“Maybe hire a skywriter or send up a flare? Ooh, or maybe I’ll leave her a message in the sand.” Cara had no clue how she was going to track down Becca. “Or maybe I’ll look for people doing the downward dog.”
“I’m serious.” Her mother tsked.
“I have no clue how we’re going to find them, but we’ve got to try. Becca’s the reason his sister ran off in the first place.”
“Becca’s premonitions are extremely accurate. If she knows that the ex is going to chase them, then the chances are that it’s true.”
“I know. That’s what worries me.” Thank God her sister didn’t have access to a gun. She’d probably shoot her toe.
“Look on the bright side, dear. Agent Cruz is a good-looking man, smart, and ambitious. He could be a good candidate for a sperm donor. Maybe while you’re traveling, you can convince him to make a deposit, if you know what I mean.” Cara’s mother raised and lowered her brows in quick succession.
“I can find my own donor, and I can guarantee his last name won’t be Cruz.”
“If you say so, dear.” Her mom kissed Adam’s head. “Be careful and have a nice flight.”
The flight had been nice.Good weather, decent company, and huge leather seats. The best part was no accidental touches. It would eventually happen. She was about as lucky as the dog chasing the rabbit around a track.
“Is the island everything you remembered?” Coop asked while grabbing their bags.
“Thankfully, no,” she answered, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think for most of my stay I saw double. Alcohol is not my friend. It’s lost some of its…magic.”
“Sobriety will do that to you.”
That was an understatement. Age had made her more cynical. Betrayals had hardened her against the prospect of conceiving the old-fashioned way and falling in love. She was hopeless, and was bound to end up just like Aunt Betty, only with Cara’s luck, her hair dye wouldn’t be a pretty pink. It’d turn the color of Pepto-Bismol.
“How about we get some rooms and hit the bar. You know what they say…the bartender knows and hears all.” He walked beside her into the terminal.
The limo ride to the resort was quick. If she’d been back for any other reason, she might have enjoyed the scenery, seeing it for the first time without everything being doubled. Now it was impossible to enjoy the sweat gathering beneath her bra, or the way her sundress had to be held down against the ocean wind as they stepped out of the car among the hustle and bustle of tourists in front of the resort. She held her hand to her stomach to squelch the dancing butterflies. Each person walking by was apotential connection she didn’t care to make.
Cooper grabbed both of their bags and stood next to her. “I was a blocker on the football team during high school. Do you want me to clear the path?”
She shook her head. “I can deflect most of the images if the touch is quick, but too many and it drains me.”
“We’ll make this quick.” He headed into the lobby with her following on his heels. Several people skimmed her arm in passing as she tried desperately to focus on Cooper’s back.
The lobby was filled witholdpeople dressed in flower-printed shirts. It was as though they’d just stepped into the middle of a geriatric convention. She’d never seen so many of their age in one place. She wouldn’t be finding her sperm donor here.
“Well, at least Angela and Becca will stick out like sore thumbs.” Finding them should be a piece of cake. Cara sidestepped several people as they made their way up to the reservation desk, where a young woman stood behind the counter.
“We’d like a room,” Cooper announced, pulling out his wallet.
“Do you have a reservation?” the blonde behind the counter asked.
“No,” Cara answered.
“I’m sorry. We’re all booked for the convention.” She smiled sweetly while undressing Cooper with her eyes.
Cara exhaled a long breath. “Don’t you have anything? He’s FBI.” Cara lifted her brows at Cooper. “Show her your badge. Chicks dig that.” Cara leaned toward Coop without touching him.
“Not all,” he grumbled under his breath.
“Oh, you must be here about the thefts.” She clasped her fingers together. “We still don’t have any rooms for you. Maybe you can try a hotel on the other side of the island.”
A man stepped out from a room behind the counter. “Excuse me,” he said as he approached. “Are you Cara Thatcher?”
Cara shared an uneasy look with Cooper. “Yes.”
“They told me you’d come,” he said, sliding the blonde woman out of the way. “Ms. Becca Thatcher showed me a picture of you. She reserved you a cabana and paid for it in advance.”
