Dangerous Embrace

by Nora Roberts

  Liz was in the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt and what appeared to be the bottoms of a skimpy bikini. Jonas wasn’t a man who normally awoke with all batteries charged, but he didn’t miss a pair of long, honey-toned legs. Liz finished buttering a piece of toast.

  “Coffee’s on the stove,” she said without turning around. “There’re some eggs in the refrigerator. I don’t stock cereal when Faith’s away.”

  “Eggs are fine,” he mumbled, but headed for the coffee.

  “Use what you want, as long as you replace it.” She turned up the radio to listen to the weather forecast. “I leave in a half hour, so if you want a ride to your hotel, you’ll have to be ready.”

  Jonas let the first hot taste of coffee seep into his system. “My car’s in San Miguel.”

  Liz sat down at the table to go over that day’s schedule. “I can drop you by the El Presidente or one of the other hotels on the beach. You’ll have to take a cab from there.”

  Jonas took another sip of coffee and focused on her fully. She was still pale, he realized, so that the marks on her neck stood out in dark relief. The smudges under her eyes made him decide she’d slept no better than he had. He tossed off his first cup of coffee and poured another.

  “Ever consider taking a day off?”

  She looked at him for the first time. “No,” she said simply and lowered her gaze to her list again.

  So they were back to business, all business, and don’t cross the line. “Don’t you believe in giving yourself a break, Liz?”

  “I’ve got work to do. You’d better fix those eggs if you want to have time to eat them. The frying pan’s in the cupboard next to the stove.”

  He studied her for another minute, then with a restless movement of his shoulders prepared to cook his breakfast. Liz waited until she was sure his back was to her before she looked up again.

  She’d made a fool of herself the night before. She could almost accept the fact that she’d broken down in front of him because he’d taken it so matter-of-factly. But when she added the moments she’d stood in his arms, submissive, willing, hoping, she couldn’t forgive herself. Or him.

  He’d made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a decade. Arousal. He’d made her want what she’d been convinced she didn’t want from a man. Affection. She hadn’t backed away or brushed him aside as she’d done with any other man who’d approached her. She hadn’t even tried. He’d made her feel soft again, then he’d shrugged her away.

  So it would be business, she told herself. Straight, impersonal business as long as he determined to stay. She’d put the rent money aside until she could manage the down payment on the aqua bikes. Jonas sat at the table with a plate of eggs that sent steam rising toward the ceiling.

  “Your key.” Liz slid it over to him. “And your receipt for the first week’s rent.”

  Without looking at it, Jonas tucked the paper in his pocket. “Do you usually take in boarders?”

  “No, but I need some new equipment.” She rose to pour another cup of coffee and wash her plate. The radio announced the time before she switched it off. She was ten minutes ahead of schedule, but as long as she continued to get up early enough, they wouldn’t have to eat together. “Do you usually rent a room in a stranger’s house rather than a hotel suite?”

  He tasted the eggs and found himself vaguely dissatisfied with his own cooking. “No, but we’re not strangers anymore.”

  Liz watched him over the rim of her cup. He looked a little rough around the edges this morning, she decided. It added a bit too much sexuality to smooth good looks. She debated offering him a razor, then rejected the notion. Too personal. “Yes, we are.”

  He continued to eat his eggs so that she thought he’d taken her at her word. “I studied law at Notre Dame, apprenticed with Neiram and Barker in Boston, then opened my own practice five years ago in Philadelphia.” He added some salt, hoping it would jazz up his cooking. “I specialize in criminal law. I’m not married, and live alone. In an apartment,” he added. “On weekends I’m remodeling an old Victorian house I bought in Chadd’s Ford.”

  She wanted to ask him about the house—was it big, did it have those wonderful high ceilings and rich wooden floors? Were the windows tall and mullioned? Was there a garden where roses climbed on trellises? Instead she turned to rinse out her cup. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’re strangers.”

  “Whether we know each other or not, we have the same problem.”

  The cup rattled in the sink as it slipped from her hand. Silently, Liz picked it up again, rinsed it off and set it in the drainer. She’d chipped it, but that was a small matter at the moment. “You’ve got ten minutes,” she said, but he took her arm before she could skirt around him.

  “We do have the same problem, Elizabeth.” His voice was quiet, steady. She could have hated him for that alone.

  “No, we don’t. You’re trying to avenge your brother’s death. I’m just trying to make a living.”

  “Do you think everything would settle down quietly if I were back in Philadelphia?”

  She tugged her arm uselessly. “Yes!” Because she knew she lied, her eyes heated.

  “One of the first impressions I had of you was your intelligence. I don’t know why you’re hiding on your pretty little island, Liz, but you’ve got a brain, a good one. We both know that what happened to you last night would have happened with or without me.”

  “All right.” She relaxed her arm. “What happened wasn’t because of you, but because of Jerry. That hardly makes any difference to my position, does it?”

  He stood up slowly, but didn’t release her arm. “As long as someone thinks you knew what Jerry was into, you’re the focus. As long as you’re the focus, I’m standing right beside you, because directly or indirectly, you’re going to lead me to Jerry’s killer.”

  Liz waited a moment until she was sure she could speak calmly. “Is that all people are to you, Jonas? Tools? Means to an end?” She searched his face and found it set and remote. “Men like you never look beyond their own interests.”

  Angry without knowing why, he cupped her face in his hand. “You’ve never known a man like me.”

  “I think I have,” she said softly. “You’re not unique, Jonas. You were raised with money and expectations, you went to the best schools and associated with the best people. You had your goal set and if you had to step on or over a few people on the way to it, it wasn’t personal. That’s the worst of it,” she said on a long breath. “It’s never personal.” Lifting her chin, she pushed his hand from her face. “What do you want me to do?”

  Never in his life had anyone made him feel so vile. With a few words she’d tried and condemned him. He remembered the dream, and the blank, staring eyes of the jury. He swore at her and turned to pace to the window. He couldn’t back away now, no matter how she made him feel because he was right—whether he was here or in Philadelphia, she was still the key.

  There was a hammock outside, bright blue and yellow strings stretched between two palms. He wondered if she ever gave herself enough time to use it. He found himself wishing he could take her hand, walk across the yard and lie with her on the hammock with nothing more important to worry about than swatting at flies.

  “I need to talk to Luis,” he began. “I want to know the places he went with Jerry, the people he may have seen Jerry talk to.”

  “I’ll talk to Luis.” When Jonas started to object, Liz shook her head. “You saw his reaction yesterday. He wouldn’t be able to talk to you because you make him too nervous. I’ll get you a list.”

  “All right.” Jonas fished for his cigarettes and found with some annoyance that he’d left them in the bedroom. “I’ll need you to go with me, starting tonight, to the places Luis gives you.”

  A feeling of stepping into quicksand came strongly. “Why?”

  He wasn’t sure of the answer. “Because I have to start somewhere.”

  “Why do you need me?”

  And ev
en less sure of this one. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She lifted a brow. “I have police protection.”

  “Not good enough. In any case, you know the language, the customs. I don’t. I need you.” He tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “It’s as simple as that.”

  Liz walked over to turn off the coffee and move the pot to a back burner. “Nothing’s simple,” she corrected. “But I’ll get your list, and I’ll go along with you under one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  She folded her hands. Jonas was already certain by her stance alone that she wasn’t set to bargain but to lay down the rules. “That no matter what happens, what you find out or don’t find out, you’re out of this house and out of my life when my daughter comes home. I’ll give you four weeks, Jonas—that’s all.”

  “It’ll have to be enough.”

  She nodded and started out of the room. “Wash your dishes. I’ll meet you out front.”

  The police car still sat in the driveway when Jonas walked out the front door. A group of children stood on the verge of the road and discussed it in undertones. He heard Liz call one of them by name before she took out a handful of coins. Jonas didn’t have to speak Spanish to recognize a business transaction. Moments later, coins in hand, the boy raced back to his friends.

  “What was that about?”

  Liz smiled after them. Faith would play with those same children throughout the summer. “I told them they were detectives. If they see anyone but you or the police around the house, they’re to run right home and call Captain Moralas. It’s the best way to keep them out of trouble.”

  Jonas watched the boy in charge pass out the coins. “How much did you give them?”

  “Twenty pesos apiece.”

  He thought of the current rate of exchange and shook his head. “No kid in Philadelphia would give you the time of day for that.”

  “This is Cozumel,” she said simply and wheeled out her bike.

  Jonas looked at it, then at her. The bike would have sent a young teenager into ecstasies. “You drive this thing?”

  Something in his tone made her want to smile. Instead, she kept her voice cool. “This thing is an excellent mode of transportation.”

  “A BMW’s an excellent mode of transportation.”

  She laughed. He hadn’t heard her laugh so easily since he’d met her. When she looked back at him, her eyes were warm and friendly. Jonas felt the ground shift dangerously under his feet. “Try to take your BMW on some of the back roads to the coast or into the interior.” She swung a leg over the seat. “Hop on, Jonas, unless you want to hike back to the hotel.”

  Though he had his doubts, Jonas sat behind her. “Where do I put my feet?”

  She glanced down and didn’t bother to hide the grin. “Well, if I were you, I’d keep them off the ground.” With this she started the engine then swung the bike around in the driveway. After adjusting for the added weight, Liz kept the speed steady. Jonas kept his hands lightly at her hips as the bike swayed around ruts and potholes.

  “Are there roads worse than this?”

  Liz sped over a bump. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “Just asking.”

  “If you want sophistication, try Cancun. It’s only a few minutes by air.”

  “Ever get there?”

  “Now and again. Last year Faith and I took the Expatriate over and spent a couple of days seeing the ruins. We have some shrines here. They’re not well restored, but you shouldn’t miss them. Still, I wanted her to see the pyramids and walled cities around Cancun.”

  “I don’t know much about archaeology.”

  “You don’t have to. All you need’s an imagination.”

  She tooted the horn. Jonas saw an old, bent man straighten from the door of a shop and wave. “Señor Pessado,” she said. “He gives Faith candy they both think I don’t know about.”

  Jonas started to ask her about her daughter, then decided to wait for a better time. As long as she was being expansive, it was best to keep things less personal. “Do you know a lot of people on the island?”

  “It’s like a small town, I suppose. You don’t necessarily have to know someone to recognize their face. I don’t know a lot of people in San Miguel or on the east coast. I know a few people from the interior because we worked at the hotel.”

  “I didn’t realize your shop was affiliated with the hotel.”

  “It’s not.” She paused at a stop sign. “I used to work in the hotel. As a maid.” Liz gunned the engine and zipped across the intersection.

  He looked at her hands, lean and delicate on the handlebars. He studied her slender shoulders, thought of the slight hips he was even now holding. It was difficult to imagine her lugging buckets and pails. “I’d have thought you more suited to the front desk or the concierge.”

  “I was lucky to find work at all, especially during the off season.” She slowed the bike a bit as she started down the long drive to El Presidente. She’d indulge herself for a moment by enjoying the tall elegant palms that lined the road and the smell of blooming flowers. She was taking one of the dive boats out today, with five beginners who’d need instruction and constant supervision, but she wondered about the people inside the hotel who came to such a place to relax and to play.

  “Is it still gorgeous inside?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  Jonas glanced ahead to the large stately building. “Lots of glass,” he told her. “Marble. The balcony of my room looks out over the water.” She steered the bike to the curb. “Why don’t you come in? See for yourself.”

  She was tempted. Liz had an affection for pretty things, elegant things. It was a weakness she couldn’t allow herself. “I have to get to work.”

  Jonas stepped onto the curb, but put his hand over hers before she could drive away. “I’ll meet you at the house. We’ll go into town together.”

  She only nodded before turning the bike back toward the road. Jonas watched her until the sound of the motor died away. Just who was Elizabeth Palmer? he wondered. And why was it becoming more and more important that he find out?

  * * *

  By evening she was tired. Liz was used to working long hours, lugging equipment, diving, surfacing. But after a fairly easy day, she was tired. It should have made her feel secure to have had the young policeman identify himself to her and join her customers on the dive boat. It should have eased her mind that Captain Moralas was keeping his word about protection. It made her feel caged.

  All during the drive home, she’d been aware of the police cruiser keeping a discreet distance. She’d wanted to run into her house, lock the door and fall into a dreamless, private sleep. But Jonas was waiting. She found him on the phone in her living room, a legal pad on his lap and a scowl on his face. Obviously a complication at his office had put him in a nasty mood. Ignoring him, Liz went to shower and change.

  Because her wardrobe ran for the most part to beachwear, she didn’t waste time studying her closet. Without enthusiasm, she pulled out a full cotton skirt in peacock blue and matched it with an oversized red shirt. More to prolong her time alone than for any other reason, she fiddled with her little cache of makeup. She was stalling, brushing out her braided hair, when Jonas knocked on her door. He didn’t give her time to answer before he pushed it open.

  “Did you get the list?”

  Liz picked up a piece of notepaper. She could, of course, snap at him for coming in, but the end result wouldn’t change. “I told you I would.”

  He took the paper from her to study it. He’d shaved, she noticed, and wore a casually chic jacket over bone-colored slacks. But the smoothness and gloss didn’t mesh with the toughness around his mouth and in his eyes. “Do you know these places?”

  “I’ve been to a couple of them. I don’t really have a lot of time for bar-or club-hopping.”

  He glanced up and his curt answer slipped away. The shades behind her were up as she pr
eferred them, but the light coming through the windows was pink with early evening. Though she’d buttoned the shirt high over her throat, her hair was brushed back, away from her face. She’d dawdled over the makeup, but her hand was always conservative. Her lashes were darkened, the lids lightly touched with shadow. She’d brushed some color over her cheeks but not her lips.

  “You should be careful what you do to your eyes,” Jonas murmured, absently running his thumb along the top curve of her cheek. “They’re a problem.”

  She felt the quick, involuntary tug but stood still. “A problem?”

  “My problem.” Uneasy, he tucked the paper in his pocket and glanced around the room. “Are you ready?”

  “I need my shoes.”

  He didn’t leave her as she’d expected, instead wandering around her room. It was, as was the rest of the house, furnished simply but with jarring color. The spicy scent he’d noticed before came from a wide green bowl filled with potpourri. On the wall were two colored sketches, one of a sunset very much like the quietly brilliant one outside the window, and another of a storm-tossed beach. One was all serenity, the other all violence. He wondered how much of each were inside Elizabeth Palmer. Prominent next to the bed was a framed photograph of a young girl.

  She was all smiles in a flowered blouse tucked at the shoulders. Her hair came to a curve at her jawline, black and shiny. A tooth was missing, adding charm to an oval, tanned face. If it hadn’t been for the eyes, Jonas would never have connected the child with Liz. They were richly, deeply brown, slightly tilted. Still, they laughed out of the photo, open and trusting, holding none of the secrets of her mother’s.

  “This is your daughter.”

  “Yes.” Liz slipped on the second shoe before taking the photo out of Jonas’s hand and setting it down again.

  “How old is she?”

  “Ten. Can we get started? I don’t want to be out late.”