Tall, Dark and Texan. Annette Broadrick

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      Ah, yes, this was the part of life on the island she had missed, Shannon thought the next morning as she strolled along the beach. A few early risers were also out—some jogging, others looking for shells. She took in a slow, deep breath of air, reveling in the fresh scent of the sea.

      Shannon had spent the past three years working in St. Louis, spending her winter vacations on the Colorado ski slopes. She’d missed the sensuous pleasure of walking barefoot over a damp, hard-packed, sandy beach.

      While on her shopping spree yesterday she’d indulged herself by purchasing a two-piece swimsuit with matching cover-up. Before leaving the apartment this morning, she’d taken the time to braid her hair into a single plait. The mirror had revealed that she was much too pale. She had every intention of soaking up some sun later today after she ran her errands.

      In the meantime, she was content to pick up unusual shells and slip them in her pockets. By the time she reached the jetties, she had a nice collection.

      She climbed up on the granite boulders so that she could see the channel that led to the seaport farther inland. There were large birds—she recognized pelicans and egrets, but others she wasn’t so sure about—fishing along the edges.

      There were also human fishermen with their rods and reels casting off of either side of the granite ledge. Shannon walked out a short distance and found a spot where she could sit and watch as the sun burst fully into view.

      She gave herself up to the moment.

      Eventually, the time came when she knew she had to get started with her day. With a great deal of reluctance, and a mental promise to return in time for sunset, Shannon focused on her reason for being on the island—Dan Crenshaw.

      She listened for him when she let herself into the apartment, but heard nothing. The door to his room was closed. She peeked inside the darkened interior and saw him still asleep.

      So. First things first. She quickly made up a grocery list and left for the store. After buying basic essentials and enough food for a few simple meals, she returned. Still no sign of his stirring.

      Shannon made coffee, began frying bacon, and mixed up an herbal concoction for Dan. She had a hunch he might have a bit of a headache this morning.

      The sun was now up in all its glory, flooding the large living room with light. She tapped softly on his door but when he didn’t answer she opened the door and stepped inside.

      Dan now lay on his back, his arms thrown wide. He looked very good to her from what she could see in the dim light.

      She sat the steaming cup beside the bed and walked over to the blinds. She got an immediate response as soon as she pulled the shades open.

      “Wha—? Shut the damn blinds! What do you think you’re doing?”

      She turned and found him sitting up in the middle of the bed, his elbows resting on his drawn-up knees, his face buried in his hands.

      “Good morning!” she said, brightly. “I brought you something to drink.”

      His head jerked up at the sound of her voice.

      “Who—what are you doing here?”

      Crossing her fingers behind her back, she grinned and said, “Why, you invited me to stay here with you...don’t you remember?”

      He groaned an answer.

      She picked up the cup. “Here. This should help.”

      He reached for it with a trembling hand. He sniffed, then made a face. Squinting into the cup, he asked, “What is it?”

      “Oh, my very special formula for late nights and overindulging.”

      “I never overindulge,” he stated with dignity.

      “That’s good to hear,” she replied, turning away. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

      “Good grief, this stuff tastes vile! What are you trying to do, poison me?”

      She stopped at the doorway and looked over her shoulder. “Now there’s a thought. If you’re going to be a baby, then don’t drink it.” She closed the door softly behind her.

      Dan felt as though he’d awakened in some kind of nightmare. He didn’t remember leaving the bar last night. He didn’t remember coming back to the condo. And he certainly didn’t remember anyone like the woman who’d just walked out of his bedroom.

      She wore a pair of bright yellow shorts that revealed shapely legs, a yellow halter top that displayed more than a little cleavage and long earrings of brightly painted macaws. Her black hair was pulled back from her face in an intricate braid, and her black eyes seemed filled with amazing good humor.

      What the hell was going on?

      He forced himself to drink the steaming, and very bitter, herbal tea. Not that he wanted it or even needed it. Granted he had the granddaddy of all headaches this morning, but he was certain that was due to too much sun yesterday.

      He felt his way into his bathroom and stared into the mirror. Why had he slept in his clothes last night?

      Well, at least that reassured him about one thing—he hadn’t made love to the seductive stranger who seemed to have made herself at home in his place. Why couldn’t he remember her?

      With that thought he had a sudden image of sitting in the bar and watching an exotic-looking woman come in wearing a red, saronglike dress. That’s all he remembered—a brief burst of memory, like a camera flash.

      Maybe he’d had a little more to drink СКАЧАТЬ