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

“There’s a reason,” Ashley assured her.

“And that would be?”

Ashley didn’t give her a direct reply. Instead, she asked, “Want to meet me at Nick’s tomorrow? Breakfast, lunch, brunch—whatever works for you. Maybe you can give me a hand.”

Her friend wasn’t going to say any more over the phone, she realized. She was just glad for the information she had gotten.

If anyone was guilty, it was Brad and Sandy. Not Keith Henson or his friends. Not the man with whom she’d already slept, who was standing in her living room, surveying it with what appeared to be a practiced eye.

“Beth?”

“I’m here.”

“You’ll meet me?”

“Sure. I have to run into the office for a little while in the morning, and then I’ll be out.”

“See you then. Be careful, okay?”

Beth paused for a moment. “I will.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

She hung up and found Keith smiling at her. “It really is a nice place.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She was convinced there was certainly nothing evil about the man, so why did she feel uncomfortable?

She still didn’t know why Sandy and Brad were the ones attracting suspicion when others had been on the island, as well, and the Monocos had been missing for roughly a year.

“Are you in Miami for long?” she asked.

“I don’t know. We kind of go with the flow,” he told her.

“Must be nice.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You’re acting very strangely.”

“According to you, I’m always acting strangely.”

“Sorry. And I’m sorry for just showing up, too. I honestly thought I was invited. Since that evidently wasn’t the case—”

“It wasn’t, but you—you don’t have to go,” she murmured quickly.

“You don’t seem pleased that I’m here.”

She smiled suddenly. “Actually, I am,” she told him very softly. Then, because it seemed to her that the tone of her voice was way too intimate, she said quickly, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I…well, to use one of Amber’s words, I suck as a hostess. Can I get you a drink? I think I have wine and beer. Or coffee? Tea? Water?”

He grinned, walking toward her.

She was startled that she was still standing. She felt as if her bones had turned to liquid, destroying all hope of remaining upright.

Then he was there in front of her. He touched her chin, lifting it just slightly. She met his eyes and felt as if they could make her forget the world, melt into his being.

She shouldn’t give so much to someone she had known so fleetingly, she knew. It was one thing to think she had every right to moments of sex, sensuality and lunacy. But this…

This was frightening.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured huskily, his thumb traveling a path along her cheekbones. “When I should have been thinking about so much else.”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say to that.

“Should I leave?” he asked.

“Are we going to go through this again?” she asked very softly.

“I only—”

“If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have asked you to stay. Yes, I know your speech. Don’t get involved with me. Well, we’re hardly involved.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“We have different definitions of involved, then.”

“So this means nothing to you?” he queried.

“I didn’t say that,” she told him. “But involved…that would mean I’d know where you were, not because you owed me explanations, but just because you’d want me to know. Wanting to see me again would be a priority for you, and seeing you would be a priority for me.”

“Beth, right now I can’t—”

“I didn’t ask you to. I’m a grown-up. I’ve made my choice. I don’t want you to go. It’s already late. You’ll leave too soon as it is, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then…”

His movement always seemed unhurried, easy, as if he were a cat that had long studied its prey and seldom failed to reach its objective. It was in his eyes, as well, in his voice, that thing about him, always so casual, and yet…

What was his real objective?

Tonight, she decided, it was her.

Tonight there was nothing rushed about him. He studied her eyes again for a long time, as if waiting for a protest, knowing there would be none, but still giving her a chance to turn away.

She had no intention of doing any such thing.

At last his lips touched hers, and every remaining bit of resolve she might have felt fled. Her arms moved around him, fingers threading into his hair, and she tasted the kiss, explored the texture of his lips, felt the exhilarating sweep of his tongue.