Gavin came in, a pack on his shoulder. “I was ready to head back to the mainland, but I couldn’t find you....” He broke off when he saw Antonia. “Who are you?”
“Antonia Verde,” she said through chattering teeth.
Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “Here I thought you were trying to get people off this island, Mr. Sandoval.”
Reuben would have laughed in different circumstances. “Storm’s worse. You’ll have to bunk here for the night, Gav. I’ll take you back at first light.”
Gavin shrugged. “Sure thing. One more of Paula’s meals will make it worthwhile.”
Paula’s face broke into a rare smile. “You’re a flatterer, Mr. Campbell.”
“My grammy says flattery will get you nowhere, but I find it usually scores me a second piece of pie.”
Reuben worked out a plan. “Paula, can you get the Seabreeze ready? It’s the only bungalow that’s relatively decent.”
“If that’s what you want,” Paula said. “Mr. Campbell, set the table for dinner, please.”
Gavin sighed. “If I could only convince her to call me Gav.” He set about plopping silverware haphazardly on the oval dining table.
Paula gave Antonia a final glare and went out, Silvio following.
“Thanks, but there’s just no way I can spend the night here,” Antonia said.
“Unless you’re going to swim back, I don’t see much of a choice for you.” Reuben kept his tone level. “What happened?”
She avoided looking at him. “I swam out too far.”
“I got that. Who was on the Jet Ski, and what did he want with you?”
She sipped tea without seeming to taste it. “I don’t know. I think he might have been sent by a guy who followed me from the airport earlier. He was watching me from the beach, so I thought I’d swim up the coast and avoid them both.”
Two guys? He felt a tightening in his gut. “Why are they after you?”
Antonia put the mug down on the antique trunk that served as a coffee table, her hands trembling. “Like I said, I don’t know. It could be just my imagination.”
It was unlike her to be guarded. “Better call the cops.”
Antonia shook her head, sending droplets of water through the lamp-lit lobby. “It’s nothing. Probably a misunderstanding.”
“Don’t think so. Cops are a good idea.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “The cops already believe I lied to support my sister, and so do you.” The words wobbled a bit at the end, and he saw her swallow hard.
He took the brunt of it, the anger that flowed from her and was nearly a match for his own. He spoke lower, hoping Gavin wasn’t hearing every word. “Keep the past out of this.”
“I’d be happy to.” Antonia stood, discarding the blanket, chafing her arms to warm up. He remembered the softness of those arms, tender, loving, and the memory awakened an ache deep inside. He stood, too, walking to the window and looking out toward the restless sea. He drew close to her, close enough to imagine he could feel the warmth of her skin, hear the soft purr of her breathing. Close, but far enough away to remember what she’d done.
“Stay the night. I’ll take you back in the morning if the storm will allow.”
Antonia was staring at the spotted junonia shell nestled on the marble fireplace hearth. “It’s the same one, isn’t it?” she said, voice low.
He didn’t answer.
She traced a finger over the broken edge, and he was drowned in the memory. Happy times, her finding the lovely specimen, him ready to throw the broken shell back into the surf.
“No, keep it,” she’d insisted. “It’s been damaged, but that makes it more beautiful.” She’d kissed him and run off to find another shell, leaving the broken junonia in his fingers.
He’d loved her for that, for finding beauty in the brokenness. He watched now as she carefully replaced the shell on the mantel and turned to face him with none of the tenderness he had yearned for in those black, beautiful eyes.
“I’ll walk you to the bungalow,” he said.
Gavin made no comment as he watched them go.
* * *
Antonia could not see much as they made their way over the dark path, wind chilling her even further. She was relieved to find that Paula and Silvio had gone, leaving a lamp on to illuminate the wood flooring and stonework above a tiny fireplace. A little settee with cheerful blue-striped cushions complemented the azure bookcase. It must be Paula’s work as Reuben was color-blind, which was why he usually wore all black to make the matching easier. Or maybe the decor was another woman’s contribution. Not hard to believe; Reuben was a poet at heart, gorgeous, loyal, and in the past one look from his chocolate eyes made her weak in the knees.
She swallowed the thought.
Reuben cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets, a gesture she knew he’d learned in his childhood.
“Paula left you a change of clothes.”
Antonia saw the faded Gators sweatshirt and pants. The housekeeper hadn’t handed them over cheerfully, she was sure, but Antonia was in no position to be fussy. She could not wait to exchange her soaking garments for dry ones.
Reuben opened a small cupboard and handed her a flashlight. “Storm may take out our electricity, but we’ve reinforced the walls so it’s more up to code than the main house.”
He turned to go.
“Thank you,” she blurted. “I mean, thank you for getting me out of the water and, um, letting me stay here—just until morning.”
He smiled—a shy grin, like a teen after his first kiss. She could not look away from his lips, expressive and sculpted perfectly. Tender, she remembered, and loaded with promises. Promises he could not keep.
“You’ll be our last guest of the season.” Something sad flickered across his face.
“You haven’t made much progress on the hotel?”
“Dry July and August and frost last December messed up the oranges. Not a lot of cash to funnel into this place. I managed to fix up two rooms in the main house and this bungalow, so we’ve had only a few paying customers.”
His gaze ran over the wooden beams.
The irony confused her. Hector was rolling in money, yet Reuben struggled. But when push came to shove, she reminded herself, he had his brother’s back, not yours.
“I’ll be ready first thing in the morning,” she said, trying for a stronger tone than a dripping wet, exhausted woman should command.
“We’ll get you there as soon as we can. By morning we should have a better forecast on the storm.” He hesitated. “Nee...”
The endearment cut at her, and she saw that he regretted the slip.
Memories flitted through her mind.
“Why are you staring at me?”
His smile, those lips. “The light in your eyes, it’s like the sky just before the sun rises.”
She looked feverishly around the room. “Nice. Nice place.”
“Antonia, your life isn’t my business anymore, but if you were scared enough of that man on the Jet Ski to risk drowning, you should talk to the cops. I can arrange...”
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you to