by R. T. Wolfe
"Mr. Corbin," Detective Osborne answered flatly. "Zoe's boss," he added.
She was thankful Dane stepped in to help the last time they were here. She would admit to being a bit overwhelmed, but this was rude. Elbowing him in the arm, she stepped around him. "Thank you for the messages, Detective. You have my camera?"
The detective ran a hand through his deep brown hair as he held out the envelope. A few strands of gray caught the florescent lights. She took the envelope as Dane crowded her again. What the hell? She set her elbow on his ribs this time, then pushed.
"I'm afraid the camera stays in evidence until the investigation is complete," the detective said as he stood tall and his gaze moved between her and Dane.
This time she nearly tripped as Dane stepped in front of her. "You called us all the way out here to pick up Zoe's camera." She didn't like the way he used the word, 'us.'
"Actually," she admitted. "The message said he had something for me. I guess I assumed."
So, what was in the envelope? Should she just rip it open right here?
It appeared the detective didn't appreciate Dane's assertive posture, because he reached in front of Dane and took the back of Zoe's arm. Pulling her away a few feet, he said in a low voice, "Go ahead and open it. I can't give you the camera since it is evidence in an open investigation, but I developed the photos for you."
She froze for a moment, taking in the idea of doing without her camera for... how long? Realizing he must have done her some kind of a favor, she shook her head once and said, "You did that for me," then ripped open the top of the envelope. "Thank you." Now that she thought of it, the envelope was too heavy for just her underwater camera. Seth may not have approved of her dinky camera, but she'd spent a hunk of her salary on it. Looking closer, she reached in and fanned through the pictures. "You printed all of my pictures?" She jerked her gaze upward. He was very tall and his proximity disconcerting, but the light brown in his eyes was warm and reminded her of the sand.
He partially glanced in Dane's direction making her check on him, too. His eyes were most definitely not warm as he stood with his chest out and elbows locked at his sides. Testosterone could be so annoying.
The detective turned fully away from Dane this time. "You didn't listen to the voice mail I left you, did you?"
"Honestly, I was so excited about my camera I forgot all about it."
"Of course. I'm sorry about that. It's procedure. I tell you what. You keep the photos. Listen to your voice mail when you get a chance." He moved his gaze over his shoulder, "And call me if you'd like to."
"If I'd like to," she repeated flatly. She didn't really catch onto his cryptic message and truly just wanted to dig into the photos. "I'll do that. Thank you... " She still didn't have her camera. "...I think."
Dane took a step closer, his hard shoulder pressed against hers. "If that's all you've got for us, we'll be going then." Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
Her mind wasn't on Dane's sarcasm and only partially on the detective's allusiveness. It was on the pictures. Would he have developed the one of the skull? What kind of detail could she get from the maps if she blew up a print?
Dane placed his hand on her back as he opened the door for her but she only partially noticed. As she thumbed through the photos, she swiped her phone and held it between her check and shoulder.
She chose voice mail. "This is Detective Osborne. I left you a text message and realized that was lame."
'Lame?'
"The truth is I developed the photos from your camera. I'm hoping it will sway you to have dinner with me." At the end, he added quickly, "Unless you and Mr. Corbin are an item."
'Sway me? An item?' He sounded a bit like her father. It was cute.
He left his personal number before he disconnected. Detective Osborne. She strolled toward the door blindly. Tall. Attractive. Hair cut tightly that was nearly the color of hers. He must be nearly her brother's age. Or the age he was when he disappeared—died.
She didn't realize Dane was waiting for her by the driver's side of her jeep. "Was that about the camera?"
She jerked. "Was what about the camera?" Oh, the voice mail. "No." Oh jeez, she was blushing. She could feel it. Not now. Not now in front of Dane. "It was nothing."
Chapter 6
Dane couldn't remember a single time Zoe had trouble with a tour group. She held her own, and he always booked party boats well under regulation capacity, especially when only one captain was scheduled. So, why was he sitting on the picnic table in the outdoor waiting area at ten o'clock on a Friday night instead of kicking up his heels at Show Me's?
Because her tour group had shown up in a cab. And that could be a good sign or a bad sign. A good sign that the party boat customers weren't planning on drinking and driving and a bad sign that they planned on getting loaded enough to need a cab. He reminded himself—again—there was only so much they could drink on a ninety-minute ride with no bathroom.
The lights from the distant bridge turned the water into rippling black glass. He stood each time a boat trolled, its headlight bright enough to seem like a portable lighthouse.
Zoe had built the waiting area with her own hands. A roof, three benches, and a picnic table. He sat on top of the table with his walkie on his thigh, watching the edge of the water. It was his idea to paint everything blue. It was her mother's idea to cover it with sea turtles and shore birds. Harmony had also added the sign that read, 'No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem.' What a woman.
The beach was shut down for the night. No lights were allowed anywhere on land along the waterfront during turtle nesting season. He thought of the female loggerheads that might be crawling up the sand at that moment. The ten miles of beach on the west side of Ibis alone brought nearly two hundred nests last year. Zoe said they were on track for that many again.
The dunes to the south of Sun Trips were a preferred nesting spot. What did Richard Beckett have in mind for the property? He doubted it was a turtle-friendly plan. The next lazy bob of light aimed straight for his docking pier. He stood, then sat again.
She wouldn't want anyone to see him wait for her twice in one day. But, he was the boss, dammit. And they were the only two left. He tossed his walkie on the table and made his way to the pier.
No music came through the speakers of the boat. His face fell as he noted the quiet was all wrong. Carefully, she flanked the pier. The riders sat with their hands in their laps. One looked like booze and boating hadn't mixed well with his stomach.
"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen," Zoe announced. "I hope you enjoyed your ride. We have bathrooms just inside the doors and to the right. I see your cab making the turn off Pelican Bridge right now."
She was soaking wet. One of the girls snickered as she gave her a look, then snorted. Another one of the girls joined in as they exited the boat one at a time. The dude in the middle walked with his knees together, his nuts in his hands... and also wet. The scenario was coming together.
Dane gave Zoe a once over. She looked like she was in one piece. He tied the boat as if it was something he always did, then helped check the gear and straighten the chairs. "Thank you for coming," he said as they exited one by one. He wasn't sure if he should invite them to come back again or not.
Beer cans were recycled, garbage tossed, and the boat readied for the first snorkeling/eco tour scheduled for the morning. Without pausing, Dane asked, "Drunk fell overboard?"
Zoe slung her tiny purse over her shoulder. "Yep."
He adjusted a buoy that was knotted and hadn't fallen completely between the boat and the pier. "You had to go in after him?"
"Right again." They headed for the office to check the group back in.
"That doesn't explain why he was holding his jewels like they were jewels."
"He fell overboard on purpose to get me in the water with him."
Dane's first reaction was a deep desire to follow the dude into the bathroom and teach the little prick what happens when you take advantag
e of... of what? His girl? She wasn't. She'd made that clear at St. Pete's police station when they met the detective. Was she just a friend who grew up on the same island as he did? Shit.
Then, he smiled. Smiled from ear to ear. "And you gave his junk a hearty slam with what... your knee I assume?"
"You assume right."
His brows dropped. It wasn't the first time in the past week she had a man come at her physically. "I'm following you home."
After all he just said, this was the comment that made her stop and face him?
She tilted her head, looked him in the eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll be in at eight to ready the pontoon for the snorkel tour." She walked into the office area, stood behind the check-in desk and artificially smiled at the first girl in the line.
* * *
Zoe dried her hair from her shower just enough to pass as presentable, slapped on some makeup, and waited in her front room for Raine to get there. She didn't own Sun Trips anymore and couldn't ban that drunk jerk from ever returning. She had to just take it. Well, take it after she swatted his wandering hands and kneed him soundly in the nuts. Guys and their nuts. A few drinks with her sisters and she'd be good as new. Although Detective Osborne didn't develop the photo of the knife through the skull, she still needed to fill them in on her visit to St. Pete's. And her possible dinner date.
She loved her little two-bedroom house. She'd earned it. The money made from her business—her old business—all went either into reinvesting in Sun Trips Touring or into this house. The money Dane paid for her half would cover the house payments and bills for at least a few more years. For now, she was smart and pinching her budget wherever she could.
She'd turned away from the style of the eccentric island home she grew up in. Hers was simple, uncluttered and... her. The soft yellow walls of the living room spoke to her, subtle yet inviting. A simple slate blue couch and love seat with floor lamp between. A wicker coffee table and small flat-screen TV for the moments she never watched television. When was the last time she turned the thing on? Her phone buzzed. It was Willow? She jogged out the front door, locking it behind her.
"Willow," Zoe said, surprised to see her in the passenger seat of Raine's pickup. "How did you get away?"
"Mom and Dad are keeping Chloe. The bar is fully staffed. I heard about your tour group."
"You heard about my night? It just happened."
Dane. Sometimes he and Willow were closer friends than Zoe liked.
More important than her tour group, Zoe asked, "Aren't you afraid, you know, about letting Chloe stay with them? At that house?" She didn't mean it exactly the way it came out. But whoever broke in was still out there.
"They came over to my place for euchre. Chloe won. They offered to stay after Dane called."
No snide remark from Raine about the reference to Dane. That probably wasn't a good sign. It didn't go unnoticed. "Is Show Me's okay?" Raine asked.
Shrugging, Zoe answered. "I'm getting drunk. Where is not a factor."
Raine huffed. "Your getting drunk is two full-leaded beers instead of light ones."
They pulled up to the bar. An ostentatiously jacked turquoise blue Jeep sat in the asphalt parking lot. "Did you tell Dane where we were going?"
Willow answered as she slid out of the truck. "I may have mentioned it as a possibility, but nothing for certain. Not that there are a lot of choices on the island. I need a break from Luciana's."
"But I haven't been to your bar in—"
"That's silly," Willow opened Zoe's door, took her arm, and wrapped it firmly in hers. "We probably won't even see Dane."
That would be impossible. If Dane Corbin was here, everyone would know it. Show Me's was booming, literally and metaphorically. She could feel the beat of the music out here. The owner had added a gift shop to the lobby, redecorated the dance floor, and expanded further onto the beach. He bought up some random lots to add parking spots for the complimentary valet parking Raine refused to use.
The place was too formal for an island. Island bars should have walls open to the outside, vivid colors and character. Show Me's may have decent food and plenty of company, but the atmosphere was boring. Zoe greeted the bouncer as they passed. "Hello, Eli. We won't be any trouble tonight," she told him sarcastically.
"The three Clearwater sisters? I'm calling for backup. How's the shelter doing?"
Eli could build anything, even a shelter on a roof for a handful of goats. "Sturdy as ever. You're a genius."
"Damnedest thing I've ever made," he said as they passed him and looked around for a table.
The air was thick. Between the humidity of June and jiggling bodies on the dance floor, Zoe was thankful the owner added a beer garden.
"I'm going to check on the lighting outside," Raine yelled over the sound of thumping. She had a one-track mind. "I'll be right back."
"What are you going to do if it isn't turtle friendly? Hunt up Blake Eaton at this hour?" Zoe asked.
Raine had an evil grin she saved for anything involving a good fight for the turtles. It was just in the last few years they were making a statistical comeback, as small as it was. There was no stopping Raine now.
"It wouldn't be a first offense," Raine reminded her.
Slinging the long strap of her tiny purse over her shoulder, Zoe maneuvered around a few side tables, heading for an empty one she spotted in a corner.
"Don't look now," Willow said.
As if that comment ever made anyone do anything other than look. Dane Corbin could find treasure in spots no one else did, he could run a business with his eyes closed, and he was a hell of a good dancer. The ladies ate it up, locals and tourists alike. Zoe did a one-eighty and headed for the bar. Willow didn't question and followed.
"MGD. Bottle," she said to the bartender before turning to Willow. "What do you want to drink?"
"Amaretto Stone Sour," Willow answered.
The bartender looked to Zoe. "Lite?"
Zoe squinted. "Leaded."
The bartender turned to take care of their order as Zoe leaned against the bar. She didn't want to face the dance floor. "Amaretto Stone Sour? You've been drinking that since high school."
"Slurping beer from a bottle isn't much to brag about." Willow made her way around Zoe, making her rotate to face the dance floor again. Dane had two girls twerking their butts at him. He turned his eyes to Zoe and kept them there. She could see the cobalt color all the way from the dance floor to where she stood at the bar. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and a chill scurried up her back and over her scalp.
"MGD?" Willow. "After your second one of those, I might have to carry you home."
"Let's sit." Zoe pulled Willow away as she took a long drink. The table in the corner was still empty.
From behind, an arm slid around the front of her. It wasn't like the intruder had done. And it obviously wasn't the arm of the man who attacked her, but she flinched anyway.
"Dance with me," a breathy voice whispered in her ear.
Zoe grabbed the arm with both hands and reactively pushed it away so she could get a look. Thick leather bracelet. Raised veins over strands of muscle. It was him. She turned and faced a thinner band of leather around his neck, then lifted her gaze to the sandy brown hair that threatened to cover the blue in his eyes. The strength of his body mixed with the close proximity and unnerved her to the point of making her shiver.
From the time she was a child, her parents taught the four of them to dance around the makeshift fire pit in their backyard. She could waltz, tango, and even do the two-step. She could jiggle by herself, dancing praises for their fortune as she pranced around the fire. She could most definitely not do what was happening out on Show Me's dance floor.
"This isn't high school, Dane," Raine interrupted as she joined them. "She's not going to fall for you ever again."
"How many years are you gonna hold on to that one?" Dane may bite his tongue when he was with their parents, but not so much when they weren't around.
The creases between Raine's eyes relaxed. "You're right. I'm sorry, Dane. Not in such a great mood. I just found uncovered lights in plain sight of two turtle nests. Blake Eaton had better be glad it's too early for either of them to hatch, or I'd march over and bang on his doors right now."
"Call a truce and dance with him, Zoe. We'll find a table." Willow took the beer from Zoe's hand and pulled Raine along.
Well, it wasn't like that made a diff—
In a highly public gesture, Dane linked fingers with her and led the way. The music wasn't slow, but it wasn't fast either... so that was something. Bongo drums thumped and something with a twang rang in the background. She couldn't back down from Dane Corbin with nearly every pair of female eyes trained on her. He stopped center stage, of course.
Turning to face her, he grasped her hips. He smirked as he stood without moving, then lifted a corner of his mouth. At just over six foot, he stood a full half-foot taller than her. She wasn't wearing heels tonight.
Playboy jerk.
In return, she slapped her hands on his shoulders. She should have chosen his wrists or maybe his elbows because his shoulders were lean, warm, and flexed under her grip. The squint she volleyed back at him must have hit its target, because he clasped his fingers tighter on her hips, jerking them to his. Defying her will, waves of heat spread from her core outward to every inch of her body.
And then he started moving. Strong hands pushed and pulled, guiding her hips with the pounding of the beat. They moved in their circle, forward and back, rotating clockwise, reversing left then right. No wonder the girls wanted to dance with him. She didn't have a chance to make a fool of herself. Although torture couldn't have made her admit it, she was having fun. She didn't need to watch her feet or the floor. Though she told herself repeatedly it wasn't sensual, it was exactly that.
No more than an inch separated their fluid movements. As if trusting her, he let go of one of her hips, sliding his hand up her waist. His thumb brushed the side of her breast before trailing around to the middle of her back. Another wave of heat shivered through her.
