Grabbing her purse off the table, she headed for the door. It was a beautiful day, and she planned to spend as much of it as she could outside. Then she would return and take a shower and a nap before getting ready for the party tonight.
York walked along the pier. It hadn’t taken any time to get his game plan in place and head toward the island. Jamaica was beautiful, but unlike all the other times he came to the island, he was here for business.
Regardless of what Malcolm thought, every member of the cast and crew was a suspect. His team had divided the list, and every single person was being checked out. He was hoping it wouldn’t take long to expose the culprit since he planned to spend the holidays back in the States. His parents had moved to Seattle a few years ago and luckily didn’t expect everyone to show up on their doorsteps for the holidays. In fact, as long as he could remember, once he and his siblings began having lives of their own, his parents would spend the holidays in Toronto, visiting friends they had there. Usually York would spend a quiet Christmas at home, and those times he wanted company, he had five sets of godparents he could visit.
Most people knew the story as to how six guys who’d met and become best friends while attending Morehouse had on graduation day made a pact to stay in touch by becoming godfathers to each of their children and that the firstborn sons’ names would carry the letters of the alphabet from U to Z. And that was how Uriel Lassiter, Virgil Bougard, Winston Coltrane, Xavier Kane, York Ellis and Zion Blackstone had come into existence. He was close to his godparents and godbrothers and couldn’t imagine them not being a part of his life.
He checked his watch. A couple of his men had checked in already with their reports, and it was obvious Malcolm didn’t know some of his people as well as he thought he did. However, there was nothing to indicate any of them could be suspected of anything other than engaging in a number of illicit affairs.
York glanced around and saw he was the object of several women’s attention. He didn’t mind, and if he’d had the time, he would even indulge their fantasies. He was well aware that a number of women came to the island alone to get their groove on. They were man-hunters who were only looking for a good time.
He kept walking. He was on assignment, and there wasn’t a woman he’d met yet who could make him take his mind off work.
Darcy squinted against the brightness of the sun while moving from shop to shop in Montego Bay. Reggae music seemed to be playing just about everywhere. Pausing, she pulled out her sunglasses to shield her eyes from the sun. It was hard to believe how bright it shone here when, according to weather reports, it was still snowing in New York.
She stopped at a fruit stand, admiring the basket of strawberries, all plump and ripe, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.
A man.
And boy, what a man he was. She could only see his profile, but even from almost fifteen feet away she could tell he was a fine specimen of the opposite sex. He was in a squatting position, going through a rack of T-shirts that some peddler was trying to sell him.
Darcy tilted the sunglasses a little off her eyes to get a better view, deciding she didn’t want to miss anything—especially the way the denim of his jeans managed to stretch tight across his thighs. And the way his shoulders filled the shirt he was wearing.
He stood up a little and his tush—OMG, it was definitely the kind a woman would drool over. She bet they were perfect masculine cheeks, firm and fine.
Her mind began working, and she immediately began seeing him as a hero from one of the romance novels she read. But which one? she asked herself, thumping her finger against her chin.
She immediately thought of Jansen Trumble, the bad boy from the spicy novel Mine Until Morning. That had been one hot book, and even after reading it at least four or five times, she would give just about anything to have a rumble with Trumble. She settled her sunglasses back on her eyes thinking if she couldn’t have the fictional Trumble then a look-alike would have to suffice.
“Miss, would you like to try some of my strawberries? I just rinsed this batch off. I bet you’d like them.”
Her attention was pulled momentarily away from the gorgeous hunk when an island woman offered her a tray of fresh strawberries, sill wet from a recent rinsing. “Thanks, I’d love to try one.”
She popped a strawberry in her mouth, immediately enjoying the taste when the sweet flavor burst on her tongue. It was wet, juicy and so delicious. That made her glance back over at the man. Now he was standing to his full height as he continued to consider the T-shirts. He was tall, and she could see just how well built he was.
She tilted her head, thinking there was something about him that was oddly familiar, although she had yet to see his features. Like her, he was wearing sunglasses. His were aviators. And even from a distance she could tell he was an American. He had chocolate colored skin, and his dark hair was cut close to his head.
“Delicious, miss?”
She glanced back at the woman and smiled, remembering they were talking about the strawberries and not the man. “Yes, definitely delicious.”
“Would you like another?”
Darcy chuckled. She hadn’t intended on being greedy but since the woman asked … “Yes, I’d love another.”
She put another strawberry into her mouth, and when she glanced back over at the man, she saw he was staring over at her. Facing him, she immediately recognized him and almost choked on the strawberry in her mouth.
York Ellis!
Even wearing sunglasses she would know him anywhere. The shape of his mouth and his chiseled jaw would give him away each time. What the heck was he doing here?
She felt irritation invade her entire body. Staring into his handsome face did nothing to calm her rising anger. Her best friend was married to one of his godbrothers, so they were usually invited to the same family functions.
She and York always managed to rub each other the wrong way whenever they would run into each other. Things had been that way between them since the time they’d met at Ellie and Uriel’s wedding two years ago. During that time, her ex-husband Harold had tried threatening her to take him back. York had tried coming on to her at the reception. She had been in a bad mood at the time and had rebuffed his advances. Evidently he hadn’t taken rejection well.
He removed his sunglasses and stood staring across the way at her, evidently as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She felt her body get hot under his intense stare but forced her emotions to stay in check. She certainly couldn’t be that hard up for a man that she would be attracted to him.
And this wasn’t just any man. It was York Ellis. He was arrogant. Cocky. Too damn sure of himself at times to suit her. So why was she having such a hard time dragging her gaze from him? Why instead was she allowing her eyes to roam all over him, taking in how well he fit his jeans, his shirt? And then, there was his looks …
So, okay he had a nice looking mouth, one that was shaped just for kissing and those other scandalous things mouths could do. And his eyes were dark, so compelling and so magnetic. And at the moment, those dark eyes were intent on staring her down.
His half smile told her he knew she was checking him out and evidently found it amusing, considering their history. Anyone who’d ever hung around them knew they had one. He rubbed her the wrong way, and it seemed she always managed to rub him the wrong way as well.
He continued to smile, and she tried to ignore the fact that doing so made the angular plane of his face more pronounced, made dimples slash deep in his cheeks. This was the first time she ever noticed them. But then this was the first time he’d smiled at her.
But she quickly reminded herself he wasn’t smiling at her now. He was smirking at having caught her sizing him up. Good grief!