Page 56 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“Friendship is a combination of art and craft. The craft part is in knowing how to give and how to take. The art part is in

knowing when, and the whole process only works when no one is keeping track.”

—E. L. Konigsburg, The Mysterious Edge of the Heroic World

My alarm went off at six. I groaned, then quickly shut it off for fear of waking Jason.

I rolled over, but my hand hit warm, damp sheets.

I turned on the light, and Jason wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note on the nightstand.

Far from worrying it was a Dear Jane letter, I smiled. After last night, there was no doubt something special was brewing

between us.

I opened the paper.

Darling Mia ~

There is nothing I want to do today except stay in bed with you. Or the shower. Or take a walk to our lagoon and make love

to you under the moon tonight.

But duty calls, and it’s all hands to clean up after the storm.

Please stay the extra three days. I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure you have a place to work if you need it, but I don’t want to give you up at night. There’s a lot I want to tell you, things I want to share with you that I’ve never wanted to share with anyone else. Stay.

Love, Jason

I ran my finger over Love, Jason and smiled. Was I falling in love? Or was this just residual joy from a night of wild sex? Isn’t that what my goal was, to

have mindless sex with a hot guy, then go back home, accept the promotion, and continue a normal, steady life?

Except... sex with Jason wasn’t mindless. It was mind-blowing. I didn’t have one-night stands. I always went into relationships

with the idea that the guy was the one , that the good outweighed the bad. And always, I was disappointed—especially in bed.

I’d had more orgasms with Jason in two days than I’d had in the last two years. I didn’t know if that was a testament to my

own lack of sexual prowess or to the lack of skill of those I’d dated.

Maybe there was more to sex than inserting A into B. I was attracted to Jason, physically and intellectually. I don’t know

why that surprised me—just because he was a bartender didn’t mean he couldn’t be smart. Jason was not only intelligent, he

was also thoughtful, contemplative, philosophical. I wanted to listen to him, talk to him, have meaningful conversations about

life.

And yes, have sex with him as often as physically possible.

Maybe this was love, because I had never felt this strongly for any of the men I’d been involved with—after five days or five

months.

I wandered into the bathroom, startled at what a mess I was.

My hair, which I hadn’t dried last night, was tangled and flat on one side.

I had a faint red mark on my breast from when Jason had nipped me, and a bruise on my arm where I’d accidentally banged it on the nightstand when I reached for my phone to look up what a reverse cowgirl was—I’d read about it in several books and decided we should try it, but I wanted to do it right.

I didn’t realize there were a lot of right—and wrong—ways to do it.

But I think we had our most powerful joint orgasm when we got it absolutely right.

After, we slept spooned together for an hour before I woke to Jason hard against me.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he had said, and kissed me. “I have one condom left.”

He rolled on top of me, and we made love slowly, gently, because all our fun and games had left me sore. He knew how to be

tender, and somehow, those touches, those kisses, light and urgent at the same time, told me everything I needed to know about

Jason—and me—and what we might have together.

I took a quick shower mostly so I could do something with my hair. I didn’t think I would be able to shower again in this

room without thinking about Jason and me against the wall.

I was drying my hair in a blissfully hazy state when there was pounding on my door.

I opened it to Brie. “You said six thirty!” She walked in. One look at the bed and she said, “Ohmigod, he’s not still here,

is he?”

I blushed, then bit my lip to keep from laughing. “No. He had to work. I need five minutes.”

Brie made coffee for us. I finished drying my hair, then put it up in a stubby ponytail and dressed in walking shorts and

a tank top.

“How’s the weather?” I asked with a glance outside my glass doors.

“A little cool, but clear. It’s supposed to warm up later. It’s kind of a mess, though—lots of branches and leaves everywhere.

They have six people working on cleaning the pool right now, said it’d be open by eight. No serious damage.”

I grabbed a lightweight sweatshirt and pulled it on. “Okay, first we check the lockboxes on the ferry.”

I took the to-go coffee cup Brie handed me. We left via the beach to avoid people. The last thing I wanted was for Amber to see us walking down to the dock right now. Hopefully, she was so hungover that she was still sleeping.

The morning was beautiful, the air fresh and invigorating, much needed after limited sleep last night. Not that I was complaining

about it, considering how I’d spent the hours.

An unusual amount of kelp had been washed up on the beach by the storm, and staff was cleaning it up.

“I didn’t realize how many people worked here,” I said.

Brie shrugged. “I heard Kalise say they called in everyone today, and right before I went to your room, I saw the ferry come

in from St. John and dozens of people get off, all employees.”

It took us fifteen minutes to reach the dock. Fortunately, it was empty—the ferry was docked, but no one was on board. Still,

we quickly jumped on board and went inside the cabin.

“Where do we start?” Brie asked as we looked around.

“Anyplace that can hold a file, I guess. Boxes, drawers, the kitchen, under seats—places that wouldn’t be regularly accessed.

You take the cabin. I’ll take the helm and kitchen.”

“It’s called a galley,” Brie said.

“Galley,” I repeated, and went up to the helm.

There were many cabinets, and some of them were locked. I didn’t see how Diana would get into a locked cabinet, but when I

couldn’t find the documents, I thought maybe she’d somehow gotten hold of a key.

“Brie?” I called.

She walked to the stairs and looked up at the helm. “Nothing?” she said.

I shook my head. “Some of the cabinets are locked.”

Brie smiled and pulled a set of keys out of her pocket.

“You took someone’s keys?”

“Maybe. When Eli was having coffee in the restaurant, I distracted him, then took his keys. We’ll return them to security

on our way back, say that we found them on our walk or something.”

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” I said, but took the offered keys.

We opened every locked cabinet. Tools, maps, equipment, and in the galley, food, champagne, glassware.

No documents.

“Plan B,” Brie said.

“Which is?”

“We find Diana’s phone, or steal Amber’s.”

It was almost nine. We didn’t really have a choice.

This time, I had the plan. I had said no more breaking and entering... but plans change.

Brie went into the security office. The young guy who had flirted with her the other day was there at the desk. As we suspected,

everyone else was out working on cleanup.

As soon as Brie gave me the signal, I went into the security office through the back. The door was unlocked. Otherwise this

would have been a very short excursion.

I snuck into the security building and went straight to Gino’s office.

I closed the door but didn’t turn on any lights. The morning daylight from the window—which faced a thick garden—was enough

to see.

I was uncomfortable being in the dead guy’s office, so I planned to be quick. The phone wasn’t in any obvious place, but his

bottom desk drawer was locked. The common metal desk was similar to my first desk when I interned at a CPA office. They were

the easiest locks to crack. I lay down on the floor, shimmied under the desk, and used a letter opener to jimmy the lock mechanism

under the drawer. It popped open.

Inside was exactly what I was looking for: a smartphone in a sealed plastic bag. Now I really was committing a crime—it was

evidence in a homicide investigation.

Well... not technically. There was no label on the bag stating that it was evidence. I couldn’t know for sure it was Diana’s.

The phone was dead, and I didn’t have the passcode, but I had a plan for that.

Get Amber to unlock it for me. But first, we needed to charge it.

I pocketed the phone and was about to leave when I heard voices.

Brie was talking loudly, though I couldn’t hear exactly what she said.

Dammit, someone was coming.

I was about to get up, but the voices were right outside Gino’s door. Brie and Tristan.

I crawled back under Gino’s desk and made myself as small as possible. If he walked around the desk, he would see me.

Please don’t come in. Please don’t come in.

The door opened. Tristan said, “Yes, of course, Ms. Locke. Two minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll wait.”

“Talk to Benji. I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door.

“Gino, you really screwed this up,” Tristan muttered.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to just disappear. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. What had I been thinking? Committing

a crime, all to help Brie break up Sherry and her dad?

There was rummaging in the file cabinet. “Damn you, Gino... There it is.”

The file drawer slid closed, and then a shredder engaged. One. Two. Three sheets. The door opened, closed.

I didn’t breathe until I couldn’t hear him anymore.

I waited until Brie sent me a thumbs-up emoji signaling the coast was clear, and then I left.

We charged Diana’s phone to twenty percent in my room, then went to meet Amber. We were late, but Amber wasn’t there. We headed

up to her room and knocked. She was just getting dressed, and I said, “Ready?”

“God, I feel like shit.”

I saw two empty wine bottles, and a third that was partly empty. I’d feel like shit too.

I glanced at Brie, and she nodded. I led Amber down the hall. Brie stayed at the door, her foot preventing it from closing,

and as soon as Amber wasn’t looking, she slipped inside.