by Desiree Holt
But luck apparently was in short supply for her today. When she reached the deck and searched for an unoccupied table, a voice from behind her said, “Maybe if we share a table, I’ll be able to keep my coffee in my cup.”
Let me sink into a hole and die right now.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she turned around, and promptly lost every bit of breath in her body.
Her victim that morning was at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a lean body. He had ocean-blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a square jaw, his face highlighted by the carefully maintained stubble beard. His thick, dark hair was straight and cut conservatively. The gray beginning to show at his temples made it look so much better. She put his age at somewhere past forty-five, which only added to the sexiness of his look. She had a thing for men in that bracket, anyway. She’d learned the hard way that men closer to her age came, for the most part, with built-in problems: a gigantic ego and a disdain for anyone but themselves.
He probably has women falling all over him, and not the way I did.
“If you’d rather not,” he said, “I’ll understand.”
Understand what? Oh, yes, sharing a table.
“Um…” Intelligent, Robin. Very intelligent. What a great impression she was making.
“Hey. It’s okay.” He took a step back. “Like I said, I under—”
“Yes.” The word came out on a breath of air. “Yes. Sharing a table would be nice.”
He grinned, and holy mother of god! He had dimples! How was this man still single? If he was, that is. She tried to see his left hand, but he had both of them shoved in the pockets of his shorts.
“Okay, then. After you.”
He removed one hand from a pocket to gesture toward a free table. But it was his right hand, damn it. She didn’t need some irate wife showing up. She was already embarrassed enough to carry her through the rest of her stay. When they were seated, he put both hands on the table, and she slid a glance as obliquely as she could.
“No, I’m not married.” The pleasant look on his face was replaced by one full of pain, but so brief it was gone in an instant.
“Neither am I.” There she went again, with the stupid one-liners. Now he’d think she was trying to pick him up.
He chuckled, a sound so masculine it sent a shaft of heat through her entire body. If she didn’t stop this, she might self-combust into a pile of ashes where she sat.
“Well, good. Then no one will be interrupting our breakfast.”
“And I promise not to spill anything on you again.”
And there was that laugh that played a tune on her hormones. Good lord. She was hiding from killers, not on vacation here.
“I’ll certainly appreciate it.”
They spent a few moments reading the menus the waitress brought and sipping the coffee she poured before placing their orders. Then they just stared at each other, as if their ability to converse had evaporated.
“Well.” Robin cleared her throat. “I guess we should introduce ourselves. Robin Hanna.” She held out her hand across the table. She had one moment of panic, wondering if she should have told him her name. Then she gave a mental shrug. She’d just have to believe Jonas when he assured her the Russians had no idea where she was.
“Trey DeMarcus.” He took her hand and enveloped it in his warm one. “Nice to meet you, Robin Hanna. Is that Robin with an I or a Y?”
”With an I. The regular plain old spelling.”
“My favorite kind.” He released her hand, and she immediately missed its rough warmth.
“This is a very nice place.” She looked around the deck, the lush shrubbery and trees, everything bathed in the golden glow of the sun. “Have you been here before?”
Again, the smile disappeared from his face. What was going on with him? But then he managed to curve his lips into another one.
“No. A friend recommended it. And you?”
“Same thing. Sort of.” As she spoke the words, the cell phone she’d shoved into her pocket vibrated. She looked at the readout. Jonas. “I am so sorry. Can you just excuse me a moment while I answer this?”
“Of course. But I don’t mind if you take it here.”
“Oh, no. I-I don’t want to bore you.” She stood up quickly—too quickly?—and walked off to the edge of the deck by the pool. She turned so her back was to the restaurant. Then, inhaling a deep breath, she answered the call. “Hi, Jonas. I hope this isn’t bad news.”
“Maybe a little bit of both. Our crime scene experts found a hidden camera in Raymond Forrester’s office. You’d have to know what you were looking for to find it. In fact, it was so well concealed, our guys had to literally rip apart every piece of furniture and accessory in the office.”
“And?” She sucked in her breath. Was it possible this nightmare might be over?
“It plainly shows both men with Forrester and one of them shooting him.
“So you arrested them, right?” She was almost afraid to get too excited.
“We arrested one of them,” Jonas told her.
“One of them?” she squeaked. “What about the other?”
“We had him under surveillance. Both of them as a matter of fact. But—”
Oh god! She squeezed the phone. “But what?”
“He managed to slip away from us, but two things for you to remember. He has no idea where you are, and we always get the people we’re after. The entire task force is all over this, Robin. I wanted to be sure and tell you your stay at Casa Blanca isn’t over yet. Just hang tight.” His laugh sounded rusty, as if he didn’t use it much. “You’re in a great place. Take advantage of it. Enjoy yourself.”
Enjoy herself. Right. With a killer on the loose, and no one seemed to know where.
“You’ll keep me in the loop?” she persisted.
“Absolutely. Now, go have one of those fancy tropical drinks. It’ll make you feel so much better.”
“A drink?” She chuffed a laugh. “Jonas, it’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Okay, then make it a Bloody Mary. Or a mimosa.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She disconnected the phone and stood there a minute, holding it, pulling herself together. She needed to have her game face on before she returned to the table.
Obviously a man of manners, Trey rose and waited for her to be seated before sitting down again. He gave her a quizzical look.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Just some…problems a friend is having. She needed to ask me a couple of questions.”
“Doesn’t she know you’re on vacation?” He tilted his head. “You are on vacation, right?”
“Oh, of course. Yes.” She picked up her coffee and took a sip, thankful that her hand didn’t shake. “It was just…a personal problem. We’re very close, so I like to be there for her.”
I hope the gods don’t smite me for lying.
“Yes, I guess that’s a good thing.”
She studied him, trying to read the expression on his oh-so-sexy face.
“Don’t you have friends you’re very close to? Or is that not a male thing?”
He frowned, taking a moment to answer her as if he wasn’t quite sure of the words.
“I guess I never thought about it. I lived in a lot of different places for the last twenty years, and now I’m still finding my footing.”
And not having an easy time of it, she thought. The stress etched on his face she’d noticed when she sat down across from him had eased, but he wasn’t even close to being relaxed. Of course, she was a fine one to talk.
They were silent while the waitress set their orders in front of them.
“Did you have to travel for your job?” She wondered just what he’d been doing that he moved around so much.
He laughed, a nice warm sound like honey sliding on your tongue. She felt the rush of heat throughout her body and deliberately reached for her glass of ice water. She was in no position to do anything more
than have breakfast with this man.
“I guess you could say that,” he told her. “I was in the Navy. JAG. That’s—”
“Judge Advocate General’s group. I’m familiar with it.” She smiled at him. “I loved the television series.”
“Well, it wasn’t always as exciting as they portrayed it in the program, but I loved it. I had a real variety of cases and got to travel around the world to different Navy facilities.” He winked. “Join the Navy, see the world.”
“How long were you in?” She bit off a tiny piece of the fluffy croissant on her plate.
“Twenty years.” He broke a muffin open and buttered it while he talked. “I was lucky enough to get hired on with a great law firm right out of college, but I wasn’t getting to work on the variety of cases I wanted. Not like I did with JAG.”
“What did your wife think about it?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. It was none of her business what his wife thought or if he’d had one. It bothered her even more when she saw a look of pain slash across his face. Maybe his wife had died. Or something.
Good going, Robin.
“Forget I said anything.” She waved her hand in the air. “It’s none of my business, anyway. Maybe you didn’t ever have a wife. I mean—”
His mouth turned up in a grin that held little humor. “No, that’s okay. We’re divorced. It seems I was more excited about the Navy than she was.”
Good going, Robin. He’s probably here to get away from the whole mess. If it was a mess. If, indeed—
Okay, shut up now.
“I’m sorry.” She wanted to reach across the table to touch his hand but reminded herself how inappropriate that would be. “I should know better than to ask personal questions. My mouth doesn’t usually run away with me like this.”
“No, it’s a normal question. But, yes, I’d be just as happy talking about something else.” He smiled, but to Robin it looked more like a grimace. Whatever the deal was with his wife—or ex-wife—the pain was still front and center.
“Okay. Is this your first time at Casa Blanca Resort?” She wanted to smack herself. “Scratch that. Stupid question.”
“Not really. It’s a common enough question for two strangers accidentally having breakfast together.”
“Accidentally?” She laughed. “I guess that’s as good a way as any to put it. How about this? How long have you been here?”
“Okay.” He nodded, swallowing a bite of his eggs Benedict. “That’s safe enough. Since yesterday morning. Zack Elliott flew me down along with a couple who apparently comes here a lot.”
“Zack Elliott must be one busy pilot. He flew me down here the day before.”
“He told me he does most of the charters to and from Barefoot Bay. He and his wife live in Naples.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You sound like you know him pretty well.”
“We’re friendly acquaintances,” he told her. “A lot of the clients my firm represents vacation here at Barefoot Bay, and Zack has ferried them back and forth.”
Silence dropped over the table, and Robin searched for another topic, breaking off a piece of croissant and chewing while she searched her rapidly deteriorating mind.
“What about you?” Trey asked. “Your first time here?”
“Yes. I—” She stopped. She was trying not to give away much information, even though she was positive there was no way on this earth the man across from her was a danger to her.
“Maybe we should try another topic.” He leaned back in his chair. “What do you do when you aren’t enjoying this place?”
“I’m an investment counselor.” Robin stopped. “Oh god. A lawyer and an investment counselor. I can imagine the jokes people would make about that.”
“Here’s a thought.” He watched her as he swallowed the last of his coffee. “Why don’t we forget about whatever it is we left at home, and try to have some fun?” Then he sobered. “Unless, of course, you have a commitment to someone. I don’t want to—”
She held up a hand. “No. No one at all. To tell you the truth, I’d love to pretend I’m someone else for a while and just have some fun, I don’t think I can remember the last time I did that.”
Before I spent sixteen hours a day working my ass off for my clients and certainly before I saw two men standing over the body of Raymond Forrester.
“Why don’t we take a little trip into Mimosa Key. I hear it’s the gold standard for a Florida tourist town. We can walk around and work off this breakfast.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Then she remembered Seth’s words. “I do have to make a call first, though. And I need something back at the villa.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Let’s meet back up in the lobby. Fifteen minutes do it for you?”
“Yes, that should be good.”
“Great.” He grabbed the bill left discreetly in the leather folder on the table. “Let me get this.”
“Oh. No, I couldn’t—”
He held up a hand. “Please. It’s a small enough price to pay for pleasant company during the meal. Go make your call. I’ll be in the lobby. Oh, and bring a scarf.”
“Scarf?” She drew her eyebrows together. “Okay, I guess.”
Robin didn’t want to waste any more time in conversation. She ran back to the villa, waiting until she got inside to call the number Seth had given her.
He answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I—” She stopped. She felt like a teenager asking her father’s permission to go on a date. Which this was not. But she needed to make sure he was safe. Right. Safe. More and more she felt out of her element here. And the whole situation wasn’t improved by the fact that Trey DeMarcus was a walking sex god who made not just her body but her brain forget why she was here.
“Robin?” Seth’s voice pierced the sudden fog clouding her brain.
“Yes. Here. Listen, I don’t know quite how to put this, but I met this guy in the restaurant. Well, maybe met isn’t the exact term. I dumped his coffee all over him.”
Seth chuckled. “Sorry, but the visual was great. Go ahead. What about him?”
“Well, we had breakfast together, and he seems okay. I mean, I didn’t get any weird vibes from him. But now he suggested we go into Mimosa Key and look around, and I know—”
“Name.” He snapped the word.
“What?”
“His name, Robin. I’m in the office right now, and I can check him out.”
So, she gave him what he needed and waited on edge until he got back to her.
“You still there?” he asked.
“I am.”
“Okay, you are good to go. This guy is clean as a whistle. I’ll pass this along to Jonas, but I’m sure he won’t find anything. Go forth and have a good day. You deserve it.”
“Oh. Good.” Relief coursed through her. “Thank you so much.”
“Just check in at regular intervals, please.”
“I will.” She hesitated a moment. “You don’t think the Russians would send someone here, do you?” But he’d tell her not to leave the resort if he thought that.
“No. They’d stick out like a sore thumb. That’s if they even knew where to find you. You’re good to go, I promise. Talk to you after a while.”
Robin took a few minutes to put on a touch more makeup and spritz on some cologne, all the while telling herself this was not a date. She grabbed the little canvas purse Sarah had stuck in with her clothes and shoved her wallet, her phone, and a lipstick into it. Then she remembered the scarf. What the hell? But Sarah had also included a silk scarf with sailboats on it, so she folded it and stuck it in the pocket of her shorts. Then she hurried back to the resort.
Trey was waiting in the lobby as promised. God, he looked so gorgeous in his soft-collar shirt and shorts. Now that he was standing up, she also noticed how strong his legs looked and how fit his body was. And she wasn’t the only one loo
king at him. Other women in the lobby were taking a minute to admire him, also.
“All set?” he called.
Robin nodded. “I am.”
“Then, let’s get to it.” He reached for her hand, and, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, she put her smaller one in his and walked with him out to the parking lot.
“A convertible!” She tried not to squeal like a teenager. “How fabulous. And what a great looking one.”
“Hence the suggestion of the scarf. Ready to hit the road?”
“And have some fun.” She studied his face, still etched with fine lines of tension. “You look like a man who needs to relax.”
As did she. For a little while, maybe she could put the desperate situation back home out of her mind and pretend she was on a real vacation.
She unfolded the scarf and tied it over her hair then leaned back in the seat, face tilted up to the sun. Then they were off, the wind a pleasant breeze, the sun a warm caress, and nothing ahead of them but a day to do whatever they wanted.
Chapter Five
Trey smiled at the woman sitting on the bench next to him, realizing that, for the first time in days, his brain and his body weren’t tied up in knots and he hadn’t given a thought to Laura, her boy toy, his situation, or the shock of the divorce. It was the first time in his life he could remember having coffee dumped on him turn into a pleasurable experience.
Robin Hanna was a complete opposite of Laura. His wife—ex-wife, idiot—was slender, and tall, with black hair that she wore cut short. Robin, on the other hand, was maybe five-foot-five, with a nicely rounded body that her shorts and T-shirt accented very well. Her shimmering blonde hair hung just to her shoulders, and bangs highlighted clear hazel eyes, thick eyelashes, and a sculpted face. She had a laugh that was musical in its sound.
He wasn’t looking for a hookup. He wasn’t even sure he’d know how to handle one anymore. And he definitely wasn’t interested in the Barefoot Bay motto: “Kick off your shoes and fall in love.” But for however long she was here at Barefoot Bay, she could be someone to have fun with, like today. To help him put the mess of his life in a pocket and forget about it. Someone to enjoy his stay with. Period.
