INTIMATEFANTASYwas laid out like a wagon wheel, with the business offices, recreational areas, and restaurant at the center. The main and only paved road crossed the diameter, and the remaining spokes of the wheel were made up of dirt roads, some more rustic than others, leading to the various cabanas for the guests and permanent staff.
Already, Tony knew every path, every shadow, and he ran through a mental map of the island as he circled the old mission-turned-restaurant. By now, his beat was familiar. Once around each of the buildings, checking out the shadows, once to each of the pools and hot tubs, then finally down the main road to the beach. With a diameter of less than two miles across, the entire perimeter of the island was well under eight miles around. He could make the rounds in two hours, then stroll along the pathways until exhaustion carried him back to his own cabana.
Tonight was quiet—metaphorically, anyway. He’d hardly seen another human, much less anyone needing his help. The storm, probably. The couples were enjoying nature’s pyrotechnics from the lush comfort of their private rooms. The single guests were most likely gathered in the restaurant, hoping their own personal fantasy somehow involved the storm of the century.
Tony was walking the west beach, sticking close to the tree line, his ears pricked for any sign of someone in trouble.
Truth be told, he was pretty sure the crises he’daverted weren’t completely random. After he’d saved one of the restaurant waitresses from drowning in the pool, Merrilee had told him that the island’s summer staff of mostly college kids tended to be less than careful, that they needed looking out for. “Maybe the full moon makes them careless,” she’d said.
Tony had only nodded. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. It just seemed a little odd that so many people got in so much trouble on the island. He’d only been on the island for seven days, and he’d already become a magnet for folks in trouble.
So far, he’d prevented quite a few drownings, extinguished a spreading campfire that the staff had built too close to the tree line, and rescued a young woman lost in the island’s wild foliage. He’d even rid the pool of a snake that had decided to call the warm water home—an experience he didn’t care to repeat.
A couple of large raindrops splattered on his cap, and he rubbed the moisture off his face, surprised as always to feel the unfamiliar five o’clock shadow that he would normally have shaved. The stubble was just one more layer of the disguise he’d adopted.
He didn’t consider himself anyone’s fool, and despite Merrilee’s comments, Tony knew that the island’s run of bad luck probably had more to do with him than it did with the moon. After all, Merrilee and a few of her trusted staff members—Danielle to help with the details, Stuart to spread the story and provide an alibi if needed—had put the illusion together. They’d sethim up to be a mysterious hero who moved in stealth through the night. And what good was a hero without something heroic to do?
The first night he’d opened the package, he’d simply ignored the disguise.For the hours between twilight and dawn, the note said.
In Tony’s mind, those hours weren’t any different than daylight—lonely and quiet. But by the second night, curiosity and pride had gotten the better of him. And as soon as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, he’d dressed and gone out.
That very night he’d saved a guest who’d foolishly gone for a midnight swim. Her lover had fallen asleep on the beach and hadn’t heard her cries for help when she became entangled in some fishing line.
The woman’s thank-you’s had seemed genuine enough, but the next day he’d asked Merrilee. She’d merely shrugged. “The woman is alive. How much more real do you expect it to be?”
It was a non-answer and, to Tony, almost a confession that she was pulling the strings.
Still, he’d never know for sure. The woman had truly been trapped. It had taken all his strength to hold her above water and free her. And the little boy he’d saved a few days ago from a capsized boat had swallowed nearly half the ocean.
In the end, Tony didn’t know where the setup ended and reality began. For him, at least, that meant everything was real. It was certainly real enough everymorning when he popped a pain killer and iced down his aching back. And there was no faking the swell of pride and satisfaction he got from helping out, even if just a little.
As if on cue, a shrill scream cut through the night air, and Tony strained to pinpoint the source of the sound.
He couldn’t hear anything now. Just the crash of waves kicked up by the oncoming storm, the low growl of thunder rippling across the sky, and the vibrant rustling of foliage tossed about by the wind.
Nature was about to put on a hell of a show. Whoever had screamed wasn’t going to be too happy to be stuck in the middle of it.
From where he was, he couldn’t see a damn thing. Frustrated, he ran toward the nearby cabana, then used an oddly tilted palm tree as a stepping stool. Ignoring the ever-present ache in his back, he hoisted himself up to the rooftop for a better view.
Lightning crackled overhead, and he saw her then—a woman hanging upside down by her knees from a single branch of a majestic tree near where the footpath opened up onto the beach. Her skirt hung loose over her face, and the quick view he had of her legs and stomach before the light faded was damned enticing.
A tiny black cat with wide green eyes perched a few feet away from her, calmly bathing itself at the base of the branch. Tony grinned at the irony. Despite the stereotype, during his firefighting days he’d never once rescued a kitten from a tree, much less a woman.
He climbed down then rushed over to her tree, accidentally stepping on a crumpled windbreaker she must have shed. “You okay?”
He heard a muffled reply as she reached up, unsuccessfully trying to hold her skirt over her legs and underwear. The material was thin, but it was wet and didn’t want to cooperate. Most of it stayed plastered over her face.
Not that she needed to worry. The footlights didn’t reach high enough to illuminate the little acrobat at all. Except for the one quick glance—courtesy of a cooperative bolt of lightning—her modesty was quite well protected.
“Miss?” As he always did on his night patrols, he pitched his voice lower than normal.
“I’m upside down,” she said, sounding far away from behind the wet fabric.
He put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “So I see.”
“Great. My heroic knight does stand-up.”
He still couldn’t see her face, but from the mix of amusement and irritation lacing her voice, he imagined she was rolling her eyes.
