Native Affairs (64 page)

The message light was blinking on her phone when she entered her room. Sighing, she sat on the edge of her bed and dialed the desk, hearing without surprise that Harold Caldwell wanted her to call him.

“Miss Talbot, I’m glad you were able to get back to me so quickly,” the attorney said when she reached him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to sign the papers you had for me,” Ann replied. “I’ll come back to your office tomorrow.”

“That will be fine, but that’s not the reason I’m calling.”

“Has something happened?” Ann asked anxiously. Something else she added silently.

“I’m afraid so.”

Ann’s heart sank at his tone. “Tell me.”

“Your brother has been transferred to a hospital about ten miles from the county jail where he was being held pending disposition of his case,” Caldwell said.

“Hospital?” Ann said faintly.

“Yes. It seems he got into an altercation with one of the other inmates and came out the worse for it.”

“How bad?” Ann said quickly.

“He has a fractured skull and a broken leg.”

Ann gasped, gripping the phone. “How could that happen? Don’t they have guards in those places?”

“Of course they do, but fights among convicts are commonplace—they really can’t be stopped completely.”

“My brother is not a convict, Mr. Caldwell,” Ann said tersely, on the verge of tears for the second time that day.

“Certainly not, it was just a figure of speech, please forgive me. I am so sorry to be giving you more bad news, but I thought you should know about this new development immediately.”

Ann said nothing.

“What was the result of your conference with Mr. Bodine?” Caldwell asked, obviously hoping for a ray of light in this ocean of darkness.

“May I call you back tomorrow, Mr. Caldwell? I’ll discuss it with you then.”

“Certainly, but don’t wait too long. If your brother has become a target in this particular jail, he could be in for more trouble once he is released from the hospital.”

“Can’t you have him transferred or something?”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds, Miss Talbot. I would have to show cause...”

“A fractured skull isn’t cause enough?” Ann asked, her voice rising.

“I will try. I just can’t promise anything,” the lawyer said. “I know this is a difficult time for you, but we have to address this whole situation quickly, not just the transfer, but the matter of Tim’s bail. If I could get him released, we obviously wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of it anymore.”

“Work on it, and I’ll call you first thing in the morning,” Ann replied, and hung up the phone. Then she stretched out on the bed with her face down into the pillow for a long time.

When she finally stood, there was a determination in her movements that bespoke a renewed purpose.

She went into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower full force, waiting until the steam billowed out into the bedroom before shedding her clothes and stepping under the gushing, almost scalding water. She took a long, luxurious shower, letting the heat soak into her bones and the purifying steam clear her head. By the time she turned off the water and reached for the hotel robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she had made up her mind.

Ann went straight to the phone and dialed information, asking for the Miami number of Bimini Boat Works. When told by a sweet-voiced secretary that Mr. Bodine was not in his office, Ann left the message that she had called, along with her phone extension at the inn.

She was sitting in the armchair next to the phone ten minutes later when it rang.

“You called me?” Heath said without preliminary when she picked up the receiver and said hello.

Just the sound of his voice made her hands start to shake. “I’d like to get together and discuss the details of your offer,” Ann said quietly.

“I’ll meet you for dinner at the inn’s restaurant tomorrow night at eight o’clock,” he replied. He didn’t ask why she had changed her mind so quickly. He didn’t ask why she had changed her mind at all.

Obviously he didn’t care.

“Fine,” she said.

Ann heard a click as the line went dead. He had hung up without saying goodbye. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

When you made a deal with the devil, common courtesy was probably de trop.

She sat back in the chair and for the first time since she’d returned to Florida she let her mind dwell on that fateful summer eleven years earlier, when she first met Heath. She had pushed the memories back for so long that when she finally opened the floodgate they all came rushing through, under pressure, drowning her in technicolor images of the past. She saw Heath as he had been; then as now the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Chapter 3

Eleven years earlier...

Ann pulled off her sunglasses and sat up in annoyance, looking around for the source of the noise. She had been up late at a dance the night before and was trying to take a nap, but someone was racing the motor of her father’s powerboat. Every time she thought the grating sound had stopped, it would begin again, wearing on her nerves. She’d been just on the edge of sleep during a period of blessed silence when the engine roared to life once more.

Ann winced and sighed. The sound was drowning out the gentle lapping of the water against the bulkhead behind her. Ann fastened the straps of her bikini top and grabbed a towel from her deck chair, padding barefoot across the patio and the lawn and down to the dock that fronted the canal running behind her house. A thirty-two foot cabin cruiser and a twenty-foot speedboat were tied up there, the speedboat with its engine racing. Ann stood on the dock, hands on hips, waiting for the din to subside. When it finally did she yelled “Hey!” and paused for a response.

There was none.

Muttering to herself, she climbed down into the front of the boat and walked around to the rear well. There a deeply tanned figure was bent over the engine housing, fiddling with a screwdriver.

“I’m talking to you,” Ann said loudly.

The man turned to look up at her, and she froze under his stare, finally taking a step back and draping her towel self consciously over her shoulders.

She felt as if he were undressing her with his eyes.

He was about six feet tall, his skin nut brown from the sun, his hair and brows and lashes blue black, the color of anthracite. His face was arresting: wide amber eyes, a narrow nose, high cheekbones and a sculpted mouth with a thin upper lip and a full, cushioned lower one. His expression was not friendly as he looked her over, taking in her scanty bathing suit, bare feet and hair pinned up in a careless bun. He didn’t look more than a few years older than Ann. She fingered a hanging tendril nervously as he said shortly, “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop making all this noise,” Ann replied, her discomfiture making her sound equally abrupt.

“You from the house?” he said, jerking his head toward the lawn. He climbed out of the engine well and dropped the hatch.

“Yes.”

“You giving me an order?”

Ann gazed back at him, unsure of how to reply. He was wearing cut-off jeans that frayed to a stop at his muscular thighs, with lace-up work boots and nothing else. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his arms and back and his hair was damp with it. He was lean, but not thin, his well-developed biceps flexing as he moved. A sprinkling of black chest hair spread over his flat nipples and disappeared in a narrow line below the waistband of his jeans. He had a flat, concave stomach, ridged and tight, and his limbs were traced with a laborer’s prominent veins. His hands and the tip of his nose were smeared with engine grease.

Ann realized she was staring and looked away. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You hired me. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“My father must have hired you. It’s his boat.”

The workman wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and then pulled a folded sheet of paper from the rear pocket of his jeans. “Henry Talbot?” he said.

“That’s my father.”

“I’m from Jensen’s Marina. I have an order from Henry Talbot to tune up this engine—it’s been misfiring. It can wait if the noise is bothering you too much. I’ll come back.”

He was looking at her with his cat’s eyes, hands on hips, waiting for her response. Ann could only imagine her father’s reaction if she caused a delay in the repair of his precious toy.

“No, go ahead. It’s getting too hot out here anyway, I’ll go inside.” Ann walked to the front of the boat and then realized that he was following her. She stopped short and looked around at him. He hopped onto the dock in one graceful movement and then bent down, extending his hand to help her climb out of the boat. He saw that his fingers were covered with sticky engine fluid, so he wiped them on on his pants, then reached out to her again.

Ann slipped her hand into his and he pulled her up next to him. He was so strong that she seemed to fly through the air and land on the dock with no effort at all on her part.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up into his face.

“No problem, Princess,” he said, and smiled.

His teeth were very white against his dark face, the incisors slightly crooked. A silence grew between them as they stood on the dock, immobile, their eyes locked.

Luisa appeared in the kitchen doorway and called, “Miss Ann, your mother wants to speak to you.”

Ann tore her eyes away from her companion and said, “All right, Luisa, I’m coming in now.”

“So long, Princess,” he said, and hopped down into the boat. He disappeared around the curve of the bow as she looked after him, then Ann turned reluctantly toward the house.

Luisa was making lunch as Ann came inside, closing the sliding-glass door behind her to contain the conditioned air. Luisa nodded toward the hall and Ann went down to her mother’s room.

“Mom?” she said, outside her parents’ door.

“Come in,” her mother called.

Ann walked into the dressing room where her mother was stepping into a pair of pumps.

“Hi, honey. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be having lunch at the club. I’ve already told Luisa to save something for your father whenever he wanders in from his golf game, so just be a good girl and eat whatever she gives you, okay? And remember, those carpet people are coming, so stay out of their way and let them work. Your father has been griping about the stains in his den for the last three months. What are your plans for the afternoon?” Margaret Talbot’s cool, aristocratic tones, still retaining a hint of New England, floated toward Ann as her mother clipped on a pair of earrings.

“I thought I’d just hang around here, maybe take a swim. Amy is coming over tonight.”

“All right, sweetie, have fun. It’s so nice to have you home again. And remember, we’re going shopping tomorrow on the big island.” Her mother came over to her and kissed her cheek.

“Okay.”

“See you at dinner. Bye-bye.” Margaret picked up her purse and tennis racket, grabbing her carryall and waving to her daughter as she left the bedroom.

“Bye.” her mother into the hall, returning to the kitchen to find Luisa pouring out a glass of iced lemonade. Several oatmeal and raisin cookies and a folded napkin sat beside it on a ceramic tray.

“Is that my lunch?” Ann asked.

“Of course not, your mother would have a fit,” Luisa replied crisply.

“It’s for that boy working on the boat, isn’t it?” Ann said, snatching a cookie.

“So?”

“I’ll take it out to him.”

“You will not,” Luisa said firmly.

“Why not?”

“Your father wouldn’t want you talking to that boy,” Luisa replied, picking up the tray herself.

“What’s wrong, is he a criminal or something?” Ann asked around a mouthful of oatmeal, intrigued.

Luisa didn’t answer, merely walked toward the back patio, the tray in her hands.

“So then why is it okay for you to talk to him, Luisa?” Ann inquired logically, abandoning the remains of the cookie on the kitchen table.

The front doorbell rang.

“I think you’d better get that,” Ann said to Luisa, deftly taking the tray from the older woman’s hands.

“You can answer it,” Luisa said.

“No, I can’t. It’s the carpet cleaners, I can see the van through the window. You have to talk to them.”

Luisa sighed and turned around as Ann slipped through the patio doors, balancing the tray with one hand as she moved the slider closed with the other.

Ann walked carefully over the back lawn toward the boat as the ice clinked in the tall glass. She was almost to the boat when she heard a yelp and a curse, followed by frantic rummaging sounds. She put the tray down on the lawn and ran the rest of the way, jumping down from the dock and peering into the engine well.

The workman was sitting cross-legged on the deck, wrapping a filthy towel around his hand as blood gushed from his thumb.

“Oh, my God,” Ann said, running to his side. “What on earth did you do?”