Dying to Have Her (32 page)

The woman beamed.

Then he threw Serena into the water. She rose, sputtering, ready to hit him. He backed away. She spun into the water again.

“You do swim?” he inquired skeptically.

“Yes, I can swim!” she told him, ready to strike out again.

This time he caught her arms, pinned them, and swung her around so that she was tightly bound to him, her back against his chest, her arms crossed over her own.

“Wait, wait!” he said, voice level, the warmth of his breath touching her nape and her earlobe.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m proposing a truce.”

“Oh, a truce?”

“Yes, for the duration of our stay.”

“You’re in a better mood today, so I’m supposed to forget the way you yell at me, the client you’re supposed to be protecting? I’m supposed to say, Oh, wonderful! Here we are in Hawaii. Let’s just forget everything else, and play all day?”

“Yes, that’s more or less it.”

“You’re crazy,” she informed him.

“Probably.”

“I don’t know. You may feel free to buy me something islandy and fruity to drink, and then I’ll tell you.”

“Think we ought to have something to eat first?” he asked.

“Why bother? We’re in Hawaii.”

“Hey, it’s up to you. I’ll race you to shore. If you beat me, I’ll keep the drinks off the bill I’m giving to the producers.”

“You do that. How about giving me a head start?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

He beat her, but not by much. Her ability surprised him, she knew, and she was glad. Okay, so she didn’t dig holes for a living, but she wasn’t totally inept.

The drinks he ordered were definitely islandy and fruity. He had been right, though. She should have eaten first. He fixed that by ordering little cakes of lightly fried mahimahi—delicious. They wound up talking about the food, about the sand, the beach, the sky, and the incredible beauty of Hawaii.

“I’d love to see the volcano,” she told him.

“I don’t know. I mean, can you imagine? I bring you here to keep you safe—and there’s an unexpected expulsion of lava. Soap actress charred to Pompeiian beauty, immortalized forever.”

“I would assume they know what they’re doing.”

“You assume too much.”

“Do I? Don’t we all!” She smiled suddenly. “Did you really threaten Kyle Amesbury on my behalf?”

He shrugged. His eyes covered by shades, he looked away. “The man is total scum.”

“Well, thanks, anyway. I hope he doesn’t file charges.”

They stayed on the beach, talking and swimming and, at the end, trekked the few feet back to their door, weary but at ease. Liam headed straight for the shower.

As he did so, she noticed his cellular phone on the table. She walked over to it, listening for the spray of the water. She picked up the phone and quickly dialed Melinda’s number, praying her sister was home.

Melinda wasn’t even screening her calls. She picked up right away.

“Melinda? It’s me, Serena.”

“Serena! Where are you?”

“You can’t tell anyone—”

“Of course not!”

“I’m in Hawaii.”

“Hawaii!” Her sister screamed the word so loudly, she was afraid Liam might hear it in the shower.

“Melinda, I’m not supposed to be calling anyone. I just had to talk to you. Melinda, you’re my sister. I love you. So much. I’m so sorry—”

“Serena, I’ve been horrible. I love you. It’s just been so awful, and so scary, and the kids have been calling, all upset, and I don’t even know what to tell them, how to explain …”

“Oh, Melinda!” Was that the water being shut off? “I can’t talk any longer.”

“It’s okay. When are you coming back?”

“By the seventh.”

“We’ll talk then. Really talk. Call me the minute you’re back, promise?”

“Promise.”

“Love you, Sis.”

“You too. ’Bye!”

She hit the End button, and then the Clear, making sure that his phone was really off. She set it back on the table, picked up the newspaper, and walked over to one of the wicker chairs with it. When he emerged, a towel wrapped around his middle, she pretended to be engrossed in the crossword puzzle.

“You’re out,” she said pleasantly, rising. She walked past him and entered the shower.

When she finished washing the salt water from her hair and sudsing the sea from her body, she wrapped herself in towels again and came out of the bathroom. He remained in one of the terry robes provided in the hotel closet.

She’d apparently been in the shower a while. He’d ordered dinner to the room.

Coconut shrimp, rice, baby ribs, all kinds of vegetables, and everything arranged artfully around a center coconut. He had a glass of white wine already. Seeing her, he poured another glass.

“We forgot to go shopping. I thought that given our current attire we should probably eat in.”

“Are you trying to impress me, to prove that you are capable of ordering room service?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to avoid putting you in clothing.”

“Big talk,” she murmured, sliding past him to accept the glass of wine and head for the table.

He caught her by the elbow. “Don’t throw out challenges unless you’re ready to accept the consequences.”

“Did I throw out a challenge?”

“How hungry are you?”

“Ravenous.”

“I’ll take that to mean that you’re ravenous for me,” he said softly.

Maybe she was. Towels and robes gave far too easily. She could feel the island breeze on her flesh.

There was no hurry …

And nowhere to be.

Yet still Serena felt such a sense of urgency that it wasn’t until they lay together, after, slowly breathing, that she noted the deep red marks on his back. She ran her fingers over them. “What … my God!” she whispered. “The sarcophagus!”

He stretched, trying to see over his shoulder, gave up.

“That must have hurt,” she said softly.

“Yeah, it hurt like hell.”

“You really risked your life for me.”

“Just doin’ my job, ma’am.”

“You’re not a cop anymore. You’re self-employed.”

“Well, being my own boss, you know, I have standards to live up to.”

“Are you ever serious?”

“It’s dangerous to be too serious with you. And when I am serious about very important issues, you have an excuse for everything.”

“A real excuse,” she said.

“Ever heard the word ‘compromise’?”

“I’m familiar with it, yes. Are you?”

To her surprise, he smiled, and drew a line down her face, following the shape of her bones.

“Maybe I don’t give a lot,” he admitted, to her surprise.

“Maybe you don’t give any,” she told him, then rolled against him. “Thank you. That was above and beyond, taking spikes in the back for me.”

“I have a tougher back.”

“All flesh bleeds, and all bones break.”

“The shrimp is getting very cold,” he said uncomfortably.

“Liam.”

“Hm.”

“I’m sorry for being such a pain.”

“Serena …” He shook his head, rolling over to stare down at her, about to say more, then not doing it. “I have other scars on my back too. Don’t worry about it.”

“Just another job,” she murmured.

“May I say that this particular moment is one of the nicest I’ve ever had while working?” he queried.

“You may.”

He smiled. “The shrimp is already cold. I guess it won’t make any difference if it gets a little colder.”

“Not in the least.”

Naturally, by the time they got around to eating it, the coconut shrimp was very cold indeed. It didn’t matter. It was delicious. They finished the wine and the pineapple pieces back in bed. Curled up, they found
Casablanca
on an oldies station, and they both commented and critiqued all the way through, then agreed that it was truly a classic, whatever the stories behind the filming.

When she awoke the next morning, Serena didn’t think that she had slept so well in years. This was everything a vacation was supposed to be.

She realized that he was watching her when she opened her eyes. He was propped on an elbow, studying her, and making no pretense that he was doing anything other than that.

“Coffee?”

“You made coffee already?”

“I aim to please, being the hired help and all.”

“You totally exceed your duties.”

“I don’t mind at all. I told you, I take my work very seriously.”

“Do you sleep with all your clients?”

“Only when they look like you.”

“How kind of you. It’s wonderful to be included among the elite.”

“I’d put you nowhere else.”

“Thank God. Would you mind getting that coffee?”

He rose. He looked like an islander, bronzed—and then white. He poured her coffee from the machine provided on the wet bar near the dining area table. When he returned, she had slid up to a sitting position, pulled the covers to her chest, and was ready to take the cup.

“The hired help … reduced to room service,” he told her.

“Cheer up. I’ll make you coffee tomorrow,” she told him. Then she asked, “Do you really hate room service?”

“No.”

“Well, good.”

“Do you really hate camping?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But …”

“What?”

“Nothing. I mean … I’ll try almost anything. You know. Wild, wicked woman that I am.”

“You—or Verona Valentine?”

“I think you were the one who decided we were one and the same.”

“Never.”

“Well, anyway, Verona surely loves camping. She’s into desert sands and all that. Rolling in the grapevines.”

“Speaking of rolling in the grapevines—you’ve had scenes with Jay Braden shirtless, right?”

“Sure.”

“Does he have a hairy back?”

“What?”

“Does he have a hairy back?”

She shook her head, her brow furrowed. “Not at all. He used to wax it—better hunk image, you know. I think he had laser hair removal last year. The guys were all talking about it. Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d just like to know who was in that tape with Jane Dunne.”

Serena sighed. “If it was Jay, what does it prove?”

“I’m not certain. I still think Amesbury is somehow involved.” He hesitated. “He made a phone call after I talked to him, the night you were scared out of your house.”

“This has really consumed all your time—and your life.”

“We need answers fast.”

She hesitated, sipping her coffee. Then she said quietly, “Don’t jump down my throat for this, but … I’m sorry. I really am sorry if I got in the way of a relationship that was going to be the right one for you.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But she is beautiful, and young. And she does like digging.”

“Camping,” he corrected.

“Well … they are connected,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed deeply. “Don’t be. It wasn’t working out.”

“You seem to have that problem a lot.”

He cast her a dark, warning glare.

“Well, it’s true. Somewhere along the line, if you want a relationship to work, you’re going to have to quit expecting the other person to do everything your way all the time.”

“Really? Is that it?”

“It’s just an observation.”

“From a relationship expert?” he queried.

She made a face. “I’m just trying—”

“I told you—it wasn’t working.”

“I was just saying—”

“You
married Andy Larkin.”

She sighed, needing another sip of coffee before she could answer that one.

“The soap was just beginning, and he was a producer, and an actor, and he can be very handsome, and very charming, and I was probably far more naive than I should have been at the time. In truth, I have no excuse. It was a terrible mistake. I couldn’t take it. And I don’t think Andy has ever forgiven me for the divorce, though we are friends, and we do manage to work together.”

“How mad is he?” Liam asked.

“Mad enough to kill me? Never. He did love me—in his way. That didn’t exactly include monogamy or the other things one expects in a marriage, but he did, in his way, love me.”

He touched her cheek, drawing her face toward his. He kissed her lips. “Sorry, I didn’t really want to get going on that right now.”

“Oh?”

“Hired help, ma’am. Trying to do my duty.”

“You can’t possibly be receiving enough compensation for such prowess,” she told him.

“Hell, I like to go the distance.”

She started to laugh, giving up the coffee cup as he grabbed it. “It really is a shame that things ‘just didn’t work out’ with us. You can be tremendously entertaining.”

“Ah, well, that’s what we’re all about, isn’t it? Entertainment,” he said dryly.

“Hey, wait—” she started to protest.

But when he didn’t intend to listen anymore, he didn’t intend to listen. His touch was aggressive …

Angry, she thought.

But passionate, fierce, and seductive.

Later, she couldn’t remember what she had intended to say.

That day, after shopping for a few items of clothing, they went fishing, taking out a private charter. She wasn’t so sure about baiting her own hook. The shrimp they were using were spiny, wiggly, and had things sticking out of their heads. She told Liam she felt sorry for them. She wondered if she’d ever be able to eat shrimp again.

By the end of the day, however, she had decided not to feel sorry for the shrimp anymore. She learned how to throw her line. She caught the biggest fish. She forgot all about
Valentine Valley.
She didn’t think about it again until later that night when she heard Liam on his cellular phone. She paused by the bathroom door, listening. He was talking to George Olsen, she realized.

She remained where she was as he told Olsen goodbye. She was about to step out when she realized he was dialing another number. Apparently no one answered. He didn’t leave a message.

Later that night, she hit the button on his phone that brought up the last ten numbers dialed.

The number would have meant nothing to her, but there was an I.D. on it. The words next to his last call were “Sharon, Home.”

T
HAT AFTERNOON
D
OUG
H
ENSON
called Joe and asked how he could reach Serena. Joe told him that he didn’t know. Doug was certain he was lying and that he had Liam’s cell phone number.