“Always check your gauges,” Liz instructed, carefully indicating each one on her own equipment as she spoke. “Each one of these gauges is vital to your safety when you dive. That’s true if it’s your first dive or your fiftieth. It’s very easy to become so fascinated not only by the fish and coral, but the sensation of diving itself, that you can forget you’re dependent on your air tank. Always be certain you start your ascent while you have five or ten minutes of air left.”
She’d covered everything, she decided, in the hour lesson. If she lectured any more, her students would be too impatient to listen. It was time to give them a taste of what they were paying for.
“We’ll dive as a group. Some of you may want to explore on your own, but remember, always swim in pairs. As a final precaution, check the gear of the diver next to you.”
Liz strapped on her own weight belt as her group of novices followed instructions. So many of them, she knew, looked on scuba diving as an adventure. That was fine, as long as they remembered safety. Whenever she instructed, she stressed the what ifs just as thoroughly as the how tos. Anyone who went down under her supervision would know what steps to take under any circumstances. Diving accidents were most often the result of carelessness. Liz was never careless with herself or with her students. Most of them were talking excitedly as they strapped on tanks.
“This group.” Luis hefted his tank. “Very green.”
“Yeah.” Liz helped him with the straps. As she did with all her employees, Liz supplied Luis’s gear. It was checked just as thoroughly as any paying customer’s. “Keep an eye on the honeymoon couple, Luis. They’re more interested in each other than their regulators.”
“No problem.” He assisted Liz with her tank, then stepped back while she cinched the straps. “You look tired, kid.”
“No, I’m fine.”
When she turned, he glanced at the marks on her neck. The story had already made the rounds. “You sure? You don’t look so fine.”
She lifted a brow as she hooked on her diving knife. “Sweet of you.”
“Well, I mean it. You got me worried about you.”
“No need to worry.” As Liz pulled on her mask, she glanced over at the roly-poly fatherly type who was struggling with his flippers. He was her bodyguard for the day. “The police have everything under control,” she said, and hoped it was true. She wasn’t nearly as sure about Jonas.
He hadn’t shocked her the night before. She’d sensed that dangerously waiting violence in him from the first. But seeing his face as he’d grabbed Erika, hearing his voice, had left her with a cold, flat feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know him well enough to be certain if he would choose to control the violence or let it free. More, how could she know he was capable of leashing it? Revenge, she thought, was never pretty. And that’s what he wanted. Remembering the look in his eyes, Liz was very much afraid he’d get it.
The boat listed, bringing her back to the moment. She couldn’t think about Jonas now, she told herself. She had a business to run and customers to satisfy.
“Miss Palmer.” A young American with a thin chest and a winning smile maneuvered over to her. “Would you mind giving me a check?”
“Sure.” In her brisk, efficient way, Liz began to check gauges and hoses.
“I’m a little nervous,” he confessed. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
“It doesn’t hurt to be a little nervous. You’ll be more careful. Here, pull your mask down. Make sure it’s comfortable but snug.”
He obeyed, and his eyes looked wide and pale through the glass. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick close to you down there.”
She smiled at him. “That’s what I’m here for. The depth here is thirty feet,” she told the group in general. “Remember to make your adjustments for pressure and gravity as you descend. Please keep the group in sight at all times.” With innate fluidity, she sat on the deck and rolled into the water. With Luis on deck, and Liz treading a few feet away, they waited until each student made his dive. With a final adjustment to her mask, Liz went under.
She’d always loved it. The sensation of weightlessness, the fantasy of being unimpeded, invulnerable. From near the surface, the sea floor was a spread of white. She loitered there a moment, enjoying the cathedral like view. Then, with an easy kick, she moved down with her students.
The newlyweds were holding hands and having the time of their lives. Liz reminded herself to keep them in sight. The policeman assigned to her was plodding along like a sleepy sea turtle. He’d keep her in sight. Most of the others remained in a tight group, fascinated but cautious. The thin American gave her a wide-eyed look that was a combination of pleasure and nerves and stuck close by her side. To help him relax, Liz touched his shoulder and pointed up. In an easy motion, she turned on her back so that she faced the surface. Sunlight streaked thinly through the water. The hull of the dive boat was plainly visible. He nodded and followed her down.
Fish streamed by, some in waves, some on their own. Though the sand was white, the water clear, there was a montage of color. Brain coral rose up in sturdy mounds, the color of saffron. Sea fans, as delicate as lace, waved pink and purple in the current. She signaled to her companion and watched a school of coral sweepers, shivering with metallic tints, turn as a unit and skim through staghorn coral.
It was a world she understood as well as, perhaps better, than the one on the surface. Here, in the silence, Liz often found the peace of mind that eluded her from day to day. The scientific names of the fish and formations they passed were no strangers to her. Once she’d studied them diligently, with dreams of solving mysteries and bringing the beauty of the world of the sea to others. That had been another life. Now she coached tourists and gave them, for hourly rates, something memorable to take home after a vacation. It was enough.
Amused, she watched an angelfish busy itself by swallowing the bubbles rising toward the surface. To entertain her students, she poked at a small damselfish. The pugnacious male clung to his territory and nipped at her. To the right, she saw sand kick up and cloud the water. Signaling for caution, Liz pointed out the platelike ray that skimmed away, annoyed by the intrusion.
The new husband showed off a bit, turning slow somersaults for his wife. As divers gained confidence, they spread out a little farther. Only her bodyguard and the nervous American stayed within an arm span at all times. Throughout the thirty-minute dive, Liz circled the group, watching individual divers. By the time the lesson was over, she was satisfied that her customers had gotten their money’s worth. This was verified when they surfaced.
“Great!” A British businessman on his first trip to Mexico clambered back onto the deck. His face was reddened by the sun but he didn’t seem to mind. “When can we go down again?”
With a laugh, Liz helped other passengers on board. “You have to balance your down time with your surface time. But we’ll go down again.”
“What was that feathery-looking stuff?” someone else asked. “It grows like a bush.”
“It’s a gorgonian, from the Gorgons of mythology.” She slipped off her tanks and flexed her muscles. “If you remember, the Gorgons had snakes for hair. The whip gorgonian has a resilient skeletal structure and undulates like a snake with the current.”
More questions were tossed out, more answers supplied. Liz noticed the American who’d stayed with her, sitting by himself, smiling a little. Liz moved around gear then dropped down beside him.
“You did very well.”
“Yeah?” He looked a little dazed as he shrugged his shoulders. “I liked it, but I gotta admit, I felt better knowing you were right there. You sure know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been at it a long time.”
He sat back, unzipping his wet suit to his waist. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I wondered about you. You’re American, aren’t you?”
It had been asked before. Liz combed her fingers through her wet hair. “That’s right.”
“From?”
“Houston.”
“No kidding.” His eyes lit up. “Hell, I went to school in Texas. Texas A and M.”
“Really?” The little tug she felt rarely came and went. “So did I, briefly.”
“Small world,” he said, pleased with himself. “I like Texas. Got a few friends in Houston. I don’t suppose you know the Dresscots?”
“No.”
“Well, Houston isn’t exactly small-town U.S.A.” He stretched out long, skinny legs that were shades paler than his arms but starting to tan. “So you went to Texas A and M.”
“That’s right.”
“What’d you study?”
She smiled and looked out to sea. “Marine biology.”
“Guess that fits.”
“And you?”
“Accounting.” He flashed his grin again. “Pretty dry stuff. That’s why I always take a long breather after tax time.”
“Well, you chose a great place to take it. Ready to go down again?”
He took a long breath as if to steady himself. “Yeah. Hey, listen, how about a drink after we get back in?”
He was attractive in a mild sort of way, pleasant enough. She gave him an apologetic smile as she rose. “It sounds nice, but I’m tied up.”
“I’ll be around for a couple of weeks. Some other time?”
“Maybe. Let’s check your gear.”
By the time the dive boat chugged into shore, the afternoon was waning. Her customers, most of them pleased with themselves, wandered off to change for dinner or spread out on the beach. Only a few loitered near the boat, including her bodyguard and the accountant from America. It occurred to Liz that she might have been a bit brisk with him.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Mr….”
“Trydent. But it’s Scott, and I did. I might just try it again.”
Liz smiled at him as she helped Luis and another of her employees unload the boat. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“You, ah, ever give private lessons?”
Liz caught the look. Perhaps she hadn’t been brisk enough. “On occasion.”
“Then maybe we could—”
“Hey, there, missy.”
Liz shaded her eyes. “Mr. Ambuckle.”
He stood on the little walkway, his legs bulging out of the short wet suit. What hair he had was sleeked wetly back. Beside him, his wife stood wearily in a bathing suit designed to slim down wide hips. “Just got back in!” he shouted. “Had a full day of it.”
He seemed enormously pleased with himself. His wife looked at Liz and rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should take you out as crew, Mr. Ambuckle.”
He laughed, slapping his side. “Guess I’d rather dive than anything.” He glanced at his wife and patted her shoulder. “Almost anything. Gotta trade in these tanks, honey, and get me some fresh ones.”
“Going out again?”
“Tonight. Can’t talk the missus into it.”
“I’m crawling into bed with a good book,” she told Liz. “The only water I want to see is in the tub.”
With a laugh, Liz jumped down to the walkway. “At the moment, I feel the same way. Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Ambuckle, this is Scott Trydent. He just took his first dive.”
“Well now.” Expansive, Ambuckle slapped him on the back. “How’d you like it?”
“Well, I—”
“Nothing like it, is there? You want try it at night, boy. Whole different ball game at night.”
“I’m sure, but—”
“Gotta trade in these tanks.” After slapping Scott’s back again, Ambuckle hefted his tanks and waddled off toward the shop.
“Obsessed,” Mrs. Ambuckle said, casting her eyes to the sky. “Don’t let him get started on you, Mr. Trydent. You’ll never get any peace.”
“No, I won’t. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Ambuckle.” Obviously bemused, Scott watched her wander back toward the hotel. “Quite a pair.”
“That they are.” Liz lifted her own tanks. She stored them separately from her rental equipment. “Goodbye, Mr. Trydent.”
“Scott,” he said again. “About that drink—”
“Thanks anyway,” Liz said pleasantly and left him standing on the walkway. “Everything in?” she asked Luis as she stepped into the shop.
“Checking it off now. One of the regulators is acting up.”
“Set it aside for Jose to look at.” As a matter of habit, she moved into the back to fill her tanks before storage. “All the boats are in, Luis. We shouldn’t have too much more business now. You and the rest can go on as soon as everything’s checked in. I’ll close up.”
“I don’t mind staying.”
“You closed up last night,” she reminded him. “What do you want?” She tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Overtime? Go on home, Luis. You can’t tell me you don’t have a date.”
He ran a fingertip over his mustache. “As a matter of fact…”
“A hot date?” Liz lifted a brow as air hissed into her tank.
“Is there any other kind?”
Chuckling, Liz straightened. She noticed Ambuckle trudging across the sand with his fresh tanks. Her other employees talked among themselves as the last of the gear was stored. “Well, go make yourself beautiful then. The only thing I have a date with is the account books.”
“You work too much,” Luis mumbled.
Surprised, Liz turned back to him. “Since when?”
“Since always. It gets worse every time you send Faith back to school. Better off if she was here.”
That her voice cooled only slightly was a mark of her affection for Luis. “No, she’s happy in Houston with my parents. If I thought she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be there.”
“She’s happy, sure. What about you?”
Her brows drew together as she picked her keys from a drawer. “Do I look unhappy?”
“No.” Tentatively, he touched her shoulder. He’d known Liz for years, and understood there were boundaries she wouldn’t let anyone cross. “But you don’t look happy either. How come you don’t give one of these rich American tourists a spin? That one on the boat—his eyes popped out every time he looked at you.”
The exaggeration made her laugh, so she patted his cheek. “So you think a rich American tourist is the road to happiness?”
“Maybe a handsome Mexican.”
“I’ll think about it—after the summer season. Go home,” she ordered.
“I’m going.” Luis pulled a T-shirt over his chest. “You look out for that Jonas Sharpe,” he added. “He’s got a different kind of look in his eyes.”
Liz waved him off. “Hasta luego.”
When the shop was empty, Liz stood, jingling her keys and looking out onto the beach. People traveled in couples, she noted, from the comfortably married duo stretched out on lounge chairs, to the young man and woman curled together on a beach towel. Was it an easy feeling, she wondered, to be half of a set? Or did you automatically lose part of yourself when you joined with another?
She’d always thought of her parents as separate people, yet when she thought of one, the other came quickly to mind. Would it be a comfort to know you could reach out your hand and someone else’s would curl around it?
She held out her own and remembered how hard, how strong, Jonas’s had been. No, he wouldn’t make a relationship a comfortable affair. Being joined with him would be demanding, even frightening. A woman would have to be strong enough to keep herself intact, and soft enough to allow herself to merge. A relationship with a man like Jonas would be a risk that would never ease.
For a moment, she found herself dreaming of it, dreaming of what it had been like to be held close and kissed as though nothing and no one else existed. To be kissed like that always, to be held like that whenever the need moved you—it might be worth taking chances for.
Stupid, she thought quickly, shaking herself out of it. Jonas wasn’t looking for a partner, and she wasn’t looking for a dream. Circumstances had tossed them together temporarily. Both of them had to deal with their own realities. But she felt a sense of regret and a stirring of wishes.
Because the feeling remained, just beyond her grasp, Liz concentrated hard on the little details that needed attending to before she could close up. The paperwork and the contents of the cash box were transferred to a canvas portfolio. She’d have to swing out of her way to make a night deposit, but she no longer felt safe taking the cash or the checks home. She spent an extra few minutes meticulously filling out a deposit slip.
It wasn’t until she’d picked up her keys again that she remembered her tanks. Tucking the portfolio under the counter, she turned to deal with her own gear.
It was perhaps her only luxury. She’d spent more on her personal equipment than she had on all the contents of her closet and dresser. To Liz, the wet suit was more exciting than any French silks. All her gear was kept separate from the shop’s inventory. Unlocking the door to the closet, Liz hung up her wet suit, stored her mask, weight belt, regulator. Her knife was sheathed and set on a shelf. After setting her tanks side by side, she shut the door and prepared to lock it again. After she’d taken two steps away she looked down at the keys again. Without knowing precisely why, she moved each one over the ring and identified it.
The shop door, the shop window, her bike, the lock for the chain, the cash box, the front and back doors of her house, her storage room. Eight keys for eight locks. But there was one more on her ring, a small silver key that meant nothing to her at all.
Puzzled, she counted off the keys again, and again found one extra. Why should there be a key on her ring that didn’t belong to her? Closing her fingers over it, she tried to think if anyone had given her the key to hold. No, it didn’t make sense. Brows drawn together, she studied the key again. Too small for a car or door key, she decided. It looked like the key to a locker, or a box or… Ridiculous, she decided on a long breath. It wasn’t her key but it was on her ring. Why?
Because someone put it there, she realized, and opened her hand again. Her keys were often tossed in the drawer at the shop for easy access for Luis or one of the other men. They needed to open the cash box. And Jerry had often worked in the shop alone.
With a feeling of dread, Liz slipped the keys into her pocket. Jonas’s words echoed in her head. “You’re involved, whether you want to be or not.”
Liz closed the shop early.
Jonas stepped into the dim bar to the scent of garlic and the wail of a squeaky jukebox. In Spanish, someone sang of endless love. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust, then skimmed his gaze over the narrow booths. As agreed, Erika sat all the way in the back, in the corner.
“You’re late.” She waved an unlit cigarette idly as he joined her.
“I passed it the first time. This place isn’t exactly on the tourist route.”
She closed her lips over the filter as Jonas lit her cigarette. “I wanted privacy.”
Jonas glanced around. There were two men at the bar, each deep in separate bottles. Another couple squeezed themselves together on one side of a booth. The rest of the bar was deserted. “You’ve got it.”
“But I don’t have a drink.”
Jonas slid out from the booth and bought two drinks at the bar. He set tequila and lime in front of Erika and settled for club soda. “You said you had something for me.”
Erica twined a string of colored beads around her finger. “You said you would pay fifty for a name.”
In silence, Jonas took out his wallet. He set fifty on the table, but laid his hand over it. “You have the name.”
Erika smiled and sipped at her drink. “Maybe. Maybe you want it bad enough to pay another fifty.”
Jonas studied her coolly. This was the type his brother had always been attracted to. The kind of woman whose hard edge was just a bit obvious. He could give her another fifty, Jonas mused, but he didn’t care to be taken for a sucker. Without a word, he picked up the bill and tucked it into his pocket. He was halfway out of the booth when Erika grabbed his arm.
“Okay, don’t get mad. Fifty.” She sent him an easy smile as he settled back again. Erika had been around too long to let an opportunity slip away. “A girl has to make a living, sí? The name is Pablo Manchez—he’s the one with the face.”
“Where can I find him?”
“I don’t know. You got the name.”
With a nod, Jonas took the bill out and passed it to her. Erika folded it neatly into her purse. “I’ll tell you something else, because Jerry was a sweet guy.” Her gaze skimmed the bar again as she leaned closer to Jonas. “This Manchez, he’s bad. People got nervous when I asked about him. I heard he was mixed up in a couple of murders in Acapulco last year. He’s paid, you know, to…” She made a gun out of her hand and pushed down her thumb. “When I hear that, I stop asking questions.”
“What about the other one, the American?”
“Nothing. Nobody knows him. But if he hangs out with Manchez, he’s not a Boy Scout.” Erika tipped back her drink. “Jerry got himself in some bad business.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist. “He gave me this. We had some good times.”
The air in the bar was stifling him. Jonas rose and hesitated only a moment before he took out another bill and set it next to her drink. “Thanks.”
Erika folded the bill as carefully as the first. “De nada.”
She’d wanted him to be home. When Liz found the house empty, she made a fist over the keys in her hand and swore in frustration. She couldn’t sit still; her nerves had been building all during the drive home. Outside, Moralas’s evening shift was taking over.
For how long? she wondered. How long would the police sit patiently outside her house and follow her through her daily routine? In her bedroom, Liz closed the canvas bag of papers and cash in her desk. She regretted not having a lock for it, as well. Sooner or later, she thought, Moralas would back off on the protection. Then where would she be? Liz looked down at the key again. She’d be alone, she told herself bluntly. She had to do something.
On impulse, she started into her daughter’s room. Perhaps Jerry had left a case, a box of some kind that the police had overlooked. Systematically she searched Faith’s closet. When she found the little teddy bear with the worn ear, she brought it down from the shelf. She’d bought it for Faith before she’d been born. It was a vivid shade of purple, or had been so many years before. Now it was faded a bit, a little loose at the seams. The ear had been worn down to a nub because Faith had always carried him by it. They’d never named it, Liz recalled. Faith had merely called it mine and been satisfied.
On a wave of loneliness that rocked her, Liz buried her face against the faded purple pile. “Oh, I miss you, baby,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I can stand it.”
“Liz?”
On a gasp of surprise, Liz stumbled back against the closet door. When she saw Jonas, she put the bear behind her back. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, feeling foolish.
“You were busy.” He came toward her to gently pry the bear from her fingers. “He looks well loved.”
“He’s old.” She cleared her throat and took the toy back again. But she found it impossible to stick it back on the top shelf. “I keep meaning to sew up the seams before the stuffing falls out.” She set the bear down on Faith’s dresser. “You’ve been out.”
“Yes.” He’d debated telling her of his meeting with Erika, and had decided to keep what he’d learned to himself, at least for now. “You’re home early.”
“I found something.” Liz reached in her pocket and drew out her keys. “This isn’t mine.”
Jonas frowned at the key she indicated. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean this isn’t my key, and I don’t know how it got on my ring.”
“You just found it today?”
“I found it today, but it could have been put on anytime. I don’t think I would’ve noticed.” With the vain hope of distancing herself, Liz unhooked it from the others and handed it to Jonas. “I keep these in a drawer at the shop when I’m there. At home, I usually toss them on the kitchen counter. I can’t think of any reason for someone to put it with mine unless they wanted to hide it.”
Jonas examined the key. “‘The Purloined Letter,’” he murmured.
“What?”
“It was one of Jerry’s favorite stories when we were kids. I remember when he tested out the theory by putting a book he’d bought for my father for Christmas on the shelf in the library.”
“So do you think it was his?”
“I think it would be just his style.”
Liz picked up the bear again, finding it comforted her. “It doesn’t do much good to have a key when you don’t have the lock.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to find it.” He held the key up by the stem. “Do you know what it is?”
“A key.” Liz sat on Faith’s bed. No, she hadn’t distanced herself. The quicksand was bubbling again.
“To a safe-deposit box.” Jonas turned it over to read the numbers etched into the metal.
“Do you think Captain Moralas can trace it?”
“Eventually,” Jonas murmured. The key was warm in his hand. It was the next step, he thought. It had to be. “But I’m not telling him about it.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d want it, and I don’t intend to give it to him until I open the lock myself.”
She recognized the look easily enough now. It was still revenge. Leaving the bear on her daughter’s bed, Liz rose. “What are you going to do, go from bank to bank and ask if you can try the key out? You won’t have to call the police, they will.”
“I’ve got some connections—and I’ve got the serial number.” Jonas pocketed the key. “With luck, I’ll have the name of the bank by tomorrow afternoon. You may have to take a couple of days off.”
“I can’t take a couple of days off, and if I could, why should I need to?”
“We’re going to Acapulco.”
She started to make some caustic comment, then stopped. “Because Jerry told Erika he’d had business there?”
“If Jerry was mixed up in something, and he had something important or valuable, he’d tuck it away. A safe-deposit box in Acapulco makes sense.”
“Fine. If that’s what you believe, have a nice trip.” She started to brush past him. Jonas only had to shift his body to bar the door.
“We go together.”
The word “together” brought back her thoughts on couples and comfort. And it made her remember her conclusion about Jonas. “Look, Jonas, I can’t drop everything and follow you on some wild-goose chase. Acapulco is very cosmopolitan. You won’t need an interpreter.”
“The key was on your ring. The knife was at your throat. I want you where I can see you.”
“Concerned?” Her face hardened, muscle by muscle. “You’re not concerned with me, Jonas. And you’re certainly not concerned about me. The only thing you care about is your revenge. I don’t want any part of it, or you.”
He took her by the shoulders until she was backed against the door. “We both know that’s not true. We’ve started something.” His gaze skimmed down, lingered on her lips. “And it’s not going to stop until we’re both finished with it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He pressed closer so that their bodies met and strained, one against the other. He pressed closer to prove something, perhaps only to himself. “Yes, you do,” he repeated. “I came here to do something, and I intend to do it. I don’t give a damn if you call it revenge.”
Her heart was beating lightly at her throat. She wouldn’t call it fear. But his eyes were cold and close. “What else?”
“Justice.”
She felt an uncomfortable twinge, remembering her own feelings on justice. “You’re not using your law books, Jonas.”
“Law doesn’t always equal justice. I’m going to find out what happened to my brother and why.” He skimmed his hand over her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. He didn’t find silk and satin, but a woman of strength. “But there’s more now. I look at you and I want you.” He reached out, taking her face in his hand so that she had no choice but to look directly at him. “I hold you and I forget what I have to do. Damn it, you’re in my way.”
At the end of the words, his mouth was crushed hard on hers. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t had a choice. Before he’d been gentle with her because the look in her eyes requested it. Now he was rough, desperate, because the power of his own needs demanded it.
He frightened her. She’d never known fear could be a source of exhilaration. As her heart pounded in her throat, she let him pull her closer, still closer to the edge. He dared her to jump off, to let herself tumble down into the unknown. To risk.
His mouth drew desperately from hers, seeking passion, seeking submission, seeking strength. He wanted it all. He wanted it mindlessly from her. His hands were reaching for her as if they’d always done so. When he found her, she stiffened, resisted, then melted so quickly that it was nearly impossible to tell one mood from the next. She smelled of the sea and tasted of innocence, a combination of mystery and sweetness that drove him mad.
Forgetting everything but her, he drew her toward the bed and fulfillment.
“No.” Liz pushed against him, fighting to bring herself back. They were in her daughter’s room. “Jonas, this is wrong.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Damn it, it may be the only thing that’s right.”
She shook her head, and though unsteady, backed away. His eyes weren’t cold now. A woman might dream of having a man look at her with such fire and need. A woman might toss all caution aside if only to have a man want her with such turbulent desire. She couldn’t.
“Not for me. I don’t want this, Jonas.” She reached up to push back her hair. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
He took her hand before she could back away. His head was swimming. There had been no other time, no other place, no other woman that had come together to make him ache. “Why?”
“I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“This is now, Liz.”
“And it’s my life.” She took a long, cleansing breath and found she could face him squarely. “I’ll go with you to Acapulco because the sooner you have what you want, the sooner you’ll go.” She gripped her hands together tightly, the only outward sign that she was fighting herself. “You know Moralas will have us followed.”
He had his own battles to fight. “I’ll deal with that.”
Liz nodded because she was sure he would. “Do what you have to do. I’ll make arrangements for Luis to take over the shop for a day or two.”
When she left him alone, Jonas closed his hands over the key again. It would open a lock, he thought. But there was another lock that mystified and frustrated him. Idly, he picked up the bear Liz had left on the bed. He looked from it to the key in his hand. Somehow he’d have to find a way to bring them together.