Chapter 24

Matt drove the Wave Runner up onto the ramp and turned off the engine. The sun was dropping behind Sunset Key. He hated to see the day end. Shelly’s arms were around his waist, the way they had been all during the ride back from Pirate Key.

“I’m sorry the day’s over,” Shelly echoed his thoughts as he helped her off the Wave Runner onto the dock.

He gazed into her gorgeous blue eyes, half tempted to tell her he loved her. Where in hell had that thought come from? He couldn’t commit himself.

The fact was he could never be there for Shelly—not in that happy ever after way she deserved. She was a sensitive woman. Telling her that he loved her would make parting even more difficult.

When he was gone, Matt wanted Shelly to find someone else. She had so much to give. Hour by hour she seemed to be changing, opening up more and more. Becoming a different woman. He wished he could stay around to see it. Stop being maudlin, he told himself. Get a grip.

“The day’s not over until midnight,” he said as he gave her a playful swat on her cute fanny. “We haven’t had all the fun we can have yet.”

“Did you forget about Trevor’s dinner party?”

He stopped and slammed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I totally forgot. I said I would get the table out of the storage room and set it up. I’m supposed to take care of the cats too.”

“Run along. I’ve got major repairs.” She pointed to her head; her hair was a windblown tangle that looked just as sexy as it had this morning. “I want to do the dress justice.”

“You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

He bent his head to give her a quick kiss. Once, he would have had to pull her into his arms, but not now. She automatically closed the space between them and tilted her head up for the kiss. Their lips met and the heat of desire ignited a wildfire.

In a heartbeat, pressure was building in his groin. So what else was new? They’d made love just before they’d left Pirate Key, yet his body wanted her again. “I can’t get enough of you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I think you got more than your fair share of testosterone.” She winked at him. “Works for me.”

She scampered off toward the far side of the house, where her room was. He watched her go, asking himself why he’d found her now. Why hadn’t it been years ago?

He walked up to the kitchen door and paused. Inside, Trevor and Clive had their heads together, arranging hors d’oeuvres on a platter. He could tell by the smile on Trevor’s face that his friend was happy being with Clive. Now, if Trevor would only trust his instincts enough to know he could have a lasting relationship with Clive.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Matt said as he walked into the kitchen. “Shelly wanted to go on a picnic. I lost track of the time.”

“I hope she had on sunblock. Bioengineered skin can’t take the sun.”

“Don’t worry, Clive. We used up an entire tube.”

He didn’t say what they’d done with most of it. He couldn’t let Shelly’s bare breasts burn, could he? When he’d seen how much fun rubbing lotion on her was, he’d smoothed it on the rest of her.

“Are you going to admit I was right?” Trevor asked. “The accident changed Shelly. She isn’t crazy.”

“You were right. She’s special.”

“I’m going to take some credit here,” Clive said. “She was attractive before. I saved her face, then nipped a bit off her nose. Now she’s perfect.”

Matt didn’t give a rat’s ass about Shelly’s improved nose. She had a power and a depth to her that fascinated him. It had nothing to do with her face, and everything to do with what went on inside that head of hers.

“She didn’t need her breasts enlarged,” Matt said. “She was sexy the way she was.”

Clive waved a carrot stick at him. “I don’t do breasts. I leave that to the hacks in the clinics on every corner.”

I’ll be damned, he thought. He could have sworn Shelly had much smaller breasts. Not that he judged a woman by her bra size, but he was a man. He noticed these things.

He recalled the one date he’d had with Shelly when he’d been in New York. It took a second to picture her in the low-cut black dress she’d worn. No, she’d been smaller.

During the year she’d chased him around, leaving notes, she must have had her breasts enlarged. Women did it all the time. At least, he supposed they did. There were certainly enough newspaper ads to indicate some doctors were making big bucks from silicone.

Aw, shit. A twinge too strong to be just a pang arced through his head. It couldn’t be a headache, could it? Not now, not today, when he was so happy. He rubbed his temples, praying his headache was just a result of spending too much time in the brutal sun.

“Earth to Matt,” Trevor called. “Are you going to stand there day dreaming, or will you get the big round table out of the storage shed?”

He hurried to the side of the house where the shed was located. Behind him, he heard Trevor and Clive sharing a laugh.

That’s what life is all about, he told himself. Sharing laughs and sunsets and quiet moments. Why had it taken him so long to discover what was really important?

“The Beast is gone,” she told her reflection.

For the first time in her life she felt … whole. Matt had as much to do with her transformation as the surgery. There was something indefinably special about being with a man, making love to him, and enjoying his company.

Today Matt had taken her to a deserted key, where they’d gone snorkeling and had a picnic. With no one around, they’d taken off their suits. The Beast would have been too shy to do this, but Matt made her feel comfortable with herself and her body.

Yes, they’d made love. She was a little sore from all the sex, but she wouldn’t have missed one second of it. She was having the time of her life.

“Yes?” she called when she heard a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Matt’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Everyone’s at the party but you.”

She walked across the room, a little unsteady on the vampy heels that went with the outfit. When she opened the door, Matt stared at her for a moment, then gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“Do you like it? Bubbles did my makeup and hair for me. Is it too much?”

He closed the door behind him. “I should have a gun to head off the guys.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re drop dead gorgeous.” The look in his eye was as intimate as a caress. “Kyle’s back. No doubt, I’ll have to take care of him first.”

She looped her arms around his neck. He looked incredibly handsome in a navy shirt and white slacks. He was every woman’s dream come true.

“What about me? Bubbles has the hots for you. No doubt, the other women out there will be all over you.”

“Bubbles is no competition for you, babe, and neither is Irene.”

A chill skipped down her spine. “Who’s Irene?”

“The new couple, remember?”

“Oh, sure, the couple we saw yesterday. What are they like?”

“Irene’s okay, if you like cheap brunettes. But Dexx is a piece of work.”

Dexx.

The word hit her full force, and she let out a startled gasp. She dropped her arms, mind-numbing fear engulfing her.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

She hurried toward the bed, trying to marshal her thoughts. “It’s a cramp in my arch. I don’t think I should be wearing heels so soon after getting out of the cast.”

She collapsed on the bed, and Matt sat beside her while she took off the lovely shoes. She fiddled with the clasp, wondering how they knew where she was. Did it matter?

She had to leave before they killed her.

If she could get to Key West, she could call the FBI, then hide until they came for her. It would mean leaving Matt. Just the thought of not seeing him—for what?—months, or even a year, made a cold knot form in her chest.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

The heartfelt concern in his voice brought tears to her eyes. How could she leave him after waiting a lifetime to find him? He put his finger under her chin and brought her head to the side to face him.

“You’re crying. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not crying,” she protested in a shaky voice, tears cresting in her eyes but not falling. “I’m just upset that I’ll have to wear thongs and ruin the pretty outfit you bought me.”

She stood up, the sandals in one hand, and marched over to the closet. It was about as ditzy an excuse as she could imagine, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. She needed to be in flat sandals so she could run if necessary.

As she opened the louvered door, a thought hit her. Why would Dexxter come here? The sneaky little weasel always sent henchmen to do his work.

Maybe they didn’t know for certain that she was Amy Conroy. They must have come to see for themselves whether or not she was the right woman. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Buying time, she made a big deal out of choosing between the two pairs of sandals. With luck, she could fool them into believing she was Shelly. The Witness Protection Program had wiped all her records clean. There was no way—she knew of—that Dexxter could prove she was Amy Conroy.

Matt could be very helpful in deceiving Dexx. After all, Matt had known her in New York. If he believed she was Shelly, it might convince Dexxter.

What good would it do? Even if she fooled Dexx, there was Irene. Dexxter was a sniveling little weasel. In her opinion, Irene was the one to watch. Even if Irene didn’t realize she was Amy Conroy, Irene might kill her just to cover her bases.

Kicking herself for not having anticipated this and having an escape plan, she decided she didn’t want to call her contact in the FBI. Last time, there had been a leak somewhere, and she had nearly lost her life. There had to be a field office in Miami. If she went there and explained the situation, they might arrange better protection.

She slipped into a pair of thongs, then turned to face Matt. He was still sitting on the bed, studying her with a puzzled expression. Oh, Lord. She didn’t want him to think she was so goofy.

“I just wanted you to be proud of me.”

He stood up and walked toward her, his arms outstretched. Gathering her close, he whispered, “I am proud of you. Proud of the way you look. The way you’ve changed.”

Changed? Oh, God. She didn’t want him saying that in front of Dexxter. “I haven’t changed. You didn’t really know me. That’s all.”

“Okay,” he responded.

His eyes bored into hers, and she wondered what he was really thinking. This night would be the last time she might ever be with him. She desperately wanted him to remember her and not think of crazy Shelly.

“I was just being silly,” she tried to joke. “In those heels, I didn’t have to look up to you all the time.”

“Women.” He rolled his eyeballs. “Go figure.”

His arms tightened around her. She sighed at the feel of his powerful, male body. All she’d asked for was a little time to be with him and get to know him. But once again, fate had dealt her a crummy hand. She had to make the most of their last night together.

The precious memories might very well have to last her a lifetime.

Dexxter Foxx stood on the terrace, sipping a martini. This was some place. Half Moon Bay made the Cape Cod cottage he rented look like a log cabin. Well, what could he expect? Irene had handled the lease.

She was nearby, talking to Trevor, the fudge-packer who owned Half Moon Bay. His fruity doctor friend was serving miniature quiches. Matthew Jensen had disappeared over ten minutes ago to get the woman who called herself Shelly. Of course, he knew she was really Amy Conroy.

Since then Dexx had been waiting, anticipation building, eating his nerves raw. He’d screwed Irene more times than he cared to count, imagining he was driving into Amy Conroy’s sexy body. Why hadn’t she shown up yet?

Jensen probably had her flat on her back. If there was one thing Dexx hated, it was sloppy seconds. He’d make her pay and pay and pay.

“Isn’t the view, like, awesome?”

The red-haired creature who called herself Bubbles walked up to him, expecting a response. Every visible orifice sported a pierced object. He didn’t want to know what was under her panties.

“Great view,” he said, wondering how he could ask about Amy. “What happened to Matt?”

“He’s with Shelly.” The airhead ran her tongue over her lower lip, revealing yet another disgusting stud. It was hard enough to understand an accent laced with molasses. Why pierce her tongue? “It’s on again.”

“What’s on?”

“Their affair. They were, like, red hot lovers last year in New York. Then something happened. Now … well, you can’t, like, get a laser beam between the two of them.”

“I see.”

His so-called detective was as worthless as tits on a bull. Dexx had been led to believe Jensen hadn’t had a relationship with the woman. She’d stalked him. The blonde in the pictures couldn’t be Amy if she was involved with Jensen—again.

He’d done a background check on Matthew Jensen. He was a savvy reporter who’d parlayed a rag sheet into a respected newsmagazine. Then he’d shocked the publishing world by quitting.

Why?

It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. Dexx was interested in the woman. Surely Jensen would have detected an impostor.

He turned his back on the redhead and signaled to Irene. She sashayed over to him, tits jiggling in a black dress that left zilch to the imagination. Been there; done that.

Jesus H. Christ. How he despised her. He could hardly wait for her “accident.”

“Kyle was just telling me the most interesting story.”

Kyle Parker, the guy built like a storm trooper. Something about him suggested the military even though he was in khaki slacks and a shortsleeve shirt. Dexx couldn’t decide who he’d instantly disliked more, Jensen or Parker.

“The words Key West come from the Spanish words Cayo Hueso. It means Island of the Bones. Hueso took on the English pronunciation that sounded like west.”

“So?” Sometimes Irene had shit for brains.

“Island of the Bones. Don’t you get it? We kill Amy right here. She’s bones like the mysterious bones the first Spaniards found.”

“Zane is a chicken-shit excuse for a private detective. The blonde he took pictures of is not Amy Conroy. The woman’s been involved with Jensen for more than a year. They’re hot and heavy again. Jensen would know if—”

Before he could finish, a striking blonde walked onto the terrace, her hand on Matthew Jensen’s arm. The woman was beautiful, built like a Vegas showgirl. Legs. Tits. A body that wouldn’t quit.

This woman oozed class from every pore. She was wearing a wispy layered dress in a bold shade of green, but the gown wasn’t so tight that every man knew exactly what was beneath it the way Irene’s did. No, this dress was subtly provocative. It fueled a man’s imagination.

The upward surge of heat in his groin made it hard to think. The only thought he could hold for more than a second told him that he wanted this woman under him and moaning.

“Of course, that’s Amy,” Irene whispered. “How else did she get the dog?”

Dexx didn’t have an explanation. He watched the woman greet Kyle with an engaging smile. They were too far away to hear what was being said, but the blonde’s low, throaty laugh carried across the terrace.

The shy gesture that he had noticed in the picture must have been a fluke. This woman moved with the self-assurance of a woman who knew she was the object of every man’s desire.

From the looks of it, Jensen and Parker were both after her. Jensen seemed to have the inside track, but Kyle had a certain macho appeal that women flipped over. Take–a–number time.

Dexx wasn’t worried. Not only was he handsome, he had money up the ying-yang. That made him irresistible.