When she didn't say anything more, he laughed. "Why don't you go first? What are your plans when you get out of college?''
"I've been working with a public relations firm in Austin the past two summers, and they've offered me a position there. I've also been considering applying for a similar situation with one of the national hotel chains— planning and arranging for conferences, and that sort of thing." She took a sip of wine. "How about you? What are your duties at work?" "I work homicide."
"Really? I would guess that's a very rough assignment."
He nodded. "It can be. You can burn out in a hurry. I hadn't realized how close I was until I actually arrived here. I couldn't stop my mind from racing. Of course by the time I reached the place, I'd been traveling so long I was really jet lagged. Now it's hard for me to think about the life I have in California."
"Do you have any family?" she asked, already aware that he didn't wear a ring.
“My parents live in Santa Barbara, a couple of hours away. I was an only child for a long time. My sister, Tricia, was born when I was eleven, then Scott came along a couple of years later. The twins, Todd and Greg, were born three years after that."
"So you have three brothers!" she said with a laugh. ' 'Well, we have that in common, at least. I always wished for a sister, but Mom said I'd have to settle for Cindi, who is as close as a sister could be."
"I was away in college by the time the twins got out of the baby stage, so it's hard to think of them as brothers."
Carmela came and cleared the table before bringing them dessert and coffee. Steve caught a twinkle in her eyes when she saw them chatting so amiably together.
What could he say? This certainly wasn't the toughest assignment he'd ever had, entertaining a charming young lady.
"What about your family?" he asked.
“My dad owns a ranch, as I think I mentioned earlier. I have two older brothers and one younger. I'm very close to my mom. People often mistake us for sisters. She was a highly paid New York model before they started their family."
"I must admit that when I first spotted you on the beach I wondered if you were a model."
Her eyes sparkled, and she flashed her dimpled grin. "Oh! Well, thank you! I'd definitely take that as a compliment."
He lifted his wineglass in a salute and said, "Just as it was meant." He took a sip. "Are you close to your brothers?"
"Closer than I'd like at times," she replied ruefully. "Don't get me wrong. I have a very warm, loving family," she said, taking a bite of pie. "The problem is that sometimes they're a little too loving. My brothers seem to think I'm helpless without them to look after me. I can just imagine what they would say if they ever heard about my being marooned on an island."
"Ah. So that's why you don't want to call home for help," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smile.
"Exactly. I'm embarrassed enough that this happened without letting them know about it. They'd never let me hear the end of it. I really think I would have made it back in time if I hadn't fallen." She glanced down at her foot. "I guess I should consider myself lucky I didn't sprain my ankle...or worse." When she looked back at him she was unnerved by the glow in his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel all quivery inside. She said the first thing that came to mind.
"How long have you been a policeman?"
"I graduated from the academy eight years ago. I've been a homicide detective for the past three years."
"Was your dad a policeman, as well?"
Steve shook his head. "My dad played baseball for Atlanta years ago. He retired when I was fifteen."
"I'm afraid I don't know much about sports, especially baseball. My brothers are all football fans, so being around them and listening to them taught me a little about that sport, but not much. Did you play sports growing
up?"
"As a matter of fact, I did. I planned to play baseball professionally until my junior year in college when an injury to my arm knocked me out of any hopes of making it to the big league." Before she could say anything, he went on. ' 'The man who owns this island, Ed Kowolski, played on the same team as my dad. They were close friends and roommates on the road. I've always considered Ed more of an uncle than just a friend of the family." He looked at her glass. "More wine?"
"Oh, no, thank you. I'm not much of a drinker." She glanced out the window. "Oh, look, the sun is going down. With the clouds on the horizon, the sunset is going to be spectacular."
Steve stood. ' T know of a great place to view the sunset. You want to see it?"
"Sure," she said. He held out his hand to her. It was such a natural gesture that she thought nothing of taking it, until she felt his warm palm pressed against hers. There was an electrical surge that shot through her body as though she'd been zapped by lightning.
Her hand jerked, but he didn't seem to notice.
He led her outside, then over a path that ended at a wooden bench seat facing west. The sun was rapidly sinking into the ocean, turning the water a fiery red, and the sky became an artist's palette of colors.
No matter how often he saw it, Steve was transfixed by the spectacle. He seldom noticed the sun when he was in LA. Working the evening shift, he rarely thought about anything but work at that time of day.
Or any other time of day, for that matter. Yet now, here he was, taking in the daily spectacular of light and color with an extremely attractive young woman. If Ray could see him now, he'd definitely agree that Steve's vacation was going better than his most extravagant expectations.
He also noticed that she seemed as spellbound as he was by the sight. He appreciated her silence as they sat there until night had fallen and the stars took over the sky.
Finally she straightened and sighed. “No wonder you enjoy being here so much."
"Yeah. It's definitely a soothing experience."
She stood. "I appreciate your hospitality, but I don't want to take up any more of your time, so I think I'll go on to bed."
"You can't be serious. It's much too early to sleep, especially after that nap you had earlier. How about a game of pool? Or maybe some cards. Do you like to play?"
He could barely see her face in the shadows. She stood facing him, her hands clasped behind her back. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You've been more than generous with your time. I don't want to become a nuisance."
Steve realized that he was thoroughly enjoying her company. The hours had slipped away since he'd found her. Now that she was here, he didn't want to spend any more time alone. He wanted to show her the island, take her with him to explore the parts he hadn't seen yet.
All of that would have to take place when the sun was up. But for now...
"You aren't a nuisance. I promise. I'm sorry if I sounded like a grump earlier today. Let's go back to the house and I'll show you the game room." He laughed. "In fact, now that you're here, I'll have someone to compete against. Most of those games take two people."
They returned to the house. He took her upper arm to guide her along the way. He liked touching her. He rubbed his thumb along her skin, enjoying the silky feel of it.
She shivered.
"I should have brought you a jacket," he said, draping his arm across her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. She was a nice fit. A perfect fit, actually.
"I didn't realize there was a pool table," she said, sounding a little breathless. He was feeling a little breathless himself.
"Yep. Do you like to play?" he asked, hoping she couldn't hear the rapid beating of his heart.
"Sure." They reached the terrace, and he opened the
sliding door for her. Carmela had left one of the lamps on for them and had gone home to Romano for the night. They were alone in the house.
Not that it mattered, Steve thought. He'd meant what he'd told her. She was perfectly safe with him. If he said it often enough, he was certain he'd be able to convince himself.
"Have you played much pool?" he asked, leading t
he way to the game room.
She chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Whenever my brothers would let me play. I've always enjoyed the game, though."
He'd nodded. He would go easy on her. There was no reason to embarrass her. After all, tonight the game would be more a form of recreation than the way he and Ray liked to play—competitive and cutthroat.
He stepped back at the doorway and said, "Go ahead."
The large game room had a pool table, table tennis, an octagonal-shaped card table and various games, dice and assorted poker chips on display. "You can break."
"But shouldn't we—"
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "No need. You go ahead."
She shrugged and said, "Well, okay, but that doesn't seem fair to me."
What a nice attitude, he thought. She didn't want to take advantage of him. If she only knew that he'd spent more of his time in college shooting pool than he had studying. Not that he would ever let her know just how well he could play. He certainly didn't want to intimidate her.
So Steve watched as Robin racked the balls into a tight fit, lined up the cue and shot, putting two in, one stripe and one solid. She studied the table. "I'll take solid," she said.
He looked the table over and agreed with her choice. At least she understood the game. Her break had been good—she had a long, clean stroke—and she'd lucked out putting two balls into pockets on that first hit.
After she cleared the table of solids and gracefully sank the eight ball, she turned to him apologetically and said, "I'm sorry. You didn't get a chance to shoot."
He laughed. "Don't apologize. You did wonderfully well. Go ahead. You break again."
"Well, I know that's the rales, but don't you want to take your turn?''
"Don't worry about it. I'll get my chance soon enough."
By the time he got that chance, she'd cleared the table twice more and had only two balls left on the table for the fourth game. All right, she was better than good. She had a steady hand, a good eye and great form, and if she'd had any idea of his condescending attitude toward her when they'd first started, he'd be feeling humiliated by now. Instead, he was having trouble keeping his attention on the game.
She seemed totally unconscious of how she looked stretched across the table, her long legs making it easier for her to handle some of the more awkward shots.
"How did you say you learned to play?" he finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"My dad taught me."
"Ah."
Steve reminded himself not to challenge her father, should they ever meet, to a game of pool, if the student was any indication of the teacher's skills.
He lost track of time, determined to catch up with her.
He'd never seen a woman play with such concentrated skill. He was used to playing with women who were more experienced at gaining attention than placing shots. When Robin played, she seemed to be unaware of anything else but the angle of her next placement.
Only later did he realize that they'd spoken very little the entire evening. At one point he went to the kitchen and brought back a beer for him, a fruit punch drink for her. When she finally smiled and said, "I really need to get some sleep, Steve," he was astounded to discover that it was after one o'clock in the morning.
"You're three games ahead of me," he said ruefully. "You're good. You know that?"
She grinned. "Thanks. I had to learn to be good to keep up with my brothers." Of course.
"And you're maybe a little bit competitive," he added with a grin.
She laughed. "I've been accused of such a thing on one or two occasions." "I just bet you have."
They returned to the living room. "Well," she said a
little uncertainly, "I guess I'll see you in the morning."
"Say, would you like to meet me on the beach at dawn, go for a morning swim? It's a great way to start the day."
"I'm not sure I'll be awake at that time." "Oh. Well then, I'll see you when you get up. There's no hurry, of course. No time clocks to punch on this island, that's for sure." There was a forced heartiness to his voice that irritated him, but he couldn't seem to rid himself of it. He was feeling tense and more than a little irritable. Could it really have bothered him that she had beaten him so consistently? Surely not.
The only other thing that might be bothering him was the fact that he'd been in a semiaroused state for most of the evening. He was thankful she seemed to be oblivious of him.
Then again, that might be part of his problem. Let's face it, he wasn't used to being ignored. Didn't she feel the vibration that seemed to hum around them? He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her all night.
"Well," she said with a hint of a smile, "I'll see you in the morning."
"Sure," he said. He needed to go to bed, too. Instead, he headed for the kitchen and another beer. What was the matter with him, anyway? He was acting as though he'd been rejected because she didn't want to stay up with him longer.
His problem was that most women he spent the evening with took for granted that they would be spending the night together, as well. So there was always that anticipation as the evening progressed—the long looks, the accidental touches that were intentional, maybe a teasing kiss or two.
But this situation was different. This hadn't been a date. She hadn't chosen to spend the time with him. He was her host and as such had to remember that she was here because she had no other place to stay.
He wandered off to bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He'd been perfectly content to be here on his own, his meals magically appearing at specified times of the day.
Now he was having trouble planning to get up alone in the morning for his usual ritual of greeting the sun on the beach. He shook his head in disbelief before taking his shower. Eventually he sprawled out on his bed with a sigh. He'd feel more himself after a good night's sleep.
Robin came awake with a jolt and realized that she'd been dreaming—nightmarish dreams where she kept running to catch a train but always missed it. It didn't take much thought to figure out why she'd be having dreams about being left behind.
She rolled over with a groan, unwilling to go back to sleep if she was going to continue with that kind of dream pattern. She wondered what time it was. The owner obviously had chosen not to have clocks around the place.
She'd left her watch on the ship, not wanting to take a chance on getting sand or salt water into the gift her parents had given her for her high school graduation.
She sat up, running her hand through her hair.
Even though the room was dark, she was wide awake. She tossed back the sheet and went into the bathroom. Maybe she'd get dressed and go get something to drink in the kitchen. Surely Carmela had a clock in there.
After slipping into the clothes she'd worn last night, Robin quietly opened her door and listened, but heard nothing stirring. She had no idea where Steve slept.
The hallway was dark, but there was a faint light coming through the windows in the living room. She felt her way down the long expanse until she reached the lighter area where she finally relaxed. Only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath.
She shook her head in disgust. This wasn't some kind of gothic movie where a gruesome being might jump out at her at any moment.
Now that she was in the living room, she had no trouble finding her way into the kitchen. She flipped on the light, blinking until her eyes adjusted. Ah. There was a clock on the stove. She peered at the hands. It was almost six o'clock.
She poured herself some fresh fruit juice from the refrigerator and looked around. There was fruit as well as fresh rolls. She took a bite of mango, then wiped the juice that ran down her chin with the back of her hand.
Robin wandered over to the window and looked out. There was a little more light than when she'd first looked outside. She could see the water, washing up on the shore in rhythmic waves, leaving a white wreath of foam decorating the sand.
/> She finished her juice, picked up her mango, then went to the sliding doors and let herself outside. The stars were still clear, but there was a faint lightening of the sky to the east.
After following the path to the shore, she walked along the shallows, looking out over the blackness that was the ocean.
Her thoughts went back to the restless night she'd just spent. She'd kept waking up with a jolt, wondering where she was, wondering why she was alone, wishing that Cindi were there.
This wouldn't be a bad situation if her friend were here making jokes about their getting themselves into such a situation. Cindi had a lighthearted way of looking at life. Robin envied her the ability. She knew she took everything too seriously, but so far, acknowledging the flaw hadn't helped her to overcome the tendency.
Well, now she had a chance to practice seeing the humor in the situation she'd gotten herself in.
The fact was the early-morning view was becoming spectacular. She paused and looked to the east. The sky was rapidly turning colors, from the dark blue-black of the night to softer pastel colors. A line of low-hanging clouds on the horizon suddenly burst into bright red as though catching fire.
She finished her mango and tossed the seed into the water, leaned over and washed her hands in the surf, splashing water onto her face, as well. Then she retreated to the softer, dry sand and sat down, prepared to watch nature's spectacular display of light and color.
There was no sense of time passing as the sun suddenly appeared at the edge of the horizon, then rapidly moved until it seemed to balance like a bright orange ball on the line where the ocean met the sky.
She sighed. Her petty concerns seemed to dissipate and disappear with the light breeze that flirtatiously brushed against her cheek before dancing away.
Eventually she got up, dusted the sand from the seat of her shorts and started back down the beach the way she had come. When she reached the area where the path led back to the house, she noticed a towel and thongs lying on the sand. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and peered out to the water.
Eventually she spotted Steve as he energetically swam parallel to the beach. He was far enough out that all she could see of him was his dark head and an occasional flash of his arms as he moved through the water.
Marriage Prey Page 5
