Prologue

      Joy Mackey squared her slim shoulders and brought her hand up to knock on Nick Tremain’s apartment door. But she didn’t knock. Instead she fanned herself with her hand. She felt very warm, though it wasn’t particularly hot for Long Island in July, no more than eighty degrees and not at all humid yet at nine o’clock in the morning. The heat she was feeling had nothing to do with the temperature. She was about to do something she knew she probably shouldn’t be doing. Not that it was going to stop her from doing it.

      Joy drew in a deep breath, then turned on her heels in a complete about-face. She walked four straight steps away from the door. Then two more steps right to the outdoor railing of his third-story, motel-style unit. She’d carefully planned what she was going to say on the drive over from Greenport. Now she couldn’t remember her great opening line.

      “Hi, Nick…” Joy practiced, going for a breezy tone.

      “Hi, Joy,” Nick replied, as he opened his front door.

      Surprised, Joy spun around to face him. “Hi, Nick,” Joy repeated, still startled.

      “Hi, again.” Nick closed the door behind him and stood with her in the covered walkway that was open to the elements.

      Joy had recovered her composure sufficiently to deliver what she considered her friendliest smile. “Are you going somewhere?” She took note of his white T-shirt lauding the New York Jets, blue jean cutoffs with white strings dangling onto his rugged thighs. His bare feet were in well-worn sneakers and set wide apart at the moment.

      “A walk on the beach.” His blue eyes made a quick trip over her own casual attire. But they lingered on her bare legs, she noticed.

      “Okay,”