Chapter 4 #3
“I must make it up to you—to both of you. Please be my guests at dinner tonight at the best restaurant on the island, the Blue Water Grill in Oak Bluffs.”
“That would be perfect. You’ll have to let me take my good friend Chauncey along too—he’ll be arriving soon to keep me company. Strictly platonic.” She arched a brow at him.
Jean Luc smiled that too-polished smile he had and asked, “So what do you think of my old friend Dane, the original beachcomber?”
“Beachcomber? I never heard of a beachcomber who drives a Jag.”
“A high-end beachcomber. I’ll give you that. But he has more driftwood and sand in his soul than Jaguars and boutiques.”
“Hmmm,” was all Shana said. She resorted to leaning forward to gauge his response to her overdone cleavage.
He didn’t respond the way Dane had—even if Dane pretended not to.
This man was cold as ice. It took all she had to smile at him. She took a hefty gulp of her hot coffee to warm her back up.
“Maybe I’m a beachcomber at heart too,” she said.
“I think maybe you are. I bet you would look spectacular on a beach.” He gazed at the scoop of her neckline and smiled.
“You would most definitely look spectacular in a bikini. But it’s more about a freewheeling attitude, isn’t it?
A joie de vivre. A willingness to take life by the horns and take chances. ”
“Like taking a chance on you?” She raised a brow at him. She needed to be more charming. This damn assignment was hard.
“I was thinking more like how you’re taking a chance on Dane. I think you’ll find I’m not as much a risk. But maybe you are looking for the risk?”
“No, I’m looking for fun.” She reached out and traced the ring on his hand, played with his fingers. “What kind of fun do you have for me?”
“Ah, there’s my lady. I can show you all the most elegant, rarefied fun—the most fun money can buy.”
“Does that include walks along State Beach and surfing at Gay Head?”
“It would be a distinct pleasure to walk with you, but my surfing days are behind me—I’d love to watch you. I might even give you pointers.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“A competitive spirit?”
“Problem with that?”
“Au contraire. You intrigue me all the more. Is that why you’re vacationing here on the Vineyard? I should think there are far better spots for surfing—like back in Australia where you came from.” He gave her another of his sly smiles.
“Impressive. You know the difference between a British and Aussie accent.” She nodded at him in approval.
She really was impressed at his intelligence and ratcheted up her caution.
“Can’t stay in one spot all the time—you know what they say about rolling stones and moss.
Besides, I came here to surf in the competition, of course.
And visit my friend. Haven’t met up with her yet.
” She looked around the shop and her eyes settled on the clock.
She didn’t have much time to try him out on the subject of their missing heiress.
She and Dane had to get to the airport soon to pick up Chauncey Miller.
Jean Luc said nothing for several seconds and she thought he wouldn’t bite until he finally spoke.
“Who’s your friend? Maybe I know her.”
He said the line as if she’d scripted it for him and that worried her.
“Susan Whittier. Her family has a home on the island. She’s in the surfing competition too, although she doesn’t have a chance. Have you been on the island long?”
“No, but I’ve heard of your friend, met her once I think, but I can’t say I’ve seen her about. At least not lately. She must be keeping to herself. Where is her home?”
“Her family home is in Vineyard Haven. I’m staying there now. Alone. Except for Chauncey when he gets here. Where are you staying?”
He paused a beat again as if making up his mind. She didn’t take her eyes off him.
“In a very lovely home a little way inland, but up on a bluff high enough to have spectacular ocean views. It’s called the Sand Castle. Maybe you’ve heard of it. You’ll have to bring your friend Susan along to our dinner if she shows up.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen her and she hasn’t responded to my texts. Her parents are worried—I practically had to talk them out of calling the police this morning, but I’m sure I’ll catch up with her.” She smiled.
He kept that same smile on his face, but it was as if it froze in place when she mentioned the police.
Shana smelled his scent before she saw Dane’s shadow hovering over her.
Taking a deep breath of whatever it was about him she had become addicted to, she turned.
He placed one strong, tanned hand on her shoulder.
That was his first real touch and she felt the vibration run through to her center.
Closing her eyes against the onslaught of pure lust, she knew she was cooked.
“Save your flirtations for another day, Jean Luc. The lady and I are due at the airport.” He lifted his wrist and made a show of checking his famously expensive watch.
“You are feeling all right then, my friend? I will of course replace your—”
“No need.” Dane cut the man off and squeezed Shana’s shoulder. He gave it a small jostle to signal time for their departure.
She stood and Jean Luc stood a millisecond later.
“Your number? Don’t forget your promise to allow me to make amends by taking you to dinner.”
She rattled off the Whittiers’ house number and, with Dane’s hand sliding from her shoulder to her arm and wrapping itself around her, stinging her with his body heat, he moved her out the door.
He wasted no time letting her in the car, jumping in and driving off. She looked backwards to see Jean Luc emerging from the coffee shop and looking after them with a wave.
“You left him with the bill.” She smiled.
“Keeping expenses down. I’m sure we have a budget and these pants weren’t cheap.”
“No one told me about a budget.”
“I’m sure there is one. I think David Young is in charge—technically—of the budget.”
“Ah. The David Young.”
“So you’ve heard of him and you haven’t heard of me?”
“He’s a legend at Scotland Yard. I doubt you’ve set foot in London.”
“You’d be wrong. Didn’t Captain Lynch tell you how worldly I am?
” He looked at her and relaxed back into his seat as they turned onto the road going by State Beach, according to the sign.
It was a long straight stretch and it gave her that yawning longing in her gut for home and Bondi Beach in Sydney.
“David Young is now Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange in Boston. That’s where you came through,” Dane said.
“Yes, but I didn’t actually meet with anyone in Boston. I was sent straight away to here. The only person my boss at the Yard mentioned by name was Governor Douglas.”
“They all work closely together.”
“Very odd.”
“We’re all the governor’s men. Even you.”
“I’m honored to be in your… club.” She was. She couldn’t help herself, damn it. Unless he was teasing her. Most likely he was. Damn it.
* * *
After Chauncey spotted them and introductions were made, they hurried through the airport terminal to the Jag out front. Once in the car, Dane checked for company and was satisfied to find Frenchie following.
“I told Peter he should have had Oscar on this mission. It would be right up his alley,” Chauncey said.
“Oscar?” Shana asked.
“One of the governor’s men,” Dane said and looked at Chauncey in the rearview with the slightest nod in acknowledgement of their brotherhood.
“You worked with him?” Chauncey said.
“Once. I heard about his missions with the Boston Police Department and his international …reputation and called him for help. He said he wasn’t interested in anything regular, but he did help me out that one time. In Haiti.”
He watched while Shana the beach princess—dressed to the nines in very un-beach-like designer wear—stared out the window. Pretending not to bother listening.
“Very interesting and accomplished man, that one,” Chauncey said. “He saved my butt—and my wife’s as well—I owe him until the day I die for that.”
Chauncey wore a look of adoration at referencing his wife that hit Dane in the pit of his stomach. Agonizingly familiar and forever lost. He would never wear a look like that again. He promised himself.
Then as if she read his mind Shana glanced his way with a noncommittal expression. Correction. He would never wear that look for real again. He may need to act the part. The thought overrode his ability to concentrate.
“He fought off a mad Iranian terrorist hell-bent on revenge in the form of kidnapping my Sophia,” Chauncey told them with a fierce look as if he felt the horror and thrill of it all over again.
Dane saw Shana roll her eyes—inside her mind. He didn’t like it even if he understood the thought.
“Oscar sounds like a helpful guy,” Shana said. “Maybe we ought to call him in.” She looked directly at Dane and gave her chin a slight lift.
“Go for it, girlie.”
They stared at each other in challenge and although he wasn’t looking, he felt Chauncey watching them from the back seat of the Jag.
Before they had a chance to continue their adolescent alpha challenge-fest, he pulled the Jag into the driveway and the car doors popped open. Shana jumped out in spite of her spike heels and hurried toward the house along a winding brick walk.
“Something wrong?” Chauncey asked no one in particular as he alighted from the car. Dane and Chauncy stood in the drive while Shana unlocked the front door of the house a distance from them.
“Probably she feels left out, being the only woman on the assignment,” Dane said and he wouldn’t doubt it was at least partly true. “Not one of the governor’s men.”
But there was more. Much more, Dane knew. And he needed to bring an end to it. They needed to call a truce. Chauncey nodded and squinted in her direction.
“She’s a beauty and you’re a charmer. Shana is going to have to watch out for you.”
“I’ll be watching out for her too,” he said.
“Looks like the assignment from hell from where I stand,” Chauncey said. Then he split a huge grin and laughed.
Dane thumped him on the shoulder in manly disapproval before laughing at himself and feeling relief from his tension. Damn if Peter didn’t know what the hell he was doing when he sent Chauncey.
Peter had a sick sense of humor.