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Alias Smith And Jones
Kylie Brant
He called himself Jones and was more pirate than charter boat captain. His protective streak was suffocating. His kisses devastating. And the bullet scar on his back, the gun tucked in his pants, told Ann that there was plenty the sexy stranger wasn't telling her. Perhaps even more than she wasn't telling him.Because she wasn't Ann Smith, island-hopping rich girl. She was Analiese Tremaine, and she was there to find and rescue her missing brother. But how long could she hold on to her carefully constructed identity when her search had already landed her in deep trouble with no one but Jones to help her out alive?



“Look, I’m sorry if you were worried, but there was no reason….”
Jones slapped the door beside her head. “There was every reason,” he disputed, shoving his face close to hers. “Do you have any idea what can happen to a woman on her own in a place like this?”
His second hand joined the first against the door on the other side of her head, effectively caging her. And she couldn’t be sure whether the wild pumping of her pulse was due more to his words or to his nearness.
“You’re right, of course. But believe it or not, I do take precautions. I don’t take chances, and I am not without self-defense training.”
“Prove it.” The note of mockery in his voice was at odds with the dangerous light still burning in his eyes. “You’ve got a man cornering you, wanting more than you care to give. Stop me.”

Alias Smith and Jones
Kylie Brant


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

KYLIE BRANT
lives with her husband and five children in Iowa. She works full-time as a teacher of learning disabled students. Much of her free time is spent in her role as professional spectator at her kids’ sporting events.
An avid reader, Kylie enjoys stories of love, mystery and suspense—and she insists on happy endings! When her youngest children, a set of twins, turned four, she decided to try her hand at writing. Now most weekends and all summer she can be found at the computer, spinning her own tales of romance and happily-ever-afters.
Kylie invites readers to write to her at P.O. Box 231, Charles City, IA 50616. Or you can visit her Web site at www.kyliebrant.com.
For Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Wilbur, with love

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

Chapter 1
Analiese Tremaine didn’t go around seducing men. If asked, the available men in Tangipohoa Parish could attest that even thinking of Analiese in a sexual way would be tantamount to signing a death warrant. Her three older brothers were as protective of her as a pack of wild dogs, and since the Tremaines owned just about everything round those parts, a fella could be dead and buried and no one would dare question the disappearance. The talk hadn’t hurt Analiese’s brothers’ reputations a whit, but neither had it done anything interesting for her social life.
She’d never had more reason to regret her dearth of experience. The man she’d traveled a thousand miles to hire was scowling down at her. His face, which might have been handsome without the day’s growth of beard, was a mask of impatience. At a time like this a woman could use a bit more exposure to the art of flirtation and seduction. As it was, she could only chalk up one more grievance against her brothers and hope that the smile she aimed at the man looked more confident than desperate.
“Listen, Mr.—”
“Jones. No ‘mister.’ Just Jones.”
The fact that he gave no first name made her pause. There’d been no mention of one in her brother’s files, either. Just Jones, and a private number she’d traced, with no little difficulty, to this island. To this half-naked man.
He either hadn’t bothered with a shirt that day or had dispensed with it as the temperature soared. His brown hair was clubbed back into a short ponytail, and the sun had streaked it tawny. His lashes, absurdly long for a man, were tipped with the same color. But there was nothing warm about his expression. Most people would have quailed beneath the menacing look in his narrowed gray gaze, but Analiese considered herself something of an expert in dealing with short-tempered males.
“I’ll double your normal fee.”
“I said no, lady. I meant it.”
He turned and began striding down the dock. Hurrying after him, she divided her attention between her words and her footing. Huge cords of rope lay in jumbles on the dock, a treacherous obstacle course for the unwary. “Do you really think that’s wise? You’re turning down quite a bit of money. A man who makes his living as you do can’t afford to be picky, can he?”
Her remark brought him around, but because her gaze was on her feet, she rammed into him with enough force to jolt her teeth together. Two hard hands clamped around her forearms and set her away, but not before she’d felt for herself the steely muscles beneath that burnished skin. Smelled the mingled scents of sun, sea, sweat. Scents that shouldn’t have been so appealing.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Analiese preferred to blame her breathlessness on the force of the recent impact rather than her proximity to his rock hard body. “I’m…um…” Since the sight of his tanned muscled torso seemed to have stricken her dumb, she averted her gaze from the distraction in question and gathered her scattered thoughts. “I meant your occupation, of course. It’s dependent on tourists and weather, isn’t it?”
When she chanced another look at him, his expression had eased infinitesimally, but was no more welcoming. “Listen, lady…”
“Smith.” Raising her Ray Bans with one hand, Analiese offered him the other, along with the phony name on her passport. “Ann Smith.”
He ignored both her hand and the introduction. “Like I said, I’ve got a three-day fishing party to take out at dawn tomorrow. Try one of the other charter services I told you about. I’m booked.”
“Are they as good as you are?”
“No one’s as good as I am.” His well-formed mouth didn’t even quiver with a hint of humor. It was a simple statement of fact from a man who lacked an ounce of humility. “But I’m not available.” He turned around again, clearly believing the matter closed.
She trotted after him. “Your party could be sent to one of the other services. They wouldn’t have to be inconvenienced at all.”
“They won’t be. Because they’ve already got me.”
“I’ll give you two and a half times your regular fee.” Desperation sounded in Ana’s voice, and she made a conscious effort to smooth it. It wouldn’t do to let this man suspect how badly she needed him. Or why.
“Nope.” Nimbly he leaped from the dock to the deck of the gleaming white ship with Nefarious emblazoned on its bow.
She took a moment to wonder if the ship had been named when he’d bought it or if he’d christened it himself. And if he had, what the name symbolized. But frustration edged out curiosity. “Would you mind telling me why?”
He sent a glance her way, then bent forward to more tightly secure the ship’s mooring. “No, I don’t mind.” His sudden verbosity should have warned her. He’d been maddeningly reticent up to now. “Number one—I gave the other party my word. That might not mean much to folks like you, but it does to me. And two…” He looked at her then, really looked at her. An insolently thorough once-over that left her flesh tingling as though he’d stroked her skin with one callused palm. “…you look like trouble. I don’t like trouble.”
There was a definite glimmer of satisfaction in his pale gray eyes as he took in her gaping jaw, before he turned his back on her.
When she found her tongue again, she managed, “Trouble? What kind of trouble could I possibly cause?”
“You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
Her answer, if she’d been able to form one, would have fallen on deaf ears. He’d gone below deck and left her, jaw hanging open and temper on the rise, to bake in the tropical sunshine.
Well, damn. Crossing her arms over her less-than-ample chest, Analiese snapped her mouth shut and fumed. Of all the possible scenarios she’d imagined, somehow this one had failed to occur. Belatedly aware of the interested stares from people on ships docked nearby, she turned, raised her chin and stalked away. The man was being a bit more recalcitrant than she’d anticipated, so she’d have to go back to the motel. Regroup. Form a new strategy. She had until dawn tomorrow to do so.
Because none of the other charter services would do, of course. It had to be Jones. Just Jones.

A cool shower and a complimentary rum punch in the hotel bar did wonders for Ana’s optimism, and she got down to the Machiavellian task of changing Jones’s mind. Staring blindly at the useless paper parasol adorning her drink, she gave the matter careful consideration. Thwarting bullheaded men was an area in which she did have a great deal of experience—again, thanks to her three older brothers, who, without frequent reminders, were apt to treat her as though she were a rather dim house pet. But Jones had already proved immune to her famed perseverance. Which meant that the situation called for a bit more creativity.
Idly she watched the area fill up with people, as many locals as tourists. The tiny South Pacific island country of Bontilla was, according to the travel agent, a little-known gem of a tropical paradise with a budding tourism trade. This hotel was the only decent one on the island. Staring through the open-air walls toward the shattering blue of the ocean beyond, Ana couldn’t help but think it would be a shame to see its beauty marred in a few years with hordes of stressed-out stockbrokers and their discontented wives.
A loud burst of laughter interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up at the group of half a dozen men sitting nearby. No one would mistake them for locals. Each sported painfully sunburned faces and loose shirts with loud prints. Their conversation centered on their drinking prowess and fishing. Wrinkling her nose, Ana turned away.
She brought the glass to her lips and considered moving to another table as another loud bout of laughter assailed her.
“Wanna lay a little bet on that, Stevo?”
She barely noted the words. There was a small table for two open near the railing, so she started to rise, intent on changing places.
“We’ll see who’s the master fisherman tomorrow when we board Nefarious. You’ll be begging me to share my secrets then.”
Ana stopped and turned back to eye the men speculatively. One of them noted her interest and nudged the one nearest him, and their words tapered off as each turned to look at her. She had only a split second to plan before she smiled brilliantly, moved toward them. “You fellas aren’t planning on going out with Jones tomorrow, are you?” At their agreement, she reached for a chair and pulled it up to their table. “Mind if I join you for a few moments?”

With six beers under his belt and a hot, willing woman on his lap, Jones’s mood was still on the surly side. Losing a three-grand charter fee was enough to sour the most affable of temperaments, something he couldn’t claim at the best of times. Business, which had already been slow, had recently gotten slower. Steve Fisher, the spokesman of the group, had been vague about the details, but the message had been clear enough. They’d canceled the fishing trip they’d booked with him.
Lexie, the bar’s full-time waitress and his part-time bed partner, whispered a suggestive remark in his ear. Ordinarily it would have earned her a laugh and a lusty hug, but only garnered a half smile. The beer had done little to soothe his resentment. Some checking had shown that Fisher and the others had chosen to forfeit their deposit in order to go with Ranachek, another service on the island. And although he knew there was little that Emil Ranachek wouldn’t do for a fee, Jones still couldn’t figure out what he could have promised the men to convince them to make the switch.
Lexie leaned over him, providing him a view of her impressive bosom. “Maybe I can help chase that mood of yours away,” she whispered suggestively. Her fingers stroked over the jaw he hadn’t bothered to shave that day. “I get off in an hour. And I can get you off about fifteen minutes after that.”
“In an hour I plan to be drunk.”
Her laugh was low and sultry. “Lover, that’s never stopped us before.”
As if he needed a reminder, she planted a long wet kiss on him, one that caused definite signs of interest to stir in his groin, despite his mood. Since it seemed a shame not to show his appreciation, he cupped her breast and nipped at her neck. “See you in an hour.”
With visible reluctance Lexie got up, smoothed her short skirt and gave a toss of her long, dark hair. With one last, smoldering look, she swayed back in the direction of the bar, leaving Jones to his beer, his temper and what must certainly be an alcohol-induced hallucination.
He lowered the bottle, squinted across the smoke-hazed space. If he hadn’t been the wrong side of sober he’d have sworn the woman sitting near the entrance was the same one who’d spent the better part of an hour today pestering him about a charter. Which was ridiculous, of course. Because there was no way a lady like that belonged in a place like this.
The tavern he occupied didn’t even have a name. It was little more than an open-air shanty with a couple of beer signs flickering on the walls. It damn sure wasn’t frequented by tourists, which was one of the reasons he preferred it. After hours or days onboard with paying customers, he liked to spend his free time as far away from their type as possible.
He watched the woman toy with the straw in her drink, while she looked around interestedly. Damned if it wasn’t the woman from this afternoon. What had her name been? Something ordinary. Johnson. Smith. Yeah, that was it. He ran his thumbnail under the label of his bottle, his attention riveted on the female several yards away. Ann Smith, with the wispy blond hair that was shorter than his own by several inches, and the big innocent blue eyes.
His mouth curled derisively. It had been a long time since he’d believed in innocence, especially when it came to women. So it must be sheer stupidity that had led her here, far enough off the beaten path to spell risk for a single woman on her own.
Ignoring the smile she aimed in his direction, he lifted the bottle to his lips. Whatever her reasons, it was none of his business. He wasn’t the type to play white knight, and any chivalrous instincts he’d ever possessed had been ground out of him years ago.
But the woman couldn’t have looked more out of place in the seedy tavern if she’d worn feathers and a top hat. Her white dress had straps instead of sleeves with a row of black buttons marching down its front. Giving a quick look around at his neighbors, Jones was certain that he wasn’t the only one wondering what he’d find beneath if he unfastened them one by one. Which is why, when she left her table and came to stand before his, he kept his attention trained on the bottle in his hand.
“I just wanted to tell you that my offer still stands, if you should change your mind.”
Her words abruptly yanked him back to the reason for his presence here tonight, and the memory still had a bite. Deliberately he let out a long, satisfying belch and scratched his jaw. “And what offer might that be?”
Her expression left no doubt about her reaction to his behavior. That dainty little nose of hers wrinkled up, and she looked at him as if he’d just crawled out from beneath a rock. “The charter.”
He blinked for a moment, a thought forming, too nebulous to register immediately. And then it bloomed, fertilized by distrust. “It was you, wasn’t it?” That innocent look on her face only cemented his suspicion. “You screwed up tomorrow’s charter for me.”
Her chin angled, and she met him glare for glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Alcohol hadn’t totally fogged his senses. He was on to something, and he knew it. Straightening in his chair, an act that seemed to require more agility than usual, he fixed her with a jaundiced eye. “My fishing party canceled tonight. Went with someone else. And then you just happened to show up here, after being quite persistent earlier today, and offer again to hire me. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? I’ve never cared much for coincidences.”
“Well, let me just make a note of that.” With a dramatic flourish she pulled a small black leather notebook from her purse, dug for a pen and opened the pad to a blank page. “Not only does Mr. Jones not…like…trouble—” she spoke the words as she jotted them down “—he doesn’t…care…for coincidences.” When she caught the tip of her tongue between her perfectly even teeth, she gave the impression of a woman diligently documenting research for future use.
She also gave a damn good impression of a smart-ass. He scowled. “I told you before…”
Without glancing up, she completed his sentence for him. “Not ‘mister.’ Just Jones. Gotcha. And while I’m at it, I’m just gonna make a note of that, too.”
Because it seemed more judicious than strangling her, he lifted his beer to his lips and drained it.
With an audible click, she replaced the cap on her pen and gave him a careless smile. “I can’t guess why your group canceled—” she gave his empty bottle a meaningful glance “—but since you still aren’t interested I’ll ask around tomorrow for another service.”
He let her get about four feet away before financial reality took precedence over gut instinct. “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”
She looked over her shoulder, and he definitely didn’t trust that glint in her eye. “You’ve changed your mind?”
Not really. Not at all. He wasn’t convinced she’d had nothing to do with him losing that fishing group, but try as he might, he couldn’t figure a reason for her scuttling his schedule. Maybe the alcohol was fogging his normal common sense, but what was clear in his mind was the looming payment due on his ship. “Exactly what is it that you have planned? I can’t see you as the deep-sea fishing type.”
“Actually, I was just looking for a relaxing way to spend a few days traveling around the local islands, soaking up some sun. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I thought a little island hopping might be a great way to unwind.”
He rolled his eyes, uncaring that she would see the gesture. Yeah, she looked like she knew a lot about stress, all right. The kind that came from not finding the right shade of fingernail polish or maybe not getting a date with the captain of the football team. He’d bet a dollar she’d been a cheerleader. There was just something so damn…perky about her.
The last inner warning voice was silenced. The woman was probably just a flit-headed college girl with easy access to her daddy’s money. And with the notable exception of her very excellent ass, she was exactly like dozens of other women who found their way down here looking for a cure to their boredom.
His decision made, he said, “There are tons of islands around here, most too small to be inhabited, but if you’re looking for little-known beaches, I can show you a few really great ones that haven’t been discovered yet.”
“That sounds like exactly what I have in mind.” She shot him a dazzling smile. “I’m supposed to meet a couple friends the day after tomorrow on Laconos. We can go there first.”
“Laconos?” He looked toward the bar, noticed the dark look Lexie was regarding him with. As long as he had the woman’s attention, he lifted his empty bottle toward her in a silent request for another, before shifting his attention back to his potential client. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. The government hasn’t been exactly stable there.”
She waved away his concern. “That trouble six months ago? They’ve got a new government in place now, don’t they? As a matter of fact, I heard it’s jockeying for position in the Global Trade Organization. Sounds pretty stable to me.”
Her knowledge of the island’s recent history surprised him. Maybe she wasn’t as empty-headed as he’d thought. With a mental shrug, he dropped the argument. The ports were open at Laconos, and their beaches were remarkable enough to impress Ms. Smith. No doubt, once she’d roamed them for a day or so her attention would shift elsewhere. “Just how long a trip did you have in mind?”
Her voice was vague. “Oh, I don’t know. Four or five days. Can we leave it open-ended?”
Open-ended. Sweet Jesus. Jones picked up the beer that Lexie slammed down in front of him, ran a discreet hand along her bare thigh and squeezed lightly. The waitress’s expression lightened a bit, fortunately. Despite their casual relationship, she had a jealous streak that required careful handling.
Wrapping her arms around his neck from behind him, she leaned so her breasts pressed against his nape and murmured in his ear, “Thirty minutes, lover.” Then she swayed back to the bar.
At the fascinated expression on Ms. Smith’s face, Jones felt an unfamiliar thread of embarrassment. Lexie wasn’t exactly the subtle type. He cleared his throat. “So. About the length of the trip… I’m gonna need a firm commitment on the minimum number of days, paid in advance. Then if you decide to extend it, the rest can be payable upon return.”
“Fair enough. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to have the money wired. I assume you have an account here on the island?”
There was the barest gap discernible between the top two buttons on her dress, giving him a glimpse of a lacy pink bra, sheer enough to reveal the creamy skin it encased. With effort he pulled his gaze away from the sight and focused on her face. “You don’t have to wire the money. I’ll take a personal check, verified by a phone call to your bank.”
“I prefer to have it wired. I didn’t bring a checkbook, in case my purse got snatched.”
He shrugged. As long as the money reached his account, he wasn’t particularly fussy about how it got there. “Now, about payment…”
“I read it on the sign posted by your ship. A thousand dollars a day, right? Let’s say a minimum of four days with a possibility of longer.”
Reaching for the fresh beer, he tipped the bottle to his lips. When he placed it back on the table, he said, “I seem to recall you offering me two and a half times my normal fee.”
Although he’d thought to rattle her, she only gave him a cool look. “That was this afternoon, when you had another charter scheduled. And you turned me down, remember? There’s no competition now, so why would I pay more?”
“Oh, I get it.” He snorted. “You’re one of those kind of women.”
She tilted her chin upwards. “What kind of woman is that?”
“The kind that make promises they have no intention of delivering on.”
“I deliver on my promises!”
When he only looked at her, she flushed but went on. “And besides, it wasn’t a promise, it was a business offer. You can blame your own bad judgment for not taking me up on it when I laid it on the table.”
“Yeah, right.”
She was getting mad now, and temper turned her sky-blue eyes stormy. He wondered why he was deliberately provoking her. He should count himself fortunate that he had a replacement for the charter that had canceled. But something about the woman got under his skin, and he remained unconvinced that she hadn’t had something to do with the cancellation. “Don’t worry about it. Sure, you were in a yank to hire me this afternoon when I was booked, but now I’m free. You’re not the first person to take advantage of a situation like this.”
“I’m not taking advantage.” When he only raised his brows and reached for his bottle again, she ground her teeth together. “Surely you can see that the situation this evening is completely different from the one this afternoon.”
“Two and a half times different.”
“I honestly don’t know what the big deal is. You lost a charter, I’m offering one to replace it. Mine will be worth more money anyway because it’s going to be longer.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s fair. It’s not your fault the other group pulled out, is it?” He folded his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “You can’t help the fact that the fishing group decided at the last minute to book with someone else. And there’s really no reason why that should concern you. But me, I’m still kinda wondering. So while we’re waiting for the wire transfer to go through tomorrow, I think I’ll mosey over to Ranachek’s and see if one of the group wants to be a little more forthcoming.”
Either she was a world-class actress or she really hadn’t had anything to do with the canceled charter. There was only a flicker in her eye—there and gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it at all. “Suit yourself. But I think your time would be better spent getting your ship ready for the charter you do have. And since it seems to mean so much to you, I’ll agree to one and a half times your normal fee, for the first three days only. That’s how long the other charter would have lasted. I have to warn you, though. I’m going to expect exemplary service, and if you fall short in any way at all, I’ll be deducting a suitable amount from what’s owed you at the end.”
“Honey, my service is always exemplary.” Satisfied, he reached over and caught her hand in one of his, unmindful when her eyes widened and she would have pulled away. Solemnly he shook it, cementing their bargain, certain that she knew more than she was saying about the canceled fishing outing, or she’d never have offered him more money.
And he was equally sure that despite the inflated fee she’d agreed to pay him, he was still the one who’d gotten hosed on the deal.

Analiese paced her motel room, the specially made phone to her ear. It looked like a normal cell phone, except that a regular one would have been useless on an island without even one transmitter tower. This unit relied on waves from a government satellite to transmit signals to a totally secure line in a location that was kept secret even from her.
“C’mon, c’mon, pick up,” she muttered with each stride she took, and then stopped, relieved when the familiar fussy voice answered. “Sterling? Did I wake you?”
There was silence, then a long-suffering sigh. “Analiese. I trust this is urgent.” It didn’t escape her attention that he hadn’t answered her question, nor was she surprised. He was too well trained to give away even that much about his whereabouts.
All she knew of the man was the sound of his voice, which had helped paint the mental picture she had of him. From his proper British accent she had an image of a slender man in his midfifties with impeccable tailoring and a David Niven mustache. The reality was likely to be just the opposite. For all she knew, the accent was affected only for his phone conversations as a way to maintain his cover. “Have you had any word from Sam yet?”
His hesitation was its own answer, and desolation swirled in the pit of her stomach. “As I said before, I’ll contact you when—”
“You still don’t know where he is,” she said flatly. Her nerves churned and clashed like grating gears. And despite Sterling’s effort at an impassive tone, she knew he was as worried about her brother as she was. Or else he would never have called her at home several days ago to inquire, oh so discreetly, about the last time she’d spoken to him.
“I know the waiting is difficult, but I have no doubt that Sam will work himself free of any sticky situation he might have encountered.” If he’s able. Although the words remained unspoken, they eddied between them. “The best thing you can do is remain at home and wait for—”
“I’m on Bontilla right now.”
His sharply inhaled breath was evidence of more emotion than she’d ever heard from him. “Analiese, listen to me carefully. I want you to go home immediately.”
“I was able to hack into Sam’s computer files and trace him this far,” she said recklessly, stopping before the window to stare out at the waves with a sightless gaze. She didn’t bother to tell him that she’d been chipping away at her brother’s computer security for over two years now. While a great deal of it remained maddeningly encrypted, she’d pieced together enough to have a good suspicion that his cover as an international lawyer hid a career much more dangerous, much more covert. And that Sterling knew every detail about it. “I’ve set up a charter to go to Laconos tomorrow.” She thought, but couldn’t be sure, she heard a low groan coming from the other end of the connection.
“I don’t think that would be prudent.”
She whirled from the window, concern suddenly turning to anger. “I don’t give a damn about prudent, Sterling. My brother has been missing two weeks, and you don’t have the faintest idea where he is. Now, unless you’re about to tell me that you’ve got a search-and-rescue plan lined up, you’d better get used to the fact that I’m going in.”
“And just what is it you think you can accomplish there?” Sterling’s voice was harder than she’d ever heard it. “Sam has years of experience handling difficult matters while you…you’ve done only occasional courier work, which, I might add, would be totally against your brother’s wishes if he were to find out.”
“I’ll let you worry about that, since you’re the one who enlisted my services on those occasions.”
“A fact I’ve often regretted.”
If she weren’t so anxious about Sam she would have been offended. As it was she pressed her hand to her stomach in an effort to calm the nerves there. “You aren’t sending anyone in after him, are you?”
“I had some inquiries out a few days ago,” he admitted. “I learned nothing.”
She winced at the news, but if anything it made her more determined. “Then it’s not going to hurt for me to poke around a bit.”
Silence stretched, so long that she began to wonder if they’d been disconnected. When Sterling spoke again, there was a note of resignation in his voice. “It has to be done discreetly, or you could jeopardize his position if he’s still on the island.”
Analiese clutched the phone more tightly, aware that she’d just received as clear a go-ahead as she was going to get. “I can do discreet.”
Had she been talking to anyone else she would have sworn she heard a snort in the man’s voice. As it was, she attributed the sound to a cough. “Quite so. Listen carefully, then. You are not to swerve one iota from my directions….”
It was more than twenty minutes later before she pressed the button to end the conversation. Twenty minutes of directives, dire warnings and commands. She was on a fact-finding mission only, Sterling had repeated again and again. And the scope of her investigation centered solely on the whereabouts of her brother.
When the man wasn’t issuing orders, he was filling her in on a bit of history that might or might not affect her brother’s case. She’d listened because she thought it wiser not to mention what she’d discerned from Sam’s files. She had a pretty good idea of what her brother’s mission had been and, despite Sterling’s silence on the subject, an even better idea of the reason behind it.
She tucked the phone back into her purse and noted, a bit distantly, the unsteadiness of her hand. Among the details she’d failed to share with Sterling was the fact that Jones’s name had figured in her brother’s files for the past several years. And that she had reason to believe that Sam had used the man’s charter service to cross to Laconos. It was clear from his notes that the two had some sort of relationship, and she was concluding that her brother trusted Jones on some level.
What she didn’t know was the exact nature of their relationship. Or just how far she could trust Jones.

Chapter 2
Analiese went to the island’s largest bank the next morning and arranged to transfer money from her newly established account in the States—the one in Ann Smith’s name. As she completed the transaction she regretted more than once her agreement to a higher fee. Jones had been taking advantage of the situation, but she was no pushover. No, it had been her own guilty conscience that had led her to pay the inflated price.
It really hadn’t taken that much effort to convince the men in the fishing charter that Jones’s drinking habits made him an unreliable captain, and that they’d be better off with another service. And once she’d seen Jones at the tavern last night, there had seemed to be more truth in the story than she could have imagined.
The dock was within walking distance of the bank, so she strolled toward it, enjoying the sight of the brilliant white ships rocking gently in the water. She’d arranged to have the hotel send her bags over, so she took her time, loitering at the market and dickering with a local merchant over a necklace made of tiny shells. Minutes later, the necklace around her neck, she headed toward the docks at a brisker pace. She didn’t want to be late and give Jones something to snipe at her about. She had a feeling he’d already been regretting their venture before she’d left the bar last night.
Or maybe, she thought with a slight sneer as she headed in the direction of the Nefarious, he’d regretted only the necessity that had kept them talking long enough to have his skimpily clad girlfriend throwing glares his way every few minutes. The woman hadn’t looked like the type to suffer competition gladly, although she certainly hadn’t had any in Analiese. When she was interested in a man, she tended to pick ones who shaved on a regular basis and didn’t drink themselves stupid on their time off. Of course, that interest, if returned initially, usually died a sudden violent death as soon as the male in question found out who she was. Or rather who her brothers were.
Thoughts of her brothers brought a stab of guilt. She couldn’t blame them for their cautious attitude toward her safety. It had been forged by events two decades earlier. But understanding that didn’t change her feelings. As much as she loved them, she often felt like she was slowly suffocating under their heavy-handed interference. Her work for Sterling had been the first breath of freedom she’d ever known. It seemed oddly ironic that those experiences just might end up affording her the best chance of finding Sam.
Her bags were in a neat pile on the dock next to the Nefarious but Jones was nowhere in sight. His ship differed from some of the others anchored nearby, appearing to be as much pleasure craft as it was fishing boat. Ana looked up and down the docks and considered the risk of going aboard while he seemed to be absent. At some point she wanted to thoroughly check the ship for any evidence that Sam had been there. Although it was a remote possibility that he would have been careless enough to leave signs of his presence behind, she had to start somewhere. All she had was her brother’s planned itinerary, which had included the charter to Laconos with Jones, and Sterling’s certainty that Sam had docked at the neighboring island before his disappearance.
Analiese sent one more glance around, still seeing no sign of Jones. Tucking away a thread of trepidation, she went to the ladder on the side of the ship and climbed up, balanced precariously at the top. Turning carefully, she began to descend the other side.
“It’s customary to wait for an invitation before boarding someone’s ship.”
The sound of that sleep-roughened voice startled her. She twisted around in the direction it had come from, and her foot slipped. Arms windmilling wildly, Ana toppled from the step and had a moment’s view of the ship’s deck rushing up to meet her before two hard arms broke her fall. Her breath rushed out of her anyway, as she found herself staring into Jones’s enigmatic gray gaze.
He was very close. Near enough for her to note, with a degree of fascination, that his gray eyes were the color of smoke today, without the flinty hardness that had been apparent yesterday afternoon. Close enough to observe the freshly shaven jaw, with just the smallest nick below his chin. And definitely near enough to appreciate the effortless ease with which he held her against his bare chest.
“I was just…”
“Making a hell of an entrance.” He set her on her feet on the deck and took a step away. “I noticed that. Very graceful.”
Really, the man lacked even basic rudiments of civility. Giving a small sniff, she straightened her sleeveless striped top and made a point of brushing off her white shorts, wishing she could brush away the memory of his touch as easily. “I didn’t expect to see you about this early.”
He moved past her, climbed the ladder to the dock beside them. “Don’t know why not. We discussed the time we’d leave last night.”
With an interesting display of muscle rippling across his bare back, he hefted her bags and heaved them carelessly over the side of the ship. But it wasn’t the ease with which he’d lifted the bags that held her attention, it was the scar in the center of his shoulder blades. Even to her untrained eye, it looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. She didn’t know how she’d missed noticing it the day before.
He was beside her in the next moment, and she strove to recover thoughts that had become strangely fragmented. “From your state last night I thought you might be…impaired this morning.”
“You thought I’d be hung over,” he interpreted correctly. “Guess you were wrong.” He gestured to her bags. “Is this all you’ve got?” At her wordless nod, he picked them up again and began striding away. “I’ll put them below. Follow me and I’ll show you to your cabin.”
Ana trailed behind him to a small door, which he pulled open to reveal the companionway. Making certain to maintain a safe distance between them, she waited for him to descend before she attempted to follow. With the way her luck had been going, she’d slip and land right on top of him.
Below deck, her impatience quickly turned to appreciation. The area was compact but outfitted with gleaming teak trimmed with polished brass. There was a galley tucked into one corner, with a large table and chairs, couch and TV fitted into the rest of the area. Jones led her down a narrow hallway. “You can stay in here.” He opened one of the doors and strode in ahead of her, slinging her bags onto the double bed.
“How many does she sleep?” she asked curiously, entering the small space and looking around. Her oldest brother, James, had a sailboat that slept six. At thirty feet, it was less than half the length of the Nefarious.
“She sleeps ten total. The head is in the stem.”
Ana flipped through her mental files, searching for the ship lingo she’d picked up from James. “In front, right.”
“Since you’re the only passenger, I’m just bringing along one crew member. Pappy’s a pretty fair cook, and he’ll also help me with the navigation. If you need anything, he’ll get it for you.”
Analiese was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on his words. The quarters were small. There was only the bed, bolted to the wall, and a closet on the opposite wall, with a dresser inside it. The space was shrunk even more by Jones’s presence. The ceiling was low enough that he had to slightly hunch his over-six-foot frame, which put his face alarmingly close to hers. “Okay, then.” She manufactured a brilliant smile in a sudden hurry to get rid of him. “I assume you’ll want to check with the bank before we set out, so…”
Rather than take her hint, he remained in place. “They already called me. The transfer’s complete. So if you’re ready, we’ll pull anchor.”
“How far is Laconos?”
“Full throttle? Three hours or so. We can make it easily by afternoon, though, if you’re not in a hurry, and there’s no reason you should be.”
With effort she switched her attention from the shape of his full bottom lip to his words. “There’s not?”
He gave her a long look. “You said you weren’t meeting friends until tomorrow.”
“Right,” she agreed, relieved. Really, didn’t the man have things to do before they left? Starting with putting on a shirt? “Well, I’m sure you’re busy. You must have a million things to do. I won’t keep you.” To her horror, the words tumbled out of her mouth like a waterfall. “I’m just going to put my things away. I packed in a hurry, and I think if I hung things up they’d be less likely to wrinkle.”
To her relief he cut off her involuntary barrage of words by heading toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Come up when you finish and I’ll introduce you to Pappy.”
“Okay, then. Good. See you later.” The moment he exited the room she swung the door shut, leaned against it. Her knees were weak with what surely must be mortification. When she was uncomfortable she had a tendency to babble, and there was no doubt she’d outdone herself on that scene.
Blowing out a breath, she pressed her hand to her stomach, quelling the nerves that were still scrambling there. They were caused by nothing more than a minor case of claustrophobia, she assured herself. These quarters were small. Jones was big. Really big. Especially across the shoulders. And his chest was pretty wide, too, not to mention his biceps, which were…
Eyes widening with horror at her totally inappropriate train of thought, she pushed away from the door, crossed to her suitcase and began unpacking. She couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. Especially by the man who might well have been the last one to see Sam before he disappeared.
Not for the first time, she wished she could afford to come right out and ask Jones about her brother. But the risk was too great. There was no telling how well the two knew each other, or what their relationship was. She had no idea, at this point, if Jones could be responsible for his disappearance.
No, remaining covert was in everyone’s best interest. If Sam was all right, and for some reason had had to abort his mission temporarily, she didn’t want to end up blowing it for him. That was the same reason she hadn’t alerted her brothers. Cade was a New Orleans police detective, and James…well, James ran the family and their father’s business with the same ruthless rein. Neither of the men understood the word subtle. They’d have torn the hemisphere apart looking for Sam, and in doing so would have destroyed his cover forever. Better that she make some discreet inquiries first, and determine whether they had cause for alarm. And then, she thought grimly, shoving her emptied suitcases in the closet, if she still was unable to find a lead on Sam, she would unleash her brothers.
After she’d stowed the smaller bag holding her toiletries beneath the sink in the minuscule bathroom, she went to the door and peeked out into the hallway. If there was a trace of Sam on this ship, it was likely to be somewhere down here. And with Jones and his crew member busy above deck, there was no better time to look around.
It didn’t take long to explore the limited space. Unfortunately, her search yielded no hint that her brother had ever been onboard. But then, Ana thought, studying the last closed door, she hadn’t finished her search. Not quite.
With a strange reluctance she reached out, turned the knob. The door swung open revealing what was obviously Jones’s cabin.
The space was filled with a large bed, which was un-made, the pillow still bearing a slight indentation. Surprise surged. It occurred to her for the first time that Jones had slept on the ship. Maybe he even lived on it. Suddenly the area took on an almost suffocating intimacy.
To distract herself she gazed around at the cabin. It was more spacious than the others, but was filled by the bed and the rolltop desk tucked into the corner.
And it was the desk that had snared her attention now.
After throwing a furtive look both ways, she slipped into the room, leaving the door cracked so she’d hear if someone was coming. She went to the desk, picked up the shirt he had draped across it. Maybe he’d had intentions of getting fully dressed after all. She wondered if her arrival there that morning had interrupted him. The thought had her stomach fluttering. Forcing her mind away from the vivid mental image that bloomed, she tossed the shirt onto the bed and reached for the top drawer.
Locked.
A quick check proved that the drawers were similarly secured, which only made Analiese more determined. Straightening, she folded her arms, contemplating the lock’s opening and wondered what a few twists of a hair pin would yield. She had some in her toiletry case. But before she retrieved one she grabbed the shirt off the bed again to replace it.
There was no sound to alert her, but suddenly she became aware that she was no longer alone. Sudden foreboding weighting her limbs, her gaze slowly went to the doorway. And saw Jones lounging, one shoulder against the jamb.
She released the shirt as if it were in flames. Ohmygod, she mentally groaned as she looked up to his unsmiling expression. With the vast amount of material her life provided, she thought fate could pass up the occasional opportunity to humiliate her. Since he wasn’t moving, she gave him a weak smile. “Hey, I was just looking for you.”
“I told you I’d be up on deck. Why would you be looking for me in my room?”
She tossed a quick look around. “Oh, is this your room?” Then she almost winced as she heard the disingenuous tone in her words. “I was wondering…if you had anything for motion sickness.”
“Motion sickness.”
“I’m already feeling a little nauseous.”
“Funny. We haven’t pulled anchor yet.”
Great. Where was a tidal wave when she needed a good distraction? “I meant I will be nauseous. Soon. When we take off.”
He settled his weight more comfortably and crossed his arms. “You’re planning on getting sick?”
“No, of course not.” It took a great deal of effort to keep her smile in place. “I just mean that normally I do. So I thought if I took something now, before I really needed it, when I did need it I wouldn’t need it so much.”
With a vague sense of horror she realized the foolish drivel was coming from her. There seemed to be no end to the mortifying depths to which she would sink around him.
He hadn’t moved, was still watching her with the expression one might wear contemplating a strange breed of animal in a zoo. “So if you tend to get seasick, why would you charter a ship?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny any such weakness. She was an excellent sailor, had been going out on the gulf since she could walk. But she kicked pride aside to salvage what she could of the situation. “It’s just the first hour or so out, then I’m always fine. And I meant to pick something up before I left home, but completely forgot about it. If you don’t have anything…”
Silence stretched, taut with tension. Then finally he straightened. “I can probably find something.”
Relief filled her. “Great.” She could barely contain her eagerness to get out of his room. He disappeared into the head, and she took the opportunity to scurry across the narrow hall into her own quarters. Jones reappeared a moment later, holding two tablets and a paper cup filled with water. She took both from him, and said, “Thanks. I think I’ll take these now and lie down for a while.”
It seemed to take an interminable amount of time before he quit staring at her and backed out of the doorway. “That would probably be best.”
Swinging the door shut after him, Ana gulped the water down. It didn’t help. Her throat still felt strangled. Dumping the pills in the now-empty cup, she crumpled it in her hand. As far as her espionage skills went, she was scoring in the negative range so far. If she didn’t get better at subterfuge than this, she wasn’t going to be of much use to Sam.
She got the hairpin she’d come for and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting until she felt the ship begin to move. Although her nerves still hadn’t recovered from her last encounter with Jones, she forced herself to cross the corridor again and ease his door open. Losing no time, she dropped to her knees before the desk and began to twist the pin into a decent pick.
Inserting it into the lock on the rolltop, she probed carefully. Although she had no experience at unlocking desk drawers per se, she had grown quite adept at picking the lock on the strong box in which Sam or James had hidden her car keys whenever they’d attempted to ground her. She could have just had extra sets of keys made, but she’d thought the idea had lacked finesse.
Her skills were rusty, so it took several minutes before she heard a tiny click, and she triumphantly removed the pin, easing the top upward. Excitement filled her when she saw the neat piles of papers and notebooks lining the cubbyholes. She’d hit pay dirt. Reaching for the first book, she withdrew it and began flipping through it. Something in here had to yield a clue about the trip Sam had taken with Jones. Whatever it was, she was determined to find it.

With the engine humming in the background, the sun on his back and the wind hitting him full in the face, Jones felt a measure of peace. The life he’d left behind five years ago could emerge, raw and vivid in his dreams, but the open sea always helped banish old ghosts. Of course, today the tranquility was marred by the presence of the woman below deck.
His mouth turned down. Damned if he knew why he’d taken her money. Well, hell yes, he knew…because he’d been unable to afford to turn it down. But no amount of money could compensate for some kinds of trouble, and he couldn’t rid himself of the nagging suspicion that the word described Ann Smith. With a capital T.
“School of dolphin up ahead, Cap’n. Pretty miss like to see?”
Gazing in the direction of Pappy’s outstretched finger, he followed the man’s island dialect with little difficulty. “She’s down below, sick. Let’s leave her there.”
“Ladies like dolphins,” Pappy persisted. His wizened face was the color of walnut, burnished by his heritage and decades in the sun. “Pretty miss no different.”
“She’s more different than you think,” Jones muttered.
Although the other man couldn’t have heard his words from this distance, it was a sure thing he’d caught the tone. His voice split into a wide grin. “Cap’n show pretty miss nice things and mebbe she be nice to Cap’n.” He cackled at the dark look Jones threw him. “I ask her. I bet she want to see.”
Shrugging, Jones watched the other man disappear below. The woman wouldn’t be coming above, he’d put money on that. He’d never met anyone yet who was only seasick the first hour of a voyage. She’d be confined to bed for at least half the day.
Which suited him just fine. The blonde was a distraction, one he didn’t need. Even after she’d left the tavern last night, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. Smoke hung thick in the place, so there had been no reason for her light, fresh scent to have lingered long after she’d left. And even less excuse for his mind to return to her, time and again that night, until he’d finally made an excuse to Lexie and gone home, alone.
He hadn’t been drunk, not quite, so he couldn’t blame his lack of concentration on liquor. No, it had been the woman who even now was probably retching below who was responsible for his sudden restlessness. That and a certainty that this was going to be the longest four days of his life.
“What you do with pretty miss, Cap’n? Toss her overboard?”
Although the idea had merit, he shook his head at Pappy’s question. “I told you, she’s in her stateroom.”
The man swung his head in silent negation. “Not there. And not getting sick in head, either. Not in galley. You leave shore without lady?”
He stared at the man, impatient. “Of course not. C’mere. Take the wheel.” When the man sprang to obey, he turned and went below. There wasn’t much space below deck. The woman had to be somewhere. He just hoped if she’d gotten sick she’d made it to the head.
It took a few moments below deck to discern that Pappy had been right. Ann Smith was nowhere in sight. A wave rocked the ship wildly, and he mentally cursed his crew member’s handling of the ship. Steadying himself with a hand against the wall, he opened the last remaining door.
And found the troublesome blonde in the last place he’d expected, the last place she should have been. In his cabin again, this time sprawled across his bed with her face buried in his pillow.
Ignoring the sudden knot that clenched in his stomach at the sight, he fixed her with a glare. Her head was bright against the navy sheets, and he had the sudden thought that now her scent would linger there, too, a tormenting reminder of her presence in a place she’d had no business being.
The glare settled into a scowl as she shoved herself upright in the bed, rose and turned for the door. Then sank slowly back down on the mattress when she saw him in the doorway.
“Hi.” Her tone was the most timid he’d heard from her, but it did nothing to allay his anger. “That…that was a big wave, wasn’t it? Did you feel it?”
“Must have been a big one to knock you out of your bunk, across the hall and into my bed.”
“Oh, well…about that.” She bounced up again, her hands twisting on the strap of her purse nervously. “I wasn’t actually in your…hmm.” Her gaze couldn’t seem to find a place to land. “I just…I took the pills you gave me but my bunk is sort of small and uncomfortable. I thought I’d rest better in a bigger bed.” She moistened her lips under his silent regard. “And I did. It’s a very nice bed….”
Comprehension dawned slowly, and Jones felt like three kinds a fool. He’d really been gone from civilization too long if he was becoming this slow on the uptake. Jamming his hand through his hair, he muttered, “I don’t believe this.” It wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened to him before, but of all the sorts of trouble he’d half expected to encounter with the woman, this kind had been the furthest from his mind.
“Look,” he said, turning his gaze back to her. “I think I know what’s going on here.”
She looked panicked. “You do?”
“Yeah. Damn.” This was embarrassing, which was a crock. He didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. “But this thing between us is strictly business, okay? And that’s the way it’s gonna stay. I don’t mix business with pleasure, ever.” He’d learned his lesson about that the hard way and still had the scar to prove it.
Her expression was a mask of horrified fascination. “You…you think I want to have an affair with you?”
“Yeah, well…sex, anyway. And you seem like a very, uh, a real nice person. But I’m not interested in you that way.” Jones was proud of his tact. Although it wasn’t a skill he practiced on a regular basis, he thought he’d managed pretty well. Which didn’t explain her suddenly thunderous countenance.
“Let me get this straight. Even if I were offering casual no-strings sex, you wouldn’t be interested.”
What was it about women that they had to belabor everything? He thought he’d been damn clear, and it was something more instinctive than diplomacy that had him refraining from pointing out that she didn’t look like a no-strings kind of woman. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“It’s because I don’t have big boobs, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Boobs.” Her tone was disgusted. “I’ve got brothers. I know a man’s brain cells drain away the moment his hormones kick in. If I had a pair of thirty-six D’s you’d be drooling all over me.”
He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “For your information, I never drool.”
“All men drool when their tongues are hanging out of their mouths, which seems to be a universal reaction of your gender when faced with a huge set of mammary glands.”
There was a dull throb beginning in his temple. “Look, I was trying to be polite, and you’re missing the point.”
“Oh, I got the point all right. If I was contemplating having wild tempestuous sex with you, you wouldn’t be interested. I got that loud and clear.”
How the hell she’d managed to make him feel guilty when she’d been the one to sneak into his bed was beyond him. “Okay, then. I’m glad we got that out of the way.”
“Did we ever,” she muttered, shoving past him and marching down the corridor.
He followed her, feeling at a loss. “You know, at your weight, if you had big b— If you were big busted, you’d probably topple over every time you got up.”
She was ascending the ladder in record time. “Yeah, yeah. I told you, I know what men like.”
“You don’t know me,” he said flatly, tearing his gaze away from the curvy hips preceding him. Because if she did, if she ever found out that he was developing an inexplicable interest in delicately made blondes with backsides shaped by an angel, well then God help them both.

Chapter 3
As mortifying events went, it ranked right up there with the time Sally Ann Bunston had announced to the boys in their seventh-grade class that Analiese Tremaine stuffed her bra. But having to endure three straight years of taunts about whether she was “packing” each day paled in significance to the scene in Jones’s stateroom.
Staring out at the school of playful dolphins, she concentrated on deep breathing and vengeful thoughts. She wondered if there was a knife onboard sharp enough to carve Jones into shark bait. The other crew member could handle the ship, and hadn’t she heard once there was no law at sea?
She supposed she ought to be grateful. Just the thought had her grinding her teeth. After the impact of that wave had dumped her headfirst onto his bed, and she’d looked up to see him standing in the doorway, her mind had gone completely blank. He’d seemed suspicious enough the first time he’d walked in on her there. How in heaven’s name was she going to explain a second time?
Then he’d handed her a perfect explanation, at least one that his colossal ego had seemed to buy. She’d had no choice but to play along, even while she’d wanted to go for his throat. Was the man actually used to women hiding under his bedcovers in order to seduce him?
She threw a dark look in his direction. The answer, quite obviously, was yes. And why that should make her want to hunt for that carving knife again was a question she really didn’t want to face. Lord knew she had plenty of experience dealing with formidable male egos: she’d grown up with three brothers. The walls of their home had practically dripped testosterone.
It didn’t help, she thought glumly, as the dolphins faded from view, that her outrage over his “rejection” hadn’t been totally feigned. No woman wanted to hear that a man found her unattractive, and despite his protests to the contrary, she knew exactly what she lacked that would have snared his interest. She’d seen for herself the type he went for last night when he’d been pawing that waitress. He’d be the kind of guy who liked his women available, inventive and gone in the morning.
Based on the supply of condoms she’d found in his bottom desk drawer, he was either overly optimistic or very well prepared. It was probably the latter, which made his rejection smart even more. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want him, on any level. It was the principle of the thing.
Blowing out a breath, she reached into her purse for sun-screen. Smoothing a generous amount over her bare arms, she repeated the action on her legs. After rubbing a small amount of lotion on her face, she settled her sunglasses on her nose, dropped the bottle back into her purse and stretched out on the chair. The breeze kept her from being too warm in the sun, and she could feel a measure of tension seeping from her body. Until she thought of the disappointment Jones’s desk had yielded. Then her muscles tightened yet again.
She’d found a log in which he apparently kept track of his business dealings. The charter she’d set up with him hadn’t appeared in it yet, but two others had in the past month. The person’s name who’d scheduled the trip had appeared, along with the number of days, nature of the trip and payment. However, there had been no entry dated around the time Sam would have crossed to Laconos. Its absence would suggest that Jones and her brother had never hooked up at all. Except that another notebook had listings for dates of fuelings, the gallons and prices. And Jones had fueled up the ship more than once after the last documented charter.
Ana stretched out on the lounger watching the gulls wheel overhead, and wondered what the discrepancy meant. Did the man take the ship out himself when he didn’t have paying clients? It would seem reasonable to expect that he might. She found it equally reasonable to think that maybe he hadn’t logged Sam’s trip because her brother had asked him not to. Or that he knew the secretive nature of Sam’s job and realized it was best to leave no traces.
It was a long shot, she admitted silently, but Sterling knew that her brother had docked at Laconos, and that he’d arrived by ship. And although she had no more proof than before that she was retracing her brother’s steps, she remained convinced. She needed to start planning how to gather information once she hit the island. Sterling had been very definite about the parameters of her assignment. She, of course, had some ideas of her own.
A shadow fell across her chair. “You feel better now?”
Opening her eyes, Ana saw a blinding smile in a seamed, weathered face. The man standing above her was no more than her height, and she’d guess that he wasn’t much heavier. His friendly expression was a welcome contrast to the scowl Jones usually graced her with, and the lemonade he was holding was tantalizing.
She tipped her glasses down. “Yes, I’m feeling fine.”
The frosty glass was thrust into her hand. “For you. Good to drink liquids in sun.”
Ana took the lemonade and indicated a seat beside her. This, then, was Pappy, the crew member Jones had mentioned. He was obviously a native islander, and it was equally obvious that he had a much sunnier temperament than his boss. “Won’t you join me?”
“Cap’n say you go to beaches.” Pappy sat on the edge of a lounger next to her. “Lots beaches near, and Cap’n know them all. You be pleased.”
To save herself from answering, she raised the glass to her lips. Right now she’d be most pleased if the captain happened to fall overboard, preferably in shark-infested waters, but she hated to douse this man’s enthusiasm. “Have you worked for Jones a long time?”
At the man’s exuberant nod, she felt a measure of pity for him, followed by a nebulous idea. “So I guess you know him pretty well.”
Pappy bobbed his head again. “Cap’n good man. Keep his ship in good shape. And—” his expression went sly “—ladies like Cap’n. Cap’n like ladies.”
Some ladies. Analiese wanted to correct him. Women whose obvious charms were matched by looser morals. In that, he was much like most of the men in her acquaintance. It was plain to see where Pappy believed her interest lay. And she was willing to let him believe just that if it meant she could get him to divulge a bit more information about the mysterious Jones.
“He said you did the cooking and helped navigate. Do you join him on all his trips?”
The man squinted against the rays of sun. “All trips. Only small crew for some, but Cap’n, he need to eat.”
“Have you been to Laconos lately?” she asked daringly. “Jones seemed worried about my safety there.”
“Pretty miss be safe on beach. Cap’n make sure.” He shrugged. “No one want to drive away tourists. Bad for island.”
Which still didn’t answer her question. She phrased the next one more pointedly. “When was last time you were on Laconos?”
Pappy rubbed his jaw. “Me? Last month, mebbe. Most people, they like fishing. Many other beaches. Laconos not beautiful like Bontilla.”
Which meant, Analiese thought, her stomach knotting, that if Jones had taken Sam to the island, the trip had been kept secret even from his trusted crew member. She manufactured a smile and drank again. Her throat had gone suddenly dry. “A ship this large must take a lot of fuel. How many gallons does it hold? Enough to get us to Laconos, I hope.”
The man chortled. “Two big tanks, pretty miss, plenty to go to Laconos. Each tank hold two hundred gallon. Only take three hundred to get to island.” He rose, smiling widely. “I go make lunch. You need food, so you not get sick again.”
She gave a vague smile in response, and he walked away, his stride adjusting automatically to the pitch of the ship. Reaching down, she opened her purse and took out the notebook she kept there. She’d taken some notes while thumbing through Jones’s logs, using a coded shorthand that no one but her would be able to make sense of. Checking them, she determined that Jones had refueled the ship three times in two days well after his last documented charter. Which would have readied the ship for the trip to Laconos, refueled it for the trip back, and then again to prepare it for the next charter. She added and subtracted gallons for several minutes, before she sat back, satisfied. Given the fueling history, this ship could have been the one to carry her brother to the island.
It was thin, she acknowledged, amidst a growing sense of certainty. But it was something. And since she’d discovered that Pappy hadn’t accompanied them, the man would have no other information for her. Which meant, of course, that any other details would have to be pried from Jones himself.
Despite the heat, her skin prickled. The thought of having to play along with his egotistical belief that she was hot for him, in return for stray tidbits she might glean, was about as appealing as having surgery without benefit of anesthesia. But finding Sam was worth the sacrifice, wasn’t it?
Jones would be less likely to be suspicious of her questions if he thought she was using conversation as an excuse to get close to him. She scowled at the thought, but the truth of it couldn’t be denied. He’d handed her a perfect opportunity, and she’d be a fool not to use it.
She could always, Ana thought, consolingly, consider the exercise as practice. God knew she needed the experience at flirting, and since Jones had said in so many words that he was immune, he was a safe enough target. And besides learning information about her brother’s disappearance, maybe before this trip was over, she’d have Jones eating his rejection of her, word by demoralizing word.
She smiled, stretched more languorously on the deck chair and raised her face to the sun. The idea was one to relish.

“Brought you something to eat,” Ana said, strolling toward Jones with a tray Pappy had prepared.
His gaze flicked from her face to the food, then back again. “Is it poisoned?”
“Do you trust your cook so little?”
“It’s not Pappy I don’t trust.” His meaning wasn’t lost on her, but she chose to ignore it. Although earlier in the day she would have given a great deal to see him choke on a chicken bone, she was beyond those feelings now. Almost.
“You were right, Pappy is a great cook. I already ate and it was wonderful.” And when she’d finished, she’d offered to relieve the crew member of the plate he’d prepared for Jones, uncaring of the conclusion Pappy had drawn. She was eager for an excuse to approach the other man. Just not for the reason that Pappy and Jones seemed to think.
Setting the tray down on a nearby table, she removed the napkins covering the food and pulled up a chair. Jones watched her carefully. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d keep you company while you ate,” she said artlessly. “You’ve been up here all morning alone. I figured you wouldn’t mind a little company.”
He reached for a piece of chicken. “I like being alone.”
She refrained from pointing out that with his personality, he was likely to spend a great deal of time in that state. Despite her efforts, her gaze lingered on the puckered scar on his back. She’d spent more than an hour formulating ways to finesse needed information from him before approaching him with lunch. But instead of the discreet questions she’d settled on, she heard herself say, “What happened to your back?”
“I lowered my guard.”
His stark answer sent a chill through her. She’d be willing to bet that for Jones that particular error had been rare, indeed. Ana wanted to ask who had gotten close enough to him to gain his trust, only to betray it. But she knew intuitively that he’d never tell her. “Tell me about Laconos,” she said instead, forcing her gaze away from him and out at the shatteringly blue water before them. “The State Department has cleared it for U.S. citizens’ travel, but you seem to believe that it’s still unsafe.”
He turned back to the wheel and adjusted its position. “I just think there’s cause for caution there, that’s all.”
“The scandal six months ago was like a Shakespearean tragedy. The crown prince of Laconos must have been desperately in love with his girlfriend to be so devastated by his family’s disapproval of their marriage.” The world had been shocked to learn that the prince, Owahano Bunei, of the royal family, had shot and killed his parents and siblings before turning his weapon on himself one night at dinner. And all because his parents had refused to give him permission to marry the woman he loved. “I’d heard, though, that the transition of power passed easily enough to Owahano’s uncle.”
“That kind of transition is never effortless.” It was his total lack of expression, rather than the words themselves, that alerted her. What Jones wasn’t revealing was of far more interest than what he did say.
She hadn’t asked Sterling about the nature of Sam’s mission on Laconos. It would have been futile. The man made even the taciturn Jones seem verbose. But she’d drawn her own conclusion from the information she’d managed to glean from her brother’s encrypted files. The United States government was taking a keen interest in the island’s new government, especially now that the current king was jockeying for more clout with the Global Trade Organization. Ana thought Sam had been sent on assignment to see, firsthand, if Laconos’s request should be opposed. Given her brother’s disappearance shortly after he arrived there, she wondered if he’d found a reason for that opposition.
“It probably won’t matter much to you and your friends one way or the other.” At Jones’s voice, Ana shifted her attention back to their conversation. “You’re just planning on enjoying the beaches, right? A day or two there, and you’ll be off to another island.”
She steered him away from a discussion of her fictional friends by saying, “I’ve heard that Laconos has a fabulous beach on the north side.”
“You may want to avoid that one.” Was that a tinge of embarrassment she heard in his words? Ana studied his profile searchingly. “There’s a great beach on the southwest side, too.”
“Why? What’s wrong with the north one?”
“It’s topless.”
“Sounds great.” With a provocative air she braced her hands on the table behind her and leaned back. She’d bet that Jones’s knowledge of topless beaches was firsthand. So to speak. “Is that the beach you go to?”
“I have better things to do with my time than to laze around on the sand all day.” He dropped the chicken bone back on the tray and reached for another piece.
“But what do you do when you don’t have a charter?” Not even to herself would she admit that there was a hint of personal interest in his answer.
He gave a shrug of one well-muscled shoulder. “Work on the ship.”
“You don’t ever take it out by yourself?” she prodded. Prying information from the man was like arm wrestling an alligator, but then, she hadn’t expected it to be easy.
“Sometimes.”
“Where are your favorite places to go?”
He slanted her a glance. “You know, you’re wasting valuable sun time in here with me. I’d think you’d want to be working on your tan.”
“I got enough sun this morning.” Let him think that she was in here to change his mind about taking her to bed. It might annoy him, but it would also allay his suspicions about the true reason for her interest. She made a production of crossing her ankles. “Are you going to show them to me? Your favorite spots, I mean?”
“Nope.” He’d polished off the second piece of chicken and exchanged the bones for another piece.
“Why not?” She imbued her voice with a deliberately sultry note. “Maybe they’d become my favorites, too.” As long as she was engaged in the pretense, she may as well pull out all the stops. Ana might not have had near the occasions she’d like to practice her feminine wiles, but she was a world-class observer. She knew the moves—the head toss, the pouty lips, the fluttering eyelids. Jones was given the full treatment, causing him to stare hard at her.
“Do you have something in your eye?”
She stopped fluttering them to glare at him. “No, you dolt.”
He looked unconvinced. “Maybe you should leave your sunglasses on. The sun is pretty bright on the water.”
With jerky movements she grabbed the sunglasses from atop her head and perched them on her nose. Okay, so her wiles were rusty. Come to think of it, they’d never exactly mesmerized any man, with the exception of Billy Ray McIntire, who’d barely qualified as such. But she couldn’t help believing Jones was being deliberately obtuse. Was she really so lacking in appeal?
Steering around the obvious answer to that question, she concentrated again on getting the man to part with a bit of information. “So, where do you go to get away from it all? Beaches? Fishing? Deep-sea diving?”
He rolled his shoulders, clearly impatient with her questions. “I don’t have a lot of free time. A ship this size takes a lot of upkeep.”
So that line of questioning was a dead end. If there was another explanation for the discrepancy in his log other than the one she chose to draw, it certainly wasn’t forthcoming. She changed the subject. “Osawa Bunei, that’s the new king of Laconos, isn’t it? Did he choose to keep the former cabinet or replace it with his own?”
Slanting a glance at her, he took a bite of the piece of chicken he held. After he’d chewed and swallowed he said, “What are you after on the island, a sun tan or a history lesson? From what I’ve heard he’s replaced most of the original cabinet, and no surviving family members were chosen, which led to some dissension.”
Ana frowned. “I thought the family had all been killed with the exception of Osawa.”
“Not all the extended family. There were two other uncles and an aunt, as well as many cousins left. Osawa was just the next in line for the throne.”
The scenario he’d described wouldn’t have raised eyebrows in most countries, but in the small island nation of Laconos, nepotism was a time-honored custom. Osawa had probably had to remove family members from cabinet posts to replace them with his own picks, which didn’t strike Ana as a good way to keep your relatives happy.
“Do you go to Laconos often?” she asked daringly. Heck, subterfuge didn’t seem to work with him, so perhaps the direct route would prove more successful.
“No.” He dropped the chicken bone on the tray and reached for a napkin to wipe his hands. “Most of my charters are for deep-sea fishing, a few families who want to go out for a day, that sort of thing.”
The ship rocked against a particularly large wave, and Ana clutched the edge of the table in an effort to remain upright. Since it was bolted to the deck, it was as stable an anchor as she’d find. Jones merely adjusted his footing and leaned into the pitch of the ship, riding the motion in much the same way as a jockey melded his body with a horse’s moves. His position drew her attention to the muscles that clenched and released in his back, and then lower, where the faded denim of his cutoff jeans clung faithfully to his masculine backside.
Ana tipped her glasses down to better contemplate the sight. The man’s buns were as extraordinary as the rest of him, which really didn’t seem quite fair. There ought to be a physical flaw somewhere. The scar didn’t count, as it only added to his aura of danger. When the gods had been handing out bodies, she thought judiciously, this guy had been at the front of the line. Too bad the same couldn’t be said about his personality.
He glanced her way then, and her gaze jerked upward guiltily. “Thanks for bringing the tray up. You’d better get it back to Pappy so he can wash it.”
As a brush-off, it was offensively transparent. She reached for the pitcher of lemonade and poured some into a glass. “After I finish my lemonade.” Pouring a second glass, she offered it to him. “Want some?”
Grudgingly he took it. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude…”
“It must be an innate response, then.”
“…but entertaining the guests isn’t part of my duties as captain.”
“I think we’ve already covered that.”
“Neither is sleeping with them,” he went on, earning a glare from her.
“Well, I’ve gotten over the disappointment of knowing I’ll never bear your children,” she announced sweetly, restraining an urge to toss the lemonade in his face. “Do you have something against polite conversation?”
He turned back to the sea, squinted into the distance. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s no surprise.” She sipped and followed the direction of his gaze. She couldn’t see what would warrant such close attention. “How about if I talk and you just point and grunt. We don’t want to tax your abilities.”
His mouth twitched in what might pass as a smile. “You are a smart-ass, aren’t you?”
“That depends on your perspective, I suppose.” Her brothers had always thought so, especially James, who still operated under the assumption that she was a precocious twelve-year-old. “Miss Emmaline back home at the public library would share your view, but then she never had much of a sense of humor. So when I posted a screen saver on the library computers of her kissing Goofy, she definitely overreacted.”
“When was this, last week?” He passed his empty glass to her, and she filled it up again, before handing it back.
“I was fifteen. It cost me the better part of my summer vacation, too. I had to help computerize the entire library collection as restitution.”
“So you’d think you’d have learned to curb your outrageous behavior.”
“I learned not to get caught,” she corrected absently. Leaning forward, she gazed at the instrument panel above the helm. “Can I take the helm for a while?”
From his horrified gaze, she thought aggrievedly, you’d think she’d asked him for his kidney.
“No one handles the Nefarious but me.”
“You said Pappy does.”
“He’s crew. You’re not.”
“I handle my brother’s sailboat all the time.” It was a stretch of the truth, but not totally. She had, but only with James hovering behind her. He was as protective of his precious ship as Jones seemed to be of his own.
“Well, this isn’t a sailboat, and guests don’t take the helm.” From the flat tone of the words, she knew that wheedling would have no effect. “Maybe you should have stayed home and sailed instead of trotting all this way looking for a good time.”
“I had to get away for a while.” Ana was on familiar ground now, having practiced this story before leaving the States. “I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I needed to put some distance between us. The restraining order won’t hold him off for long, and I didn’t want any more trouble.”
She was just warming to the rest of her story when he said, “Yeah, okay.”
“What do you mean, ‘yeah, okay’? You don’t believe I could have a boyfriend?” The accuracy of that guess didn’t make it any less insulting.
His gaze had returned to the waters ahead of them. “It means I don’t care. About your boyfriend, restraining orders, or library pranks. I think it’s time for you to go below.” He reached for binoculars hanging on a hook nearby and raised them to his eyes.
It never occurred to Ana to do as he asked. She had a natural curiosity, and it was roused now. She stared in the direction he was studying and discovered what had snared his attention. There was a ship approaching at top speed. “Do you know who that is?”
Instead of answering, he issued another order. “Go get Pappy.”
Ana threw him a look. Jones still held the binoculars in one hand, and his profile could have been carved from granite. He didn’t answer her; he didn’t need to. Whoever was on that ship, Jones wasn’t looking particularly welcoming. Without a word she hurried away to do as he asked.
Pappy was in the galley scrubbing a frying pan when she popped her head in. “Jones wants you on the bridge right away.”
The man dropped the pot scrubber he’d been wielding and wiped his hands on a towel. “He need me to take helm?” He strode after her down the narrow hall.
“There’s a ship heading our way. He doesn’t seem happy about it.”
The islander looked around when they got on deck and spotted the approaching ship. He quickened his stride. Ana practically had to jog to keep up with him. “I thought shippers were friendly people.”
“Most be.” Pappy climbed the stairs ahead of her. “But some be pirates. We take care.”
Pirates. Ana’s jaw dropped. Of all the dangerous scenarios she’d considered before setting out on this trip, piracy somehow hadn’t occurred to her. She’d think the older man was pulling her leg if she hadn’t noted Jones’s reaction earlier. She quickly followed Pappy onto the bridge and saw Jones step away from the helm to allow the crew member to take over for him. Then he stepped aside, swept up a shirt and pulled it on, without bothering to button it. The sleeves were torn out of it, but that wasn’t what held Ana’s attention. It was the snub-nosed revolver that Jones tucked into his waistband at the base of his spine. He turned, stopping short when he saw her in the doorway.
She moistened her lips. “Pappy said it might be pirates.”
Jones cast a condemning glance the other man’s way, but said, “That’s always something we have to be prepared for, but this looks like a government cutter.”
“Government? Whose government?”
He brushed by her and prepared to descend to the deck. “That’s what I plan to find out. Follow me.”
The invitation, though couched more as a command, surprised her. She’d expected him to order her below deck. Falling in step behind him, she asked, “Do I get a gun, too?”
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.”
He stopped on the starboard side, his stance relaxed, at odds with the muscles she could feel bunched in his arms when she halted beside him. “Listen. This is important, and I want you to follow my lead. Don’t open your mouth unless I tell you to. Got it?”
Under normal circumstances his terse undertone would have gotten her back up, but nothing about this scene was normal. “Got it.”
The cutter reduced its speed and veered slightly away, to swing beside Nefarious. Ana stole a glance at Jones and nearly choked. Nothing but polite interest showed on his face, an expression that had been noticeably absent during the time they’d spent together.
Schooling her countenance to reflect the same, her efforts were hampered by shock when Jones casually laid his arm around her shoulders. The unfamiliar weight of it made it difficult to concentrate on the four men aboard the other ship.
“Ahoy. Nice day for a cruise,” Jones called out.
Ana saw the four men on the other ship exchange some words, then one of them stepped forward. “Ahoy, Nefarious captain. May we ask your destination.”
“Laconos.” The arm around her shoulders tightened. “Gonna check out the beaches there.”
“You have chosen well.” The spokesman’s English was university precise. “Our country has the finest beaches in the hemisphere.” The man smiled as his companions stared silently. “We are looking for a lost tourist. He went missing several days ago and we believe he was injured. Have you seen any other water craft near here today?”
“Yours is the first one,” Jones replied. He brushed his fingers along Ana’s shoulders in what would appear to be an absent caress. Nerve endings torched in the wake of his touch, and it was all she could do to suppress a shiver of reaction. Her involuntary response had her longing to grind her sandaled foot onto the top of his bare one, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from the men on the other ship.
All of them were armed.
None had taken the pains to hide it that Jones had. Each had a shoulder harness with a gun snugged inside it. She somehow doubted those were the only weapons on the ship.
“If you should be approached by such a man during your stay on Laconos, we ask that you alert the local police. We have questions to ask of him before we allow him to go.”
“Sure,” Jones replied. He glanced down at Ana, his hand shifting from her shoulder to skim down her back. “But we’re gonna be keeping pretty much to ourselves while we’re there.”
His meaning couldn’t have been clearer. The other men smirked, one elbowing another and saying something that made all of them laugh. That, coupled with her involuntary reaction to his touch, compelled Ana to treat Jones with some of his own medicine. Turning toward him, she smiled up in his face, running her hand up his bare chest and then down again, skating her fingers along the tight skin of his belly above his waistband.
Jones’s free hand came up to grasp hers, lover-like, but his grip was anything but caressing. His gaze dropped to hers, a warning in his eyes, one she chose to ignore. He’d started this charade. She was just playing along at his request.
“Enjoy your stay on Laconos,” the man called, as the cutter began to move away.
“Stay put,” he muttered, raising his hand to wave. “I think they need more convincing.”
Frowning, Ana tipped her head back to ask what he meant an instant before his firm, sculpted lips covered her own.

Chapter 4
Shock held Ana immobile. The pressure of Jones’s mouth against hers sent a frisson of sexual awareness skipping through her system. Logically she was aware of the pretense he was engaged in. Emotionally she was struggling with her own knee-buckling response. The man knew how to kiss. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.
Even through the haze of her own heightened senses she was able to discern the air of detachment in his touch. While his lips moved persuasively against her own, inciting her pulse to riot, he held himself aloof. And the realization heated her temper as surely as the kiss was heating her blood.
She could feel the exact moment when he’d decided the farce had gone on long enough. His hands dropped to her waist to set her away from him. Ana would never know just what inner demon drove her to press up against him, go on tiptoe and open her mouth beneath his.
He went still. Pressing her advantage, she slipped her hands into his open shirt, skated them up his bare sun-warmed skin. Muscles jumped beneath her touch and a purely feminine sense of satisfaction curled through her. She may, to her constant regret, lack much experience, but the man wasn’t immune to her. The realization made her bolder, made her want to discover just what it would take to make Jones lose that iron control of his. While she doubted she’d ever see it, she was driven to force more of a reaction from him.
Her arms twined around his neck, and with one hand she found the thong that kept his hair tied back and released the knot. She threaded her fingers through the freed strands, marveling at the thickness and texture.
His fingers clenched on her waist, and Ana braced for the moment he would push her away. But instead, Jones pulled her closer, drew her bottom lip into his mouth and scored it with his teeth.
The deck seemed to tilt beneath her feet, and weakness permeated her limbs. When his tongue boldly swept into her mouth, tasted her own, the kiss became all too real, all too devastating. It became abruptly clear to Ana that she’d never really been kissed before. Not like this. The press of his mouth was demanding, explicitly carnal. His taste was that of an aroused, primal male, and it traced through her senses leaving a trail of fire in its wake. One of his hands slid lower, found her bottom and squeezed. Shivering, she pressed closer to him, cupped his hard jaw and gave herself over to feeling.
Sensations were colliding inside her, too varied to be individually identified. There was the sun high overhead, bathing them both with warmth. The heat of Jones’s body pressed tightly to hers, her breasts flattened against the sculpted muscles in his chest. The dark sensual flavor of his kiss and the tidal wave of response that told her she knew nothing about wanting. Of desire. But there was no doubt that this man could teach her.
The raucous screech of a gull overhead shattered the building desperation between them. As Ana was jolted back to reality, she was aware of the sudden tightening of Jones’s body. Fighting a crippling sense of loss, she forced herself to be the first to step back, and manufactured a careless smile to hide the emotions still crashing inside her. “Well, if that didn’t convince them, nothing could.”
“What?”
She half turned away. It was easier, far easier, to play her part when she wasn’t facing him and longing to dive back into his arms. “You wanted them to believe we were lovers looking for a secluded beach, didn’t you? They shouldn’t have any doubts after that display. Good thinking.”
His answer was slow in coming. “Yeah, that’s what I’d planned. But I think things got a little out of hand.”
Something in his voice alerted her. It took a great deal of effort to meet his eyes, and what she saw there had her swallowing involuntarily. “Well, you told me to follow your lead, so I did. You were very good, by the way. I’m sure they didn’t suspect a thing.”
He shrugged, the gesture rife with frustration. “Yeah. Maybe it wasn’t such a great plan, after all. I mean, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”
On a ten-point scale for offensiveness, that remark warranted at least a fifteen. Ana welcomed the anger that began to bubble in her veins, dissipating the desire that still lingered there. “The wrong idea?” She pretended confusion. “Oh, you mean about you wanting to go to bed with me. I thought we were beyond that. We were just acting, right? It’s not like either of us felt anything.”
The flinty hardness in his eyes was all too familiar. “As long as you realize that.”
“No problem.” Lifting a shoulder, she turned away, wandered toward the bridge. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I put more effort into kissing Robby Marlowe in fourth grade. While he lacked your technique, he made up for it in enthusiasm.” She felt, rather than heard, him fall into step behind her.
“You must have been pretty precocious.”
“Not really. It was a just a game of spin the bottle. Didn’t you ever play games as a kid?”
“Not those kind.” He quickened his stride and reached the staircase before her, started up it. The sight of his hard buns encased in faded jean cutoffs had her throat going dry. What the man did to denim was positively sinful. So, surely it was that sight, in addition to the kiss, that had short-circuited her brain. Because once conscious thought struck her again, she froze in her tracks.
If the government officials were looking for just a lost tourist, as they claimed, why would they all be armed? Weapons suggested they expected danger, or at least a fight from the man they sought. Which meant he wasn’t just an ordinary tourist.
A chill coursed through her. Could the man they were searching for be Sam? The thought filled her with dread.
We believe he may have been injured….
Ana cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, but she had to face facts. If the “missing tourist” was Sam, the Laconos government had no intention of letting him off the island. Which made it all the more imperative that she find her brother. Before the police did.
Intent on getting some answers from Jones, she hurried in his wake up to the bridge. When she appeared, he and Pappy broke off the conversation they were holding in undertones and looked at her. “It wasn’t pirates, Pappy,” she announced as she strolled into the room. “It was just a government cutter from Laconos. Did Jones tell you?”
She didn’t miss the warning look Jones shot the other man.
“Not to worry, miss. Laconos government very friendly to tourists.”
Not so friendly, Ana thought, if they were responsible for wounding the man they sought. Rather than voicing the thought, she said disingenuously, “They must be if they’re going to the trouble of trying to find an injured tourist. But I don’t understand why they would be looking for him so far from shore. If he got this far, he obviously isn’t hurt badly. He wouldn’t need their help.”
Taking the helm from Pappy, Jones turned his back to her. But she was certain the lack of expression in his voice would be mirrored in his face. “They’re just being cautious. If he got hurt in their country they’re probably going to want to file a report.”
Pappy slipped from the bridge and went down the stairway. Ana didn’t spare a glance for the older man, however. She needed all her wits about her to deal with Jones. “If that’s all it was, why did you feel compelled to enact that little scenario for them?” She watched his back stiffen, one vertebra at a time. But his tone was even enough when he answered.
“Just didn’t figure you’d want to be delayed any more than necessary. A ship can get tangled up in a lot of red tape if government officials take an interest in it or its passengers. Might take hours to answer all the questions they have about your plans and frequency of visits.” He shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it aside and took the gun from his waistband and put it back in the drawer before him. With an obvious desire to change the subject, he said, “It’s another hour to the island. Do you want to try one of the beaches?”
“No, I think I’ve gotten enough sun for the day. Let’s just put into port and I’ll explore the city for a few hours.” She didn’t believe his explanation for a minute. If Jones was anxious to avoid questions with the Laconos government, it didn’t have anything to do with delaying her. It was much more likely that he wanted to avoid having his ship under scrutiny.
And right now she could only guess at the reason for that reluctance.

The Laconos port authority seemed to have doubled their paperwork and questions since the last time Jones had put into port there. He’d been dealing with a couple of the agents for fifteen minutes when the two men appeared to get distracted. Following the direction of their gazes, he silently cursed when he saw the object of their focus. Ann Smith was descending the plank board to the dock.
He analyzed the subject of their fascination with a critical eye. The woman certainly wasn’t beautiful, although her looks probably defined the word cute. Short straight nose, wide blue eyes and lips that had a tendency to pout when they weren’t curved as they were now. Her bright head of hair gleamed in the sun. She ought to be wearing a hat. She was too fair-skinned to have built up much of a resistance to the sun.

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