CHAPTER 7

THE STORM had moved out by dawn, and all the guests seemed to have come out in celebration. By the time Tony had showered and shaved and trekked to the restaurant, all the tables by the pool were full except one. Fortunately, the empty one had an umbrella and a blind side, and he slid into the vacant seat, grateful for the shade and the out-of-the-way location.

Right now, all he wanted to do was sip coffee, let the island’s morning sounds drift over him, and think about Kyra. In his own cabana, he’d iced his back again, trying to repair some of the damage he’d done. He’d fallen asleep and dreamt of her. Now he wanted to sit outdoors and think about her some more. He could still smell her on his skin, still feel her kisses on his lips.

He had nothing at all planned for the day, and he intended to use every lazy hour to repeat—over and over until he was certain he wouldn’t forget even the slightest sigh, the most delicate moan—every moment spent with her last night. He needed those memories to sustain him for the rest of his vacation. Because no matter how much he wanted to feel the press of her body against his again, he’d come to the unwelcome conclusion that a repeat performance would be a mistake. A huge mistake.

If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have known better than to go to her in the first place. But he’d lost his head, had foolishly assumed that staying anonymous would somehow protect him. Now, though…

If he went back, he was sure to lose his heart. And, frankly, he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

She might not know who he was, but he damn sure knew her. Already the thought of walking away at the end of a week made his stomach churn. Better to end it now. A clean break. He’d stay away, she’d never find him, and they’d never have to part. Or, worse, she’d never find out the truth and turn away from him.

It was for the best, and he tossed back a slug of scalding-hot coffee, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, determined to focus only on last night…not the lonely nights to come.

“Do you mind sharing?”

Her voice.

When he opened his eyes, there she was, smiling down at him and looking just as beautiful as she had the night before. He tensed, fearing she would recognize him, then exhaled as he remembered he’d shed his disguise. Michael’s green eye and beard were gone. And Tony’s scar was right there for all the world to see.

He turned in his chair, keeping his good side toward her. “I’m sorry,” he said stupidly, realizing he hadn’t processed a word she’d said. “I’m—”

“Tony, right?” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m glad I’m not the only one eating breakfast at noon.” She smiled. “I’m Kyra, by the way. We met yesterday.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“I’m not intruding, am I?”

“No, not at all. Help yourself.”

She filled her cup from the thermos on the table, then unscrewed the lid and looked inside. “Guess I emptied it.” She shrugged, then signaled the waiter to bring coffee. “Thanks for letting me join you. There’s no empty table and, well, you’re the only one I even sort of know.”

“I thought you ate in your cabana.” The second he said the words, he realized his mistake.

Her brow furrowed. “How on earth would you know that?”

He tried to grin, wasn’t quite sure he succeeded. “Stuart,” he lied. “He, uh, said all the women ordered breakfast in. And hardly any of the guys did. So, uh, we figured that illustrated some major difference in the sexes, but we didn’t exactly know what.”

“Oh.” She frowned, pondering the conundrum. “Maybe women like to eat in their underwear more than men do.”

“Maybe so.” He started to reach for her hand, then remembered he wasn’t Michael and pulled it back quickly, grappling for something to say to keep her talking, just so he could keep listening to the sound of her voice. “Looks like you went to the trouble of getting dressed. No breakfast in your underwear.” Mentally, he rolled his eyes. Oh, yeah. That’s great conversation. Not.

She glanced down at her outfit, a flowing sundress and a straw hat. “Well, polite society and all that.”

“So why did you venture out?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she stirred her coffee absently.

“A wild night?” he asked. He knew he was fishing, but he couldn’t help it. If he couldn’t spend the day with her as Michael, at least he could spend a few minutes as Tony over a late breakfast.

Her teeth grazed her lower lip, and he could tell she was trying to decide how much to tell him. After a few seconds, she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “A spectacular night.”

She sat back in her chair and spread the napkin in her lap. “They must have delivered the tray to my door at seven as always. But I didn’t even wake up until eleven. When I found the food, it was ice-cold.”

“Sounds like you did have a good time last night.” He kept his face bland even while his purely male ego was busy congratulating itself. “Someone you met at the party?”

“Not exactly.” She waved to a waitress who came over and took her order, then refilled the coffee carafe. “Did you go? C.J. and I were wondering if you were there.”

“You were?” The knowledge that she’d thought about him—about Tony—warmed him. “I…uh…didn’t see you.”

“Oh. Well, I actually didn’t stay very long, so if you came late…” Again, her cheeks turned that adorable shade of pink.

He nodded. “Yeah. I came late.”

“I’m sorry I missed you.”

“Well, you found me now,” he said, as the waitress slipped a huge cinnamon roll in front of her. He caught her gaze and, for a moment, their eyes locked and he thought he saw the tiniest spark of the woman he’d known last night. But she quickly looked down, poking experimentally at her roll with her fork.

“Yes, I did,” she said softly. When she looked up, her smile was warm and friendly.

Amazing.

Or maybe not. His friend Alan had no problem with his scars, but Amy did. Kyra wasn’t looking at him like a freak, but she hadn’t gotten a close look at his face. She also didn’t know she’d slept with him, no matter what he might want to imagine.

They were just sitting and talking like friends. And just because Michael had to give her up as a lover, that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t stick with his original plan and have her as a friend. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but at least he’d be around her. Could look at her, talk to her. True, it was a bit duplicitous, but he firmly quashed a twinge of guilt. The alternative was to walk away entirely, and he didn’t like that option at all.

“Tony?” Her forehead creased, a little vee appearing above her nose.

“Listen,” he said, “I was going to grab a book and spend the day being a beach bum. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in joining me.”

“An entire day being completely lazy?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds like heaven.”

He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “But…?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I cleaned out my savings account for this vacation.”

“I’m not following.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a bite from her pastry. He knew she was stalling. He could almost see her thinking, trying to decide how much to tell him.

Finally, she put down her fork. “Did you come here for a fantasy?”

“Isn’t that against the rules? Asking about other guests’ fantasies?”

Her neck flushed, but she held her own, her determined gaze never wavering. “You started it,” she said.

“Fair enough.” He hadn’t planned on the fantasy that had been dropped in his lap, but he certainly couldn’t share that with Kyra. “I guess you could say my fantasy was to escape. One of my buddies decided I needed some downtime, and he packed me off here.”

“Nice friend. This place isn’t cheap. Why’d he think you needed downtime?”

He tensed, then forced himself to relax. Just friends, remember? Summoning all his willpower, he turned his head, then pointed to the scarred flesh that stood out around his left eye.

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. I didn’t mean to bring up—” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Amazingly enough, right then he didn’t give a damn about the scar. He just didn’t want her to feel like a heel.

“Well, you may have come to relax, but I came for a fantasy.” She grazed her teeth over her lower lip, then looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise.”

“I came for an adventure.” One shoulder moved in the slightest of shrugs. “There’s a little more to it than that, but you get the gist.”

He stood up, walked around her chair, then ducked down to see under the table. When he lifted his head, she was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Checking out your adventure wear. I’m not sure sandals and a sundress are the recommended attire of thrill seekers.”

She laughed, then crumpled her napkin and tossed it at him. “Nut. It just so happens my attire is perfect.”

While he gawked like a twelve-year-old, she undid the top five buttons on the dress’s bodice, pulled it aside, and revealed a navy blue swimsuit.

“Today’s project is scuba diving. And that’s why I can’t be a bum and lie out with you on the beach.”

He sat down again. “That sounds like fun. Where are you going? A reef? A wreck?”

“Not exactly.” She pointed behind them to the lagoon-style main pool. “The pool.”

“Wow,” he deadpanned. “You are a thrill seeker.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Today is the class and tomorrow is the ocean.” She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve got an idea. Instead of hanging on the beach, why don’t you take the class with me?”

* * *

THE SECOND the invitation left her mouth, Kyra realized how much she wanted him to agree. She genuinely liked him, and already he’d filled the little well of loneliness she’d been battling since Michael left.

Tony didn’t look nearly as enamored with the idea. A riot of expressions were splashed across his face—confusion, disbelief, even a hint of nervousness.

She bit back a delighted laugh, unused to men willing to be even the tiniest bit less than one-hundred-percent macho. “Well?” she prodded.

“Scuba diving,” he repeated. “You want me to take scuba lessons with you?”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to walk across hot coals,” she said, teasing him.

“You might as well be.”

With a flash of insight, she realized her mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t you swim?” She swept a hand around to encompass the island. “Probably stupid, but I just assumed anyone who came to an island for a vacation swam.”

He nodded. “I swim. And dive. And horseback ride. And ski.”

She imagined that he was extremely good at all those things. The thin T-shirt he wore did nothing to hide the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, and she’d got a nice glimpse of his well-muscled legs when he’d stood up to tease her about her “adventure wear.” He might be spending his vacation lounging in the shade, but she could tell he’d spent his life doing something a heck of a lot more active. No, it wouldn’t surprise her at all to find out that Tony Moretti was quite the athlete. But none of that explained why he didn’t want to go diving with her. “So you do all that, but you just don’t scuba dive?”

“I dive.” His face tightened, and Kyra thought he looked almost angry. “At least I used to. But I don’t anymore.”

“Why not?” She winced. “Sorry. That’s really none of my business.”

For a moment, his face remained set, distant. She assumed he was silently agreeing, and she mentally kicked herself for being so forward. The man was incredibly easy to talk to, and she’d felt a fast bond, a spark of instantaneous friendship. But that didn’t mean he felt it, too. And it certainly didn’t give her license to pry.

“Listen,” she said, trying to get back onto neutral ground. “I should probably get going. Maybe we can hook up—”

“This,” he said, pointing to his eye.

She squinted, trying to follow, but unable to keep up. “Pardon?”

“An accident. I was a firefighter until I got this, and it messed up my back pretty bad, too.”

“Thus the need for some R and R.” She’d really stepped in it this time. “Look, please forgive me. I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”

He reached over the table and took her hand briefly, then pulled away quickly, almost as if he’d been burned. The shock of his fingers against her skin left her hand tingling and the rest of her slightly sad. It was an odd sensation, and not one she was sure she should examine too closely. After all, he was just being polite. Nice men didn’t go around touching women they hardly knew.

And nice women didn’t feel all tingly from the touch of an island acquaintance.

True enough. Her senses were probably just on hyperdrive. Still, an odd sense of loss washed over her, and she was sorry he hadn’t held on. Foolish, but somehow it seemed she knew him better than as a casual acquaintance, and she wished she could offer some real comfort for what was apparently a huge tragedy in his life. Instead, she could only say, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, I am. I don’t mean to dredge up all this stuff. But with the back…” He shrugged, then grinned. “I’d love to join you in P.E., but I’ve got a note from my mommy.”

She laughed. “Are you sure? I always thought water stuff wasn’t hard on folks with bad backs. We could ask the teacher.”

His gaze drifted toward the far side of the pool where Stuart and a taller man were starting to line up the tanks and other necessary equipment.

“It could be fun,” she prodded. “And I’d really love to have you with me.”

“I’ll watch from here.”

She nodded, more disappointed than she should be, but didn’t argue. “Maybe we can go hang out on the beach after.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

They chatted amiably for the next half hour about nothing, and when Stuart waved her over, Kyra realized she wasn’t particularly interested in a scuba class—she just wanted to sit with Tony, chatting and laughing. She was perfectly comfortable with him, and the realization that she had a new friend brightened her day considerably.

“Kyra! Come on!”

She waved at Stuart, then smiled apologetically at Tony. “That’s my cue.”

“So it is.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled, a touch amused, a touch devious. “I think I’ll just sit here and watch you fumble about with your gear.”

Her eyes widened. “Fumble? Okay, fella,” she said with a laugh, “now you’ve thrown down the gauntlet. You’re going to see some of the most graceful scuba practice you could possibly imagine.”

He sank back in the chair, fading into the shadows as if he were dug in for the afternoon. “I can’t wait.”

She was wrong, of course. Not only did she soon discover that graceful and bulky jackets latched on to heavy air tanks were mutually exclusive—especially out of the water when they were doing the basic skills stuff—but with Tony watching, Kyra felt even more self-conscious.

Every time she looked up, he was smiling at her, the corner of his mouth turned up with just a hint of amusement. He appeared completely relaxed, his large frame filling the lounge chair as he gazed in her direction, as if there was nothing else in the world he could possibly want to do other than watch her learn about buoyancy and controlled ascents.

His attention should have been disconcerting—after all, she hardly knew the man—but instead she found herself flattered, and wishing more and more that he were with her instead of simply watching her.

The instructor, David, stood up and clapped his hands for attention. “Okay, folks, time to buddy up. We’re not fully certifying you guys, but we still need to make sure we’ve got down the basics for an emergency. So we’re going to practice buddy breathing. That way if anything happens to your air supply when you’re underwater, you can share with your buddy to get back up to the surface.”

Kyra had already noticed that most folks were taking the class in pairs—probably couples who’d met through their fantasies. But like her, a few were going it alone. She wondered if one of the single guys was the man Merrilee intended to pair her with if Michael intended on staying away. After all, sharing a mouthpiece underwater, holding tight to each other, and depending on your buddy for pure survival…well, that was both adventurous and intimate.

She sighed, her morning sadness returning for the first time since she’d joined Tony. If Michael wasn’t coming back, she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue with the sensual aspect of her fantasy. Sun and surf, sure. But sex…

She shook her head. Mona was right. She wasn’t the casual-sex type. She’d fallen hard for Michael, anonymous or not. And if she couldn’t have him, she’d just as soon be alone.

On the pool deck, David started matching up all the singles. A nice-looking man with glasses and red hair smiled at her, nodded slightly. She looked away. Probably a perfectly nice guy—and certainly good-looking enough—but she wasn’t interested. Not one little bit.

David pointed to a blond guy, about thirty, with a perfectly toned chest and a matching perfect tan. He was moving toward her from the other side of the pool. “Joe,” David called, “why don’t you be Kyra’s buddy?”

Joe’s gaze skimmed up her body, and she stifled the urge to reach for a towel to cover herself. “No problem,” he said.

No way. She’d much rather hang on the beach with Tony. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve changed my—”

“I’m the lady’s buddy.”

She spun around to find Tony standing behind her, gear dangling from one arm, his free hand near his face, clumsily shading his left eye.

Joe crossed his arms over a massive chest. “The dive-master said I was, man.”

“The divemaster’s wrong.”

David looked down and checked his clipboard. “You’re not signed up for this class, Moretti.”

“I’m not interested in the class. But I’m the lady’s diving buddy. If she’s going to practice, she should practice with me.”

For half a second, Joe and Tony locked eyes. Kyra tensed, afraid there was going to be a fight, and more than a little baffled that she might be the reason for it. For a moment, the air held a charge, like the calm before a storm. Then Joe backed away, his hands held up in surrender.

“Hey, whatever, man. She’s not worth a fight.”

“Well, that’s why I’m with her,” Tony said. “I think she is.”

He sat down next to her, his feet dangling in the pool. “I hope you don’t mind me muscling my way into your class.”

“No,” she said, succumbing to a wash of pure happiness. “You can muscle in any time.”

* * *

THEY DEVELOPED a rhythm—slow, sensual—thirteen feet under the water, with nothing to rely on but each other. Their eyes locked, and the complete trust he saw reflected in her slate-colored eyes warmed his soul. This was the woman he wanted in so many ways. And she wanted him, too.

She just didn’t know it.

With a firm grip, he held on to the vest she wore over her swimsuit that held her air tank and her regulator. They were practicing sharing a regulator, and her mouthpiece was dangling free. Her lips were pursed, and she blew a tiny stream of bubbles.

Through the wall of bubbles, she looked at him, her eyes clear through the thin plastic of her mask. Right then, she was totally reliant on him, and he knew with absolute certainty that she trusted him completely.

He inhaled a second breath, then guided the mouthpiece to her. She took it, her hand covering his, and pulled in two breaths of air, her eyes never leaving his.

His free hand held on to her vest, and he could feel her breasts move as she inhaled, the gentle press of her skin against his fingers setting his fingers to itching. He wanted so much for her to know who he was—for her to want him, to want Tony, as much as she wanted Michael. But he knew that was impossible.

He’d learned from Amy the hard way that Tony Moretti wasn’t lover material, and certainly he hadn’t caught any signals from Kyra that she was interested in being more than friends. Hell, he should feel lucky he even had her friendship.

She cocked her head and made an okay sign with her fingers. He nodded, realizing his mind had drifted. Count your blessings, boy. Isn’t that what the doctor had said?

Well, maybe Dr. Johnston was right. Maybe he should just be satisfied that this wonderful woman considered Tony a friend. Maybe they could even stay in touch once their week was over. A friendly correspondence over the Internet, maybe.

Yes, that was the best solution—cultivate her friendship during the day, and force himself to stay away at night.

She passed the mouthpiece back to him, then gestured to the surface with her thumb.

He nodded, and they linked arms, kicking to the surface together, trading air as they went, their bodies as close as lovers.

It would be hard, getting through the nights without her. But in the end, falling in love with her while she fell for a man who both was and wasn’t him…well, that would be even harder.

* * *

“YOU STILL haven’t told me if I was right,” Kyra said. They were baking in the sun, turning golden brown like French fries. Totally unhealthy according to everything she’d read lately, but it seemed almost criminal to go to an island and not go back with a tan.

Tony propped himself up on one elbow, his skin glistening from a layer of sunscreen, the muscles in his arm and shoulder well defined as he turned to face her, sunglasses covering those chestnut eyes she’d learned to read so well while they’d been underwater. She frowned, trying to figure out whom he reminded her of. It was, right on the tip of her—

He pulled the glasses off, and she lost it. Damn.

“What?”

“I was trying to figure out who you remind me of,” she said. “I almost had it, too.”

For a second, he looked almost troubled. “No. I meant what did you mean by ‘were you right’?”

“Oh, that.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the lounge chair and digging her toes into the sand. It felt cool, a nice contrast to her overwhelming body heat. She blamed it on the sun, but a tiny, hidden part of her wondered if it didn’t have a bit to do with Tony as well. She’d been so thrilled when he’d shown up to be her buddy. And practicing the dive with him, sharing the very air they were breathing, had been so…intimate.

And now they were lying side by side on the beach and he was so very, very male. She stifled a shiver. Surely she just had sex on the brain. What other excuse could she possibly have for getting all hot and bothered about sharing a regulator with a friend?

“Are you cold?” He started to roll off his towel.

“No. I’m fine. Just a bit of a breeze.”

“Well?”

She frowned. “Well, what?”

He twirled his hand, urging her on. “What was it you were right about?”

“Oh, sorry. My mind’s wandering.” To forbidden places. This erotic fantasy thing was getting way out of control. “Your back. Wasn’t I right that your back did okay in the water?”

He nodded. “Nurse Cartwright, that was a right fine treatment you prescribed.”

“Really?”

“Really. A little twinge when we were on the poolside, but when we were underwater, everything was a-okay.”

His eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking only about his back.

She pushed away the thought. He’d obviously been through something traumatic recently. The last thing he was probably interested in doing was getting involved with some woman.

This wellspring of passion she’d discovered with Michael was beginning to color her perception of all men, and she needed to rein it in. She and Tony were friends, and that was it. Besides, she didn’t want anything more with him. He was decidedly real, not in the least anonymous, and anything more than friendship would be completely out of bounds.

With a flourish, she picked up her daiquiri from the table between them. “To island friendships,” she said, holding the glass out.

He grabbed his, and they clinked glasses. “To friendship.” He took a sip, then caught her eye. “So, buddy, do you want to grab some dinner with me tonight?”

She thought about it. An evening with Tony, telling jokes, passing the time, enjoying each other’s company. A perfect evening, normally.

She slipped her drink back onto the table. “I can’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Other than that she was sitting on the beach with this wonderful man while decadent images of a night filled with Michael filled her head.

“Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow and looked down pointedly.

She followed his gaze and realized she was twisting her hands in her lap. “Oh.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

She gnawed on her lower lip. Yes, she wanted to tell him, but something was holding her back. Something? No, she knew exactly what it was: guilt. But that was silly. There was nothing but friendship between her and Tony. There couldn’t be anything else. So why should she feel guilty for wanting to meet up with her fantasy man? After all, that was the point of Fantasies, Inc., right?

“Kyra?” he prodded. “I take it you don’t want to tell me?”

“It’s nothing. Really. I just want to get some rest. Call it an early night.” She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “I’m not used to spending a full day in the sun, and I’m pretty tired.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Guess I’m just not a party kinda girl.”

“Guess not.” From his tone, she was sure he didn’t believe her. Even more, she had the feeling he was disappointed in her.

And frankly, she was disappointed in herself. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, Tony deserved better than some casual brush-off.

She took a deep breath. “I lied.”

“No kidding.”

“There’s more to my fantasy than just having an adventure.” She licked her lips, trying to find the words. “Or, I guess I should say, I’m not here just for adventures you might find on the ESPN.”

“So you’re telling me that at least part of your fantasy leans toward The Playboy Channel.”

Her cheeks warmed and she realized she’d twisted her hands up in the towel she held on her lap. “I’m not sure about that. But R-rated, at least.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Somehow talking about…well, that…with a man like Tony made her insides flutter even while the rest of her felt foolishly guilty.

“Only R?” His voice was light and teasing, and not the least bit judgmental.

“Maybe a touch X-rated.” She tried to meet his eyes head on, couldn’t, and ended up looking at her hands again. “I mean, I did come here for a fantasy, after all.”

“Yes, you did.” He moved from his chair to hers and sat next to her. Her breath caught, his nearness disconcerting. But, again, that was just the product of her overactive libido.

“You probably think I’m some sort of loose woman just looking to have a wild time on a tropical island,” she said.

“No. I don’t think that. But even if that were your fantasy, would that be so bad?” He leaned closer, and she realized she was holding her breath. “I mean, hedonism is a highly underrated hobby,” he whispered conspiratorially.

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. The man had a marvelous way of relaxing her. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to be serious here.” She gave him a look of mock firmness, and he saluted briskly as he sat up straight again.

“Roger, that.” He took her hand and moved it to his lap. His fingers curled around hers, warm and safe. “Seriously, you want to tell me about it?”

That was the tough question. And what made it even tougher was that she knew the answer so resolutely. “I haven’t really told anybody all of it, not even my best friend.”

He squeezed her hand, and she wished she could draw on his strength. “No pressure. You just looked like you might want to talk. But if you—”

“No.” She turned to look him in the eye. “I mean, yes. I want to tell you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Just my boyish charm, I guess.” Immediately, he cringed. It was a bad joke, but he’d needed to cover. Just the fact that she felt compelled to share something so personal made him feel special, and he didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding sappy,” she said, then frowned, her brow furrowing. “The thing is, I don’t have that many friends. I guess I’m sort of a loner. My mom died when I was really little, and my family life is pretty intense. My work schedule is even crazier, and that doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” She gnawed on her lower lip, then reached up to tentatively trace her fingertip along the edge of his scar. He held his breath, sure she was repulsed. “You said you got this in your job?”

He nodded, but she’d already continued, not waiting for his answer.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that…well…the friends I do have—the close friends, I mean, like me and Mona—we just sort of met and hit it off right away. Blam! Instant friendship.”

“Like love at first sight.”

She blushed, the very tops of her ears turning red. “Well, yeah, I guess you could think of it that way.” She turned to face him more directly, tucking her leg under her. “The thing is, I feel that way about you—friendship-wise, I mean,” she added hurriedly, even as his insides swelled.

She shrugged, just the tiniest motion of her shoulder. “So, do you think I sound like a sentimental idiot?”

“Not at all.” What he thought was that he could fall in love with her, and those were dangerous thoughts, indeed. “I feel the same way.” He squeezed her hand, wanting her to realize how much he meant it. “An instant connection.”

“It’s not at all like me. I’m the most organized person you’ll ever meet. Mona calls me anal. I have lists for everything. It’s funny that I’ve made all my closest friends in an instant. Everything else I analyze down to the smallest little detail.” She laughed. “It’s pretty pathetic, but it’s worked for me so far.”

“And what is it that you analyze so carefully, Ms. Cartwright?” he asked, leaning back to get a better look at the way the afternoon sun glinted on her sweat-slick skin. His fingers itched to touch her, and he fought the urge. “What do you do when you’re not making friends on remote Florida islands?”

“My family owns a chain of radio stations in Texas. We have a syndicated show.” She told him a bit about the program and about the day-to-day aspects of her job.

“I know that program. An excellent show.”

“Thanks.” She looked around, almost distracted, then stood up. “Do you want to walk down to the water?”

“Sure.” He got up, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, and followed her to the surf. “Do you still want to tell me about your fantasy?”

“I’m getting there. I guess I just wanted you to realize…” She shrugged. “I mean, I know we hardly know each other, but—”

He put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I understand.” Even more so than he could explain. He didn’t get close to people easily. Hell, maybe that’s why Amy left. Certainly he’d never felt this connection with her, not like he felt with Kyra. The trick, of course, was figuring out if it was real, or just a product of lust and island magic.

She told him her fantasy, then. About wanting a sensual adventure…and about why: her father, Harold, her decision to marry. At the word marriage, he cringed. He’d known all along there was nothing real between them—couldn’t be anything between them except friendship. But to know that she was practically engaged…

“What does your dad think?”

She rolled her shoulder with the slightest of movements, as he’d discovered was her habit. “He thinks it’s wonderful, of course. He and Harold get along great, he knows we dated for a while when I lived in New York, and his new son-in-law-to-be is going to save the station.” She smiled. “What’s not to like?”

“Your dad doesn’t know, does he?” Tony asked, feeling cold inside.

“Doesn’t know what?” The question was spoken innocently, but her face revealed that she knew exactly what he meant.

“That you’re marrying this guy out of obligation, not love.”

Her eyes flashed. “You don’t know that.” She looked away, no longer meeting his gaze. “I’d do the same thing whether I loved Harold or not. This is my family. Everything we’ve ever done is wrapped up in this business.”

“Do you really think your father would trade your happiness to save the business? Because you’re not going to be happy in a marriage based on a profit-and-loss statement. You deserve more.”

A single tear escaped, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I made a promise to my mother,” she whispered. “My great-grandfather started this company. It’s important to us. It’s important to me. It’s everything I have.”

He felt like a heel for pushing her. More than anything, he knew how hard it was to give up a career, how losing it could turn you inside out. Even so, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to convince her she was making a mistake. But he forced his hands to stay by his sides. Not only was that a foolish, knee-jerk reaction, but it would certainly put an end to their burgeoning friendship. She needed a shoulder, someone to talk to, not someone to criticize her decisions—especially not someone who really didn’t know about her life.

And certainly not someone who couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

His rescuing days were over, and radio was way the hell and gone out of his league. But he could be a friend to her. No matter how many little deaths he died, he made up his mind he’d be a good friend.

But still some little demon prodded. He needed to know. In his gut, he just needed to know. “You never answered. Do you love him?”

She met his eyes coolly. “I’m going to marry him,” she said, killing some tiny bit of hope that he only then realized had been living in him. “He’s adored me for years. We started going out because he was interested in my family’s business, but it turned into more. He’s very good to me, and to my family.” She pressed her lips together, and he silently urged her to continue. “But it’s not like…”

“Not like?” he urged.

“My fantasy,” she whispered, and he knew that she was referring to him—or to Michael, anyway.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“It feels a little weird confessing this stuff to you.”

He felt weird, too. Weird and a little guilty. After all, he’d shared her bed, explored her body, watched as she’d opened herself completely for him. But she didn’t know, didn’t have a clue. His disguise and Stuart’s ad-libbed alibi had worked beautifully, and now here he was, pulling one over on this amazing woman.

But what choice did he have? Tell her? If he did that, he’d surely lose her, and that wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take. Not talk to her? Also unacceptable. Already she’d worked her way under his skin. He wanted to know everything about her, to be her friend. If he couldn’t help her in any real, useful way, at least he could be a shoulder for her to cry on.

What was that saying? The road to hell was paved with good intentions? Well, his intentions were the best, but he was already in his own private hell. And he didn’t intend to lose the one bit of heaven he’d run across in a long, long time.

Ignoring his demons, he took her hand and sat down on the sand, tugging her down beside him. The waves rolled in, covering their feet before rolling back out again. “I know it feels weird, but ‘instant friends,’ remember? You can tell me anything.”

She nodded, one quick jerk of the head, and he could practically see her gathering her courage. “He makes me feel so special.” She pressed her lips together, blinking, and he was certain she was fighting tears. “It’s like he’s given me this gift of memories, something I can take back with me.”

Damned if she wasn’t describing the exact way he felt. His stomach twisted, and he wanted to reach out for her, wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. Instead, he schooled his face into an expression of polite interest. “Hell of a fantasy man. Did you analyze this fantasy as much as you do the rest of your life? Plotting it out on graphs and charts?”

She licked her lips, looking a little sheepish. “Well…yeah.” She sat a little straighter, silently defending her choices. “When I was trying to decide if I should marry Harold, I sat down and made a list of all the pros and cons.”

“Since you’re gonna marry the guy, I guess the pros won out?”

“Mmm-hmm. I assigned point values, and the pros won by a twenty-two point lead.” She shrugged. “So I’m sure I’m doing the right thing, except…” She trailed off, her teeth grazing her lower lip.

“Except some of the cons sounded pretty interesting.”

She nodded. “So I made another list. This time of everything I might be missing. And then I applied to come here so I could get everything out of my system in one fell swoop.”

“Sounds like a pretty prudent plan.”

“Thanks,” she said, apparently missing the sarcasm.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, then gave it a little squeeze. “I’m very happy with the daytime adventure part. And I’ve had at least one good nighttime adventure.” She dropped his hand then, shoving her own between her knees almost as if she was embarrassed. “I guess I’ll know more about that tonight, huh? I mean, Michael may not come again.” Her lips grazed her bottom teeth. “And if he doesn’t, I wonder if Merrilee will arrange another encounter.” She squinted slightly, as if she’d just tasted something unfamiliar and was trying to decide if she liked it.

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly realizing that he’d turned a complete one-eighty. He had planned to stay away, planned to protect his own heart. Now he wondered if Michael was going to have to show up tonight after all. “If he doesn’t come…this Michael…if there’s someone else…” He took a deep breath. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes sad. “I guess I’ll have to wait until tonight’s poolside party to see.”

He swallowed, unable to stomach the thought of another man touching her. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I guess you’ll know tonight.”