A Lover Awaits Read online

  She stepped forward, her slender ringed hand outstretched in a beseeching manner. “Boone?”

  Before Simon could correct her natural mistake, her thick lashes fluttered wildly and she crumpled to the floor.

  “Elise!” The youngest of the men flew to her side, where he knelt and touched her face. His gelled crewcut practically quivered with anger as, glaring at Simon, his tone accusing, he said, “She’s out cold.”

  The extreme reaction prompted Simon to assume Elise was another of Boone’s conquests.

  “You’re obviously the brother,” an old salt said. Big and grizzled, he shoved his billed cap back along his receding hairline as if to give his rheumy blue eyes a clear field. “Two peas in a pod, eh?”

  Exactly what Simon feared.

  “Twins,” he agreed.

  A wizened black man in a striped T-shirt a couple of sizes too big raced to the cooler. “I’ll get some water!”

  Simon stood there, fighting his instinct to take charge of the situation. He was the interloper. The outsider. And he chose to maintain the status quo.

  “Elise, it’s all right.” The young man was gently patting her cheek, his voice soft and reassuring. “You didn’t see no ghost. It ain’t Boone.”

  “C’mon, now, sweetheart, drink this,” the skinny man said.

  The men got the job done without him. Elise finally responded and opened her eyes. After she took the proffered sip of water, they got her to her feet.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, fingers clenching the cup of water as she faced Simon. “I-I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

  “Having women faint on you?”

  Thinking of Phoebe Grant, he said, “Having them mistake me for my brother.”

  Dark shadows beneath the young woman’s eyes indicated lack of rest. And she couldn’t control the tremor in her hand as she took another sip of water.

  But a moment later, appearing steadier, she made the introductions.

  Elise Navarro had been Boone’s assistant, and ran the everyday workings of the office. The old salt, Magnus Hanson, was one of the charter captains, the scrawny man his mate Elijah Greer. And Corky Slotnik, a new hire straight out of the navy, was the one who’d come to her aid.

  “I’m sure you’ll want to see your office,” she said, leading the way to the inner room.

  “My brother’s office.”

  Though her expression was questioning, he didn’t explain.

  While smaller than the outer room, Boone’s office had the same feeling of spaciousness as his home. Desk and bookcases of pale wood flanked a light blue rug whose pattern was nautical. Two slim chairs were the mates to the executive job behind the desk, all upholstered with outlines of sailing ships. A long file cabinet placed against one wall was also of light wood, and had the feel of fine furniture. Its top surface was dotted with pieces of coral.

  But the centerpiece of the office was the oversized window opposite the desk.

  Simon stood before it a moment, connecting with the blue and green ribbons of water, the colors startling in their intensity so soon after a storm.

  “Can I get you anything?” Elise asked.

  “Not today. I just need a few minutes alone.”

  Staring out at the Gulf, allowing calm to wash over him, he knew his first moment of peace since the news of Boone’s death had breached his world.

  “You’re going to sell, aren’t you?”

  Harmony shattered, Simon faced Elise, who’d stopped in the doorway. “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll let someone else run it.”

  She nodded and backed out.

  Leaving Simon alone to contemplate the irony of his and Boone’s lives.

  They couldn’t have been more different—or more identical.

  While they’d rarely had contact as adults, they’d both lived on the water—he in the swamp, Boone on the ocean. They’d both made their living from tourists and local sportsmen—he with airboats, Boone with fishing boats.

  Twins, living lives that were completely separate, and yet so similar.

  How deep did that sameness go?

  Fearing the dark side that he’d witnessed firsthand in his twin all those years ago, Simon was tempted to disappear back into his swamp where he could continue to avoid the past.

  But the biggest part of his past had just died by his own hand, Simon thought.

  Or had he?

  Could Phoebe Grant know something she wasn’t telling?

  For his own sake, he wanted to believe that the authorities were wrong...that he was wrong...that his twin could have been a victim rather than a murderer.... Simon wondered what it would take to find out.

  THE BLONDE RETURNED after the dinner-hour rush, just as Phoebe had expected.

  One look at his newest conquest and Kevin suggested, “Why don’t you call it a night? I can take care of things here and lock up.”

  Only two other couples were lingering over drinks. So why was she hanging around when she could... what?

  A return trip to Boone Calderon’s home was not an option. She no longer had the keys and if she tried breaking in, his brother might go to more drastic measures than just asking her to leave. He might have her arrested for trespassing.

  Simon Calderon...closed off...unfeeling...

  At least that’s what he wanted her to think.

  She couldn’t forget the flicker of emotion he’d been quick to hide. He’d been hurting, not only from Boone’s death, but from believing his twin capable of murder.

  But why would he?

  A question she was certain she’d never have answered.

  Phoebe started, realizing that her partner and his love interest were making moon eyes at each other.

  “You’re sure you won’t be too distracted to lock up?” she asked.

  Kevin grinned. “Positive. I’m multitalented, you know. So go home. Go to bed. Sleep late. Don’t even bother coming in tomorrow.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Trying to take care of you.”

  “Uh-huh.” While taking care of himself. Phoebe shook her head. “About tomorrow—” The thought of having yet another day to recover from the emotional trauma of her sister’s death was tempting, and yet she feared not working would give her too much time to think. “—I’ll let you know.”

  He waved her off. “Go.”

  Phoebe went...but not home.

  Instead, when she jumped in her convertible, she decided to pass up home for Dolphin’s Gate, the Naples closed community where Audra had been staying in their mother and stepfather’s winter home.

  The police had been there before her, of course. While not the crime scene, they nevertheless had searched the place, going through Audra’s personal effects and papers, looking for some indication that all was not as it had seemed. They’d found exactly squat.

  With failure almost a certainty, she still had nothing to lose. No way was she going to get at Boone’s house with his brother hanging around.

  At this time of night, the drive only took her about twenty minutes, Dolphin’s Gate being several miles past her own development.

  Slowing as she approached the guard house, Phoebe waved to the man on duty.

  He nodded. “Miss Grant.”

  His normally friendly expression was sober, because of Audra, of course, and he waved her through. Since she’d been keeping an eye on the condo during the off-season for years, most of the guards knew her by sight and didn’t need to check the windshield sticker.

  Dolphin’s Gate was a large enclave overlooking the bay—hence the name—and its condos, townhouses and single-family homes were all wrapped around an eighteen-hole golf course. Not that either her mother or her stepfather actually played golf. The prestige of the place with its exclusive club had been the deciding factor for them.

  Phoebe drove the winding road along grounds that were lushly landscaped and manicured to perfection. A dazzling set
ting if not as appealing to her as a more natural one—like the pond she could watch by the hour from her own lanai. There vegetation grew semiwild and helped provide sanctuary to scores of small animals, birds and even an alligator or two.

  Leaving the car in the drive, Phoebe entered the townhouse. Designed by an award-winning architect and decorated by a pricey firm, the place had always left her cold. Nothing inside had been meant to convey the feeling of warmth. Of someone actually living there. Rather, it looked like a model, or perhaps something out of a magazine layout.

  Phoebe turned on the lights and checked around the open living area.

  The ceramic backsplash in the kitchen still wasn’t complete. She’d have to contact Jimmy Bob Dortch, see if she could light a fire under the handyman who’d been dragging out the small job even longer than the work he’d done for the restaurant.

  Other than the tools and tiles set on a counter, not an item seemed to be out of place. Her mother’s cleaning woman had been thorough.

  Only the other day the townhouse had been in use, two of the three bedrooms occupied by her mother and two younger sisters, who’d flown in for the funeral. Her sisters had bunked together, avoiding the room Audra had been living in. All three had allowed themselves what they considered an appropriate amount of grief for Audra that night, then had taken themselves back to their own lives on early flights the very next morning.

  Michelle had three small kids to care for, and Janice an errant boyfriend whom she didn’t trust as far as she could throw him. Phoebe had never been close to either of the younger girls, anyway, so she’d had no expectations of them. But her mother’s leaving so soon had hurt.

  Unknowing or uncaring that her daughter had needed her, her mother had said, Harry wouldn’t know what to do without me, poor man, not even for another day.

  And before Harry, neither had Peter nor Russell nor Stanley. Phoebe guessed her own father and Audra’s had received the same single-minded attention while her mother was still married to each of them.

  As Phoebe climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, she thought about her mother’s choices.

  Six husbands in thirty-some years. Four daughters, all with different fathers. A life of uncertainty, picking up and moving, starting over and over and over again. And all in the name of “love.”

  Why couldn’t her mother have taken her relationships for what they were and left them at that? Why did she have to marry every man she lusted after, turning her daughters’ lives into chaos?

  And why was she wasting time bemoaning what she couldn’t control? Phoebe wondered.

  Irritated with herself, she entered Audra’s bedroom, as tidy as the rest of the house—far neater than Phoebe had ever seen it since Audra moved in. The cleaning woman’s work, of course.

  Going through drawers, inspecting her sister’s effects, she tried to remain detached. One of the little things was her undoing. Her eyes filled with tears when she found the locket she’d given Audra for her sixteenth birthday. She read the inscription on the back, then opened it and stared at their pictures inside. She hadn’t even known Audra had kept the cheap trinket, so at odds with the rest of her fine jewelry.

  Growing up, they’d been so close. Had rarely even argued. Always made up right after. The only time Audra had stayed angry with her was over the diary. Deciding to see what all the secrecy was about, she’d been shocked by the details of her sister’s intimate relationship with the boy she professed to love.

  Even at fourteen, Audra had let “love” rule her life.

  Just like their mother.

  After that, Audra hid the diary so well that Phoebe couldn’t find it, although not for lack of trying.

  The diary...hidden...

  Had to be hidden cleverly or the police would have found it. Phoebe had no doubt the diary would have been confiscated. Then some stranger would have paged through Audra’s most personal thoughts.

  Perhaps her sister hadn’t brought the thing to Boone’s house, after all, Phoebe decided. Too chancy that he might have gotten nosy.

  Phoebe searched the bedroom and bath. Took apart the closet. No diary. No unusual hiding place. She headed downstairs. While Audra hadn’t used the open living area much, she had liked the coziness of Harry’s den.

  They’d watched a few movies together there, had shared a few glasses of wine. Flipping on the room light, she pictured Audra on the cushy sofa, bare feet snuggled under a small throw she’d taken from the storage area inside a nearby hassock.

  As always, Phoebe had automatically started straightening the room. She’d folded up the throw and had tried putting it away, but her sister had stopped her, had insisted on doing it herself. Audra, the messy one, who’d always been glad to leave the cleaning up to others.

  Even then, Phoebe had thought it odd.

  Pulse threading unevenly, she lifted the hassock’s lid and dug down beneath several throws and small pillows. Her fingers touching the object at the bottom lifted her spirits.

  With a cry of triumph, Phoebe pulled the elusive diary from its hiding place.

  The knowledge was instant and didn’t need to be communicated verbally. One look into each other’s eyes and we knew we wanted each other.

  What matter that we’d just met?

  He has the sexiest dark eyes...bedroom eyes...and they told me everything I wanted to know. An excitement I’ve never known before curled deep inside me.

  We pretended friendliness, nothing more, and left the Blue Crab separately.

  No one had the faintest idea...

  The entire drive home, my belly quivered with anticipation and my breasts ached for his touch. I could think of nothing else.

  He was waiting for me even as I knew he would be. I didn’t ask how he got past the guard. That he had and I didn’t know how made it more exciting. I felt breathless, as if this would be the very first time...

  We didn’t make it across the living room to the stairs. Oh, how shocked mother would be that we dared abuse her new Berber carpeting as we did.

  He didn’t even bother taking off my clothes. Merely reached under my dress and ripped my panties free. I’ve never been so excited. I was already wet for him, and his fingers easily slid inside me...

  “Oh, boy...”

  Deciding she’d had enough titillation for one night, Phoebe rose from her bed. She was wet herself—despite the air conditioning, beads of perspiration were rolling down her back and between her breasts. Thank goodness she’d waited until she arrived home to crack open the diary, an accounting that began with the passage she’d read.

  As if Audra had started a new journal to celebrate the beginning of a new life.

  “Whew! What a celebration,” she muttered softly, the heat pulsing from within making her distinctly uncomfortable.

  A swim would cool her off.

  She’d had the house built to curve around the pool. The tall sliding glass doors of the bedroom, eating nook and living area kept the humidity out and the air conditioning in during the hot months. In winter, the whole house would be open to the outside.

  Undressing quickly, leaving her clothes where they fell, she snapped off the bedroom light and slid out onto the lanai, remembering the night she’d introduced them to each other. Boone had been a fairly regular customer and her sister had come around for company.

  She hadn’t suspected, not then.

  The midnight moon silvered her surroundings as she paused at the edge of the pool and tuned in to the night. Lively splashes. Insects humming. A glimpse of a wild rabbit. Tiny geckos racing along the screened walls. All mesmerized her.

  She’d been mesmerized by the passage she’d read, as well.

  One look into each other’s eyes and we knew we wanted each other. What matter that we’d just met? He has the sexiest dark eyes...bedroom eyes...

  That particular reference had set her imagination racing.

  I’ve never been so excited I was already wet for him, and his fingers easily slid inside me...

/>   In her mind, she’d seen Boone for an instant...but he’d quickly been replaced by Simon.

  “Enough.”

  Arching, she flew into the pool without reservation, giving herself over to the water completely. She swam lengths, gracefully turning at the tiled walls without breaking her rhythm. It didn’t take much to run out of steam tonight. Tension released, imagination under control, she drifted to a stop and allowed her body to hang suspended in the middle of the pool.

  It was only then—when she had exhausted herself and freed her mind of the diary’s seduction—that she heard a rustle behind her. Thinking a lizard or snake had found its way into the screened area, she whipped around, her gaze going straight for whatever danger lurked in the garden area at the far end of the pool.

  Before she could focus, a smooth, mocking voice set her straight on the nature of her uninvited guest.

  “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

  Chapter Three

  Phoebe flipped back, sank and swallowed a mouthful of pool water. Thrashing to the surface, she sputtered, “What...how did you get in? And when?”

  Simon Calderon stepped into a patch of moonlight. “Keys,” he said, shaking what undoubtedly were the ones she’d given Audra. “About an hour ago.”

  “You were here when I got home? Why didn’t you announce yourself then?”

  He indicated the garden area. “I was waiting for you over there. Must’ve dropped off. Nice digs. Comfortable lounge chair.”

  He’d been there while she’d sprawled across her bed and read Audra’s diary. While—believing she was alone—she’d stripped to the buff and had worked off the tension the passage had awakened in her.

  Had he been asleep then?

  Horribly embarrassed, praying the dark had shielded her from those bedroom eyes, Phoebe didn’t really want to know for certain.

  She did ask, “What’s on your mind, Mr. Calderon?”

  “Simon.” He stepped closer to the pool. “And I’d be a lot more comfortable discussing it on an even plane. You want to come out or should I join you?”