“Who does?”
“Whoever I’m working for. I have some stuff of my own too, but the most sophisticated equipment is reserved for the police: state, feds, Interpol.”
“What’s Interpol?”
“International Police.”
“Paula said you went to Mexico not long ago on a case.”
“Paula says quite a bit, apparently,” he commented dryly. “I hope she hasn’t been scaring you off me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Cindy replied defensively, and he smiled slightly.
“Yes, you are,” he said quietly, and left it at that.
They approached Tampa Bay, and Fox pulled onto the causeway, which spanned the gleaming water like a thin ribbon. The bay fanned out from it on both sides, sparkling like an aquamarine in the fading light.
“This is gorgeous,” Cindy breathed, craning her neck to look around her. “But the road is so low, doesn’t it flood?”
“Wait until you see it on the way back, when it’s dark, with a hundred lights reflecting in the water. And yes, it does flood, all the time during hurricane season. That’s the reason the Sunshine Skyway was built so high, fifteen stories above the bay at its highest point. It connects St. Petersburg and Bradenton. There are signal lights on the ramparts to warn off planes.”
Cindy shuddered. “I don’t think I’d like to go on that,” she said.
Fox glanced at her. “Afraid of heights?”
She nodded.
“Trust me, princess, I won’t let you fall,” he said softly, and Cindy felt a plummeting sensation in her stomach, as if she were tumbling from a cliff already.
Maybe she was.
Fox drove through St. Petersburg down to the water, parking in the lot of a restaurant that flanked a marina. Small boats bobbed at anchor all around them as he led her up an entrance ramp designed to look like a gangway. Inside, the walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, affording an unobstructed view of the inlet.
“This is lovely, Drew,” Cindy said, as the hostess led them to their table. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He eyed her speculatively for a few seconds, and then replied, “Thank you for coming with me.”
They sat next to one of the windows and Cindy studied the view as Fox consulted the menu.
“What body of water is this?” she asked, as a soft breeze drifted in through the screen and caressed her face.
“Boca Ciega Bay,” he answered. He watched her rapt examination of the scenery, smiling to himself, and then suggested gently, “Would you like to look at this?” He handed her the tasseled menu.
She glanced at it perfunctorily, reading through the elaborate descriptions of seafood dishes in growing confusion. When she looked up at him he was grinning.
“Want me to chose for both of us?” he asked. When she agreed eagerly, he laughed.
The steward came by and Fox ordered white wine. He poured for her when it arrived, watching her reaction as she took the first sip.
“Okay?” he asked, and she nodded. Fox signaled to the steward that he could go.
When the waitress arrived, Fox ordered a platter of blue point oysters on the half shell as an appetizer and lobster tails for two. Cindy felt a little queasy about the oysters, but gamely decided to say nothing and give them a try.
“I’ve been telling you all about me,” Fox said as the waitress left. “What about you? What does a graduate assistant do? Assist graduates?”
His teasing grin told her he was kidding. She described the way her research program worked, and added that her supervisor, Richard Caldwell, had to approve her paper before she could get her degree.
“Yeah?” Fox said, taking a sip of wine. “So where is he?” He looked around the room as if he expected to find Richard propped against the wall like a garden rake.
“He’s still up at the university. I’ll be sending him copies of my work so he can keep track of what I’m doing.”
Fox toyed with the silver sugar bowl on the table. “So what’s the subject of your thesis?” he asked.
“Seminole legends,” Cindy answered, watching his face to see the impact of this information.
His unusual eyes widened. “No kidding! Hey, I’ll be your research project.”
“You’re only half Seminole,” Cindy said, her lips twitching.
“I’ll be half your research project,” he shot back, laughing.
The oysters arrived and Cindy eyed them warily.
“Seriously,” Fox said. “My grandfather knows an awful lot about the old stories; I’m sure he could help you. Would you like to meet him?”
Cindy stared at him. “Do you mean it?” she asked breathlessly. This was a golden opportunity, the chance of a lifetime to get the inside track. Sometimes it was hard for her to get her subjects to talk.
“Of course I mean it,” Fox replied, chuckling. He reached for the oysters and speared one with a tiny fork. “I have to go away this week, but I can take you out there next Saturday, if that would be okay.”
“That would be wonderful,” Cindy replied, trying to contain her excitement. This became easier instantly as Fox lifted an oyster to her lips.
“Try one,” he said.
Cindy stared at the slimy, gray-blue object. “These are raw?”
“Completely.”
“Not cooked at all?”
“Not at all,” he said, observing her consternation with amusement. “First time, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, princess, eat up,” he said, prodding her lower lip with the fork.
Cindy closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The oyster slid between her lips and down to the back of her throat, where it lodged like a basketball.
“Did you swallow it?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
Cindy shook her head mutely.
He grabbed a glass of water and held it to her lips. “Here, drink this, and sort of shoot it down with the flow.”
Cindy obeyed, gasping as the offending tidbit slid down her throat. Her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly.
“We’ll consider that experiment a failure,” he said dryly. He signaled the passing waitress. “Please bring the lady a shrimp cocktail,” he said. He glanced at Cindy. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, blinking, vastly relieved.
“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like oysters?” he asked gently, as she patted her lips delicately with a linen napkin.
“I never had them, as I said, so I thought I’d give them a try,” she answered. “You go ahead though, don’t let me stop you.”
Fox examined the remaining oysters doubtfully. “I’m not too thrilled with them myself now,” he said, and then looked up at her.
Cindy made a gagging face, and they both laughed.
“I would have thought you’d have a taste for oysters, with your background,” he said, filling her glass again with wine.
“What do you know about my background?” Cindy asked him, amused.
“Nothing, but I can make some good guesses,” he replied.
“Go ahead,” Cindy said, taking a drink, enjoying the game.
“Okay. I would say that your daddy was a lawyer, an accountant, or a teacher. Am I right?”
“A professor of ancient history,” Cindy responded.
“Same thing. And you were the perfect teacher’s daughter. You studied hard and got good grades, and never, ever, disobeyed the rules.”
“I liked school,” she said quietly. “I still do.”
“I’ll bet you loved to read, to sit in your room and dream.”
“Books are better friends than people sometimes,” she answered.
“I’m doing pretty well so far,” he observed.
“Continue,” she said, becoming a little uncomfortable. Her shrimp cocktail arrived, and she nibbled at the succulent, curved pieces as he went on.
“All right. You were an only child, and you kept to yourself. You liked to play alone, and when you got older, the friends you had,
like Paula, sought you out rather than the other way around.”
“I prefer a few good friends to a crowd. Is that what you mean?”
“Close enough. And you were the focus of the family, the little treasure coddled by your parents and kept from all harm.”
“My family loved me, yes,” she said tightly. “Did Paula tell you any of this?”
“I’ve never discussed you with Paula. I didn’t have to. What you are is written all over you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been dissected before,” Cindy said carefully. “I’m not sure I like it.”
His brown hand covered her white one on the table. “Don’t get mad, princess. I admire what you are. I envy the opportunities you have. Nobody will ever say to you: ‘that’s not yours, you can’t have it, don’t touch.‘“
Cindy met his eyes. “Do people say that to you?”
He looked away. “Sometimes. Money can’t buy everything, you know.”
“It buys quite a bit,” she said resentfully, piqued at his mocking description of her life. “I understand you have a brand new condo on the water. That mustn’t be too hard to take.”
Fox was silent for a moment, swirling the wine in his glass and watching the play of the soft light in its depths. Then he said, “Five years ago, when I first started making good money, I did all the usual things. I got a fancy apartment, bought a Jaguar that cost twice as much as the car I have now, a motorcycle and a boat. I had plenty of pretty toys. Then when I realized I was becoming more interested in things than in people I sold them. The apartment had more alarms than a firehouse, and I decided that wasn’t worth worrying about, either. I went back to Council Rock.”
“Then why the new condo?” Cindy asked curiously.
He smiled mysteriously. “I’ll tell you about that sometime,” he said, as the lobster was deposited on the table before them.
“It must be wonderful to live right on the ocean,” Cindy said dreamily.
“We are all drawn to the water,” he said quietly. “We began there, and we know it. We come back with a sense of peace and fulfillment, like a traveler returning home.”
“What a very Seminole thing to say.”
His emerald eyes caressed hers across the distance that separated them. ‘‘You should know.”
A band began to play dance music in the next room, a pleasant accompaniment to their meal. The lobster was delicious and the wine was wonderful, light and crisp.
“Would you like anything else?” Fox asked, as she set down her fork.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t eat another thing. Everything was fantastic.”
“Except the oysters,” he reminded her, smiling.
“I’m sure an oyster fan would have loved them,” she said, and he grinned.
“Would you like to go outside for a while? There’s a deck along the back, and a nice breeze.”
“That would be lovely,” Cindy said, standing up. Fox pulled out her chair and spoke to their waitress as they passed. He led the way to the rear door, which opened onto a wooden platform above the water. The wind whipped her hair around her face and flattened her thin skirt against her legs.
“Too cold?” he asked, as she pulled her jacket closer around her.
“Not at all, it’s delightful,” she replied, lifting her chin and drinking in the sea air.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked, and she shook her head. He extracted a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one, dragging on it until the tip glowed. He leaned back against a mooring post and held out his arm to her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to step into its circle, and when he pulled her against him, she couldn’t resist. She relaxed into the curve of his shoulder, inhaling the clean, sharp scent of his skin.
The wind dropped off as if to accommodate them, and became a whisper, touching them gently as it passed.
“I love it when it’s like this,” he murmured, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. “It reminds me of a poem I heard when I was in school, by some woman, I forget her name. In the last line she describes something that ‘blows by like music’. That’s the way this breeze is, like music heard from a distance, or the faint scent of flowers when you pass a stall.”
“Sara Teasdale,” Cindy sighed, slipping her arms around his lean waist.
“What?”
“That’s the name of the lady who wrote the line you just quoted.”
He laughed softly. “You would know that.”
“You’re not at all what I thought you would be,” Cindy said suddenly, surprising herself.
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said. “What were you expecting?”
Cindy lifted her head to look up at him. He was smoking slowly, looking out across the water. One big hand was splayed in the small of her back and his eyes were narrowed against the sting of the smoke.
“Well, from Paula’s description, I was expecting...”
“A bone-crushing Neanderthal?” he suggested sarcastically, glancing down at her.
Cindy didn’t answer, snuggling against his chest again and closing her eyes.
“You must disregard much of what Paula says about me,” Fox went on, as if she had agreed with what he’d said. “I’m not at my best around her. She has some preconceived ideas about me and at times I can’t resist fulfilling her expectations.”
“Why?”
She felt him shrug. “Just to be perverse, I guess. I don’t like being considered an uncivilized boor, some savage who just discarded his loincloth yesterday.” He held her off and turned her chin up to look into her eyes. “You don’t see me that way, do you?” he asked.
“No,” she answered simply. He tucked her back into his arms and rocked her gently.
“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m warm and wonderful and perfect,” she answered, sighing.
“Then I’m glad I asked,” he said, the tug of laughter in his tone.
I must be drunk, Cindy decided. She was saying things she knew she shouldn’t, but couldn’t seem to make herself stop, or care.
He finished his cigarette, tossing the butt into a wire receptacle on the dock. The wind freshened again and Cindy shivered.
“We’d better go in,” he said, and she straightened reluctantly, not eager to lose the enchantment of his embrace. He kept one arm across her shoulders as they went back inside and he didn’t release her completely until she sat in her chair.
“Coffee?” he said.
“Um, yes.”
“How about some dessert?”
‘‘I don’t think so. I’m stuffed.”
He smiled. “Okay.” He gave the order to the waitress and then leaned across the table, touching her face.
“That wind put roses in your cheeks,” he said.
“Then I’m glad we went outside. I’m usually too pale.”
“Paleface,” he said, and their eyes met.
“Does it matter?” she asked softly.
“Does it matter to you?” he countered, watching her closely.
“The only thing that matters to me is how I feel,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“And how do you feel?” he asked quietly.
“Now?”
He nodded.
“Happy.”
The coffee came, and they parted, sitting back to drink it. But the moment hung between them. When he asked her to dance she stood without replying, anxious to feel his arms around her again.
They came together the instant their feet hit the dance floor. Cindy clung to him silently. They were barely moving as they drifted to the music in a world of their own. They danced until the band packed up for the night. As Fox released her and stepped back, her lips brushed his throat accidentally, and she felt his whole body tense. He drew a shaky breath, exhaling slowly.
“Time to go,” he said ruefully. “They’re going to be handing us brooms pretty soon.”
They w
alked slowly back to their table, holding hands. Fox paid the bill and left a tip, then helped Cindy into her jacket.
Darkness enclosed them as they left the restaurant and headed back to his car. There were only a few vehicles left in the lot, and the starting motor sounded loud in the late night stillness.
“Looks like we shut the place down,” Fox observed, pulling out of the parking space.
“I wish we could have stayed longer,” Cindy said wistfully.
“Not unless you wanted to wash the dishes,” he replied, laughing softly.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Cindy answered. “It was a wonderful night and I didn’t want it to end.”
“I’m not making fun of you, princess,” he said, his tone changing. “You’re just more honest than I am, I guess. I joke about my feelings to hide them.”
“You don’t have to do that with me, Drew,” she said.
“I’ll remember that,” he murmured.
The trip back was a quiet one. They shared the companionable silence that falls between two people who know they don’t have to fill it. The drive across the causeway was as spectacular as promised, but too short. They were back at Paula’s complex in what seemed like record time.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Fox said, as he helped Cindy out of the car.
“You’re going away this week?” Cindy asked him during the climb to Paula’s apartment.
“Yes, out of town on a job.”
“Is it dangerous?” Cindy inquired.
He looked down at her. “No, of course not.”
She smiled sadly. “You’d say that whether it was or not.”
He didn’t comment and she knew she was right.
“I’ll be back Saturday. I’ll call you then, to arrange the visit to my grandfather. He doesn’t get a lot of company these days.”
“Will he see me?” Cindy asked anxiously.
“He’ll see you, don’t worry,” Fox replied. “When I tell him there’s a beautiful shankree girl dying to meet him, I don’t think he’ll require much persuasion.”
“Shankree?”
“Not Seminole. Non Indian.”
“Oh.” They stopped outside Paula’s door, and Cindy unlocked it with the extra key Paula had given her. She turned to face Fox, her heart pounding.
Native Affairs Page 4
