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“I don’t know,” he said. “She could have had an accident. Maybe a boating accident. She didn’t return from St. John on Sunday.”
She must have returned because I don’t think a body could have floated nearly from St. John to St. Claire in two days. I didn’t know exactly how tides worked, but it didn’t seem realistic—especially since she didn’t appear, at first glance, to have been nibbled on by fish.
Mr. Kent put his arm around his wife’s waist as the four of us walked along the beach until we reached the lodge. It was after midnight and the Blue Dahlia was closed, but the bar in the main lodge was still open. The music was low, and several guests talked and laughed.
“I’m taking my wife to our room,” Mr. Kent said, breaking the awkward silence.
Jason said, “The police will want to talk to you.”
“Tonight?” Mrs. Kent asked, her voice high and whiny.
“Maybe,” Jason said. “I don’t know. I’ll tell them you went to your suite.”
I asked, “How did you find her?”
The couple glanced at each other. “We, uh, were having a moment on the beach. And, um, something rolled up next to me,” Mrs. Kent said.
Amomenton the beach. Just like themomentin the ocean this afternoon that I’d interrupted. They must have been rabbits in a previous life.
“I thought it was a giant clump of seaweed, but then I saw her eyes.” She shivered. That’s when I noticed that they weren’t wearing shoes and, in the lodge lighting, I could see Mrs. Kent had no clothes on under her filmy cover-up. Mr. Kent’s shorts were on inside out.
Maybe a dead woman interrupting their sex on the beach rendezvous would turn them off of excessive PDA. Yet my “rescue” this afternoon hadn’t stopped them from sex in public, so I don’t know what would.
Then I looked down at my bare legs. I wanted to disappear.
“Don’t think about it.” Mr. Kent steered his wife through the lodge toward their cabin.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked me.
“I should be asking you the same thing. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Cliché, I know, but truth.”
“I didn’t—I mean, I knew who she was. I didn’t think she was dead. I thought she went to St. John to wait for her girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“She complained Saturday that her girlfriend was late and ruining their first vacation in a year. She was irritated and—I shouldn’t be telling you this. We have a strict policy not to talk about other guests. I’m sorry. I need to talk to my manager. I’ll walk you back to your cabin.”
“I’m fine,” I said. He didn’t look like he believed me. “Really, I promise I’m okay.”
“I’m still escorting you back to your room,” he said and took my hand. We walked down the path that led to the private cottages.
It seemed I was less disturbed by the events than Jason was. I thought there must be more to this than he was saying—things he must know about Diana and her disappearance. But like he’d said, staff wasn’t supposed to talk about guests. But theywouldtalk to the police.
Maybe, deep down, I’d been thinking all day that Diana Harden was dead. People didn’t just go missing and leave all their stuff behind on a Caribbean island unless something bad happened.
We didn’t speak on the short walk to my cottage. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though. I’m sure Jason was thinking about all the things he needed to do, and I was wondering how Diana Harden had ended up dead on the beach.
I stopped outside my door. “If the police want to talk to me, I’ll—” My voice faltered as he gave me a half smile, and it was so sexy that all thoughts of the body on the beach disappeared. I blinked as he stared, a jolt of lust hitting me. Jason stood so close, too close, and then he brought our joined hands to his lips. The feathery kiss on my palm left me speechless.
He said, “I’d like a do-over.”
“What?” I knew what he meant, but now I was stalling, trying to regain my balance and composure.
“At the lagoon. Tomorrow? Same time?” He leaned in, almost kissed me. “Please?”
“Okay.” I couldn’t believe I’d agreed. A thrill ran up and down my spine in anticipation. And nerves. And lust. And a hint of fear. These feelings, this attraction, wasn’t just in my imagination. It was real. For both of us.
“Great.” He casually ran his fingers through my damp hair, then stepped back. I breathed easier... yet I had hoped he would kiss me.