by Talia Hunter
She showered and dressed quickly, stopped at the staff kitchen long enough to grab a basket, then walked into the interior of the island, collecting flowers as she went. It was cool in the trees, and quiet. Though the resort was soon out of sight, there was little chance of getting lost; after all, she could just follow the rising sun to get home. The early dawn light shone through the trees, lighting her path. Was there any part of Lantana Island that wasn’t beautiful? If so, she hadn’t seen it yet —
She made a noise of surprise. As though in answer to her thought, in front of her was a dead bird. It was torn to pieces, its feathers scattered.
Giving the carcass a wide berth, she wrinkled her nose. What could have killed it? As far as she knew, there were no predators on the island.
“We should stop meeting like this.” Dalton’s voice came from behind her, making her jump.
Heart thudding, she spun to face him. “Dalton.” She took a breath, calming herself. “You scared me.”
He was wearing jeans and yet another worn, well-washed T-shirt, as though he had an endless supply, with each one fitting more mouth-wateringly well than the last. His T-shirts should be printed with labels reading Warning: contents are hot.
In the soft dawn light, he’d pushed his sunglasses into his hair so she could see the way he was looking at her. His eyes held the hunger she’d felt in him last night, and she felt her face heating. She couldn’t look at him without remembering the feel of his lips and the roughness of his chin.
He nodded at her cane basket, half filled with flowers. “All you need is a red cape and you’d be Little Red Riding Hood, on her way through the forest to visit Grandma.”
“And you look like you’re going to meet a lover,” she retorted, looking at the blanket he was carrying. Remembering last night’s kiss, her face went warm. Why had she said that? Stupid, when the sexual tension between them was already thicker than soup.
Stepping closer, he shifted the blanket from one hand to the other. “I’m out to catch the cat.”
“There’s really a cat?” She’d written last night’s cryptic cat remarks off to a little too much kava. “How could a cat get on the island?”
“Either someone with a boat let it go by mistake, or deliberately dumped it.” He nodded at the dead bird. “Either way, it can’t stay.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I set a trap yesterday.” He brushed past her, the casual contact making her heart beat faster. “It’s not far. You coming?”
Coming was what she should have made time for this morning. Maybe then she’d keep picking flowers instead of trailing along behind him like he was the Pied Piper of pheromones and she was a horny rat.
If she’d relieved the pressure, maybe she wouldn’t keep noticing how gorgeous he was. And maybe her heart wouldn’t speed up when he pulled aside a branch that was hanging over the path so she wouldn’t have to duck under it. It was common courtesy, nothing more. But after last night’s kiss, every gesture took on new significance.
Up ahead was a small clearing, and when they got close, she saw a wooden and wire-mesh cage sitting under a tree. The door had obviously been held open by some sort of complicated spring mechanism that had pulled it shut when the food inside was nudged. Inside the trap was a skinny, mangy-looking cat with ripped ears. It crouched in the far corner, as far away from them as it could get, looking utterly miserable.
“Oh no. The poor thing,” breathed Rosa.
Dalton stepped over to the cage, murmuring to the animal, his tone gentle. “It’s all right, kitty. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.” He draped the blanket over the cage, then picked the whole bulky thing up, blanket and all. “Better if you can’t see us, right boy?”
“Are you taking him to the mainland today?” asked Rosa.
“Tomorrow. If Tiny wants to go to the wedding today, she’ll need my help.”
When he started carrying the cage back toward the resort, she went with him. Taking the cat to an animal shelter was probably for the best, but she couldn’t bear to see an animal suffer, and the poor, wretched cat had tugged at her heart. She needed to make sure he was okay. Besides, she had enough flowers for the wedding arch.
“He looks like he could use a good meal,” she said. “I could ask Celina for some meat to feed him.”
“I have cat food.” Dalton’s stride was longer now, so she had to walk faster to keep up. From back here, she had a totally absorbing view of the way his butt cheeks moved. They were a masterpiece clad in tight denim.
“Where are you going to put him?” she asked, mainly to take her mind off Dalton’s butt.
“In my office.” He glanced back at her. “Last night you mentioned your sister was in danger. You want to tell me about that?”
“It’s to do with that guy I mentioned a few days ago. The one I didn’t want to talk about, because he doesn’t deserve even a second of my time.”
“He’s bothering your sister?” When she hesitated, he added, “Talking about it might make you feel better.”
It wasn’t like she could force Otto out of her head, so she may as well tell him. Besides, Dalton’s words from last night had been weighing on her. Had she done everything she could to keep Carin safe? If she were honest, it wasn’t even close.
“His name is Otto Bergmann,” she said. “A couple of years ago, he started bothering a friend of mine. He was fixated on her at first, deluding himself they were meant to be together. But things turned nasty. He started doing awful things, like leaving dead animals on her doorstep and pouring acid over her car. She reported it all to the police, but the guy was smart and careful. He never got caught in the act, and the police couldn’t get the proof they needed to charge him. Until I managed to snap a photo of him on her front lawn, carrying the can of spray paint he’d just used to spray the word ‘slut’ on the side of her house.”
“You lay in wait for him?”
“A few of us took turns keeping watch. I got lucky.” She grimaced at her bad choice of words. “Only it turned out to be the opposite of lucky. He pleaded Not Guilty saying it wasn’t clear where or when the photo was taken, so it didn’t prove anything. But I was a witness at his trial and the jury believed me.”
“Did he go to jail?”
They reached the edge of the resort. The path from the forest joined up with the shell path that led to the reception block and their offices. It narrowed a little here, so they had to walk single file. He motioned her to go in front, so she led the way.
“He got seven months,” she said. “He was out in three. And then he switched his focus to me. Probably because my friend had moved to Europe, out of his reach.”
“What do you mean he switched to you? What did he do to you?” Dalton’s voice was sharp. He was walking behind her now so she couldn’t see him, but she could tell by his voice he was frowning.
“Not the same awful things he did to my friend, thank goodness. Good thing I lived in a third-floor apartment and didn’t own a car. Instead he sent me photographs of myself. Maybe he thought it was poetic or something, seeing as I’d taken a photo of him.”
“What kind of photographs did he send you?”
“Mostly of me on my way to work or going home. Or if I went out anywhere, I’d get a photo to mark the occasion. Didn’t matter what time of the day or night, he wanted me to know he was watching. And for that extra, thoughtful touch, he wrote nasty messages on the pictures.”
He made an angry sound. “The police…?”
“They dusted everything he sent me for prints and never found any. They never caught him red-handed or got any evidence to prove it was him. The photos were all posted to me from different mailboxes, and he used a telephoto lens to take shots from a distance. Sometimes I glimpsed him taking the photos, but the police weren’t going to follow me around to catch someone who hadn’t actually hurt me.”
She felt Dalton’s hand on her arm, pulling her to a stop, and turned to face him. His eyeb
rows had dived together and his eyes were creased in the corners. He held the cat cage under one arm and his other hand stayed on her. His touch was hot enough to sizzle her skin, and the nearness of his body drove the air out of her lungs.
“He didn’t go back to jail?” Dalton asked.
Her palms were suddenly sweaty. Dalton was so close, and she couldn’t help focusing on his lips. They looked good and last night, they’d felt incredible. Her dream replayed through her mind in all its x-rated technicolor glory.
“Um. No.” Her throat had gone so dry the words were raspy. All the moisture that should have been in her mouth seemed to have decided to exit her body through her palms. And… well… other places. “He’s free as a bird. And the other day, my sister caught him looking in her window.”
Dalton let out a long breath through his nose. His expression was dark and a little murderous. “How could the police have let him keep doing that?”
“They didn’t let him.”
“They didn’t stop him, or protect you. Which means they didn’t do their job.” He shook his head, but let go of her arm.
As she turned to continue down the path, her lungs inflated for the first time since he’d touched her. Then again, as an activity, breathing seemed entirely overrated.
“He’s clever,” she said, glad her voice came out sounding normal. “Crazy like a fox.”
“That’s no excuse.”
They reached the reception building and went in. Dalton held the door open for her, though he was the one with the cat cage.
She put her basket of flowers on the reception desk, and stood back to let Dalton go into his office first. There were piles of paper on his desk and a fresh scattering of wood chips on the floor. Against one wall was a comfortable-looking couch. At least Crusoe would have something nice to sleep on.
“What would you have done?” she asked, half joking. “Beaten him up?”
“If I had to.” There wasn’t a trace of bravado in his voice. It was a fact, nothing more. “Is that why you’re learning to fight?”
She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I know if it ever actually came to a fight, he’d beat me in no time. I’m five foot five and some rude person once told me I don’t weigh as much as a wet cat. But it makes me feel better to learn. I didn’t like feeling powerless.”
He put the cage down on the floor in the far corner. “You’re stronger than you realize.”
“One thing for sure, I never want to be a victim again.” She felt the truth of the words as they left her mouth. Though she’d been reluctant to talk about Otto, it had been a relief to say it all aloud. Worrying about Carin had turned her head into an echo-chamber with her fears and worries bouncing around, magnifying themselves.
“You came to Lantana to get away from him?” He straightened, leaving the blanket over the cage, and faced her.
“I’m not afraid of him.” As many times as she’d said the words in her head, out loud they still sounded like a lie. “I came to help Tiny, because she’s always been there for me.” And because he was still looking at her, and she didn’t want to feel like she was telling a half truth, she added, “I was relieved to get away from Otto. But it wasn’t like I was running away.”
“That’s important to you? Not running away?”
“I don’t run from things.” It was an automatic response, one she didn’t need to think about.
“Not even for your own safety?”
“Why should I let him push me around?”
Dalton shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re brave or crazy. Actually, you’re both. But I think the crazy side might be winning.”
She screwed her nose up. “Are you going to let the poor cat out, or do you want to insult me some more first?”
“It wasn’t an insult. More of an observation that you’re missing the ‘flight’ part of a normal ‘fight or flight’ response to danger.” He sat beside the cat cage and peeked under the blanket. “Did you close the door behind you?” He looked up to check, then his voice dropped to a soothing murmur.
“Okay. There, there, kitty. Who’s a good boy? You’re a handsome kitty, aren’t you? Only you’ve had a rough few months, haven’t you, boy? You want to come out and say hello?”
She had to admit, his low, soft tone was comforting. It almost had her purring. But when he drew the blanket back, the cat scrambled to the far corner of the cage and crouched there, glowering at them.
Still murmuring nonsense in that low tone, Dalton released the front of the metal cage and wedged the door so it would stay open. The cat didn’t make a break for it, but pressed itself backwards, as far from the door as it could get.
“It’s okay, kitty. We’re not going to hurt you.” Dalton frowned. “You’re hungry, aren’t you boy? You’re all skin and bones. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ll get you something good to eat. Put some meat on those bones.”
Rosa chewed her lip, oddly touched. All Dalton’s hard edges had disappeared. Who would have guessed that inside he was soft and gooey?
“What now?” she asked softly.
Dalton eased to his feet. “He needs some time to get used to his new surroundings. Best thing we can do is leave him be, let him look around. I’ll come back in a little while with some food and water. And a tray of sand in case he needs a toilet.”
“See you soon, Crusoe,” she said to the cat as they eased out of the room.
“Crusoe?”
“You don’t like that name? I was trying it out to see if it suited him.”
“It’s a good name.” Dalton checked his watch. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I have a lot to do today,” she said, shaking her head. The kind of thoughts she kept having about him meant it was better if she didn’t spend too much time with him. At least not until she’d given her body a good talking to and reminded it who was in charge.
“If you have a lot to do, you’ll need a decent breakfast.”
“I can’t spare any more time.”
He took her arm, jump-starting her heart with his touch.
“Breakfast,” he said in a don’t-argue tone. And it was easier to just go along with him, his big, heart-shocking hands, and his man-spice. Besides, she was hungry. Hungrier than she’d been for a long time. If she kept eating the way she was, maybe she’d put on the weight Otto had made her lose, and she could do with an extra couple of pounds.
When they got to the staff dining room, they had it all to themselves. They got cereal and coffee, and sat at the table. She was conscious of the thoughtful way Dalton ate. When he rubbed his chin, the scrape of hand on stubble seemed loud. It made her remember how that roughness had felt against her palm.
The skin of his hands had been rough, too. Little nicks covered his fingers. “How did you cut yourself?” she asked, eating a spoonful of cereal. Truth was, she’d ask pretty much anything to distract herself from thinking about last night’s kiss and the way his hand had felt on the back her neck.
He picked his coffee cup up with both hands, his elbows on the table, and regarded her over the rim of his cup. “Building the cat cage.”
“You built it?” She thought back, picturing how it had looked. Not homemade, that was for sure. She’d noticed the clever mechanism for swinging the door shut.
“There’s a workshop attached to the house. My parents built the resort themselves, so it’s well stocked.”
“How did you learn to make things?”
“The year I turned thirteen, most of the resort’s buildings had to be rebuilt. I helped.”
“You like building things?” It was something to add to the Like column of the Dalton Project. Not that she still thought convincing him to like the island would get him to change his mind about selling it. But she’d promised Tiny, so she’d keep trying.
“That’s how I got started in my business.” He picked up his spoon and scooped up some cereal.
“Your pirate business?”
One side of hi
s mouth twitched at her description. “I started out buying furniture from companies that were downsizing and repurposing it. I’d give wooden furniture a facelift. And a second life.”
She put her spoon down, frowning. “Really? That sounds so creative. And it’s basically the opposite of what you’re doing now, isn’t it? I mean, creating things instead of destroying them.”
“It was fun, but unfortunately, not very profitable. Like Tiny’s painting, it’s something I’d do for love rather than money.”
“You still do it?”
He shook his head. “I travel too much.”
“So you don’t have a home, and don’t get to do what you love.” She grimaced. “Sucks to be you.”
He laughed. “Don’t cry for me. I’m doing okay.”
But was he? All that traveling must make it hard to have meaningful relationships with people. Now that Rosa was in Lantana, she missed that she couldn’t drop over to a friend’s place for an impromptu movie night, or meet at a coffee shop for a casual lunch. Imagine never being able to make any friends, because you were always moving somewhere else.
Why would anyone choose a life like that? He had a hard outer shell, but he was fiercely protective of Tiny, and seeing him with Crusoe had melted her heart. Inside, he wasn’t as tough as he liked to make out.
“Did you have a pet as a child?” she asked.
She realized after she asked that there was no way he could have followed her train of thought, so the question must have seemed like it came from nowhere. But Dalton didn’t do more than arch his gorgeous broken eyebrow in that way she envied. She couldn’t even get hers to twitch individually.
“I lived here, on the island,” he said. “Then military boarding school. So, no, I never had a pet.”
“Not at all?” She wasn’t sure why she found that sad. Lots of kids probably didn’t have pets.
“There were some wild mice who lived in our compost pile. Do they count?” He gave her a smile that told her he was joking. But she could imagine him here as a boy, tempting the mice out with food scraps and giving them names.