Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision. Heather Graham
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foliage, then rolled again to face Kimberly with a sigh.
“We’ve got to do something!”
“About what?”
“Beth, of course.”
“You’re calling her ‘Beth’ now?” Kimberly queried with a brow arched high in a semblance of mature disapproval.
“No…it’s just, we’ve got to do something.”
“She’s so cute,” Kim agreed.
“And so is he,” Amber said.
“Which one?” Kim asked, frowning.
“The cute one.”
“Even your dad is cute,” Kim said.
Amber laughed, shuddering. “Ugh. Dads are not cute.”
Kim shrugged. “I’m sure he is to lots of people.”
“I know, but…ugh. No, I’m talking about him. And I know you know which one I’m talking about.”
“Keith Henson,” Kim agreed sagely.
“We need to get the two of them fixed up.”
“Amber, they’re both here. If they want to get fixed up, they’ll do it.” Kim giggled. “I mean, they’re older than we are. They’ve got to have some smarts.”
“Do you think he has a wife somewhere? Or a girlfriend?” Amber asked worriedly.
“I don’t think so.”
“He better have, like, a real job. I don’t want my aunt working her whole life to support some beach bum.”
“Amber, we’re not getting them married off or anything.”
“But we should get them together,” Amber protested. “Seriously, she’s so pretty, but she never goes out. She needs a date.”
Kim blushed. “You mean she’s not getting any?” she asked with a giggle.
“Kim!” Amber nudged her hard.
“Well?”
“We need to set her up. But first we have to check him out.”
“How are we supposed to do that?”
“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see when we get home. Dad has lots of cop friends. We can talk to one of them.”
“Amber, we may never see these guys again once we go home.”
Amber sat up, grinning, and did an amazing Alfred Hitchcock impersonation. “Have you ever had a premonition?”
Kim laughed. “All right. We’ll do a real investigation when we get home. Meanwhile, I’ll find out a few things about him.”
“And how will you do that?” Amber demanded.
Kim smiled smugly. “Silly. I’ll just ask him.”
THE YACHT WAS STATE OF THE ART. Ben loved it the minute he stepped aboard.
“Wow,” he said simply to Lee.
He worked hard and earned decent money as an attorney, and he’d been proud of his own boat, but in comparison, Time Off was small.
And simple.
What the hell does this guy do for a living? he wondered, though he was too polite to ask. None of the guys seemed like dope dealers, and he’d learned that in Miami, lots of people were simply independently wealthy.
Hank Mason wasn’t quite so hesitant.
“How the hell do you afford a puppy like this?” he demanded.
“Family money, I’m afraid.” Lee’s pride was justified when he grinned and said, “She’s something, huh? She’s a Hatteras, top of the line, and she’s been customized, since most of these ladies aren’t set up for real fishing.”
Customized to a T, Ben thought. Topside, there was the kind of rigging that made deep-water sport fishing fun. The flybridge offered every convenience from a global explorer to sonar and radar equipment, along with a stereo system and the more mundane racks for drinks and snacks. The upper deck offered complete comfort, and the decking was exquisite, with teak trimming. There was even a small refrigerator. The stern afforded racks for at least twelve diving tanks, and a lift-top seat bore a small sign that read Diving Equipment.
“Come into the cabin. You’ll like her even more,” Lee told Ben.
“I like her already,” Amanda said. She smiled up at Ben and linked an arm through his. “Now this, I must say, is a boat.”
Ben had known Amanda for several years, though never well. She was definitely beautiful, capable of stirring his senses, but also making him uncomfortable. He’d learned a long time ago that when someone you loved died, you lost a part of yourself, but you were still among the living. And being alive, he definitely had sexual urges. Amanda gave a man the impression that she could fulfill those urges beyond his wildest dreams. It would be a lie to say she didn’t have an effect on him. The problem was, she gave the same impression to every man. He would never trust a woman like her if he so much as blinked. For some guys, it would be okay. They were players. It was curious, though, that she seemed to be hanging on to him. He knew he was decent looking, fit and made a good living.
But the island, as Amanda had said herself, was chockfull of testosterone. Lee, Matt and Keith were the kind of men women always seemed to go for—well-muscled, tall, with the slightly rough good looks and hard-adventure attitude that seemed to draw women like moths.
So why the hell was Amanda clinging to him?
He wasn’t a player. His life focused—maybe too much, as Beth was always warning him—on his daughter. And he had a great career. So unless he found himself falling head over heels in love again, he kept his social life discreet. It actually did exist, which might surprise his sister.
But then, a lot about him might surprise his sister.
“Cool, huh?” Amanda murmured, snuggling a little closer. She was wearing sexy perfume, and she knew how to press her anatomy against a guy.
He smiled and shrugged, looking down at her. “It’s one hell of a boat,” he agreed.
“Come below,” Lee urged, and the rest followed.
Only Lee and Matt were hosting their excursion. Keith had chosen not to come, and despite his impatience with Beth, Ben had to admit that the guy staying back had caused him a bit of concern. But Brad and Sandy were on the island, as well, as was Roger. Though he vaguely felt he should be concerned about Keith, he just couldn’t believe the man had any real evil intentions. He didn’t like to believe in instinct—he’d worked in the D.A.’s office long enough to learn that it was unreliable at best—but no matter what logic told him, he didn’t fear for his daughter, her friend or his sister when they were with the guy.
“Oh, wow!” Amanda exclaimed, hugging his arm. “This is beautiful!”
The cabin utilized its limited space with sleek elegance. A turn to the left of the steps led straight to an aft cabin, while the steps themselves led into a galley that seemed to offer more appliances than his home kitchen. The galley spilled into a main salon with a desk that held a computer, a radio and a number of electronics he couldn’t even name. A table looked as if it could hold up to eight diners, and a hallway led to a forward cabin and the head. Everything was leather, teak or chrome.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Lee asked.
“Beer,” Ben said.
Lee moved into the galley, grinning. “Amanda?”
“You have any white wine back there?”
“Sure. Hank…Gerald?”
The other