one heel and strode toward her bedroom. It was a tremendously dignified exit, or so she told herself.
Except that she could hear them laughing in her wake.
The hell with them both. She spun around and strode to the kitchen.
They both started. Jem spilled his coffee.
“All right, Adam. Who the hell is Jim Santino?”
8
A dam looked at Jem. “I guess she wants to talk.”
“Yeah. Looks like that to me.”
“She keeps trying to throw me out, though.”
“Women,” Jem agreed.
“I’m going to throw you both into the sea in about two minutes,” Sam warned. “Adam O’Connor, we had hours alone together yesterday. You could have spent all that time talking to me, answering questions.”
“You didn’t ask me any questions yesterday.”
She swore beneath her breath. “You knew whatever you’re going to tell me now yesterday. You didn’t tell me then.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“But you should have—”
“Yes, and you should have had the decency to let Jem or me know that you were leaving the main house and coming here so I didn’t have to nearly suffer heart failure racing after you!”
“Oh, really?”
“I’m right, and you know it.”
“Fine. You’re right. Now talk to me.”
He met her determined stare and smiled grudgingly. “Your young friend Jim is the son of Robert Santino.”
Sam shook her head, not recognizing the name. “So?”
Adam continued. “Organized crime boss, reputedly responsible for a good hundred murders—though he customarily keeps his killing in the business. He’s known for murder, theft, racketeering, drugs and prostitution.”
“I don’t mean to belittle the man’s terrible deeds,” Sam said evenly, “but what the hell do any of them have to do with me or this island?”
Adam watched her. “He’s also reputed to have one of the most comprehensive collections of sixteenth- century Spanish jewels and relics.”
“The
“Carrying Spanish prisoners. And Spanish treasure. You know that.”
“So is everyone on the island suspected of something in one way or another?”
“Just about,” Adam said.
“Including you?” Sam suggested. “You did say that you were working for a private concern.”
He was silent for a few minutes. “Yeah, I’m a suspect in a way, too.”
“Any more surprises?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Nothing I know for certain.”
“Anything else you care to share with me?”
Clouds obscured the sharp silver of his eyes. “Not quite yet.”
“Well, then, Adam, you can go right to hell.”
She turned away from him, but he caught her arm, drawing her back. She stared at his hand on her arm, then looked into his eyes. He had to let her go. She didn’t like being so close to him. She didn’t know how it was possible that so much time could pass, and yet she could still feel such a strange, familiar warmth when he touched her.
“As soon as I feel I can say anything else, I will. I swear it.”
Wrench free, she told herself. Instead she stood very still and returned his stare, trying to read his unfathomable eyes, but he was giving nothing away.
“Well, tell me this, at least. You seemed to be on the same wavelength as Avery Smith when you were talking to him the other night. Does he know that you’re aware he isn’t Avery Smith?”
“He must.”
“You’re certain?”
He nodded. “We’ve met before. He remembers me—I could tell when we met the other night.”
“Has he attempted to explain his alias to you?”
“Not yet.”
“Isn’t he afraid of you?”
“Why would he be afraid of me? I was a cop when we met. A good guy.”
“Yes, but if he’s here under an alias…”
“It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s up to something evil.”
“You’re the one who made a point of the fact that the man is not who he says he is.”
“Yes, because it could be important.”
“Because although he may not necessarily be up to something devious, there’s a chance that he might be.”
“Right.”
“But if he
Adam shrugged. He still had his hand on her, and she stood very still, not wanting to feel the electric waves of energy that emanated from him and swirled distractedly around her.
“James Jay Astin is a very wealthy man, always being pursued in the world of business. Naturally such a man might want to escape to a private getaway. And Seafire Isle is advertised as a very private getaway.”
She thought that, if nothing else, he was offering her sound logic. Either that, or the feel of his hand on her was making her want to believe anything he said. Anything.
It was time to escape with dignity.
She tugged free from his hold and headed to her bedroom, where she dressed quickly in a sky blue tank-style swim suit, terry shorts and a matching shirt, and her deck shoes. She came to the kitchen to find both men waiting for her.
“Breakfast?” Jem suggested with a hopeful smile.
She stared at him tight-lipped, refusing to reply. She started out of the cottage, and the two men followed behind her. She walked quickly, as if hoping she could shake them.
Silly thought. They were on an island. There really was no escape.
The others were all gathered in the dining room of the main lodge. Except for Mr. James Jay Astin Avery Smith—who was reading a magazine while he sipped his coffee, dressed in Dockers and a denim shirt—everyone appeared to be ready to go diving. Even Jerry North was wearing terry cover-ups over her bathing suit, or so it appeared.
“You’re diving?” Sam asked her, surprised.
“I’m going to bubble watch,” Jerry said, smiling wanly.
She looked tired, Sam thought. “Jem will like the company on the boat.”
Jerry nodded. “I hope so.”
Sam moved to the buffet table, helping herself to coffee and a corn muffin. She heard a commotion, then saw that Brian had apparently escaped Yancy’s care in the kitchen and was crawling out to the breakfast area as fast as his little hands and knees would take him. He paused right by her leg, looking at her with his broad, toothless smile. She stooped down and scooped him up, laughing, giving him a hug.
“You want my muffin, huh, kid?” She laughed, nuzzling his little neck. She loved the clean, baby-powder- sweet smell of him, loved the way his huge blue eyes stared so trustingly into hers. He reached out a hand toward the buffet table. Sam broke off a piece of her muffin, offering it to him just as Yancy made it over to her.
