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

She seemed to be spilling from the bathing top she wore. Literally. True, she had on a cover-up, but it was sheer gauze.

Belinda, one of the breakfast servers, paused next to Beth.

“You should see the bottom.”

“What?”

“Amanda Mason. Her bathing suit. You should see the bottom. Or lack thereof.”

“A string?” Beth inquired, surprised. They frowned on such things at the club. This was a family place.

“A two-string. A one-inch square piece of fabric in front and another in back. The strings are on each side. Want coffee? Are you having breakfast?”

“Thanks, but I’m out of here,” she said, flashing Belinda a forced smile. “I have plans.”

“That’s right, it’s Saturday. You’re off. I guess we’re all used to you working so much overtime.”

Beth shrugged. “It’s not always work. When Ben and Amber are here, I’m just hanging with the family.”

Suddenly, she realized that Keith had turned, that he’d seen her. Was watching her.

But he remained with Amanda.

“Well, have a good day off,” Belinda said.

“What?”

“Have a good day off.”

“Oh, yes. Thanks.”

She hurried back out to her car, her head reeling. Once she was behind the wheel, she couldn’t quite put the car in to Drive. She just stared out through her windshield.

What the hell was he doing? He hadn’t just run into Amanda. He had said last night that he had plans in the morning. Amanda had been his plan? Then why come to her house?

She gritted her teeth. Maybe she was just mistaken about chemistry and some ridiculous inner sense of honor and decency. She didn’t really know him. It wasn’t as if he’d gone out of his way to seduce her. She couldn’t actually blame him for anything. She had wanted him.

Angry with herself, she started to drive.

Her radio was tuned in to one of the local stations. The hosts were doing a segment called “Dial a Date.” One DJ was telling callers to check out the “hotness” of their female guest on the Internet. Then one of the men dialing in asked her about her sexual experience. The guest purred that she knew what she was doing, and yes, if the guy was right—and the dinner good—she definitely slept with a man on the first date.

Beth was pretty sure the phone lines at the radio station were about to start ringing off the hook. She began to wonder if the entire world had come to think of sex as casually as they did breathing. Was that Amanda’s take on it?

Was it Keith’s?

Worst of all, was the whole thing about something unique, special and honorable—and sheer chemistry—all in her own mind?

MATT WOKE WITH A START. Alone.

He sat up, and his head started spinning. He felt ill.

“Amanda?”

There was no response. He leaped up, then staggered, holding his head between his hands. Sweet Jesus. Had he really had that much to drink? They’d hit the Jack Daniel’s on arriving…and she’d been with him every second. Aggressive, exciting, quite possibly the most purely carnal experience he’d ever had. Pushing him down, crawling on top of him…

“Amanda?”

He made his way out to the galley. She’d left coffee on, but no note. Matt reached into a cabinet for something to kill the pain. He swallowed six caplets, drank a glass of water. His head was still spinning. He leaned against the counter, fighting the sensation. He needed coffee, a bagel, something.

He didn’t bother to toast the bagel but ate it almost savagely. After a few minutes, his brain began to kick in.

He swore and went topside, where his voice rose as he cursed to the morning sun and the sea.

She’d taken the tender in.

He hurried back down to the cabin and searched it arduously. Nothing seemed disturbed. Nothing at all.

Still swearing, he judged the distance to the mainland, dressed in swim trunks and a tank, then went topside, furious with both the woman, and with himself.

He’d been had. Big-time.

He hit the water, glad the sea was smooth that day. As he swam, the salt, sun and sea began to clear his head.

But dull torture remained.

Did he tell the others?

“I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU ALL have decided to visit civilization for a while. Although…” Amanda smiled knowingly. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

“You expected us?” Keith asked, smiling back. He didn’t need to lean in close. Amanda had taken care of that all by herself. She was at a table but somehow nearly on top of him. There was no way out of the fact there was something naked and almost primeval about her raw sex appeal. She practically reeked of female hormones. She’d had money and position all her life, plenty of time and opportunity to hone the “bad girl who could do whatever she wanted” image.

So different from Beth. Everything about her was just as sensual, as gut level, as sexually, sensually appealing. But there was a touch of class inherent in her allure. She moved with supple grace, as sleekly as a feline. Her voice roused the libido. Her eyes seduced with cool intelligence and an underlying honesty that compelled and…

He locked his jaw. This wasn’t the time to wax poetic—or simply sexual—about Beth. Or think of the way she had looked at him during their night together.

“What were three handsome, heterosexual men going to do out there forever?” Amanda asked huskily.

Her fingers—nails perfectly manicured—made a fluttering motion down his arm.

“I mean,” she continued, “how long can you just dive and fish without some kind of a…break, shall we say?”

He shrugged and eased back slightly. “We were intrigued. So many of you had mentioned this place while we were on the island.” He offered her a broad grin, moving in closer again. “So…this is it. And are you here all the time?”

“A lot of the time,” Amanda said. “I love boats. The way they rock. Even when they’re just tied up at the dock.”

The older Cuban man he had met the other night was taking a seat at one of the tables, Keith noticed. Amanda cast him a brief glance, then paid him no mind.

Manny, Keith remembered. He was the friend who had reported the Monocos missing. He knew now that the Monocos were definitely missing and he was pretty sure he knew how and why. But a piece was still missing. He had a feeling Ted Monoco had known something about his own work out by the island. That nothing was as simple as it looked.