CHAPTER ONE

      THE COLORFUL, NOISY crowd on the docks at Prince George Wharf was a breath of fresh air to Amanda Todd after the sad, somber atmosphere of her home in San Antonio, Texas. She was enchanted with the way the musical accents of British speech mingled with native patois in the European-class boutiques. Usually she would have had time to shop and enough money to indulge her whims. Since her father’s funeral three days ago, however, her finances had become an unholy tangle. She worked at her family’s weekly newspaper and job press but her father’s will had stipulated that she wouldn’t inherit the company until she reached the age of twenty-five, in two years, unless she married first. Harrison Todd hadn’t held modern views concerning women in business. In fact, he’d screamed bloody murder when Amanda had pursued her dream of a degree in accounting at college, but Josh had prepared her for that.

      It was Joshua Cabe Lawson, her late father’s business partner, who had always supported her while her father was alive, and even now he was watching over her. He had arranged for her to fly to Nassau’s Opal Cay in the Bahamas on one of the Lawson Company’s Learjets. So she could spend one week on his island recharging her emotional batteries.

      Drained and worn out, Amanda hadn’t argued with him. Besides, Josh was executor of Harrison Todd’s will, which meant Amanda’s financial future was temporarily in his hands. She was certain that would lead to a lot of arguments, for Josh was no less strong-willed than she. In spite of the fact that Josh had always championed her cause, they had lately become sporting adversaries.

      The Lawson Company of San Antonio, Texas, was a computer conglomerate that produced both mainframe and personal computers. Its international success meant that Josh, as its president, traveled often. His brother, Brad, was vice president of marketing, and had the charm and charisma his older brother sometimes lacked.

      Brad and Amanda had known each other since childhood. Although they’d gone to separate grammar schools, they had attended the same private high school in San Antonio while Josh had been dispatched to an exclusive military academy, learning the stiff-backed discipline that had enabled him to take charge of his father’s company at the age of twenty-four. Josh had increased the company’s profits fifteen percent the first year he had control. The board of directors, dubious in the early days of his tenure, had become allies, though they still weren’t sure what to make of Brad. Amanda had always felt like a sister to Brad, a sentiment that had deepened when old man Lawson had died ten years ago. She was glad he’d come to pick her up when she arrived on Opal Cay. Josh was, of course, tending to business.

      “Josh never slows down, does he?” Amanda asked the tall, handsome man as they strolled along the dock in Nassau. “It isn’t as if he’s going to starve.”

      Brad chuckled. He lifted his sharp-featured countenance to the warm sea air and closed his eyes. “That’s a fact. Making money is all Josh lives for. At least since Terri cut out on him.”

      Amanda didn’t like her most vivid memory of Terri. She wasn’t a bad sort, but Amanda wanted someone special for Josh—and although she wasn’t sure why, she knew that someone wasn’t Terri.

      She turned toward the bay, where several lumbering white cruise ships were setting in port. She’d been on a cruise ship only once. She’d been seasick the entire trip. These days she flew when she had to travel.

      Amanda paused by a straw stall, smiling at the shy girl who was watching it for her grandmother. “How much?” she asked, pointing toward a particularly lovely hemp hat with purple flowers woven around its wide brim.

      “Four dollars,” the girl replied.

      Amanda pulled a five-dollar bill out of the pocket of her white Bermuda shorts and handed it over. “No, no, keep that,” she added when the girl handed her a colorful Bahamian dollar in change.

      “Thank you, ma’am,” the Bahamian girl replied, laughing.

      “You spoil these vendors rotten,” Brad muttered. “You’ve got a closetful of hats already,