Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision

“So you work for a yacht club?” Keith asked.

“Yes.” She waved a hand in the air. “I work for it. They belong to it.”

He laughed. “Are you supposed to be the poor little rich girl or something?”

She shook her head, looking at him. “I like working there. It’s fun.” She hesitated, wondering why she kept feeling compelled to explain things to him. “My brother is a member, so if I weren’t working there, I’d have all his privileges. Working there pays well, and I get free dockage, which Ben uses, since employees get that perk and members don’t, and he owns a boat and I don’t. I see some of the most luxurious and beautiful yachts in the world. And meet some of the nicest people. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” He offered her a slow, wry smile.

“Mostly,” she repeated, refusing to say more. Had the tension in her relationship with Amanda been so evident to a stranger?

“It’s always interesting when you get around boats,” he said. “Some people are as rich as Croesus and you’d never know it, they’re just so down to earth. Some are as poor as church mice, putting everything they have into staying on the water. And they’re just as nice. But don’t ever kid yourself. The sea can breed demons.”

She looked up at him, startled, but he was rising, looking toward the group that had drawn around the fire.

Had he been warning her about something?

Maybe himself?

The light had faded in earnest. No more deep blues, purples, streaks of gold or any other color. Night had come.

In the far distance, a faint glow could be seen, coming from the lights along the heavily populated coast of south Florida. But on the island, there was nothing except for the glow from the fire. Around them, the foliage of the inner island had become blanketed in shadows.

The wind stirred, creating a rustle.

“The girls want to hear some ghost stories,” Lee called out to Keith.

“I said pirate stories,” Amber said, laughing.

“Pirates would be ghosts, by now,” Ben told his daughter, amused.

“Most of the time,” Keith said, moving toward the fire. “Except that there are modern-day pirates. All over the world.”

“Too real,” Amanda protested with a shiver. Of course, she was still clad in nothing but the skinny bathing suit. Sure, they were on a semitropical island. But the sea breezes at night could be cool.

Keith noticed her discomfort. He slipped off his shirt and draped it around her shoulders. She flashed him a beautiful smile. He smiled back.

It was a simple gesture of courtesy, but it made Beth lower her head, wondering how she could allow someone like Amanda to irritate her so much.

“Okay, so we want an old-fashioned pirate ghost story, right?” Keith asked. He didn’t remain behind Amanda but strode toward the center of the group, closer to the fire. He hunkered down by the flames, forcing Beth to wonder if he was aware that the flames added a haunting quality to his classic features.

“I’ll tell you the tale of the Sea Star and La Doña. Both were proud ships with billowing white sails! But one was English, and the other sailed under the flag of Spain. The Sea Star sailed from London in the year of our Lord 1725. Her captain was a fierce man, loyal to the core to the king. England and Spain were hardly on the best of terms, and Jonathan Pierce, the captain, was eager to seize a Spanish ship full of gold from the New World.

“Captain Pierce, however, wasn’t sailing alone. Along with his crew, he was carrying a party of nobility. One of them was the Lady Marianne Howe, daughter of the governor of one of the small islands, and he was unaware that a year earlier, her ship had run aground on coral shoals and she’d been saved by a handsome young Spaniard, Alonzo Jimenez. Of course, under the circumstances, despite the fact that the young Spaniard and his crew had simply returned the Englishmen and women he had rescued to the governor in Virginia—asking no ransom, no reward, and ignoring the hostilities between the countries—there could be no happy ending for Marianne and Alonzo. Not only was he a Spaniard, but an untitled one, at that.

“Still, Marianne had managed to keep in contact with him, smuggling out love letters. She was ready to cast aside her title, her fortune and her family, all for Alonzo. He had arranged to hide his ship here, around the curve of Calliope Key—”

“Calliope Key?” Kim interrupted. “Where we are now?”

“Of course. What good would a ghost story be if it weren’t about this island?” Keith asked, smiling slightly.

His voice was perfect for the tale, Beth thought. It was a rich, deep voice. She had to admit that she was as seduced as the others.

“Oh, right,” Amber murmured.

Beth looked at her niece with a certain amusement. Amber was—and always had been—capable of sitting through the scariest horror movie. Now, however, her eyes were very wide.

Keith Henson—whatever he was really up to—had a talent for storytelling. With the strange fire glow on his face and the deep, intense rasp of his voice, he held them all enthralled.

“Go on,” Ben said, his profound interest surprising Beth.

“Well, the young lovers never intended harm toward anyone. Marianne was a strong swimmer. She simply meant to get close enough to her lover’s ship to escape into the sea, then find refuge on the island until he could come to her. With any luck, the Sea Star would have been long gone before anyone noticed she wasn’t aboard.

“But while Marianne was conducting her daring escape into the sea, Captain Pierce was sending spies out in his small boats to get the lay of the land—well, the sea. Just as Marianne was reaching shore, news reached Pierce about the Spaniard hiding past the reefs. He manned his guns. Meanwhile, Alonzo had taken a boat to shore…this shore, right here, where our fire now burns. Just as he and Marianne met, the first cannons exploded. It was a fierce battle, and Alonzo was brokenhearted, watching his friends lead the fight…and die. His ship, La Doña, was sunk. Many of his men tried to swim to shore but were cut down by the English before they could reach landfall. Marianne was desperate that her lover not be caught, but Alonzo was brave to a fault. When Captain Pierce came ashore, following the Spanish crew, he prepared to fight. Their swords clashed so hotly that sparks flew. Then Captain Pierce was unarmed. He had lost the fight. Alonzo, however, refused to deliver the coup de grâce. He stepped back, and said that all he wanted was a small boat for himself and Marianne. Captain Pierce showed no gratitude for the fact that his life had been spared. His men came upon them, and he ordered that Alonzo should hang. Marianne was hysterical, heartbroken, and ashamed that her countryman could behave with so little honor. As Alonzo was dragged away, Pierce assured her that she would forget their enemy, and that he would be her new lover and her husband. Marianne wiped away her tears and approached him, and no doubt Captain Pierce assumed she was ready to accept his offer. But she reached into his belt and drew his pistol. She shot him dead, but too late to save her lover, for even as the shot rang out, Alonzo swung from the hangman’s rope, crying out her name and his love—right before his neck snapped. Marianne, desperate in her grief, turned the gun on herself.

“And as that shot went off, the Sea Star suddenly moved…drifting out to sea. The Englishmen on the island, stunned and frozen by what had occurred before their eyes, moved too slowly. They raced for their longboats and made to sea. But neither they nor the Sea Star were ever seen again. Sometimes, they say, at night, the ship can be seen, riding the wind and the waves, only to disappear into the clouds or over the horizon.”

“Oh…” Sandy breathed.

“And what about Marianne, Alonzo and Captain Pierce?” Amber asked.

“They haunt the island, of course,” Keith said. “At night, when you hear whispering in the breeze, when the palm fronds move, when the wind moans…what you hear is their voices as they roam the island for eternity.”

“Oh, jeez,” Kim groaned.

“Oh…” Amber breathed.

Keith looked at Ben apologetically, afraid that his story had been too effective.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Kim demanded.

“Of course not,” Amber protested. She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “Don’t be silly. Sandy, you’re not scared, are you?”

“About staying on a haunted island?” Sandy asked. “No. I mean, the tents are all pretty close together on the beach when you think about it, right? Of course, I do wish Brad and I were one of the groups in the middle.”

“I’m sure we’re just fine,” Amanda said.

“I think it will be fun,” Brad teased. “Sandy’s going to be all cuddly tonight, I assure you.”

“Oh, my God!” Amber exclaimed.

“What?” Ben demanded.

“Dad…we might have found one of them today. One of the ghosts!”

“It’s just a story,” Keith said. “You asked for a ghost story and—”

“No, no, there was a skull. At least…we thought it was a skull,” Amber said.

Ben groaned loudly. “Girls, one of you stubbed a toe on a conch shell. There was no skull. Enough with the scary talk, okay?” he said firmly.

Beth kept her mouth shut, wincing. And not because Ben was annoyed, but because she was suddenly more frightened than ever herself. The girls had just let everyone know they had seen a skull.

And someone here, someone sharing the island with them, had taken that skull for reasons of their own. Reasons that couldn’t be ignored.

“It’s easy to imagine things out here,” Matt said easily. “I promise you, there are no ghosts here.”

“But lots of ghost stories supposedly have some truth to them. There were shipwrecks all around here. I’ll bet the story is true, and that the ghosts whispered it in your ear,” Amber said.

“Okay, that’s a scary thought!” Sandy said, shivering.

“It’s getting better and better for me, girls. Please, go on,” Brad said, laughing, but also trying to ease the fear the girls seemed to feel.

“We’re in the Bermuda Triangle, too, aren’t we?” Amanda asked, rising. “Luckily, I don’t have a superstitious bone in my body.” She stretched, and Keith’s shirt fell from her shoulders. She reached down languidly to pick it up and slowly walked—or sashayed—over to Keith to return it. “Besides,” she said softly, “there are a lot of handsome, well-muscled men around here to protect us if we need it. Well, good night, all.”

Her cousins and father rose to join her, saying their thank-yous as they rose.

The group began to break up, everyone laughing, promising to see each other in the morning.

As they returned to their tents, Beth was silent.

“Aunt Beth, are you afraid of ghosts?” Amber asked.

“No,” she assured her niece.

“Then what are you afraid of?” Amber persisted.

Beth glanced self-consciously over at Ben. “The living,” she said softly.

Her brother sighed, shaking his head. “Just like good old Captain Pierce, I carry a gun. And I won’t let anyone close enough to use it against me,” he assured her.

A few minutes later they had all retired, Ben and Beth to their “one-bedroom” tents and the girls to the large “two-bedroom” Ben had recently purchased for his daughter. None of them were more than ten feet apart, with the girls situated between the adults.

Amber and Kim kept a light on, and Beth found herself hoping their supply of batteries would be sufficient. She could hear the girls giggling, probably inventing ghost stories. She told herself that people were simply susceptible to the dark, to shadows, whispers on the breeze, and the dark intent of a tale told by firelight.

But she was uneasy herself. She reminded herself that she had been uneasy long before Keith’s ghost story.

It’s just a story, he’d said. A good story, told on the spur of the moment.

And it hadn’t scared her. Not a silly—even sad—ghost story.

Yet…she was scared.

Despite her unease, she eventually drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were disjointed, snatches of conversation, visions that seemed to dance before her, never really taking shape until she saw, in her mind’s eye, a beautiful young girl in eighteenth-century dress, a handsome Spaniard and a sea captain, sword in hand….

The sea captain—arresting, exciting, masculine—took on the appearance of someone familiar…Keith Henson.

Sadly, even in her dream, the beautiful young girl looked like Amanda.

She tossed and turned as the dream unfolded, more like a play with the director continually calling, “Cut!” than a real dream.

And then she heard the wind rise, a rustling in the brush…

She awakened, a sense of panic taking hold of her. Her palms were clammy, her limbs icy.

It was just a nightmare, she told herself.

Except it wasn’t just a nightmare.

Nearby, the foliage was rustling. Someone was creeping about in the stygian darkness.

Pirates had definitely frequented this area, once upon a time.

Spanish galleons had carried gold.

Had Keith truly only been telling a tall tale?

Because human nature never changed. Piracy still existed. She wasn’t frightened by anything sad that might have occurred in the past, because the present could be frightening enough.

Someone was out there. Not a ghost.

Someone very much alive.

3

NIGHT MOVES.

He had expected them.

Someone on the island was playing games.

Innocent games? Searching for legends?

Or games with far more deadly intent?

Keith rose silently and waited just inside his tent, listening, trying to determine from which direction the noises were coming. There was a breeze, so the trees continued to rustle. But he had heard far more than the subtle movement of the palm fronds in the soft, natural wind of the night.

Whoever it was, they had slipped across the sand and into the dense foliage of the interior.

Looking for a skull?

Or was there something more, something entirely different, going on? Perhaps he shouldn’t have told his ghost story. But he had told it on purpose, watching the others closely for their reactions. In the end, though, he’d learned nothing except that everyone seemed awfully easy to spook.

But had he caused this movement in the night?

He eased slowly, silently, from the tent and started across the white sand. Just ahead, barely discernible, the rustling sound came again.

Suddenly there was a light ahead, as if whoever was there felt they had gone far enough not to be noticed.

With the appearance of the light, he knew for certain he wasn’t chasing some nocturnal animal through the trees.

He followed, quickening his pace as he left the beach behind.

FEAR KEPT BETH DEAD STILL for several seconds until her instinct to protect the girls rose to the fore.

She almost burst from the tent, to find…

Nothing. Nothing but the sea by night, the soft sound of the gentle waves washing the shore, a nearby palm bent ever so slightly in homage to the breeze.

She went still, looking around, listening.

Still nothing. She told herself she needed to get a grip. She had never been the cowardly type, and stories were just that: stories. There were real dangers in life, but she had always dealt with them. She didn’t walk through dangerous neighborhoods alone at night. She carried pepper spray, and she’d learned how to use it. She even knew how to shoot, since their friends included several cops, who’d taken her to the shooting range and taught her how to handle a gun, though she didn’t choose to keep one, since her house had an alarm system.

So why was she panicking?

Because in her heart of hearts, no matter what anyone said, she was certain she had seen a skull. And it hadn’t belonged to any long-dead pirate.

No one nearby, no sounds now. She still had to check on the girls.

First she looked down the beach. All the fires were out, and she could see the tents, silent in the night. Keith and his buddies had tied a hammock to a couple of palms, where it swung ever so slightly in the breeze. Down from them, another group of tents, and farther still, a larger tent, all of them quiet and dark.

She hurried over to the girls’ tent and looked in, her heart in her throat. But both of them were in the second of the two little rooms, and they were soundly sleeping. Their light was still on, turning their small bedroom into an oasis and everything around it into a black hole.

She exhaled in relief and started backing out—straight into something solid, large.

In her, terror rose and she screamed.

KEITH HEARD THE SCREAM and froze, his blood congealing at the terror in that shrill sound.

In a split second, he was back in action.

The scream had come from the beach.

Beth!

The light ahead went out, but he ignored it and turned, tearing through the brush, desperate to reach her.

SHE LET OUT A SECOND, terrified scream; then she swung around, ready to fight to the death on behalf of the girls.

There was no need.

“Dammit, Beth,” a voice swore fiercely in the night. “What the hell are you doing?”

She blinked, drawing back with just seconds to spare before giving her brother a black eye.

“Ben?”

“Who the hell did you expect?”

“You scared me to death,” she accused him.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked nervously, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she crawled from the bedroom.

Kim followed, and the four of them wound up in the small outer room of the tent, tripping over one another.

“Nothing,” Ben said irritably.

Just then, as Amber tried to stand, she bumped one of the poles and the tent collapsed on them.

Ben tried never to swear around his daughter, but tangled in the nylon, tasting sand, Beth could hear him breaking his rule beneath his breath.

“It’s all right. The tent just fell,” she heard herself protesting.

But when she twisted to free herself, she only became more entangled.

Then the fabric was lifted from her, and, looking up, she saw the face of Keith Henson, tense and taut as he stared down at her.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded curtly.

“Nothing,” she snapped.

“You screamed.”

By then Ben had managed to escape the mess of poles and nylon and make it to his feet. He was shaking his head disgustedly.

“Sorry, everyone.”

When she looked around, still on her back, she saw that everyone was there, flashlights shining. Had she really screamed that loudly?

Well, of course she had.

And she was still flat on her back in an oversize T-shirt riding up her thighs, staring up at everyone. Just as the thought occurred to her, Keith reached a hand down to her. At that particular moment, she didn’t think twice about accepting it.

His grip was powerful. She was on her feet before she knew it.

“What is going on?” Amanda demanded, swiping back an errant piece of blond hair. Even at night, Beth noticed dejectedly, Amanda looked great. Like a soap-opera character who awoke in the morning with perfect makeup and shiny teeth.

“Are you all right?” Hank asked, polite as always.

Roger, definitely the oldest in the crowd, set an arm on his daughter’s shoulder and looked over at Beth, smiling, as well. “Maybe we should avoid ghost stories at night,” he said easily.

She tried to smile. And then apologize. “I’m really sorry. I woke up, and went to check on the girls. And then, backing out, I ran into my brother, who was apparently checking on why I was checking on the girls. There were too many of us in too small a space. I guess I woke everyone. I’m sorry.” Except, of course, she was certain that she hadn’t awakened everyone.

Someone had already been up and creeping around the island.

Who?

It was impossible now to tell, because all of them were there. Staring at her.

Amber started to giggle. Beth stared at her, brows raised.

“Oh, Aunt Beth, I’m sorry, but it is funny.”

“Yeah, a real hoot,” Ben muttered.

“Hey, let’s just get the tent back up, huh?” Keith suggested.

Kim stared at him, obviously fascinated. “Oh, sure, thanks.”

“I can manage—” Beth began.

“Take the help when it’s offered, honey. Then maybe we can all get some sleep.” For once Amanda spoke without malice. There was even a teasing tone to her words.

Ben smiled. “Keith, if you’ll give me a hand, we’ll have this back up in two minutes.” He cleared his throat. “Beth, you’re in the way.”

“Excuse me.”

“Me, too,” Amanda said, and yawned. “I’m going back to bed. Dad, want to walk me back? Hank? Gerald?”

“If you guys are all set, we’ll go catch a little more sleep, too,” Sandy said.

“We’re fine. Good night all,” Ben told them.

Once again they parted for the night. Or what was left of it. Glancing at her watch, Beth saw that it was around four in the morning.

The girls’ tent was quickly repositioned, and their group, too, was ready to try for a few more hours of sleep.

Ben thanked Keith, as did the girls. “Hey, Aunt Beth. You could bring your sleeping bag in here, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about us,” Amber said.

“I’ll give you guys your privacy,” Beth told her, smiling.

Keith was staring at her, his gaze intent, as if he was trying to read something in her expression.

Then he smiled easily, without suspicion. “You all right?”

“Yes, fine.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you with my story.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of ghosts.” She couldn’t help the feeling that her eyes were narrowing. And she wondered if he realized she was telling him that she was scared, but not of any story—of him.

“Well, then, good night.”

With a wave, he started off for his own tent.

“Girls, go to bed,” Ben said firmly.

“Good night,” Amber said.

“Good night,” Kim echoed.

They went into their tent again. Beth winced as she heard them giggling.

“Beth, what the hell was going on?” Ben demanded.

She sighed. “I heard a noise. I was worried about the girls.”

He let out a sigh. “What’s the matter with you? You never used to be paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid.”

“Listen, Beth, we’re surrounded by people here, half of the people we know. Nothing is going to happen.”

“You scared me,” she protested. “Creeping up behind me like that. You might have made yourself known.”

“I didn’t know who you were,” he told her.

“Aha!” Beth declared. “You were worried. Admit it.”

He sighed. “Beth, nothing’s going to happen,” he responded. “Trust me, huh?”

“I do trust you,” she told him.

“Then act like it.”

“Okay.”

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Beth realized that he was waiting for her to be safely tucked back into bed. She smiled and nodded ruefully, then crawled back into her own tent and into her sleeping bag, where she lay staring at the fabric above her in the deep darkness of the night.

She rolled over. It was better in that direction—the girls were still sleeping with the little lantern flashlight on.

She tried to close her eyes and sleep.

She had heard something.

Or had she? Maybe it had been only the natural rustling of the wind in the leaves. Had she simply made up something in her mind, and become truly paranoid?

Or, on the other hand, was she just being sensible?

Trust me….

She did trust her brother. He would gladly die for his daughter, she knew, and would probably do the same for her, and for Kim.

She just hoped to hell he was never called upon to do so.

She tossed again, yearning to go to sleep.

It was a long time coming.

AMANDA MASON WAS DEFINITELY a flirt. She made a point of crashing into one of the guys every time she hit the ball.

Usually himself, Keith decided wryly. He wasn’t letting it get to his ego, since she also liked to tease Lee—she’d seen the boat, and they’d all said it was his. She didn’t much mind brushing against Brad, either, even though he was here with his girlfriend. But so far, no one had taken their makeshift volleyball game too seriously. So far, everyone was laughing.

He, Amanda, Brad, Lee and Kim were one team. Sandy, Amber, Gerald, Matt and Ben made up the other. Roger Mason sat on the sidelines, being the ref.

So far today, they hadn’t even seen Ms. Beth Anderson.

“Outside!” Matt yelled in protest of Keith’s serve.

“It was not outside—you just missed it,” he returned.

“Where’s our referee?” Matt demanded.

“Sleeping, despite the noise,” Amanda said, chuckling affectionately as she pointed to her father.

It was true. Roger had leaned back in the hammock and gone straight to sleep.

“It was definitely outside,” came a voice.

Keith spun around. She was up at last, yawning despite her late appearance. She held a cup of coffee. Sunglasses covered her unique marble-toned eyes, and she was in a bathing-suit top and chopped-off Levi’s pedal pushers.

His serve hadn’t been outside, and if she had been watching, she had seen that. He wondered why she had decided that they were enemies from the first moment she had seen him.

Other than the fact that she’d been trying desperately to hide her discovery from him.

He forced a smile. “Hey, Matt, the lady says you’re right.”

“Beth Anderson, you’re blind!” Amanda protested irritably.

“It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Beth asked politely.

“I’m going to have to speak to the commodore and make sure you don’t ref any games at the club,” Amanda said, a teasing note in her voice that was meant to hide her still-obvious dislike.

Beth managed an icy smile and an easy laugh. “You do that, Amanda,” she said.

“Aunt Beth, come play,” Amber urged.

“I think I like Roger’s idea best,” she said.

“Sure—wake the rest of us up in the middle of the night and then sleep all day,” Matt teased. “I don’t think so.”

“No, of course not, come play,” Hank urged. “And you can ref my game any old day,” he teased.

“Come on, Beth, play,” Ben urged.

“I’d make the teams uneven,” she protested.

Roger, who had appeared to be so peacefully sleeping, rose. “I’ll join in and make it even,” he offered.

He walked past Beth, smiling. “Fifty-eight, and I guarantee I can take on you kids.”

It was interesting, watching the group dynamics, Keith thought. Everyone seemed to get along fine except for Amanda and Beth.

Was Beth jealous?

Or was it vice versa? Amanda was petite, ultrafeminine. Beth seemed…

Elegant, he found himself thinking. A strange adjective, since she was in beachwear, as casual as any of them.

The teams readjusted. Beth took the serve.

It was wicked.

From the rear corner, he barely returned it. Ben caught the ball, and Roger, bless him, attempted a slam. Amazingly, Beth caught it low, setting it up for her brother, who went in for the kill.

“Point,” Beth said calmly, reclaiming the ball.

The game was neck and neck from then on. Sandy was the weakest link, but she made up for it with her good humor and refusal to give up.

Beth was a superb player, in excellent physical condition. She wasn’t just shapely, she was sleek. Perfectly toned. She played not so much to win as simply to play hard. There was a vibrance about her, a love of life, of activity, a passion that seemed to come through in everything she did and said, in the way her eyes seemed to burn like a crystal fire when they met his across the net. She clearly loved a challenge.

He had the feeling she would always meet one headon.

At last Beth’s team took the final point, and they all collapsed, laughing.

“What’s up next?” Hank asked, lying flat on the sand in exhaustion.

Lee was up and staring at Keith. “Fishing?” he suggested.

“Yeah, fishing,” Keith replied.

They were fishing, all right.

“Not me, boys. I’m for lazing in the sun now,” Amanda said, rolling sinuously to her feet.

Ben nodded toward Lee’s yacht. “You asking us out on that?”

“Would you like to see her?” Lee offered.

Keith looked at Lee and knew just what he was thinking. Keep the current denizens of the island with them, occupied. Keep an eye on them. Know what they’re up to at all times.

Keep them fishing, not diving.

He stayed silent. In the end, there wasn’t anything they could do about people diving these waters. Still, if discoveries here had been easy…well, they wouldn’t be here now.

“You bet,” Ben said enthusiastically. “Looks as if she’s got every new electronic device known to man.”

“I like my toys,” Lee said with a shrug.

“I’m with you,” Ben said.

“Hell, I’d like to see her, too,” Hank said, grinning.

“Me, too,” Gerald agreed.

“Little boys, little toys, big boys, big toys,” Amanda teased.

“Me, I’d like to see the hammock again,” Roger said.

“I think Sandy and I are going to take a walk, explore…” Brad said. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Beth?” Lee inquired. “Girls?”

“I’d love to see the boat,” Amber said.

“Yacht,” Beth murmured beneath her breath.

“But actually,” Amber admitted a little sheepishly, “I hate fishing.”

“That’s cool,” Lee told her.

“Beth?”

“I’ll stay with the girls,” she said. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

“You don’t care if I go?” Ben asked his sister.

“Not at all!”

But she did. She cared like hell.

“Maybe I will join you men,” Amanda said with something like a purr. “The sun is actually much better on the water. And I can always escape below if all the testosterone proves to be a bit too much. I’ll just get my things.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “I am not, however, cleaning any fish.”

Keith watched her sashay toward her tent.

When he turned to study Beth again, she was studying him. The way she was looking at him caused a little pang to creep into his heart.

She was so suspicious of him.

Well, she had every right to be.