arms….
She felt her cheeks reddening. She remembered the first moment she had seen him today, not knowing then who he was, wondering almost academically what he would look like minus most of his clothing. Well, she knew, and…
She was over the bastard, she assured herself. Had been for a very long time now. A dozen things had happened in the years since that had made her forget him. Okay, not forget him, exactly, but relegate him to the past. Where he belonged.
Still…
If she’d never seen him before, she would have thought he was the type of man a woman might turn to in times of trouble—even if she was a woman confident in her own abilities. He had a touch of machismo about him. In fact, as she knew all too well, he could be damned irritating.
But that didn’t alleviate a woman’s urge to get close to him. To touch him. Feel his warmth, his energy.
Like a moth to a flame, she ridiculed herself. And her wings had been badly scorched.
Just be cool, she warned herself now. Be mature.
Darlene would certainly recommend maturity.
“Well, Mr. O’Connor, I’m sure Yancy will see to all your needs at the reception desk.” She turned to the others. “I think I’ll shower for dinner if you’ll all pardon me.”
Adam was the only one looking at her; the only one who seemed to notice that she was excusing herself. Jim, Sukee and the Walkers continued to watch Adam with interest.
Jem, who had pulled out the hose to wash down their equipment, was staring at her curiously over Adam’s shoulder. In fact, he was grinning, damn his hide. The hell with them both. No, the hell with men in general. She’d only ever met one who was simply honest and sweet, and he…he was gone.
Hank.
Hank, with his open blue eyes, his continual search for knowledge. His determination, his enthusiasm, his honesty, his naivete, his nose always on a map, in a book.
What the hell had happened?
And where the hell had Adam O’Connor been when Hank had disappeared? Not to mention when her father had disappeared?
Was that part of what hurt so badly now? He’d gone, yes, and left her. But when she’d been desperate, she’d sent for him. She’d thought that enough feeling, enough history, had remained between them that he would come to help.
But he hadn’t. Her pleas had gone unanswered.
She bit her lower lip and turned swiftly, anxious to put some distance between herself and Adam as quickly as possible. Damn him. This wasn’t fair. It was the surprise of seeing him that was throwing her so badly now. Definitely not fair. But then again, when had he ever played fair? He surely had the advantage today. Coming here, he’d known that he would see her.
Sweet Jesus, she could have used some warning. It would have been nice if Irma Jensen had given her a call.
Why? she taunted herself. What did it matter? Come on, come on, she was an adult, a big girl, and he was history,
She started walking quickly, heading toward her private beach house off the south side of the main lodge.
First her father…
Then Hank.
And all over a cache of pirate gold.
Or had it been? Had they disappeared…had they
Adam O’Connor chased live men. Present-day pirates. And Adam was on the island.
Sam suddenly stopped in her tracks, staring at the smooth concrete path that began where the wooden decking ended. She had come about halfway up from the docks and stood between the docks and the main lodge. And she was looking down at a trail of drops on the smooth concrete.
A trail of crimson drops, bloodred drops….
Oh, God.
Adam was back in her life, on her island.
And there were drops on the walkway.
Red drops.
2
S am quickly bent down to study the crimson drops. She reached out a finger, touching one.
“Sammy!”
She jumped, coming to her feet. Ahead of her, in the doorway of the lodge, stood Jerry North, Liam Hinnerman’s exquisite little doll. Her blond hair was a riot of soft waving curls around her gamine face. She was dressed in slinky white, a chiffon halter-dress creation that bared her shoulders and formidable cleavage and a fair length of her slim tanned legs. Her feet were encased in stiletto heels despite the sometimes tricky terrain of the island.
“Sammy, how was the dive?”
“Nice, you should try coming one day!” Sam called. She bent down, reached out, touched a red drop.
Studied it.
Was it blood?
“You should try one of my drinks! I make a mean Bloody Mary!” Jerry called to her cheerfully, lifting her right hand. She was holding a glass. A big, tall glass. A celery stick was rising above the rim of a glass that was practically overflowing—with something red.
A Bloody Mary.
Sam almost groaned aloud, wiping her finger on the grass by the path. She stood, smiling at Jerry, feeling like a fool.
Tomato juice had become drops of blood in her own slowly decaying mind.
It was because that damned man was back.
“Oh, did I spill? I’m so sorry!” Jerry called contritely.
“Just a drop, no problem. It’s nothing.”
“Still, I’m sorry. Everything is so immaculate here.”
“Nearly perfect,” Sam muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing. It will rain soon, a few little drops of tomato juice are no problem,” Sam said.
“Thanks. Still…I can get something and clean them up.”
“Jerry! We’re outside! Trust me—the birds never apologize for what they do to the walks.”
Jerry smiled and laughed softly. “You really grew into a beautiful young woman.”
“What?”
“You’re just a sweetheart,” Jerry said. “The island is great, and you do a wonderful job here.”
“Thanks.”
“Must have been a good dive. The others are right behind you. They look tired.”
“It was,” Sam agreed. She wanted to escape. She needed time alone, and Jerry, as usual, wanted to draw her into conversation. Most of the time she liked Jerry. Just not now.
“Those little cuties are all scattering to their own cottages. A few of them will be coming our way soon, I
