All About Evie (24 page)

No, there was something other than sexual interest in Vic's disturbing gaze, something I couldn't pinpoint, and
that's
what made me squirm. Even though Gavin was our mark, I still had a niggling feeling that the Parkers were somehow involved. That was the only thing that kept me from telling the cowboy oilman to stick his bluebonnets where the sun don't shine.

Since Arch had revealed so little, my imagination saw fit to explore every possible scenario ingrained in my brain from umpteen years of movie watching. I came up with some doozies, most of them featuring underworld plots, maniacal villains and a surprise ending involving lots of stuff blowing up. My nerves were pretty shot by the time we reached Magens Bay. But I smiled, laughed and cavorted because I was Sugar, not me. Because I had assured Arch I could keep up the ruse of the free-spirited, fun-loving newlywed, no matter what. I wanted to prove I was qualified as a spy's sidekick. Not that today posed a real challenge, except for enduring the Parkers. My mission, as described by Arch in his succinct need-to-know lecture, was to play the enthusiastic sightseer and enjoy St. Thomas. Oh, and to follow his lead. Once again, he'd opted to rely on my instincts. I took that as a compliment, even though I was dying for details.

Take it slow, Evie. Earn his confidence and trust.

I stroked my ring and summoned patience. There was nothing to be done, he'd said, until his meeting with Gavin. Which, according to my watch, was about thirty minutes from now.
Tick. Tick
. We were standing on what had to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, yet I was eager to escape to a dark, smoky bar to fight crime.

The tour guide left us to our own devices, allowing us ninety minutes for beachcombing and swimming. I knew we wouldn't need that long because of the scheduled meeting at the Coconut Shack, so I didn't much care.

Carol, on the other hand, cared plenty. “An hour and a half? He's joking, right?” She swept an arm wide, indicating the picturesque surroundings. “
This
is why I came to the Caribbean. To soak up the sun. This is damned gorgeous.”

I couldn't argue. Powdery white sand. Intense, clear blue waters. Palm trees. Coconut groves. The pristine beach offered a unique blend of sun and shade and was surrounded by lush green mountains. Yup. Damned gorgeous. It was also a popular spot. Leave it to Carol to point that out. “It's too crowded here,” she said, continuing along the east side of the bay and heading down a trail marked Little Magens Bay. “Let's see where this leads.”

It
led
to a secluded stretch of beach, and yeah, boy, I wished I'd followed my instincts and plopped in the sand back with the other tourists. The
clothed
tourists.

“Hell's fire, darlin',” Vic said to Carol with a muffled choke. “Looks like you stumbled onto a topless beach.”

I started to point out that quite a few bottoms were showing, as well, but I was momentarily speechless. I hadn't seen this much male flesh since the time Nicole leafed through a
Playgirl
magazine while we waited at a cattle call audition.

Charles
tugged at the brim of his Panama hat. “I say, not to sound priggish, but I'm not one for dropping my drawers in public.”

Carol tugged a rolled-up towel out of her tote and snapped it open. “I say, when in Rome.” She peeled her sundress over her head, whipped off her bikini top, plopped down on the towel and slathered lotion over her toned, flawless form. At least she hadn't opted to go full monty. That was something, I guess.

The men showed no signs of shock, although they did drink their fill. What man wouldn't? Carol Parker's lithe body was to die for. But then they focused on the other nudes—mostly male—and I felt a shift in attitude. Not disapproval so much as discomfort. From the way the sun-worshippers were paired, I'm pretty sure the majority were gay.

Carol broke the silence. “You're making spectacles of yourselves. I'm sure these liberal-minded sunbathers don't appreciate three fully clothed snowbirds gawking at their privates. Vic, honey, I know you're not shy. Charles, you may be a prig, but Sugar's a kindred free spirit.” She nailed me with a challenging gaze. “Right?”

“Right,” I heard myself saying. Because Sugar
was
a free spirit. Her habit of dressing provocatively proved she wasn't inhibited. She wouldn't think twice about sunbathing topless on a clothing-optional beach. Also, I'd told Arch I could keep up the ruse, no matter what. Here was a chance to prove my determination. Talk about a test. I didn't even walk around my own house naked.

Just then, something clicked. The way Charles-Arch's attention kept floating back to Carol. Yeah, boy, this was a perfect setup for Sugar's-my tantrum later on when-if I caught him in a “compromising embrace” with the pretentious slut. Unbelievable.

No doubt he expected me to buckle now. To follow through with his planned “bloody row” and to fly home.
You're too soft
. Meaning too sensitive. Too nice.

Had he forgotten? That was the old me.

I kicked off my shoes and shorts and unbuttoned my blouse. It's not as if I hadn't bared my boobies before. First the audition, then the airport parking lot. Maybe the third time would be the charm. If Jayne was right and breasts were a good omen then all the more reason to go for it, what with underworld plots and maniacal villains in my future.

At the very least, I'd prove that, although ten to fifteen years older, my boobs were just as perky as Carol's. I wanted to impress Arch in more ways than one. I didn't want to think about the man standing next to him. I blocked Tex from my mind as I casually slipped off my bikini top and flopped facedown on my beach towel. “Charlie, baby, could you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

At least it was one way to get Arch's hands on me. Although his portrayal of Charles continued to be flawless, I knew he was ticked at me for blackmailing him. I knew he wanted me gone. Partly because he was worried about my safety. Partly because he thought I was going to screw up. And partly, the part that intrigued me most, because he had a thing for me. I was sure of it. Those thoughts caused me to dig in my heels. I liked being here. In the soup with a spy, that is. Yesterday I'd rediscovered passion. Today I'd found purpose.

For the greater good.

Charlie's Angels had nothing on me. Well, except for great hair and martial arts training.

I was feeling pretty cocky until I felt the pressure of a large, strong hand on my bare skin. Then the warm lotion. Then two hands, moving in a steady circular motion over my shoulders, middle and lower back. I closed my eyes, shivering as my body endured sensual aftershocks from our previous encounters. I reveled in the gentle massage, the sound of the water lapping at the shore, the lulling heat of the afternoon sun. The smell of coconut oil and Old Spice.

Arch.

I envisioned wild monkey sex and sighed.

Carol called someone a bastard.

“It's hot as the devil's kitchen,” Vic said, snapping me out of my daze. “I ain't risking a sunburned ass. I'm headin' back to that beach bar we passed and grabbin' a beer.”

The Coconut Shack. The meeting. It had to be close to time. I would have jerked straight up, if Arch hadn't pinned me down. “Stay, love,” he said. “Enjoy the sun and surf. I believe I'll join Vic for a cool drink. Why don't you ladies join us in an hour?”

“Don't worry about us,” Carol drawled with a sickeningly sweet smile. “We'll get along just fine. Right, Sugar?”

“You bet.” I pushed my vintage black sunglasses up my sweaty nose, grateful that no one could see the daggers shooting out of my eyes and aimed at the topless she-devil.
Follow my lead,
Arch had said. Obviously, he didn't want me in on the meeting with Gavin. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect him of conspiring with Carol back at the governor's mansion while Vic and I toured the gardens. Which led me back to my original thought that they had a previous relationship—Arch and Carol. Which made me think of Mata Hari and double-crossing spies, which made my imagination soar.

So, I wondered as I heard the men walk off, how did Tex Aloha figure into this?

 

“B
LOODY HELL
.”

“Yeah.” They were far enough away from the women to speak freely. Still, Milo kept his voice low and an eye trained for anyone within earshot. “Did you know Little Magens was for nudists?”

“Hell, no. You?”

“No.” Milo tipped back his Stetson, dragged his forearm across his moist brow. “I'm thinking Gina knew.”

Arch glared at him over the rim of his glasses.

“She's royally pissed at you, Arch.”

“And using Evie to exact revenge.”

“Is it working? Are you sorry you screwed a teammate—literally and figuratively? Because I am. Gina's a vital member of Chameleon. If she resigns or forces me to fire her ass because she can't get past this woman scorned shit, then
I
will be the one who's royally pissed.”

“You've been pissed since I've known you,” Arch said.

“How about that?”

“I never thought she'd go that far. Baring her breasts.
Bugger
.”

“Gina or Evie?”

“Evie.” Arch dabbed at the sweat trickling over his prosthetics with a folded handkerchief. “So did you look?”

“What do you think?” He wished to hell he hadn't. Bad enough he'd gotten a full frontal of Gina. Made it harder to think of her as “one of the boys.” Now he'd worry about her more in the field. That sucked. But it was Evie who promised to haunt his dreams. That compact body in those green bikini bottoms and nothing else. She was curvier than Gina, softer. Feminine over buff, his personal preference. He'd only gotten a glimpse of her breasts before she'd belly-flopped on her towel, but he'd seen enough to know that they were firm, high and perfectly shaped. Oh, yeah, he'd be dreaming about those breasts. To pile misery upon misery, he couldn't get her husky singing voice out of his head.

“Every time I think I have her pegged, she surprises me,” Arch complained.

“Gina or Evie?”

“Evie. For fucksake, mate, pay attention. I had no idea she was that comfortable with her body.”

“Evie? The blond bunny who skips around in tight, skimpy outfits?”

“That's Sugar, not Evie.”

“Hell.”

Arch stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, expression grim as they continued along the rocky shoreline. “She stripped off her top to prove she's got balls. To prove she's qualified.”

“For what? To compete in the Ms. Tropic Babe contest?”

Arch shot him a look. “To join the team.”

Milo waited for two young sunbathers to pass them, and then nudged his partner off the trail and into a thicket of trees. “You told her about Chameleon?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?'

Arch thumbed up the brim of his hat. “I mentioned I work for a company, TCC. She assumed the initials stood for a covert intelligence agency.”

He crossed his arms to keep from punching the man. “Like the CIA. FBI. Something like that?”

“More like SIS. MI6.”

“British Intelligence?”

Arch grinned. “She has a bit of a James Bond fixation, yeah?”

“You're telling me Twinkie—”

“Evie.”

“—thinks you're a frickin' secret agent? An international spy? Well, that's just…” He laughed, shook his head. “Let her have her fantasy. It's not like she can look you up after this.”

Arch rubbed the back of his neck.

Milo's gut kicked. “Tell me you didn't give her your real name and number?”

“Gave her a fake last name and real cell number to an alternate phone, yeah?”

“Lose the phone.”

“Done.”

“What about Stone? Can she get to you through him?”

“That would mean him having to explain our connection.”

“Something I'd like to know about myself.”

“Wouldn't endear him to you, mate.”

“Not looking for a friend.” Milo swatted away a bug, checked his watch. “All right. Ten minutes until you're supposed to meet our man. Only natural that we enter the Coconut Shack together. The Parkers and the Duponts have established themselves as cruise buddies. When you see Gavin, make your excuses and I'll hang back. We'll better know what we're dealing with after the
come-on
. Once back in Charlotte Amalie, we'll put Evie on a charter jet, brainstorm the sting and—”

“She's not going.”

“What?”

Arch shrugged. “I told her the plan. She told me to shove it.”