Sam’s eyes flew to the other woman, who smiled with all the cunning grace of a feline. Sam willed herself not to flush. Sukee had just been waiting for her to give herself away.
And now, everyone was staring at Sukee—and at her.
Jerry North stared at Sam with thoughtful, light blue eyes. She lowered them when Sam glanced her way.
It might have gone on forever, but Sam found herself with reason to be grateful to Jim Santino. He stood up, excusing himself. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. O’Connor. Very lucky. Sam, the food is delicious tonight. Everything on this island just gets better and better. Can I bring anyone anything?”
“Why is Mr. O’Connor a lucky man, Mom?” Brad asked Judy Walker.
“Lucky to be here,” Adam said matter-of-factly. “Is that a water pitcher? Could someone pass it to me, please?”
Jim delivered the water pitcher as he started to the buffet table. “Amazing, though,” Jim said, smiling as he filled his plate from the buffet. He started to the table. “I think you’ve both been holding out on us. Tell me, O’Connor. You already knew Miss Carlyle when you got here, didn’t you? From some kind of previous life?”
Adam set down his water.
“I can answer that,” Avery Smith said quietly. “Yes, Mr. Santino. They’d met before. Mr. O’Connor used to be a policeman. He was here undercover. I imagine that’s why neither one of them acknowledged the previous relationship. Miss Carlyle is the most discreet hostess. She’d keep her guests’ secrets right to her dying day, if necessary. Right, Miss Carlyle?”
Sam stared at Avery Smith, alias James Jay Astin. Was he threatening her? Warning her to keep quiet about his identity?
“I’ve always imagined that if people want others to know something about them, they’ll share it themselves in their own good time,” she said pleasantly.
Smith smiled. At one time he must have been a very handsome man. He still had quite a look about him. Completely distinguished. Confident.
Evil?
“You know what?” Brad said, ignoring the grown-ups and addressing Sam. “I started reading about sharks today. Sam, they can be bad, really bad.”
Sam frowned, hesitating. “Brad, I never said that sharks never harmed people. What I said was that they hardly ever harm divers. And I don’t think they’re evil—they’re just eternally hungry, and sometimes they bite the wrong food.”
“There was this really awful thing that happened during World War Two,” Brad said. “A ship sank—”
“The
“You know the story!” Brad said, pleased.
“The ship had delivered one of the components of the atom bomb to Tianian Island, in the Marianas, when it was spotted by a Japanese submarine. The
“One thousand one hundred and ninety-nine,” Smith supplied. “Eight hundred and fifty escaped into the sea —the others were killed in the explosions or trapped inside the ship as it sank.”
“What happened to the men in the water?” Sukee asked.
Adam shrugged, his eyes meeting Sam’s. “During the first night, perhaps another hundred men drowned or perished from their injuries. The next morning they began to worry about sharks. They saw a little four-footer who had adopted them, or so it seemed. The men were mostly wearing life jackets and clinging to what they call floater nets. They knew they’d be best off to stay in large groups, so they did. They came up with a nickname for the shark that kept hovering around them. They called him Whitey. But Whitey was just a hint of the trouble to come. The men were in the water for four days and five nights, praying for rescue. Then the sharks really began to come. They picked off the men who had strayed from their groups. They went for the sick and the injured. There were all different kinds. Makos, whites, tigers—all attacking from below. When they were finally rescued, there were only three hundred and sixteen men remaining alive.”
“Oh, man, you’ve got to read about it!” Brad said. “One guy thought his friend was sleeping and went to wake him up, only to find that the whole bottom half of the guy’s body was gone. And they said that the more blood that was in the water, the more sharks that came—”
He was interrupted as Jerry North suddenly knocked over a dish of salsa.
The red sauce spread quickly across the table.
“Really, Brad, you’re a great storyteller,” Jerry murmured, “but perhaps this isn’t the best time.”
“Brad!” his father said.
“Brad, enough, we’re at dinner,” his mother began.
“Ooh,” Darlene said, staring at the red salsa that had stained the table. “Ooh,” she said again.
And promptly threw up.
The Walkers couldn’t apologize enough.
The Emersons couldn’t leave quickly enough.
The entire concept of dessert was lost. Only Jacques, bemoaning the fate of his exceptional flan, was desolate at the sad demise of the evening meal.
The dining room was cleaned up. Sam, Jem, Adam, Yancy, Jim, Sukee, Liam and Jerry had coffee together, but conversation lagged. Sukee seemed eager to disappear. Jim naturally offered to walk her to her cottage. Jerry looked exhausted. Exceptionally tired, Sam thought.
“I guess we’ll head back, too,” Liam said. “Jerry’s definitely diving tomorrow. Right, sweetheart?”
Jerry looked at Sam. “I—”
“Right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.”
“No one can make you dive, Jerry,” Sam began.
“She’s just a little uneasy,” Liam said smoothly.
“We’ll all watch out for you,” Sam promised.
Liam set an arm around Jerry. “She’ll have me for a buddy. Just like a Siamese twin.”
“Well, if you need help, that’s what I’m here for,” Sam insisted.
“Thanks, sweetie. You’re a doll.” Impulsively, Jerry kissed her cheek. Then she seemed embarrassed. “Good night,” she said, hurrying on to the porch. Liam shrugged, then followed her.
Sam noted that Adam watched Jerry go with a very peculiar expression on his face. He caught her staring at him and shrugged. “I hope she’ll be okay.”
Sam shrugged, as well. “I guess we’ll get going,” she said.
“Good night,” Yancy told them.
Sam started out. Adam followed and set a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t protest; she didn’t touch him in return. She walked with him to the cottage, slipping her key into the lock. He followed her into the shadowy living room.
“Where did you want to sleep?” she asked him awkwardly. She didn’t know quite what the afternoon had meant to him.
Or to herself.
He didn’t reply. He left her standing there as he searched the cottage. He came back to where she stood, waiting in the filter of moonlight.
“Lock the door,” he told her.
She did so.
He walked up to her then. She looked at him in the shadows.
He should speak.
She should speak.
He spun her around and unzipped her dress. The silky fabric floated down the length of her body.
And then his hands were on her naked flesh.
And she knew exactly where he was going to sleep.
This time Yancy woke up entirely on her own. The baby hadn’t cried; and at first she wasn’t aware of any reason she should have awakened.
