Eyes of Fire

with her father.

And he’d been so determined to keep his distance from her, to be a professional.

It didn’t help any to know now, to admit to herself, that she’d been determined to seduce him. Determined that if she could get him, she could hold him. She’d never wanted anything with such blind, reckless desire. She’d plotted, planned, been bold, argumentative, mocking.

She’d done her best to torment him. She’d fought with him. If he was interested in a sunken ship, she mocked his knowledge of it. He argued that divers were basically safe against shark attack; she recited incidents of sharks attacking divers. He argued back.

She brushed against him every time she passed him.

She wore his patience down. She wore his resistance down, as well.

She challenged him in the water, and he met her every challenge. His smile, his laughter, captured her heart.

But whether they fought or found common ground, he’d talked to her. By the fireside at night, he’d talked to her about his job, about the bad guys who led kids astray, about the kids in the ghettos who somehow had a sense of right and wrong no matter what ugliness they saw in their lives. He’d come undercover, but, like her father, she’d been informed right away who he was. She was a nice adornment for the role he was playing, though. Naturally his nobility had extended to his determination to protect her, but then, his drug smugglers weren’t hardened criminals, just rather stupid ones.

He’d had an aura of danger, of excitement, that had been irresistible to her. And they’d had lots of time together. Time beneath the sun, sailing on the Sloop Bee. By the fire.

In bed.

Talking, laughing, arguing.

Making love.

How many times, she wondered, in that span of a few months? Thirty? Forty? Fifty? Enough to remember so clearly that she couldn’t forget now, even when she prayed to.

The last thing she wanted to do was remember being with him while she was standing there on the pathway being told that she was a brat and a bitch.

“Fine!” she snapped, staring at him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Follow me from here to Kingdom Come if that’s what you want, but I warn you, stay the hell out of my way.”

He didn’t reply, so she started walking again. He followed.

She leaped aboard the Sloop Bee. The day seemed exceptionally hot. The sun was already shimmering down, so she stripped off her shirt and shorts and mechanically began to check their supplies, though Jem was so efficient that it was scarcely necessary. The air cylinders had all been filled and stored in their slots; the ice chest had been loaded with sodas and water and a few beers and wine coolers for the drinkers on the way back in. There was absolutely no drinking on the way to the dive sites.

The Sloop Bee was forty-two feet long and carried twenty divers and their supplies comfortably, two cylinders per diver for plenty of air for two dives per trip. She ignored Adam while she continued to check the supplies. She went on ignoring him as she sat down to draw up her dive plan, painfully aware that he was still watching her, tension drawing his face taut.

“My turn,” he said suddenly.

She looked up, almost jumping when she found him hunched down in front of her, a finger sternly planted beneath her nose. He, too, had stripped off his shirt. The muscles of his chest were already glistening from the warmth of the sun. His features were tense, eyes hard and bright, voice harsh as he spoke. “You made up your mind about things, told me what I was thinking and feeling. You had it all decided, and you weren’t willing to listen to a word I said. Say what you want now—you acted like a wretched little brat back then. Maybe I didn’t respond well, but you insisted I get off your island, and I did it. I was probably an idiot to let you act like a queen to begin with, but I won’t make that mistake again, so you get this. We have a situation here. Your father was almost certainly murdered. Hank Jennings, as well. You can ignore those facts if you want to—but I can’t.

“So you get this straight—accept the fact that I’m here for the duration, and don’t you dare get your little butt in my way!”

“Why, you—” She stared.

“And who the hell does that baby belong to?”

“What?”

“Whose baby is it?”

“What business is it—”

“Whose is it?”

He was so insistent that she found herself answering him when she longed to slap him. “Brian is Yancy’s baby, obviously.”

“Obviously? Yancy is black, and that baby is white. And he—”

“He what?”

“Who does that baby belong to?”

“Take another look. Yancy’s heritage is mixed. Brian is her son.”

“Is that what you’re hoping people will believe?”

She eased back, incredulous. “Yancy is the color of cafe au lait. She—”

“Yancy is beautiful,” he said impatiently. “That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Sam, tell me! Who is that baby’s father?”

“Well, let’s see—you’re definitely not. Since you’re insinuating that the child is mine and we haven’t had relations in almost five years. Wow. Long pregnancy.”

She was amazed to see the depths of his anger. But it wasn’t her place to share what had gone on with anyone else.

“Who does that baby belong to?” he demanded again.

She stared hard at him. “Yancy.”

“Let’s try again. Who is that baby’s father?”

“You can try from now until hell freezes over. What you’re asking is none of your concern.” His fingers suddenly closed over her knees. His eyes were hot and level with hers. “Damn you, Sam, you’re going to tell me.”

“Damn you, Adam. I’m not.”

She looked over his shoulder. The others were coming down the path toward the Sloop Bee.

“People are coming, right?” he said.

She felt his hands on her bare knees. Her heart hammered furiously, and blood was rushing to her cheeks.

She wanted so badly to lash out at him. Instead she tried to rise. She bumped against him, felt his breath against her bare thighs, felt something wickedly hot within her begin to burn. Why didn’t arguing with him cool the fever inside her instead of making it worse?

“Excuse me,” she muttered.

He set his hands on her waist. To keep her balance, she was forced to clutch his shoulders.

His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t seem to draw her gaze away from him. She was still furious, yet she suddenly wanted in the worst way to know just what had happened, how the hell they had messed everything.

He shook his head, steadying her as he rose. Aware that the others were nearly upon them, he lowered his lips to her ear. “Damn it, Sam, I swear to God, you are going to give me answers.”

She pulled back, freeing herself from his hold before she replied. “The hell I will!” she promised vehemently, sweeping by him. And then she added for good measure, “The absolute hell I will!”

9

J erry North, exquisite, blond and beautiful, was the first to reach the Sloop Bee, arriving just as Sam escaped Adam.