His empty beer bottle clinked on the top of the coffee table as he set it down. He dragged his fingers through his dark hair, staring at her. For a moment, just for a moment, she saw a flash of passion within him, yet she couldn’t begin to pinpoint exactly what that passion was for.
“All right, Sam. Someone on the island has been corresponding with SeaLink for several days now.”
“SeaLink?” Sam murmured, confused. She knew the name, but she couldn’t place it right away. “The marine supply company?”
“Marine supply company!” Adam muttered.
“They are a marine supply company, aren’t they? A big one. They sell boats, scuba equipment, maps, electronics.”
“Yes, yes. It was founded in 1970 by James Jay Astin. He’s also a treasure hunter. He and his employees have managed to dig up a fair amount of salvage from at least a dozen of the ships that have gone down off the coast of Florida.”
“I read an article about him in one of the diving magazines. He turns his finds over to the government, endows all sorts of museums—”
“And he keeps what he wants in his private collection, or sells it on the black market around the world.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him when she didn’t really know anything about Astin—except that he appeared to be a model citizen.
“Astin was friends with your father.”
“How do you know?”
“They went diving together once when I was here. I didn’t know who Astin was myself at the time, but I’ve had the opportunity to meet him since.”
Sam shook her head stubbornly. “I never met him. My father had his own life, and when he was alive, I didn’t necessarily meet and greet all the guests. So this Astin knew my father. Lots of people did. And it’s not illegal for Astin or his people to be visiting the island.”
“I didn’t say it was illegal. Just curious.”
“Besides, you’re not a cop anymore.”
“No.”
“So what is it to you?” she asked coolly.
“I told you, I’m working for private concerns.”
“And what do I know about your ‘private concerns’? I still think you’re at the center of all the trouble.”
“He was trying to drug you, not me.”
“I give up. You’re trouble, and you’re impossible.”
“Want to try throwing me off the island?” he asked pleasantly.
“Cause enough trouble, and I will.”
“This is a public vacation spot. I could sue the pants off you.”
“I could have you arrested for breaking and entering.”
“That’s what I get for trying to save your ass!” he exclaimed, hands on his hips. “Tell me, Sam,
“I never threw you off the island.”
“You asked me to leave.”
“Your interests were elsewhere.”
“So, are you?”
“Like you just said, Seafire Isle is a public vacation spot.”
“I’m glad you see it that way. Because I don’t give a damn what you think, or what you want—I won’t be leaving until a few mysteries are cleared up.”
“Is that so?” she inquired politely.
“And you should be glad.”
“Really.”
“Yes—damned grateful, in fact.”
“Then thank God for your presence,” Sam muttered.
“Sam, my love, you can be one stubborn bitch,” he said wryly. He took the few steps needed to come close to her, lifting her chin. She managed to keep herself from wrenching it away.
“You bet!” she promised him softly. “The worst bitch you’ve ever come across if you’re trying to put something over on me.”
He smiled suddenly. “Aren’t we getting just a little bit carried away here? I didn’t come to pick up the pieces of an old argument right where we left off. And I probably did save your life.”
“Okay. Thank you for saving my life. Now, will you please get the hell out of my house? Maybe I can’t throw you off the island, but I know damned well I have the right to throw you out of here!”
“Miss Carlyle, you need me.”
“I do?”
He shrugged. “Well, if you do decide to try to throw me off the island, you’ll have to hope someone else is around the next time you’re in trouble.”
“I thanked you, didn’t I? Of course, it would have been helpful to know just who was attacking me, but then, you’re not a cop anymore. You couldn’t possibly have been expected to nab the attacker as well as save my life.”
“Okay, the next time you’re about to fracture your skull, I’ll consider you expendable in the pursuit of justice.”
“Will you please get the hell out?”
“Nice. I should just leave you to the next ski-masked attacker who crawls into your bathroom.”
“Look at it my way. I haven’t seen you in years. The next thing I know, my bathroom is filled with strange men.”
“Strange
“I consider you very strange.”
“Maybe you’d better consider me dangerous, instead,” he warned her suddenly, softly, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he studied her.
“Maybe I should,” she murmured, agreeing. “Damn it! I just want to know exactly what you’re doing here.”
“All right. Fine. Tell me, do you know exactly who all your guests are?”
“You know how the island is run. My father is gone, so yes, of course, I meet all my guests.”
“I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you knew who they were.”
“I’m not a cop. People don’t have to fill out their life histories on arrival. I don’t have dossiers on everyone who sets foot on Seafire Isle.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He sounded so damned self-satisfied.
“You do, of course? Have dossiers on my guests?”
“Yes.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Well, I don’t exactly have dossiers. But I imagine I know a great deal more about them than you do.”
“All right, who’s on my island?”
“You really have no idea?”
“I really have no idea.”
He stared at her, then smiled suddenly, cocking his head. He turned away from her, heading toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Out?”
He paused, looking back. “You wanted me out, right?”
“Damn it! That was before—”
“I’ll see you at cocktail hour, Sam.”
