Key West

by Stella Cameron

  Chris slid his hand, millimeter by millimeter, from her breast, and Sonnie couldn’t control the arching of her back. But she didn’t open her eyes. The body could react in sleep, so she was asleep and reacting to a warm male palm, and very long, warm male fingers, sliding slowly over her aroused breast.

  Too soon it was over, and she stretched in her “sleep” and turned enough to let her arm fall away from him.

  Slitting her eyes once more, she studied him through her lashes. He held up his hands, studied them before letting them fall into his lap. The sheets were tossed aside and he studied her minutely from her feet to her face. With his head on one side and an unreadable expression in his eyes, his gaze settled on her face. He ran his fingers through his hair, never looking away. His nostrils flared and the breath he drew in was long, so long. He parted his lips and rested the tip of his tongue on the edges of his upper teeth.

  That expression was so obvious, even to a woman who hadn’t even thought about sex for a long time. He was aroused.

  Why should that thrill her? It just did thrill her. She was only human.

  Time to wake up, sleeping pretender.

  She opened her eyes and looked directly at him—and almost smiled at the faint color that rushed across his cheekbones. “Hi,” he said. “Good morning.”

  She smiled and said, “Good morning. You slept in that chair all night?”

  “I promised I would. I keep my promises.”

  ‘Oh, Chris, I’m sorry.’’ She scooted to sit up, barely managing to grab her pajama bottoms before they slipped all the way off. With a sheepish grimace, she lifted her bottom from the bed and made sure she was properly covered.

  His eyes remained in the region of her hips for a second or so too long.

  “I’m really sorry for what I put you through,” she said. “You remember it? All of it?”

  “I think I do. It gets clearer every time.”

  With his hands laced behind his neck, he stretched, and while he stretched he continued to regard her. No trace of sleepiness remained. “Have you ever spoken to the police about this?”

  “About visions and voices? You used to be a cop, Chris. What would you have said to someone who came in talking about that kind of thing?”

  He sniffed, and bent toward her so suddenly that she jumped. “I’d have offered them a ride home and suggested to whomever they lived with that a psychiatric evaluation was in order.”

  If he hoped the hard-nosed approach would get rid of her, he was wrong. “Okay. A fair answer. What if the person in question lived alone and didn’t have anyone she could trust to get her some good help?”

  “Then I’d just have to give the ride home and hope for the best. The cops aren’t baby-sitters. And the law doesn’t allow us…doesn’t allow them to take people off the streets for being disturbed. Not unless they’re creating a public nuisance of the threatening variety.”

  More than once his attention went to places other than her face. But that was just a man thing. She was nothing more than a nuisance to him.

  “What would it take to get you to work for me?”

  “So blunt?” He shook his head. “Ι’ve already told you I’m not for hire.”

  “Το get you to work for me for free, then?” She raised her chin. “Or for whatever you need or want. You’re alone; so am Ι. I don’t want anything from you but an honest shot at helping me run down some information. I could look after you. Would it be so bad to have meals cooked? I’m a good cook.”

  “I like the food at the Nail.”

  “It’s junk. And I’d look after your clothes and all the regular stuff.”

  “I’m real good at the regular stuff. I manage to live in a small space and be the tidiest man alive.”

  Sonnie Keith Giacano had a reputation for being quiet and unassuming. Time to blow that one. “Keep your place at Roy and Bo’s so you can get away whenever you want to. But move in here and have as much of the house as you want. No charge except a listening ear and an analytical mind. Roy says you’ve got the most analytical mind he’s ever come across.”

  “Roy thinks the sun shines out of my…head. According to him, I’m also Van Cliburn’s successor, and a few other unlikely things. But that’s what being brothers is all about. You love each other without reservation. Roy’s a great guy. I couldn’t have a better brother.”

  “You won’t get any arguments out of me. He’s one of God’s dearest people. He knew I didn’t need a job. But he also knew I needed something, and he jumped in with a shot in the dark. And it was the right shot. I needed an opportunity to be around people, where Ι could listen and learn what was going on in Key West. One day, when this is all over, I’m going to think of something wonderful to do for Roy and Bo.”

  His expression softened. “I do believe you’re a sweet lady.”

  Those few simple words took her breath away.

  “I also think you’re generous and kind—and muddled as hell.”

  She drew up her knees and crossed her arms on top. Then she propped her chin and smiled at him.

  “What?” His chin jutted. “What’s with the grin? I call you muddled and you grin.”

  “What would you expect from a nutcase?”

  “I need to go.”

  This time she was the one to make the sudden move. She shot out a hand and gripped his shoulder. “If I’m sweet and generous and kind, why don’t you move in and help me? I’ve got a piano. I’ll get it tuned.”

  He covered her hand on his arm, and Sonnie’s stomach made a loop. “You ask too much, Sonnie, girl. I’m on the run and you want me to commit to a live-in setup with a lady—admittedly a lovely lady—but a lady who comes with more baggage than just about anyone I ever met. And why would my living with you be necessary anyway?”

  This time she wouldn’t lie even a little bit. “Because I’m very afraid. I don’t know when I’ll wake up in the night screaming again, and seeing sheets of flame, and faces telling me to die.”

  “You’re doing a great job of persuading me.”

  She ignored the barb. “But I don’t believe those things happen for no reason. I think the accident I had wasn’t the way it went into the police reports. I believe someone will try to stop me from searching for the truth because I’d mess things up for them. What I don’t know is why exactly I think that, or what the truth of it could possibly be.”

  “Maybe the truth of it is exactly what is in the books.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe it is. But if so, where do the voices come from, the threats?”

  “What about all those reports from the time. Police? Medics? Fire?”

  “They’re there.”

  “But it was ruled an accident? No suggestion of foul play?”

  “The reports say I was driving a Volvo station wagon, lost control, and drove into a wall about a mile from the airport. They say I was doing about forty at impact and that I ought to be dead. I was thrown out.” She swallowed, but wouldn’t allow herself to stop. “I went to the airport to meet Frank. He’d called unexpectedly to say he was coming here on business. Then—so I’m told—he wasn’t on the plane. It was poor Romano who came and told me Frank had been abducted. Because I was…I was pregnant, they think I snapped and that’s how it all happened.”

  Chris watched her, unblinking. He took her hand from his shoulder and wound their fingers together.

  “I was stabilized here, then airlifted out to Miami. There was so much swelling in my brain that they thought I’d never regain consciousness. Then my father brought in a surgeon who did a procedure tο release the pressure, and I started to show signs of improving.”

  “Υοu poor kid,” Chris said. “I’m sorry about—”

  “Yes, I know. Everyone was. But while I was recovering someone kept trying to send me back where I’d come from. Back along the path toward death.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I think I do. You don’t have to. Just prove the truth to me, one way or the
other.”

  He stood up.

  Sonnie kept hold of his hand. “Please. If I can’t find someone to be on my side—all the way—I’m going to end up in a sanitarium.”

  “Your family won’t allow that.”

  “They believe what professional people tell them. I think there’s someone out there who has a really good reason not to want me to cast any doubt on the official story of that night. And I think they’ll get at me through the people who love me most—my family.”

  He looked at their joined hands. His made hers look ridiculously small.

  “Take a while to decide,” she said, scrambling to stand beside him. “And you’re not leaving this house without some breakfast.”

  “I don’t eat breakfast.”

  “That’s not healthy.”

  The expression that passed over his features unnerved her. Such sadness.

  “At least have some coffee.”

  He tipped up his head and sighed. “That sounds great, but I feel like the bum I’m supposed to be. That’s a bum rap because I’m a clean bum, I’ve got to shower.”

  “There you are.” She indicated the bathroom. “Shower. I’ll make coffee and then you can go on your way and I won’t bother you again unless you tell me you’ve changed your mind and you’ll help me.”

  His grimace made him look younger. “You don’t know how to give up. Ma’am, I don’t know whether I like that about you, or hate that about you. I’m thinkin’ I should be grateful you’re not an enemy.”

  “There are plenty of towels in there, and soap and shampoo. I’d offer you clean clothes, but mine wouldn’t fit.” She gave him the first impish grin she’d felt like giving anyone in too long.

  “Okay. You win—but only the bit about the shower and coffee.”

  Once he was in the bathroom with the door shut, she combed her hair and put on some lipstick and mascara. Unfortunately she wasn’t one of those women who could even pretend a scrubbed face looked wonderful.

  Why bother to change out of her pajamas? He’d seen her in them. And felt her in them…

  The glow she experienced when she went down the stairs wasn’t all embarrassment, but she would have to get rid of any sexy thoughts with regard to Mr. Talon. He reacted as any man would, but she’d never be his type.

  Sun shone through kitchen windows that rose to overhead skylights. The purple bougainvillea that grew from the side of the house and across the veranda roof made a canopy over the windows. The day was a sparkling, showy affair, and for the first time in months, Sonnie felt like singing.

  Hitching repeatedly at her pajama bottoms, she started the coffee, set out mugs, and cut up fruit. Then she assembled a bowl of yogurt, some muffins, and cream and sugar. She set them all on the black granite top of the central island, then found red floral place mats and napkins and set them side by side.

  She heard a key turn in the front-door lock.

  It took all her restraint not to call for Chris.

  “Sonnie, you here? It’s me, Billy. I’ve brought a friend of mine to meet you.”

  She made fists on the granite. All her life she’d walked in Billy’s shadow, powerful, flamboyant Billy’s shadow. This time she’d told her where she was going because she cared too much about her family to leave without a word. And she’d asked to be left alone. Already Billy had sent Romano here—Sonnie would swear to it. Now she’d actually ignored Sonnie’s very definite wishes and followed her to Key West.

  “Sonnie? You here?”

  Sonnie went to the kitchen door and stood there until Billy revolved on the high heel of a gray suede Stuart Weitzman pump and saw her half-sister. “Well, there you are, Baby. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It’s a little early, Billy.” Sonnie held her temper in tight check. “As you can see, I wasn’t expecting visitors. Would you mind getting a hotel room and calling me later? Perhaps we can have lunch.”

  “Baby?” With her chin jutting, her elegant black hair swinging, Billy approached with a wounded expression in her dark eyes. “I’ve come all the way from Denver to make sure you’re okay. My bags are in the car. Of course I’ll be staying with you.”

  “You’re kind, Billy. Do you remember my asking you not to follow me here?”

  “You’re still sick. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Do you remember what I asked of you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I meant it. I know you love me, but you smother me. You always have.”

  Billy’s mouth opened and remained open. A simple red cotton dress with a full, swirling skirt looked wonderful on her. “Come on in, Jim. Don’t hover out there.”

  “Billy.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. Jim’s used to seeing women in their pajamas. Here, Jim. This is my poor little sister, Sonnie.”

  Α tall, blond, slender man in a pale blue tropical-weight suit entered the hall. He looked upward toward the domed skylight before he turned his attention to Sonnie. He had a handsome face, but also a kind face—a nice smile.

  Sonnie wished she could spirit herself upstairs, or simply manage to cover herself with something other than silk pajamas that didn’t want to stay on her.

  “Hi there, Sonnie,” Jim said, approaching with his hand extended. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jim Lesley.”

  Fixing her left elbow at the waist of her pants, she shook his hand and said, “Hi, Jim.” This must be Billy’s latest significant male. They never lasted long, but there was always hope that one would stick. Billy had been married twice, both times very briefly to tennis players who weren’t much more successful in the big time than she was.

  “There’s plenty of space, Baby, isn’t there?” Billy said. “I promised Jim he’d get to spend time in your lovely house. I’ll take the bedroom next to yours and he can have the one the folks use when they come down.”

  Only with effort did Sonnie manage not to gape. Separate bedrooms wasn’t a concept Billy had ever embraced—not since she was a senior in high school.

  “Carry in the bags, Jim; there’s a love.”

  “Billy,” Sonnie said, “this is a bad time.”

  “I know. That’s why I knew I had to take matters into my own hands and look after you.”

  “No, you don’t. Jim, I hate to seem inhospitable, but I’m still unpacking. I have a membership at the Sunset Golf and Tennis Club. It’s very nice. In fact it’s the nicest place around—to stay, that is. They don’t have many rooms, but at this time of the year there shouldn’t be any problem. Just drive over there; then call me when you’re settled in.” She had to make them leave. “Romano’s already there.”

  “Absolutely not,” Billy said. “I can’t believe you could be so rude, or so ungrateful. I do have a life of my own, you know. The least you can do is be happy to see me and want me with you.”

  “How’s the coffee comin’, darlin’ ?”

  Billy, Jim, and Sonnie looked up into Chris’s smiling face. Clad in his jeans, but no shirt, and with his feet bare, he jogged down the stairs, fastening his wristwatch as he came. His wet hair curled around his ears.

  How easy it would be to sit down and cover her face and pretend none of this was happening.

  “Sonnie?” Billy said when some of the shock had subsided.

  ‘‘This is Chris Talon,” Sonnie said, and actually gave herself silent congratulations for staying calm under fire. “Chris is a good friend of mine.”

  “The best,” Chris said, reaching the hall. He took Billy’s hand and shook it. “The Keiths make good-lookin’ women. Wow.” Then he turned to Jim Lesley and pumped his hand until the man winced. “Welcome to our island, Jim. It ain’t exactly tourist season. Too hot, y’know. But you’ll do well enough if you stay out of the way at the Sunset. Pretty good air-conditionin’, they tell me. Not that they let the likes of me in.” He laughed.

  Appalled didn’t cover Billy’s expression. She turned her back on Chris and mouthed Who is he? Get rid of him, to Sonnie.

  Prompt
ly Chris put himself between Billy and Sonnie and said, “Smells like the coffee’s ready, babe. We wouldn’t want to cook it like we did yesterday.”

  Sonnie shook her head vaguely, and her gaze settled on what she hadn’t noted before: the exact nature of his tattoo. Behind Chris’s right shoulder, but with a tasteful chain trailing around the arm, lounged the image of a small but perfectly executed woman in manacles…A naked woman in manacles.

  Chris gave the two latest arrivals a salute, took hold of Sonnie’s wrist, and headed for the kitchen. “Watch out for my cycle, won’t you, Jim? Never mess with a Harley man’s cycle. Just a joke. Just a joke.” Cycle became sickle. He guffawed as if he’d made a huge joke.

  Pulled along, Sonnie hurried behind him.

  She didn’t catch her pajama pants until they hit her knees.

  Nine

  Romano remembered a saying: When you get lemons, you make lemonade. There was nothing about this time in Key West that fell in easily with his plans, but he had always been a resourceful man. He would turn what threatened to be a disaster into success, his success.

  First item on his agenda: find out the identity of the man who was hanging around Sonnie. They weren’t a matched pair. He was as obviously sexual as she was asexual.

  Frank had never complained about being shackled to a colorless woman who, when she was naked, looked like a boy. Romano had spent enough time by her hospital bed playing the concerned brother-in-law to know how physically unappealing she was—certainly to him. He had dated her because she was rich. He liked a woman with plenty of flesh in the right places. The only thing Sonnie would be good for was curiosity. Perhaps that was what had kept Frank coming back to her from time to time—in addition to her money. Frank had been called a pretty boy all his life. Could be that all the women he fucked on the circuit were a cover for what he really was: a faggot who married someone he could pretend was a boy in the dark.

  Α compact man in his late thirties approached Romano’s table in the Courts Cafe at the Sunset. He detested the third-rate club. He was accustomed to nothing but the best. The only elevated aspect of this place was its pretensions.

  “Romano Giacano?” the approaching man said, grinning happily. His reddish tan went with his thick red hair, sandy brows, and freckles. The tan accentuated deep lines on his face. “As Ι live and breathe, it is you. What the hell, if this isn’t the best piece of luck that’s come my way in a hell of a long time. How the hell are you?” A large, callused hand grabbed Romano’s and squeezed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am. Cory Bledsoe. Golf pro and athletics manager. It’s been a long time, but not that long.”