. Nodding toward the colorful umbrellas just popping up at the restaurant across the highway from the beach, he made his move.
“I hope you’ll let Davy and me show our appreciation by buying you breakfast, Dr. St. Sebastian.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already had breakfast.”
No way Mike was letting this gorgeous creature get away. “Dinner, then.”
“I’m, uh, I’m here with my family.”
“I am, too. Unfortunately.” He made a face at his nephew, who giggled and returned the exaggerated grimace. “I’d be even more grateful if you give me an excuse to get away from them for a while.”
“Well...”
He didn’t miss her brief hesitation. Or her quick glance at his left hand. The white imprint of his wedding ring had long since faded. Too bad he couldn’t say the same for the inner scars. Shoving the disaster of his marriage into the dark hole where it belonged, Mike overrode her apparent doubts.
“Where are you staying?”
She took her time replying. Those exotic eyes looked him up and down. Lingered for a moment on his faded T-shirt, his ragged cutoffs, his worn leather flip-flops.
“We’re at the Camino del Rey,” she said finally, almost reluctantly. “It’s about a half mile up the beach.”
Mike suppressed a smile. “I know where it is. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” He gave his increasingly impatient nephew’s shoulder a squeeze. “Say goodbye to Dr. St. Sebastian, brat.”
“Bye, Dr. S’baston.”
“Bye, Davy.”
“See you later, Anastazia.”
“Zia,” she said. “I go by Zia.”
“Zia. Got it.”
Tipping two fingers in a farewell salute, Mike used his grip on his nephew’s T-shirt to frog-walk him up the beach.
* * *
Zia tracked them as far as the row of houses on stilts fronting the beach. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to dinner with the uncle. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind right now without having to make small talk with a complete stranger!
Arms folded, she watched the terrier jump and cavort alongside them. The dog’s exuberance reminded her all too forcefully of the racing hound her sister-in-law had hauled down to Texas with her. Natalie was nutso over the whip-thin Magyar Agár and insisted on calling the hound Duke—much to the chagrin of Zia’s brother, Dominic, who still hadn’t completely adjusted to his transition from Interpol agent to Grand Duke of Karlenburgh.
The duchy of Karlenburgh had once been part of the vast Austro-Hungarian Empire but had long since ceased to exist anywhere except in history books. That hadn’t stopped the paparazzi from hounding Europe’s newest royal out of the shadows of undercover work. And Dom had retaliated by sweeping the woman who’d discovered he was heir to the title off her feet and into the ranks of the ever-growing St. Sebastian clan. Now Zia’s family included an affectionate, übersmart sister-in-law as well as the two thoroughly delightful cousins she and Dom had met for the first time three years ago.
And,
