Breathless on the Beach

by Wendy Etherington

  “This towel’s pretty small to fit us both,” she pointed out.

  “We’ll have to sit close together then.” He lowered himself beside her and tapped his bottle against hers. “To an eventful weekend.”

  Dragging her gaze away from his broad, muscled chest, she drank, finding the icy champagne soothing to her throat, though her head spun immediately.

  Classy, but simple. Which seemed to be Jared’s credo.

  “This took some planning,” she said.

  “Mrs. K is a coconspirator,” he replied, searching Victoria’s gaze as if hoping for approval.

  After tucking her snarled hair behind her ear, she reclined on her elbows. She certainly didn’t look perfect now, though he didn’t seem to care. “Remind me to thank her later.”

  Jared trailed his finger down her arm. “I will.”

  She sipped more champagne and forced herself to watch the rolling waves. Her desire to toss aside the bottles and roll on top of him was pretty intense, but he’d let her take command the night before. This was his idea; she’d let him set the pace.

  “Thanks for your help with Rose,” she said when he remained silent.

  “Glad to. I hate to admit Richard might have had a point about not calling the police right away. This would cause not only him but Rose a great deal of embarrassment.”

  Jared’s leg brushed Victoria’s, and she squeezed her eyes shut to get control of her lust and concentrate on his words. “I bet the Suffolk County PD is used to being discreet,” she managed to say. “Still, I’m not sure we’re being entirely lawful.”

  “Does Shelby know how to make a cake with a file in it? Might come in handy if we need to bust out of jail.”

  “Shelby can make anything.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I should also admit my friends and I have some experience with vigilante justice. Last spring, we headed up Project Robin Hood.”

  “Robin Hood? The guy in the funny green hat and tights?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No. It’s more the spirit of the legend. Righting wrongs. Meting out justice.”

  “Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?”

  Given the nature of the current crime she was solving, she didn’t want Jared getting the wrong idea. “Ah…sort of.”

  She went on to explain the fraud plot she, Calla and Shelby had foiled the previous spring.

  “I saw you talking to Peter and Emily, which I guess you wouldn’t do without a compelling reason.”

  “I talked to everybody, and everybody has at least a partial alibi for the hours in question. All the single people were alone for at least a few hours, David for the longest. One of each married couple took a sleeping pill, so the other could have pretended to sleep, then slipped out. But why? Who really has a motive to take the necklace? Who’d risk getting caught?”

  “Greed, ambition and the need for money are always popular reasons for just about anything.”

  “Ambition? How do you mean?”

  “Look how clever I am to take this valuable thing without anybody catching me.”

  “Huh. I could see that, I suppose.” The combination of the hot sun, the lulling ocean waves and the champagne relaxed her to the point that she could flip through all the conversations she’d had that day. Plus Jared was so easy to talk to, to share her thoughts with. “I’m not so sure the need for cash is viable with a notorious necklace like that. You couldn’t simply pawn it.”

  “So that leaves greed. A collector?”

  She angled her head, considering the idea. “The jealousy story was fascinating, if sad and gruesome.”

  “But not fascinating enough for you to take the necklace.”

  “No.” She glanced at him. “You?” she asked just as casually.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Well, that’s two down.” She paused, thinking about the other guests. “No, four.”

  “Four?”

  “You, me, Calla and Shelby.”

  “Everybody else is on the suspect list?”

  “Have to be, though some seem less likely than others. So it could be a collector, or maybe some kind of compulsion. Like kleptomania. That Emily is an odd little thing.”

  “Is that a real disease?”

  “It is on late-night TV movies.” However, Victoria moved psychological trouble to the bottom of the motive list. “It could be an insurance scam. You don’t trust Richard’s ethics.”

  “Nope. But Rose doesn’t need the money.”

  Though he’d explained he worked for Rose often, the confidence in his voice was odd. Victoria narrowed her eyes. “How do you know she doesn’t need the money?”

  “Just a hunch.” He shifted his hand to caress her stomach. “You mentioned partial alibis?”

  Need crawled through her body at his touch. Did Robin Hood ever have these kinds of conflicts? Sex versus justice? Maybe. Like in the forest when—good grief, she needed to focus. “Nobody can account for every minute during the night, but it’s a narrow window. Basically, two till five.”

  “You and I could have alibied each other.”

  Her gaze locked with his. “Are you sorry we didn’t?”

  “It seemed like a gentlemanly thing to do at the time.”

  “And you care about being a gentleman?”

  “Call me old-fashioned, but yes.”

  “Do you care about the theft of the necklace?”

  His eyes blazed. “Not right now.”

  Setting her bottle and his in the sand, he kissed her, his tongue immediately tangling with hers, driving her desire to new heights.

  As his arm encircled her, he held her against his bare chest. The heat of their bodies came together, creating an inferno of sensation. Victoria wished she could blame her breathlessness on the Jet Ski or the sun, but she knew Jared alone had such an affect on her.

  He trailed kisses down her neck, and she clutched at him. She shouldn’t want him this badly, after so short a time knowing him…barely twenty-four hours. But she could hardly argue with her body when it so clearly knew what it wanted.

  When he cupped her breast, she couldn’t fight back a moan. Dipping his thumb beneath the bare scrap of her bathing suit top, he glided it back forth over her nipple, shooting sparks of need over her skin.

  Spearing her hand through his silky hair, she urged his mouth back to hers. She kissed him in appreciation and encouragement. She’d never had sex in the sand, much less outdoors, but he was the king of adventure. When in Rome…

  Pressing her back, he hovered over her, his handsome face flushed. “You know I want you.”

  She couldn’t mistake his erection against her side. She licked her lips. “I want you, too.”

  “But I don’t want to consummate our relationship here. There are a lot of people on the water. Anybody could come by.”

  She drew a deep breath in an effort to get control of her racing heart. “Good point.”

  When he helped her to her feet, she smiled. “Consummate? You are old-fashioned.”

  “Problem?”

  “It’s sweet.” She slid her finger down his chest. “And I could use sweet. My love life is…”

  “Boring?” he prompted in a hopeful voice.

  “Corporate,” she admitted.

  “Not everything’s about the art of the deal.”

  She looked into his warm, brown eyes, and for the first time in recent memory believed in tenderness and happily ever after.

  R
obin had known what he was fighting for. Did she?

  9

  WHILE THE REST OF THE houseguests were in their quarters changing for dinner, Victoria invited Calla and Shelby to her room for cocktails.

  Calla raised her glass. “To Jared McKenna in a swimsuit.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Victoria said, tapping crystal against Calla’s.

  “Me, too,” Shelby declared. When the other two looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. “Hey, I’m engaged, not blind.”

  As they enjoyed their drinks, Victoria recalled the sight of Jared walking out of the surf, scooping back his wavy dark hair, the muscles in his chest and shoulders flexing, his teeth flashing white against his tanned face.

  Like an island vacation ad. A great one.

  “One of us has better memories than the others,” Calla commented slyly.

  Victoria looked around to find her friends staring at her. “Yeah.” Warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with her martini. “One of us does.”

  “Details,” Shelby demanded.

  Victoria leaned back in her chair. “Some of us got a Jet Ski ride that others didn’t.”

  “A literal ride?” Shelby asked.

  “You’re already having sex with him?” Calla asked at the same time.

  “Yes, a literal ride. No to sex.” Though Victoria imagined the possibilities. “We have plans to correct that later.”

  “How romantic,” Calla said sarcastically. “You managed to fit him in your schedule.”

  “Hey.” Victoria poked her friend’s knee. “It’s not like I put the event down in my digital calendar. I thought it was very romantic of him to not settle for a fast grope in the sand.”

  Shelby groaned. “I’d settle for any kind of grope from Trevor.”

  Calla rolled her eyes. “You’ve been away from him for one night.”

  “It’s a holiday weekend,” Shelby said. “We had plans.”

  “You can reschedule your Between the Sheets Symposium,” Calla assured her.

  Victoria met each of her friends’ gaze in turn. “I know you guys would rather be someplace else.”

  “No.” Shelby made an effort to bring herself back into focus. “This is a good booking for me. Trevor and I will have a lifetime of weekends.”

  “I got some great shots today,” Calla said. “And Rose told me she’d like some pictures of the house’s interior tomorrow. I think I’ll have a sellable piece for Coastal Life.” Her eyes lit with promise. “Not to mention we have a real-life mystery on our hands. Maybe I could work on that for Fiction Monthly.”

  “As the recently appointed Robin Hood of the group, I’d like to point out crime solving isn’t as easy as it looks.” Victoria recounted her conversations with the other guests about their movements during the night. “David was alone for the longest stretch of time, followed by Rose and Sal, but the timeline allows for basically anybody to steal the necklace.”

  “But not the knowledge,” Calla argued. “Seems to me Richard and Rose, and maybe Ruthie, are the only ones who could’ve gotten into that safe.”

  “Does Ruthanne even have the combination?” Victoria asked the group in general.

  “I still think Sal has shifty eyes,” Shelby said.

  Dismissing Sal’s eyes, Victoria leaned back, crossing her legs as she considered the only theory that, to her, made sense. “I’m wondering if this is an insurance scam. But when I mentioned that to Jared, he said Rose has plenty of money.”

  “How does Jared know about Rose’s finances?” Shelby asked, frowning.

  “Exactly what I wanted to know,” Victoria returned. “He said he had a hunch, so I figure he meant the opulence of this place. But she wouldn’t be the first socialite to appear wealthy and instead be in debt up to her fake, diamond-studded earrings.”

  Calla drank the last of her lemon drop, then set the glass on the table. “I saw this movie once where some rich chick had sold her diamond necklace to pay off gambling debts, and had a paste copy made so her husband wouldn’t find out. Then one day he announces he wants to add some stones to the necklace.”

  Shelby grinned. “Oops.”

  “No kidding,” Calla agreed. “Anyway, she hired some guy to break into her house and steal the jewelry.”

  “You think Rose could be that devious?” Victoria asked.

  “Anybody’s capable of anything, given the right motivation.” Shelby lifted her glass. “Look at our track record.”

  “At least we had police support when we caught that creep who’d swindled Shelby’s parents,” Calla pointed out. “I don’t like keeping this a secret.”

  Shelby shook her head. “It’s never going to stay secret.”

  “Agreed,” Victoria added. But she’d promised Richard, so for now, at least, they were stuck solving the mystery themselves.

  Victoria had barely completed the thought when Calla leaned forward, looking determined. “I think we need help.”

  “From who?” she asked, though she knew.

  “Devin, of course.”

  “No,” Victoria said. “No way. I told Richard I could handle this. The necklace has been missing for less than twelve hours. Give me some time.”

  “We’re breaking the law by not reporting the theft,” Calla argued.

  Though Victoria had thought the same thing, she didn’t want to be reminded of her conscience just now. “How do you know?”

  Calla lifted her chin. “I know.”

  Victoria scowled. “You just want to talk to Devin.”

  “I’d rather see him,” Calla said, unrepentant. “You think he’d like a ride on a Jet Ski?”

  “I don’t see how we can invite somebody to Rose’s house without asking her,” Shelby said. “Especially an NYPD detective.”

  Calla wasn’t deterred. “He can go undercover, be Jared’s assistant or something.”

  “This doesn’t seem like Devin’s kind of place,” Shelby said gently.

  “We need help,” Calla repeated.

  Victoria surged to her feet. “Are you out of your mind? If we call the cops, I lose the contract. End of discussion.”

  Silence permeated the room. Victoria’s control was slipping away. The perfect vision of her corner office wavered and faded, becoming so indistinct she wasn’t sure she could ever regain focus.

  Her friends were right, and she was wrong. Although that didn’t lessen her desire to win.

  “I’m sorry, V,” Shelby said in a low voice. “But Calla’s right about one thing. We do need legal advice.”

  “We could call your dad,” Calla suggested.

  Victoria shook her head. “No way am I dragging him into this. Besides, he’s a corporate lawyer. How would he know about police procedure?”

  “So we’re back to Devin,” Calla said.

  Victoria didn’t see the moody detective being any more inclined to help than her father. “If we call him and tell him about the theft, he’ll definitely have to report it.”

  “So we’ll be hypothetical,” Calla offered, already pulling her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “We’ll ask for a generic opinion.”

  That would never work. “He’ll know something’s up.”

  Calla let out a delighted laugh. “That’ll be half the fun.”

  Before Victoria could come up with another excuse to escape this bad idea, Calla had laid her cell phone on the coffee table. Through the speakerphone, everyone could hear the line ringi
ng.

  “Antonio,” Devin said, his deep voice hoarse.

  “Hi. It’s Calla Tucker.” She frowned. “You sound terrible.”

  “I’m hungover,” the detective grumbled.

  “Sorry,” Calla said brightly—whether because she’d gotten her way or because she was talking to the object of her crush, Victoria wasn’t sure. “I’ve got you on speakerphone with Victoria and Shelby.”

  Dead silence from the detective. Then he growled, “What the hell are the three of you into now?”

  Calla pushed out her lower lip, looking for all the world like a beauty queen who’d lost her crown. “Why would you think that?”

  “Wild guess,” he said.

  “Some friend you are.” She huffed out an annoyed breath. “I just called to see how you were doing.”

  “You called to see how I’m doing,” he echoed slowly.

  Victoria could all but see the combination of frustration, aggravation and lust on his striking face.

  “Yeah.” Calla played with the stem of her cocktail glass. “We could chat.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No.”

  “You heard me say I’m hungover.”

  “Yes.”

  “So is this some kind of joke?”

  Victoria exchanged a pained expression with Shelby. The man was undeniably difficult.

  Shelby leaned toward the phone. “Detective, it’s Shelby Dixon. We actually called to ask your advice about a point of law.”

  “So phone a lawyer,” he suggested, surly as ever. “I hear there are a couple million in Manhattan.”

  “I’m sure there are,” Shelby answered, “but we’re not in the city. We’re at a weekend house party in Southampton. We have a question.” Noticing Calla’s frantically waving hands, Shelby added, “Like a trivia question. Is it a crime not to report a crime when it’s committed?”

  More silence.

  “Please, Detective,” Shelby added, “it’s important.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he answered finally. “Depending on the seriousness of the crime, and the players involved, you can get accessory after the fact. That’s a general charge for helping somebody get away with criminal activity.”