Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision. Heather Graham
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it?
Was it Keith’s?
Worst of all, was the whole thing about something unique, special and honorable—and sheer chemistry—all in her own mind?
MATT WOKE WITH A START. Alone.
He sat up, and his head started spinning. He felt ill.
“Amanda?”
There was no response. He leaped up, then staggered, holding his head between his hands. Sweet Jesus. Had he really had that much to drink? They’d hit the Jack Daniel’s on arriving…and she’d been with him every second. Aggressive, exciting, quite possibly the most purely carnal experience he’d ever had. Pushing him down, crawling on top of him…
“Amanda?”
He made his way out to the galley. She’d left coffee on, but no note. Matt reached into a cabinet for something to kill the pain. He swallowed six caplets, drank a glass of water. His head was still spinning. He leaned against the counter, fighting the sensation. He needed coffee, a bagel, something.
He didn’t bother to toast the bagel but ate it almost savagely. After a few minutes, his brain began to kick in.
He swore and went topside, where his voice rose as he cursed to the morning sun and the sea.
She’d taken the tender in.
He hurried back down to the cabin and searched it arduously. Nothing seemed disturbed. Nothing at all.
Still swearing, he judged the distance to the mainland, dressed in swim trunks and a tank, then went topside, furious with both the woman, and with himself.
He’d been had. Big-time.
He hit the water, glad the sea was smooth that day. As he swam, the salt, sun and sea began to clear his head.
But dull torture remained.
Did he tell the others?
“I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU ALL have decided to visit civilization for a while. Although…” Amanda smiled knowingly. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”
“You expected us?” Keith asked, smiling back. He didn’t need to lean in close. Amanda had taken care of that all by herself. She was at a table but somehow nearly on top of him. There was no way out of the fact there was something naked and almost primeval about her raw sex appeal. She practically reeked of female hormones. She’d had money and position all her life, plenty of time and opportunity to hone the “bad girl who could do whatever she wanted” image.
So different from Beth. Everything about her was just as sensual, as gut level, as sexually, sensually appealing. But there was a touch of class inherent in her allure. She moved with supple grace, as sleekly as a feline. Her voice roused the libido. Her eyes seduced with cool intelligence and an underlying honesty that compelled and…
He locked his jaw. This wasn’t the time to wax poetic—or simply sexual—about Beth. Or think of the way she had looked at him during their night together.
“What were three handsome, heterosexual men going to do out there forever?” Amanda asked huskily.
Her fingers—nails perfectly manicured—made a fluttering motion down his arm.
“I mean,” she continued, “how long can you just dive and fish without some kind of a…break, shall we say?”
He shrugged and eased back slightly. “We were intrigued. So many of you had mentioned this place while we were on the island.” He offered her a broad grin, moving in closer again. “So…this is it. And are you here all the time?”
“A lot of the time,” Amanda said. “I love boats. The way they rock. Even when they’re just tied up at the dock.”
The older Cuban man he had met the other night was taking a seat at one of the tables, Keith noticed. Amanda cast him a brief glance, then paid him no mind.
Manny, Keith remembered. He was the friend who had reported the Monocos missing. He knew now that the Monocos were definitely missing and he was pretty sure he knew how and why. But a piece was still missing. He had a feeling Ted Monoco had known something about his own work out by the island. That nothing was as simple as it looked.
He looked back at Amanda, who was almost on top of him, despite this being a public place.
“You haven’t been on board Hank’s boat. She’s almost as nice as your friend Lee’s.”
“Where is Hank?” he asked. “And the rest of your family?”
“Oh, he and my dad have some business today. And Gerald doesn’t come around as much as the rest of us. None of them will be around for quite a while.”
It was as open an invitation as a man was ever going to get.
“You can tell me all about fishing…that rush you get when you land the big one.”
She wasn’t referring only to fish, he knew.
“And diving. Floating in a different world. A magical world. Making fantastic new discoveries.”
Again her words were sexual, but he sensed something more. She wanted to talk. She wanted him to talk.
He glanced at his watch, forcing an expression of real regret to his face. “I can’t see her right now. I have an appointment with a man about a boat.”
Amanda pouted. She touched him again, delicately on the arm. “And you can’t postpone it?”
“I wish I could. I’ll be back, though.”
He rose, made his goodbye.
She waved; he started out.
At the entry, he turned back.
Manny had risen. As Keith watched, he joined her at the table, and the two of them began to talk, heads close, voices apparently low.
He turned to leave again, then noted the dancer, Maria Lopez, at a corner table.
She was watching Manny and Amanda, as well.
BETH PARKED AND WALKED around the back, to the waterside. Ashley was seated at one of the tables there. She had her sketchbook out.
Though it was a public marina and boats came in and out constantly, it seemed to be quiet at Nick’s that morning. A few people were down at the docks, working on boats. Friends chatted. Down one of the long piers, a fisherman was already in with his catch, cleaning it.
It was Saturday morning, a lazy time, except for those eager few who were anxious to get out on the water. The real early birds had already gone out and some had already come back in.
She noticed an old sailor, one of Nick’s regulars, at one of the tables, smoking his pipe, sipping his coffee, reading his newspaper. Farther down, a mother fed a pair of toddlers, who seemed convinced all their food really needed to be given to the gulls by the water. Signs begged customers not to feed the birds at the tables—such generosity could lead to a scene straight out of Hitchcock. Once started, the birds did not give up.
There was a couple at another table, wearing sunglasses and looking as if they’d partied a little too hearty the night before. Probably why they looked vaguely familiar, she thought, then headed toward Ashley’s table that was in the sun, but protected by an overhead umbrella.
“Hiya,” Ashley said, seeing her arrive.
Beth slid into the chair opposite her.
“What’s the matter? You look glum,” Ashley said.
“I’m fine,” Beth said.
“No you’re not, but you can tell me the truth whenever you’re ready.”
“So what’s up? Tell me what’s going on. Why do they think