Maybe she could get him accustomed to her being gone for short periods.
She went into the living area. “I forgot my decongestant tablets. Do you suppose the hotel shop has some?”
“Probably.”
“I'll run down and get some.”
“Have some sent up. Your cell stays here and if you're not here when Noelle calls, she sure as hell won't talk to me.”
There went that idea. “You're right. I can pick some up later.” She sat down. “So what do we do? Hang around and wait?”
He gave a ghost of a grin, letting his eyes touch her legs, ascend to her breasts, and settle on her mouth. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”
He knew what he was doing to her, damn him. “I think we hashed that out last night.”
“Is that what we were doing?”
She didn't miss the irony. She’d rejected him the past night after making a fool of him in Houston. No man enjoyed being made to feel ridiculous once, much less twice. He should be bristling with hostility and resentment, not sitting here smiling at her.
If they’d met some other way, Callaway McIntyre might be someone she wanted to know. There was a decent streak in him that sometimes peeked out. Like his dimple.
“Okay,” he said when she didn't answer. “Guess that’s out.” His brow creased in thought. “There's a hot tub in my room.”
“A hot tub? Really?” She jumped up, eager to take his mind off what hadn't happened between them. “Can I see?”
“Straight through and outside.”
Sure enough, his secluded balcony ran the length of his room and was twice as wide as hers, allowing ample room to shelter a hot tub meant for several. It was hard to resist perching on the edge and dipping her fingers into the silky, inviting water.
The midday sun on her hair felt shamefully extravagant. When was the last time she’d been outside in the sun with nothing to do? Her free days were always spent running errands, but this, this lazy, magnificent, bright afternoon under the palms with its scent of salt and sand, was seductive. She could laze here and trail her fingers in the water all day.
Such luxury ought to be outlawed, even if there was something marvelous about the decadence.
“Clothes aren't allowed.” Callaway, thumbs stuck in jeans pockets, strolled to the door. The golf shirt outlined his muscled chest. “Everyone strips before getting in. Management is very strict about the rules.”
“I'll remember that if I decide to get in.”
“You can use it anytime.” He didn't move when she stood. “So long as you remember the rules. You can use my bed anytime, too. In case yours isn’t comfortable.”
“How generous.” She wouldn't meet his eyes, knowing what they held, conscious of how they affected her.
He didn’t step out of her way. “Of course there's a rule about that, too.”
“I imagined there would be.” She couldn't help but giggle at his blatant flirting. “No clothes in bed either?”
His minute dimple quivered, erupted. “No clothes. Oh, and I forgot the second rule. You have to share the tub or bed with me. Or both.”
“What if a woman doesn't accept the rules?”
“Following the rules is the price of the fun.” His gaze held the light she recognized from the night before. “We could have lots of fun together, Amanda.”
Her throat closed up at the thought of basking in the water with him before lying on soft sheets beside him. “I don't think so. Your rules are too strict.”
“Too bad.” He stepped aside. “They make everything more...enjoyable. Think about it.”
Carefully skirting him, she retreated into the safety of the common area before looking back and laughing. “Enjoyable for you, maybe. I'm not so sure about me.”
* * * *
Cal forgot everything when he saw the dancing eyes peeking over one shoulder.
Hold on, dude. You don't need another public humiliation
.
What worried him most was the hollow feeling in his stomach. Amanda had qualities his usual choices never possessed.
Her loyalty to her sister. He’d never had that kind of loyalty from wives or lovers.
And she’d withdrawn from life because she felt responsible for some kind of freak accident.
A woman like Amanda ought not to have to deal with her sister, mentally handicapped or not. She ought to be protected from people like Noelle and left to run her shop to her heart's content. If he had his way, neither Noelle nor anyone else would cause her a moment's anguish. He'd make sure she never had to worry again.
Dammit to hell, what was he thinking? Didn't he have enough aggravation after she'd helped him nearly destroy Claire and Johanna? He couldn't run his own life, much less hers.
* * * *
Amanda wished she had done things differently. If she'd managed Noelle better, she wouldn't be in this situation.
As she thumbed through magazines, Callaway paced the floor and examined her cell every five minutes, waiting for it to ring.
She was acutely aware of his physical presence the entire time she pretended to read: the long legs, the wide shoulders, the muscular arms.
What would he do when Noelle didn't call? And how was she going to get away the next morning?
She still had no plan when, about five o’clock her cell rang and he held it out to her.
Jumping up, she looked at it.
“Go ahead,” he said impatiently. “Answer it.”
As she pressed the answer button, he moved closer.
Caller ID Screened
flashed up.
“Hello.”
He pressed his head against hers to listen.
“Hello, Amanda.” Noelle sounded calmer than she’d looked in the lobby. Maybe she’d found her courage once her big sister showed up.
“Where are you, honey?”
“Here in Cancun.” Noelle was cagy. “Did you bring money?”
“About two thousand dollars. All I could get.” Noelle sounded too calm. What was she playing at?
“Thank you, Manda. I didn't know what to do.”
“I know, honey. But you need to come out of hiding now. I’m here and you’re safe.”
“I don’t want to talk to Callaway McIntyre. He's scary.”
“He isn’t going to hurt you.” She looked into his dark eyes, daring him to say differently. “He hasn’t gone to the police, Noelle, but he needs to speak to you.”
“Why?”
Talking to Noelle was sometimes worse than talking to a five-year-old. “Other things were taken from him the night I stole your ring. Did you know that?”
She could hear Noelle clear her throat. “I wasn’t there that night. I don't know anything about it.”
“He still needs to talk to you.”
Noelle inhaled. “All right. I'll meet you both at the restaurant on the street at the front of the first shopping center going into town. I'll be there at one tomorrow. But Manda?”
“Yes, honey.”
“You won’t let him hurt me, will you?”
“Of course not. He just wants to talk to you. Noelle, can’t we meet earlier than—?”
Noelle hung up.
Defeated, Amanda put down the phone.
Callaway bit his lip. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
“She’s scared to death,” Amanda said sharply. “You’ve got to be gentle with her.”
“I don’t normally hurt women.”
“She’s more a little girl than a woman. You’ll be abusing a child if you scream at her.”
“I don’t plan to scream at her.”
“Good.” Time to start breaking away. “We’re set up to meet her so there's no need to stay in the room. I'm going to run down and get some decongestant tablets. Okay?”
“Yeah.” He pulled out his cell. “I'd better tell Claire, see if anything else has happened on her end.” He called after her, phone to his ear, as she put her hand on the door. “You know what this means, don't you?”
Guilt made her jerk her hand back, and guilt made her heart pound. “What?”
The hard lines of his face had disappeared, making way for the dimple. “We have tonight and tomorrow morning to kill. I don't know about you, but I don't want to stay cooped up here.”
“No.” She managed a grin, hoped it didn't look too sickly. “I don't want to stay in the room either.”
Not with you.
“We could ride the bus to town, what do you say?”
She made herself unball her fists. “What can I say? This is your show.” She went out, got into the elevator.
What could she say?
* * * *
Cal would say things between them were progressing. Maybe a few hours relaxation would erase the worry lines on Amanda’s face.
He filled Claire in on what had happened. “So,” he ended, “after the meeting with tomorrow we'll know where the book is.”
“I hope so.” Claire sounded stressed.
“Everything all right there?”
“They have deputies dragging the pond, looking for the gun that shot Sonny. They've also been asking us all kinds of questions, but so far nothing we can't handle.”
“What about Robert? Is he over the flu?”
“Yes. In fact, he's got an appointment with the auditors in Roswell today. Once they get a preliminary okay on everything, Robert thinks the Board will offer him Mother's job.”
“Too bad. You'd be much better at it, Bags.”
“Robert's earned it. He really wants it.” Claire’s weariness came through the phone. “I've got to go. Let me know what happens after you meet with this woman.”
“Will do.”
And God help Noelle if she didn’t come through.
No matter how fond of Amanda he was becoming, her sister was another story.
Chapter Sixteen
The beauty of the late afternoon ocean made Amanda wish she had packed a bathing suit.
When she said as much to Callaway, his jaded air flickered. “What, you want to go swimming?”
“I've never seen a sea as blue as this one.”
“So go down to the hotel shop and get a suit.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Go on. I keep one in my overnight bag so if you hurry, we can get in before dark.”
She gave in. This was another chance to get him accustomed to her absences.
Though he told her to use the room account, she charged the suit on her credit card and tried not to wince.
Her bank account would be out several thousand dollars before she was through with Callaway McIntyre. Or before he was through with her.
If that was all she was out, she ought to be grateful.
Amanda hadn't worn a swimsuit in years. Despite this one being more modest than most, with no robe and her hair caught in a topknot exposing her neck, she felt naked.
When Callaway met her, completely unselfconscious in sandals and revealing suit, she had to swallow. His shoulders were good, tapering to slim hips and well-shaped legs, and the nylon, though not snug, clung to places impossible to ignore.
Easing into a T-shirt, he looked her over. “Now that is one bathing suit that leaves a helluva lot to the imagination.”
She interpreted that cryptic remark to mean he didn't approve, but she couldn't tell whether the suit or the body inside displeased him.
As if it mattered.
How long had it been since she worried about whether or not she appealed to a man? There was no reason to start at this late date.
The fine beach sands, soaked by the late afternoon sun, led beyond the white shoreline to an ocean that was the most gorgeous blue Amanda had ever seen. Wouldn't a dress in this color be...?
No. Don't think of work. Don’t think about Noelle.
Just for the moment, she forgot about Callaway's diamonds and book. Concerns of going to jail fled when the first step onto the beach turned her back into a carefree teenager who stood scrunching her toes through the dry sand. She couldn't hide her delight.
Cal, coming up with towels, ridiculed her. “Stop gawking, hayseed. Haven't you ever seen a beach before?”
“Not a beach like this.”
When a girl in a tiny bikini and high heels minced by, Callaway automatically turned his head to check her out.
Amanda gave him a wicked nudge with her elbow. “Stop gawking, hayseed. Haven't you ever seen a bikini before? And don't tell me heels are part of the usual beach attire here.”
“The usual attire for models.” He nodded toward the beach. “See the camera outfit?”
Girls with full makeup and sprayed hair stood around as a photographer posed them for single and group shots. When she was done, each girl, grimacing from the sand sifting into her three inch heels, made her way up the steps to the walk and picked up a satchel big as an overnight bag, containing heaven knew what.
Coming back to reality from the world of high fashion, Amanda looked up to find Callaway watching her. He was smiling, his friendly smile.
She beamed at him. “Are you embarrassed?”
“About what?”