It had been a long time. Yes, a long, long time since he
had seen her.
Hank had never actually described her, but from the moment
he saw her, even from a distance across the water, he knew
it had to be her.
Hank had described her with great enthusiasm without
describing her at all. In his scholar's mental,
metaphysical lust, if there was such a thing. It didn't
matter. Adam had never mentioned in his correspondence
that he could easily imagine Samantha Carlyle now because
he doubted if she had changed a bit in the nearly five
years since he had seen her.
She was one of those women who was simply riveting.
Looking half-naked in a two-piece cobalt suit that was
actually rather decent, considering how little women's
bathing suits consisted of these days. It didn't matter.
It was what was inside the suit that made it so
compelling. She was tall, legs wickedly long, slim,
shapely. Honey-gold tanned. Rounded buttocks, flat
stomach, skinny waist. Breasts...enough to create
mysteriously shadowed cleavage against the constraints of
the bikini bra. Good collarbone, nice long throat...
His eyes slipped down again.
Breasts. Very nice.
Body...very sensual. Long, slim, an athletic build that
was still enhanced with...curves. Yeah, curves. Breasts...
Eyes up, old man, he told himself. Study her face. Her
eyes. That's where the changes in a woman appear.
She wasn't wearing a hat or sunglasses, so she was easy to
assess. She was standing on the bow waiting to tie up at
the dock. The boat came nearer, nearer; the engine was
cut. She was absolutely gorgeous, almost pagan, barefoot
and perfectly balanced on those long, wickedly long legs.
Her hands were on her hops as she waited. She defied
nature, the wind, the water, like a goddess from the sea.
Venus rising, red hair blazing in the wind, whipping
behind her with the pride and majesty of a battle banner.
Her face...
Yes, her face.
Sophisticated. Beautifully bones, lightly tanned. Eyes
large, bright, an extraordinary vibrant green that both
clashed wildly against her hair like a winter's storm and
yet seemed to complement it, and the defined features of
her face, majestically. Her nose was perfectly
proportioned and dead straight. Her face was nearly oval,
with just the hint of a heart shape to soften perfection
to beauty. Lips sculpted, arrestingly defined. Brows
arched, a slightly darker shade than the blazing auburn
that topped her head. Standing against the wind, she
compelled attention and admiration. She was so dignified.
And yet somehow...
She reeked of sensuality, as well, he realized somewhat
irritably, everything that was so perfect and serene about
her blending with the fire in her eyes and the wicked
length of her...
Yes, this was Samantha.
He hadn't expected to see her quite so soon, nor had he
expected her to be quite so vividly arresting. He'd been
younger himself, the last time she'd seen her. Too young,
maybe. Too impetuous, too quick to rise to anger. Strange
what the years, time and circumstance could do to a
person. But then, years ago she had been way too proud
herself. And she still had that cloak of pride about her
now, so it seemed. Ah, yes, she had a look about her. Men
probably still feel flat in her path, and she probably
still stepped right over them. Sometimes, maybe, she
chewed them up, spat them out.
He knew. He'd been chewed up.
Spat out.
Something suddenly seemed to squeeze in his chest. The
past hurt. No, seeing Sam hurt. Some part of her had
stayed with him, no matter where he had gone, what he had
done. Now Justin was gone. And Hank was gone.
And it hurt to wonder, not to know, to envision what might
have been.
Well, he was back. And no matter what she wanted this
time, she was going to have him on her like a leech.
No spitting him out.
Not this time, baby, he thought. This time, she was going
to have to pay attention to him.
Because she had to have the answers he wanted. He knew it.
And she was going to give them to him.
He gritted his teeth, locking his jaw. He was determined
that he wasn't going to give a damn how he got his answers.
Because she was in danger.
She didn't know it, and he didn't even know just how or
when it was coming. He just knew it was coming
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