allegations were justified or completely unfounded; but at the moment she had no idea how to go about such an investigation. It crossed her mind to simply tell Ric that she had heard rumors about overcharging, but she soon dismissed that idea with a shiver of unadulterated fear. She was too cowardly to be the one to give him news like that. He was dangerous enough when he was only slightly angry; infuriated, he might be as volatile as a vial of nitroglycerin.
So she would have to find some other means to solve the overcharging puzzle, but at the moment she didn't want to think about that. Yesterday's trip into Hamilton with Ric still lingered in her mind, and she felt an odd contentment in the thought that they had enjoyed hours together without once getting into a fight. He could be so nice, and Allendre sighed dreamily as she propped her chin on her updrawn knees, staring out at the azure water but seeing in actuality a lean, tanned face and warm blue eyes. Rousing herself from her reverie at last, she scrounged through the jumbled contents of her beach bag, only to find that she had left her bottle of sunscreen in her room.
"Oh, drat," she muttered, examining her long, lightly tanned legs, and deciding she could safely stay in the sun about an hour. After that she could go snorkeling; underwater, the sun would be no threat. Rolling over onto her stomach, she propped up on her elbows to begin her daily search for tiny seashells in the sand. Though she had no idea what she might do with the perfect specimens she found, they were such exquisitely beautiful little things that she couldn't resist collecting them.
She was still absorbed in her task some minutes later when an eerie sensation that she was no longer alone trickled along her spine. She seemed to be in shadow, while the sun shone on the sand all around her. A tiny frown knitted her brow, and she turned over warily, squinting at the bright sunlight that surrounded Ric's silhouetted form. "Oh, hi," she murmured weakly, inexplicably self-conscious about the modest white bikini she wore. Scrambling to sit up, she started to fold her arms across her chest, decided that would appear childish, and ultimately leaned back on her hands to gaze up at him with a rather shy smile. Then her heart seemed to do a somersault when he knelt down on the towel beside her, his blue eyes frankly appraising as they drifted slowly over the entire length of her body.
"I noticed you sifting through the sand," he said, his voice coming from deep in his throat as a glint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Let me give you some advice. If you're searching for buried treasure, use a shovel next time. You'll make much faster progress."
Allendre wrinkled her nose at him. "I was searching for seashells, not treasure," she informed him tartly, amazed at the warm excitement that coursed through her veins simply because he was close. Trying to lessen his disturbing effect on her, she grinned and glanced around. "Of course, if there is supposed to be treasure around here somewhere, maybe I will get a shovel. I don't think I'd mind being independently wealthy."
"There are rumors of buried pirates' troves on every island, but you don't have time to start digging right now. You're going sailing with me."
His supremely confident pronouncement widened her eyes. "Sailing?" she squeaked, staring with fascination at the brown hand that suddenly enclosed hers. "But I—"
"No buts. You're going." Rising to his feet, he pulled her easily up to stand before him, the commanding gleam in his eyes advising against argument. "Now, gather up your paraphernalia and I'll drive us to the dock in the Jeep."
Allendre hesitated, swallowing convulsively as she tilted her head back to gaze up into the dark blue depths of his eyes. She shouldn't go with him; her nagging common sense was trying to tell her that. Already, in the few days she had known him, she had become too involved. Considering how he could arouse her both
So she would have to find some other means to solve the overcharging puzzle, but at the moment she didn't want to think about that. Yesterday's trip into Hamilton with Ric still lingered in her mind, and she felt an odd contentment in the thought that they had enjoyed hours together without once getting into a fight. He could be so nice, and Allendre sighed dreamily as she propped her chin on her updrawn knees, staring out at the azure water but seeing in actuality a lean, tanned face and warm blue eyes. Rousing herself from her reverie at last, she scrounged through the jumbled contents of her beach bag, only to find that she had left her bottle of sunscreen in her room.
"Oh, drat," she muttered, examining her long, lightly tanned legs, and deciding she could safely stay in the sun about an hour. After that she could go snorkeling; underwater, the sun would be no threat. Rolling over onto her stomach, she propped up on her elbows to begin her daily search for tiny seashells in the sand. Though she had no idea what she might do with the perfect specimens she found, they were such exquisitely beautiful little things that she couldn't resist collecting them.
She was still absorbed in her task some minutes later when an eerie sensation that she was no longer alone trickled along her spine. She seemed to be in shadow, while the sun shone on the sand all around her. A tiny frown knitted her brow, and she turned over warily, squinting at the bright sunlight that surrounded Ric's silhouetted form. "Oh, hi," she murmured weakly, inexplicably self-conscious about the modest white bikini she wore. Scrambling to sit up, she started to fold her arms across her chest, decided that would appear childish, and ultimately leaned back on her hands to gaze up at him with a rather shy smile. Then her heart seemed to do a somersault when he knelt down on the towel beside her, his blue eyes frankly appraising as they drifted slowly over the entire length of her body.
"I noticed you sifting through the sand," he said, his voice coming from deep in his throat as a glint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Let me give you some advice. If you're searching for buried treasure, use a shovel next time. You'll make much faster progress."
Allendre wrinkled her nose at him. "I was searching for seashells, not treasure," she informed him tartly, amazed at the warm excitement that coursed through her veins simply because he was close. Trying to lessen his disturbing effect on her, she grinned and glanced around. "Of course, if there is supposed to be treasure around here somewhere, maybe I will get a shovel. I don't think I'd mind being independently wealthy."
"There are rumors of buried pirates' troves on every island, but you don't have time to start digging right now. You're going sailing with me."
His supremely confident pronouncement widened her eyes. "Sailing?" she squeaked, staring with fascination at the brown hand that suddenly enclosed hers. "But I—"
"No buts. You're going." Rising to his feet, he pulled her easily up to stand before him, the commanding gleam in his eyes advising against argument. "Now, gather up your paraphernalia and I'll drive us to the dock in the Jeep."
Allendre hesitated, swallowing convulsively as she tilted her head back to gaze up into the dark blue depths of his eyes. She shouldn't go with him; her nagging common sense was trying to tell her that. Already, in the few days she had known him, she had become too involved. Considering how he could arouse her both
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