“What were you reading so intently on the plane?” Carla asked, curious to know more about him.

  “The latest book by Ann Rule. She’s—”

  “I know who she is,” Carla interrupted. The talented Seattle author was a policewoman turned reporter turned writer. Ann’s books specialized in true-crime cases. Her novel on serial murderer Ted Bundy was a national bestseller. “My father worked with Ann before she took up writing,” Carla explained. “She’s from Seattle.”

  “I read that on the cover flap. What does your father do?”

  Carla swallowed uncomfortably. “He’s a cop,” she murmured, not looking at Philip.

  “You sound like it bothers you.”

  “It does,” Carla replied vigorously. “Half the boys in high school wouldn’t ask me out. They were afraid I’d tell my father if they tried anything, and then he’d go after them.”

  “Your father would arrest them for making a pass?” Philip sounded incredulous.

  “Not that.” She tossed him a defiant look. It was obvious that Philip, like everyone else in her life, didn’t understand. “It’s too hard to explain.”

  “Try me.”

  Carla felt a tightening in her stomach. Although she’d held these feelings deep inside since childhood, she had never verbalized them. She wasn’t sure she was capable of expressing them now. “A good example of what I’m saying happened when I was about ten. Our family went to a friend’s wedding reception. Everyone had been drinking, and an uncle had given some of the teens spiked punch. The minute Dad walked in the room the temperature dropped fifteen degrees.”

  “Were they afraid he was going to make a scene?”

  “I don’t know. But I do recall how uncomfortable everyone was.”

  “Including you?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “But that’s not all, is it?” he asked gently.

  “No,” she admitted. “It was far more than that. I can count on one hand the number of Christmases Dad spent at home. It was the same thing every holiday. And we were lucky if he was there for our birthdays. It got so that I’d dread it every time the phone rang, because I knew he was always on call. It was his job.”

  “I don’t blame you for resenting that.”

  Once started, Carla discovered she couldn’t stop. “He worked with the scum of the earth: pimps, muggers, murderers, wife beaters, and child abusers. Then there were the sick people, dying people, dead people, addicts, and prostitutes. Sometimes he’d come home at night and—” She stopped, realizing that everything had come out in one huge rush. When she’d caught her breath, Carla continued. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you like this.”

  “You didn’t,” Philip said. “You’ve never told your father any of this, have you?”

  “No. What was the use? Dad loves his work.” Philip’s hand cupped her shoulder. He was comforting her, and in a strange way Carla appreciated it. Never before had she voiced these thoughts, and the fierce intensity of her feelings had surprised her.

  By unspoken agreement, they turned back toward the hotel. The sky had grown dark now, and the lights from the long row of hotels dimly lit the beach. Other couples were walking along the sandy shores. A few flirted with the cresting ocean waves.

  “Philip.” Carla stopped and turned toward him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “What for?”

  Their eyes met in the moonlight, and Carla was trapped in the silvery glow of his gaze. Those beautiful, warm gray eyes held her as effectively as the arms that slipped around her waist and brought her into his embrace.

  “I may never drink anything but margaritas again.” His whisper was husky, but he didn’t make a move to do anything more than hold her. His arms pressed her gently as he rubbed his chin across the top of her head. A mist-filled breeze off the ocean had ruined her carefully styled hair; now it fell in tight ringlets around her oval face.

  Her hair was another thing that endeared her to Philip. Not once had he mentioned its color. Men invariably teased her about it, asking if her temper matched the color of her hair. The only time it did was when someone made tiresome remarks about it. Not red and not blond, the shade fell somewhere in between. Red oak, her mother claimed, like her grandmother’s. Like russet potatoes, her brother suggested. The color of her hair and her fair complexion had been the bane of Carla’s existence.

  “Would you like to go for a swim?” Philip asked, dropping his arms and taking her hand. They continued walking toward the hotel.

  “In the ocean?” She’d have to get her suit.

  “No, the current’s too dangerous. I meant the pool.”

  The hotel’s swimming pool was the most luxurious Carla had ever seen. A picture of the massive pool area at the hotel had been the determining factor in their decision to book their holidays at the El Cid. Blue, watery channels stretched all around the hotel, with bridges joining one section to another.

  “I’d love to go swimming,” Carla replied enthusiastically. They reached the short flight of stairs that led to the hotel from the beach. “Give me ten minutes to change and I’ll meet you back here.”

  “Ten minutes?” Philip arched one brow. Carla had noticed him do that a couple times during the evening.

  “Ten minutes—easy,” Carla confirmed confidently. She knew exactly which corner of her suitcase held her swimsuit. It wouldn’t take her more than five minutes to change, so she figured she’d easily have five minutes to spare. But what she hadn’t counted on was that Nancy had neatly stored their suitcases under the beds. Carla spent a frantic five minutes tearing their room apart, certain that they’d been robbed. Finally, she found it. She should have remembered her friend’s penchant for neatness.

  Fifteen minutes later, a chagrined look pinching her face, Carla met Philip at poolside.

  Pointedly he glanced at his watch.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she told him breathlessly, and offered a sketchy explanation as she placed her towel on a chaise longue. The pool was empty, which surprised Carla until she removed her wristwatch and noted that it was after midnight.

  She tugged the elastic of the forest-green maillot over her thigh and tested the water by dipping one foot into the pool. Warm. Almost too warm.

  “Are you one of those women who gets wet by degrees?” Philip asked as he took off his glasses and tossed them on his towel.

  “Not me.” She walked to his side, stretched out her arms, and dived in. Her slim body sliced into the water. Philip joined her almost immediately, and together they swam the width of the pool.

  “Do you want to race?” he called out.

  “No,” Carla answered with a giggle.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was on my college swim team, and I’m fast. Men can’t stand to lose.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It’s true.”

  “I’m not like most men.”

  Carla had noticed that. But this was turning out to be a promising relationship, and she didn’t want to ruin it. Floating lackadaisically on her back, she paddled rhythmically with her hands at her sides. Carla decided to ignore the challenge in his voice.

  Philip joined her, floating on his back as well. “If you don’t want to race, what would you like to do?”

  “Kiss underwater.” She laughed at the surprised look on his face as he struggled to a standing position. Philip looked different without his glasses, almost handsome. But not quite.

  He stood completely still in the shoulder-deep water. “I’m not that kind of man.”

  He was so serious that it took Carla a moment to realize he was kidding.

  “I’m not easy, you know,” she said, flirting. “You have to catch me first.” They were acting like adolescents, and Carla loved it. With Philip she could be herself. There wasn’t any need to put on sophisticated airs.

  Laughing, she twisted and dove underwater, surfacing several feet away from him. He came after her, and Carla took off with all the energy she’d expend for an important race. Using her most powerful strokes, she surged ahead. When his hand groped for her foot, she kicked frantically and managed to escape. That he’d caught up with her so quickly was hard to believe.

  She was even more amazed when his solid stroke matched hers and he gripped her waist and pulled her to the side of the pool.

  “You’re as slippery as an eel.”

  “You’re good,” she countered. “Who taught you to swim like that?”

  “My mother.” They were hidden under the shadow of a bridge that crossed a narrow section of the pool.

  Carla slipped her arms around his neck. She wanted him to kiss her. She could tell he was attracted to her; she’d seen it in his eyes when they were on the beach. That look had prompted her flippant challenge about kissing underwater.

  He pushed the wet strands of hair from her face. The silver light in his eyes darkened. He moved closer, but Carla assumed it was because he couldn’t see her clearly without his glasses. She liked his eyes. They were so expressive. She liked the way they darkened when he was serious and how they sparkled when he was teasing. Tiny lines fanned out from the edges, and Carla recognized that this man laughed and enjoyed life. Her feelings for him were intensifying every minute they were together.

  His hand rested on either side of her face, pressing her against the side of the pool. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. He released one hand and encircled her waist to pull her gently but firmly toward him.

  Slowly, lengthening each moment, each breath, he lowered his mouth to hers. Carla felt herself relax, felt her body, her heart, opening to him. Wanting to touch him, needing to, she ran her hand along the side of his face, twisting her head so that when he found her lips their mouths slanted across each other’s. The kiss was gentle and soft, gradually building in intensity until Carla melted against him.

  Philip let go of the side of the pool, and they sank just below the surface. Their legs entwined, and Carla opened her mouth to him. His tongue sought hers, forcing her mouth to open farther under its exploring pressure. Carla felt as if she were drowning, but the sensation was exquisite.

  They broke the surface of the water together and drew in deep, shaky breaths. Her body remained tucked in his embrace. His chest pressed against the softness of her breasts, and a crazy dizziness overcame her.

  The pressure of his embrace backed her against the side of the pool, and he kissed her again. Carla gloried in the wonderful, inexplicable sensations that overwhelmed her.

  Their breathing was ragged when Philip buried his face in the side of her neck.

  “My word,” she murmured breathlessly. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”

  Philip responded with a weak laugh. “Carla.” Philip hesitated and wiped the moisture from his eyes. “I wish I could see you better.”

  “I’m glad you can’t,” she replied happily. “You might get a swelled head if you could see how much I like you.”

  “Carla.” His voice grew strong, serious.

  “What’s wrong?” She placed a hand on each of his shoulders, liking the feel of her body floating against his.

  “There’s something you should know.”

  “What?” He was so serious that her heart throbbed. She didn’t want anything to ruin this. If he told her he was married she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  “Carla, I’m a policeman for the city of Spokane.”

  Chapter 2

  Carla woke just as the sun crested the horizon and bathed the beach in a flashy glow of color. Nancy had been asleep by the time Carla had returned last night, which was just as well. She hadn’t felt much like talking.

  Philip Garrison had taught her a valuable lesson. She should have trusted her instincts. From her first look at Philip, she’d felt he wasn’t her type. At the time, she hadn’t realized how true that was. His kisses had been…She couldn’t find a word to describe them. Pleasant, she mused. All right, very pleasant. But that certainly wasn’t enough to overcome what he was.

  Drat. Drat. Drat. She’d liked him. In fact, she’d liked him a lot. He was sensitive, sympathetic, compassionate, kind, caring…Carla placed the pillow over her head to drown out her thoughts. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about him again. This crazy idea of Nancy’s had been ridiculous from the beginning. She’d put the episode behind her and get on with her vacation.

  Throwing back the covers of her bed, she stood and stretched. Nancy grumbled and curled into a tight ball. Typical of Nancy, who hated mornings.

  “What time is it?” she demanded in a growling whisper.

  “Early. The sun just came up.”

  “Sun!” Nancy’s eyes popped open. “I forgot to set the alarm.”

  Carla smiled as she sat in the middle of the double bed and ran a brush through her hair to tame the wild array of red curls. “Don’t worry about the time. We’re on vacation, remember?”

  With an uncharacteristically hurried movement, Nancy threw back the sheets. “But I promised to meet Eduardo on the beach at dawn,” she cried out. “Oh good grief, how could I have been so stupid?”

  For Nancy to forget anything was surprising by itself. But to have her friend show this much enthusiasm in the morning was astonishing.

  “I take it you and…Eduardo hit it off?”

  Nancy’s head bobbed energetically. “What about you?”

  “Not so lucky,” Carla returned with a wistful sigh.

  Nancy’s most attractive summer dress slid over her hips as she turned her back to Carla in an unspoken request for her to do up the zipper. “What went wrong?”

  “You don’t have time to hear,” Carla said with forced cheerfulness.

  “He looked nice.”

  Nice was only the beginning, Carla thought. “Looks are often deceiving.” That much was true. Who would have imagined that Philip Garrison would turn out to be so appealing? “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you and Eduardo got along famously.”

  “He’s fabulous. I can’t remember a night I’ve enjoyed more.” Nancy paused, and a dreamy look replaced the hurried frown that had marred her smooth features.

  “His cast doesn’t bother you?” Carla couldn’t help asking.

  “Good grief, no. I hardly thought about it.”

  That was saying something.

  “He’s taking me on an all-day tour of Mazatlán. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Mind? Me? Of course not.” Carla’s mouth formed a tight smile. Now she’d be forced to spend the entire day alone. “Have a good time,” she managed without a hint of sarcasm. No need to ruin Nancy’s fun.

  “Thanks, I will.” Always practical, Nancy grabbed a hat to protect her from the sun, tucked her credit cards into a secret flap in her purse, and was out the door in a rush.

  Carla flopped back on her bed and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. This vacation was rapidly turning into a disaster. Day two, and already she wished she were back in Seattle.

  After an unhurried shower, Carla decided to head for the pool. With her skin color, she wasn’t able to stay out in the sun long, and morning was generally the best time for her to sunbathe.

  The pool area was filling up with early sun worshippers, and Carla chose a chaise longue near the deep end. That way she could dive in and cool off whenever necessary. This afternoon she’d do some shopping at the Mazatlán Arts and Crafts Center. She’d heard about the center almost immediately after her arrival. With twenty-eight shops to explore, she was certain to find souvenirs for her family. But even shopping had lost its appeal, especially since she’d be doing it alone. If she was lucky, she might meet someone at the pool—preferably someone male and handsome. She spread her towel out as a cushion for the longue and lay on her stomach, facing the pool. With her arms crossed, she pressed her cheek against her forearm. Boring, she admitted regretfully. Day two and she was bored to death. The turquoise bikini she wore was modest, especially when compared to the daring suit on the luscious, curvy creature across the pool from her. Carla guessed that if she had a body like that, she might be tempted to wear the same thing. She’d heard of string bikinis, but this one was hardly more than threads. The woman was attracting the attention of almost everyone at poolside. When Philip moved into her line of vision, Carla’s eyes widened. He smiled, and his gray eyes twinkled. It didn’t bother her that his smile wasn’t directed at her. For all the attention he’d given her, be obviously hadn’t noticed that she was across the pool from him.

  Carla chose to ignore him, but her heart leaped just seeing him again. He wasn’t muscular or strikingly masculine, but he was compelling in a way she couldn’t describe. If she hadn’t spent yesterday with him, she wouldn’t have given him a second look today. But she’d felt the lean hardness of him against her in the water. She’d tasted the sweetness of his kiss. She’d experienced the gentle comfort of his arms. Her eyes refused to move from him, and when he looked her way, she shook herself from her musings and lowered her cheek against her arm again, pretending not to see him.

  Her heart was racing, and that angered her. One look from Philip was no reason for her pulse to quicken. Although Carla refused to pay attention to him, she could feel Philip’s gaze on her. She smiled as she imagined the satisfaction in his gaze, the look of admiration that would dominate those smoky-gray eyes of his. How she loved his expressive eyes! Unable to resist, she raised her head a fraction to catch a glimpse of his approval. To her dismay, Carla discovered that Philip wasn’t studying her at all. His concentration was centered on the daring blond beauty at the other side of the pool.

  Carla expected the woman to treat Philip like a pesky intruder. But she didn’t—in fact, she seemed to encourage his attention. Grudgingly, Carla admitted there was a certain attractiveness to Philip, and an aura of quiet confidence that was…well, masculine. His sandy hair had a tendency to curl at the ends, she observed, and most men would have styled it into submission. But not Philip—professionally groomed hair wouldn’t be on his list of priorities.