In Too Deep by Cherry Adair Page A

enough to go racing downstairs in her jammies.
    But not quite .
    She pulled off her pj's, and dragged on a pair of camel linen slacks, and a tailored white linen shirt with natural bone buttons. Barefoot, she opened the door into the hallway. If it hadn't been for the stream of light from her room, the hallway would've been pitch-dark. She went back inside to get the flashlight. If need be, she'd use it like a club.
    A quick glance to the left showed Michael's door ajar. Had he come upstairs yet or was he still downstairs drinking and carousing with the locals? He wasn't the type of man to go to bed at ten o'clock. At least not alone.
    She hesitated. Michael, or downstairs?
    Surely he wouldn't sleep with her one night, and bring Leli'a to his room right in her auntie's hotel the next? The thought of Michael Wright having hot sex with the beautiful Tahitian girl made Tally's stomach roll.
    With the flashlight raised, she turned toward the stairs and the noisy barroom below. Grabbing the metal banister, she raced down the steep cement steps two at a time.
    Wearing shorts, a sweatshirt, and his eye patch, Michael tapered off his nighttime run to a jog, then finally, a walk. He wasn't wearing his watch, but judging by the position of the stars, it was after ten. There was no moon, but the stars winked ice clear in the blackness of the sky.
    The beach was at least three miles long. He'd run the soft sandy stretch five times at a dead run and was barely winded. No heavy pack. No combat weapons. No sweat.
    Not bad for a man who'd sailed for eleven months and avoided dry land, barring necessities. With all the toys he had onboard, two global positioning systems, the radios, and phone, fax, and e-mail capabilities, other than supplies, he could do everything he needed to do from the open sea.
    Michael stood with his fingers locked behind his head and stretched as he stared thoughtfully out over the ocean. His lips twitched as he pictured Tally earlier at dinner. Did she know what a mass of contradictions she was? Elegant and earthy. Sexy as hell, and prim. Volatile and icy.
    He shook his head and lowered his arms, then turned and walked away from the few lights of the bar and marina. Down the long, suddenly too bright, expanse of the beach. Farther up, as the beach turned the corner of the bay, he'd be blocked by a convenient rocky outcrop. The lava rocks meandered along the coast, steadily climbing, and forming a wedge as gentle hills became the cliffs on the west, north, and south of the island.
    Warm, fragrant air caressed his damp skin.
    The blast on Arnaud's boat had been expertly set and discharged. It didn't take an underwater detonation expert to figure that one out. Bouchard had been on deck when she'd blown.
    Coincidence? Michael didn't think so.
    He wondered if the explosion was a plan gone wrong. Did the delectable Tally have a nice big life insurance policy? And what about the second man? Also missing. How had he figured into it?
    The sugary sand beneath his feet retained the heat of the day. Michael picked up a small broken slice of shell and flipped it between his fingers as he walked. The shell broke like a promise in his hand. He tossed it aside and veered onto the hard-packed wet sand.
    He clambered over the lava rocks to the beach of the tiny cove on the other side. It was clear from the watermark striations on the rocks that this small stretch would be under water at high tide. Presently, the surf lapped gently at the surrounding rocks, leaving a snowy expanse of beach exposed.
    Michael reconned the perimeter and found the small mouth of a cave, or deep depression. Darkness prevented him from seeing more than a foot or so inside. He crouched low and brailed his way around the opening.
    "Sonofabitch, a cave." The narrow fissure opened enough for him to stand without bumping his head. But without a flashlight it was useless going any further. He'd come back tomorrow in the daylight. The cave would be a strong