He wanted her

The thought came like a warm breeze across her body. As Chris neared the shore, he scooped her up in his arms, walking toward the boathouse. “You ever made love in a hammock before?”

Lucy looked up thoughtfully, hoping he couldn’t tell her heart was beating so fast. “Nope, can’t say that I have.”

“Well, then, let me initiate you.” He deposited her in the hammock, not even waiting for it to stop swinging before dropping down on top of her.

The sun shone in the window next to them, lighting his green eyes to match the sparkling water outside. She reached up and placed her palms on either side of his face as he worked her wet skirt down.

He nibbled across her skin while his fingers took her right to the edge of ecstasy. She could feel the soft tip of him sliding up and down her thigh, and she was sure she’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Chris.

A sound escaped her mouth as she arched and drowned in waves of pleasure. He made a similar sound when she reached for him, gliding her fingers up and down the length of him in a slow rhythm that coincided with the swinging of the hammock….

Dear Readers,

Readers often wonder where authors get their ideas. The Best of Me was inspired by a news story on the show Inside Edition. Ric O’Barry, the man who trained the original Flipper dolphins, now spends his life fighting for the rights of captive dolphins. In the news story he had gained custody of a dolphin in Brazil and was repatriating him to the wild. I, like many people, am mystified by the dolphin, so a man who sacrifices his own personal happiness and well-being to save them is a hero in my book. Through a series of quirky events, I was able to meet Ric O’Barry. Not only was he fascinating, but his book, Behind the Dolphin Smile was an important resource. I thank him for his invaluable help, and for being a hero in the truest sense of the word.

I must also extend my gratitude to Bill, who spent time with me at Key West Aquarium showing me how an aquarium works, even the back rooms no one usually sees.

Now, for my fictional hero Chris Maddox, I needed a match, a woman who was strong, yet tender enough to touch my jaded hero’s heart. Of course, she’s also his total opposite. But these two people bring out the best in each other and make them question the things they hold dear.

Tina Wainscott

P.S. Please visit my Web site! www.tinawainscott.com

The Best of Me

Tina Wainscott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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My deepest gratitude to Ric O’Barry, founder of the Dolphin Project. This book would not have existed without him. And for all the heroes who work to free captive dolphins. Those heroes include the ones who work in the background, who support the Dolphin Project and similar organizations, and everyone who picks up a pen to write to someone who can make a difference.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

1

LUCY DONOVAN pulled her luggage beneath the arched, faded sign that read, Sonny’s Marine Park—See Randy the Dolphin! She took a deep breath and stared at the first word because Sonny wouldn’t be there. Her father had died, leaving the daughter he’d hardly spoken with in twelve years his park in Nassau, Bahamas. She felt silly at the sting of tears behind her eyes, at the deep sense of loss. She’d hardly known him.

According to her mother, Sonny was a lazy, good-for-nothing bum. To Lucy, he was a free spirit, an explorer, maybe even a pirate. Though her life reflected her mother’s values, somewhere in Lucy’s soul flowed the blood of the great adventurer she imagined him to be.

She swiped at her eyes and forged on. The ticket booth doubled as a gift shop with displays of key chains and shells. A young man with brown hair nodded as she approached.

“Hi, I’m Lucy Donovan, Sonny’s daughter. I’m supposed to see a Bailey.”

His face broke into a smile that combined relief and welcome. “Boy, are we glad to see you, Lucy, and welcome to Sonny’s. I’m Bill. Bailey’s in the office over there.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

She paused just inside the gate, finding it hard to believe she owned this park right on the ocean. To her left, several in-ground pools sparkled in the sunshine, one with a group of people clustered around it. A sign announced a square tank of water as the Touching Tank. People picked up conch shells and crabs and examined the creatures with wonder. Everyone made her feel overdressed, even though she’d taken off her linen jacket the moment she’d stepped off the plane and succumbed to the muggy heat.

She headed to a small building snugged next to a larger one with a sign over its gaping entrance that read Aquariums. Inside the office, a thin black man stood by a battered desk, rubbing his temples and clutching the phone. The desk and shelves were cluttered with papers and seashells.

The man picked up a letter. “But dere has to be some mistake, mon. Yah, I see the man’s signature, but…so I cannot even shoot him? Okay, okay. No, I won’t shoot him, I promise.” The lyrical way he spoke made her smile despite his annoyance. He dropped the phone into the cradle.

She stepped forward, her hand extended. “You must be Bailey. I’m Lucy Donovan, Sonny’s—”

“A yu, Miss Lucy! Yah, I see Sonny in you, same brown eyes and hair, same length, too.” She touched her shoulder-length hair, but he rambled on. “Am I glad to see you, yes I am. We have a problem, a big problem. The man out dere is tiefing da big fish. A wicked man, dat one. He come dis morning and say he taking our fish. Nobody will come to da park if dere’s no big fish, and without people you got no money, no money means no park, and no park means no job, no job means no food. I got five childrens to feed, an’ t’ree goats.” He took a deep breath. “Miss Lucy, you got to kick the wicked man outta here.”

Cleaning out her father’s place and deciding what to do about the park she now owned was part of her agenda. So was finding out what her father was really like at the risk of her fanciful dreams. Kicking out some wicked man was not on the list of things she wanted to tackle.

“You said a man was tiefing?”

“Tiefing. Stealing. He be taking our main fish, Randy. Come, I show you.”

“Wait a minute,” she said, but he kept walking. “How can someone steal a fish?”

She followed him toward the cluster of people. All she knew about fish was to make sure it was fresh and thoroughly cooked. This knowledge probably wasn’t going to help much. But she did know subordinate workers.

She slipped on her jacket, effecting her boss persona, and asked Bailey, “Does anyone else work here?”

“No, jus’ me, Bill, and Big Sonny, him being in da past tense of course.”

The crowd mumbled and grumbled. “Hey, we paid to see a perr-formin’ dolphin,” a large man drawled. “That guy says we can’t go near him. What kind of deal is this, anyway?”

“Yeah, I want my money back,” another chimed in.

“Me, too! I heard about these island rip-off artists.”

“Nooo, no rip artists here, mon.” Bailey turned to give her a woeful look, then raised his palms and turned back to the crowd. “We’re working on da problem, mon. Go play wit’ da conchs and crabs in da Touching Tank, and we get da big show ready. Go, go,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

They moved away, but didn’t leave. Obviously they thought a better show was about to be performed. Lucy’s throat went dry, but anger prickled through her at the thought of some man stealing the main attraction. What nerve. She pushed back her sleeves and stepped up to the knee-high fence that surrounded all the pools.

The man standing in chest-deep water on a platform paid absolutely no attention to anything but the large form circling in the pool with him. He was probably in his early thirties, with blond hair burnished gold by the sun. His curls grazed the tops of strong, tan shoulders. Quite possibly he had one of the nicest chins she’d ever seen, strong and perfectly shaped. Something warm tickled through her. He could be an attraction himself: See Gorgeous Guy in Pool!

Bailey nudged her, and she blinked in disbelief. Good grief, she was supposed to kick the man out, not ogle him!

“Excuse me,” she said, leaning over the fence. “Man in the pool.”

The man pulled a fish out of a bucket. The big fish moved closer and popped its head out of the water. Oh, it was a dolphin like Flipper! Ridges of tiny teeth lined its open mouth, and for a moment she worried about the man’s long fingers. The big fish caught its supper in midair, landing with a graceful splash. The crowd clapped sporadically, but the man didn’t even glance up.

“Excuse me,” she said, louder this time. “Please get out of the pool so we can discuss this.”

He glanced up at her then, insolence in vivid eyes the color of the sparkling ocean beyond him. She felt her stomach twist. Before she could even admonish herself for getting caught up in his eyes, he’d turned back to the dolphin.

The pattern in the concrete made her heels a little shaky, but she stepped over the gate and the sign he’d obviously put up that said Keep Out, and walked to the edge. No one ignored Lucy Donovan. Running her own advertising company had given her an edge of authority, and if she could get past those eyes, she’d have him bowing in acquiescence in no time. The thought of him bowing in front of her also did strange things to her stomach.

She planted her hands on her hips, and in her best bosslike tone, said, “Out of the pool now, mister.”

“Lady, if you’re not careful, you’re going to end up in the pool. Some of the tiles around the edge are loose.”

“You think you can scare me away with a few loose tiles?” She glanced back at the crowd that probably thought this was some kind of skit. “Who are you and what right do you have to be in this pool? This is private property.” Her private property.

The dolphin popped out of the water and caught the fish again. The crowd clapped. Anger surged. Forget his eyes! This guy is wicked, she thought, walking around to the side behind the dolphin.

“I want an answer or I’m calling the authorities.”

“I already explained everything to that guy,” the man said, waving vaguely toward Bailey but not looking at anyone but the big fish.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Since I’m the owner, why don’t you explain it to me?”

The strength from her last statement trickled away when he turned those eyes on her, and she saw disgust. “You’re the owner?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Yes. And I want to know why you’re molesting my fish.”

Well, now she had his attention. He swam toward her, the sun glistening off his wet shoulders. She sensed a fight brewing and geared her body toward it. In one slick movement he shoved himself out of the pool and stood to face her. Or look down at her, as it were. Water ran in rivulets down a chest sprinkled with fine, golden hair. He wore one of those little swimming trunk things that outlined everything, and she wasn’t going to look anymore. On a black cord around his neck he wore a shark’s tooth. She looked up to meet his eyes, refusing to be intimidated by him, his height, or his eyes. Or what the deep blue trunks revealed. A warm breeze washed over her, making her aware of the fine sheen of perspiration on her face.

He crowded closer into her zone. “First of all, that is not a fish. He’s a mammal like you and me, only not as selfish and greedy and inhumane. That dolphin has been living in a chlorinated pool that has bleached his skin white and has made his eyes nearly close. Dolphins are made to swim out there.” He gestured toward the open ocean. “Not in that little swimming pool. His snout’s beat up from bumping against the sides. This very social creature has lived alone for six years. His only company is some guy who makes him do tricks for a bunch of people who think it’s neat to see a dolphin jump and twirl for his meals, which have, up until today, consisted of frozen mullet. To you and me, that’s like eating dog food. Frozen dog food.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but he moved even closer. “You have stripped from that dolphin everything that makes him a dolphin. His pod and all the hierarchy and social activities that go with it, the thrill of the chase, the feel of the open, endless ocean, the fun of life, and if you want to get right down to it, you’ve robbed his soul. He was going to die in that pool, and you would have been responsible. My name is Chris Maddox. I’m the founder of the Free Dolphin Society, and I’ve been given authority by the Bahamian government to repatriate this dolphin to the wild.”

He touched his finger to her collarbone, sending little shock waves through her chest. “I’m not going anywhere without this dolphin. Got it?”

Anger turned to guilt as his words spiked through her. She shifted away from him—and something moved under her heel. The tile tilted, and she lost her balance. Arms flailing, she fell toward the sparkling water with that huge form moving beneath it. Dignity be damned, she thought, as a scream tore from her throat. Her fingers slid across Chris’s slick skin as she tried to grab for anything. She felt his hands on her arms, but it was too late. Momentum was doing its thing, and they both tumbled into the pool.

She came to the surface with a loud gasp, shoving herself toward the shallow platform. Chris came up a second later, flicking his head back and sending a spray of water behind him. And the big fish…the dolphin swam toward her.

She felt her eyes bulge out in panic. “Get it away from me!”

When she turned to Chris for help, her fear bubbled to anger. He was laughing! Then the sound of more laughter filled the air. She turned toward the clapping crowd. The only person not laughing was Bailey. He looked shell-shocked. She pressed her palm to her forehead, and then realized she was still in the pool with the big fish. Its head was now out of the water, and even it seemed to be grinning at her.

“This is not funny,” she said to no one in particular, pushing wet strands of hair from her face. She hated the tremble that crept through her voice. “Just keep that fish away from me.”

“He’s not a fish, he’s a dolphin,” Chris corrected again, though he still had the same kind of grin on his face the dolphin had.

“Fine, please keep the dolphin away while I get out of here.”

Her linen pants felt leaden as she turned to the side of the pool. Earlier he had pressed down on the edge and lifted himself right out of the water. But he wasn’t wearing wet pants or heels, and she didn’t have the muscles he did.

“Need some help?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

She kicked off her expensive, and ruined, pumps and threw them onto the concrete deck. Then she pushed up on the edge. If only she could manage a shred of dignity…that was not to be the case, she realized as she shoved and grunted and not even Bailey moved from the spot he seemed riveted in.

“Let me help you,” Chris said from behind her.

“I can manage. It’s just that my pants are heav—”

Before she could even finish the sentence, he placed his hands on her behind and pushed her right out of the water. She was so surprised, she almost forgot to do her part, which was grab for the ground and gain her balance. Even then, she could still feel the imprint of his hands on her bottom.

“I’m not sure whether to thank you for being gallant or remark on where you put your hands,” she said, feeling irritated and flustered at once.

A wicked gleam sparked in his eyes as he slipped easily from the pool. “I enjoyed it, too.”

She could only roll her eyes at his attempt to goad her on. When she looked at the small crowd watching with interest, she realized she’d become the sideshow at her own park.

“Bailey, please get these people out of here,” she said, trying not to sound impatient and out of sorts.

He jerked, as if from a trance. “Yes, Miss Lucy, right away.” Before he turned toward the crowd, he said, “Don’t let him take da fish. Remember my six childrens at home starving.”

“You said five before.”

His black face screwed up. “Did I? Well, six counting da goat.”

“You said you had three goats.”

He paused for a minute, then smiled. “Two are only visitin’.”

She shook her head and waved him away. When she turned back to Chris, he was watching her with a curious expression. At least he wasn’t crowding her zone. She knew about business power plays and how body zones worked, and she didn’t much like when they were used on her.

“Can we go into the office and talk about this like two businesspeople?” she asked, trying to ignore the rivers of water running down her legs and pooling at her stocking feet.

He glanced down at his nearly naked self. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Miz Lucy—” that last part in Bailey’s accent “—I’m not a business person, and this isn’t negotiable. I gave your employee the letter that states the dolphin is mine. That should clear the matter up.” Then he slid back into the pool in one liquid movement and waded to the bucket of fish. She followed him and crouched by the side, careful of the edge this time.

“What you said about this dolphin, about the chlorinated pool, and the snout….”

“What you’re doing to this dolphin is cruel and inhumane. Liberty—or Randy as you call him—wasn’t put on this earth to entertain us. Dolphins are probably smarter than we are. How would you like to live in something like this day in and out, eating trash fish, and having to suffer the indignity of performing to get even that? To look at white walls instead of the endless variety the ocean and the reefs offer?”

Liberty poked his head out of the water as if to second Chris’s words, or probably to get the shiny fish he held. Her heart twisted when she saw the bruises on Liberty’s snout. Then she realized that Chris thought she was the one who had been running this park all along.

“I haven’t done anything to this dolphin.”

“You said you were the owner.”

“I just inherited it from my father, Sonny Boland. I didn’t even know he owned this park, or where he even was for most of my life.” Why was she telling him all this? Stick to the facts, Lucy. “Anyway, I arrived today, and Bailey told me about a man stealing a big fish.” He rolled his eyes, and she added, “I know, I know, it’s a dolphin.”

He reached out to touch Liberty, but the dolphin shied away. Another fish lured him close again, but Chris didn’t try to touch him this time. He was again immersed in his world, and she had faded into oblivion. If she had any dignity whatsoever, she would walk away. Just get up and hold her soggy shoulders high. Unfortunately, her curiosity overwhelmed any shred of dignity she’d managed to maintain.

“Why do you call him Liberty?” She glanced up at the banner. “His name is Randy.”

“Calling dolphins by human names encourages people to humanize them, so I renamed him Liberty.”

“What are you going to do with him?” she asked after a few awkward minutes of silence. She wanted to change into dry clothes, but she couldn’t leave without his acknowledging that she wasn’t an evil person who abused dolphins. Though she didn’t explore why that was so important.

“I have to untrain him, teach him how to catch live fish and to live in the wild again. He’s come to depend on humans and their language now. He has to learn to be a dolphin again, to use his sonar.”

He hadn’t glanced up at her even once as he’d spoken. She wanted to see something other than disdain in his eyes. She ran her hands down her pant legs, squishing water out of them.

“What do you mean, his sonar?”

His fingers made circles on the water’s surface. “Dolphins use echolocation sonar to map out their surroundings the same way we use our eyes. They send out signals that bounce back to their lower jaw, telling them where they are and where their prey is. Here in this shallow pool, the signals bounce crazily back to him, so he stopped using them.”

Sonar? It sounded so high-tech, so…advanced. She watched Liberty circle, trying to imagine what he saw down there. White walls. Chris’s legs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The sun glistened off his wet curls as he shook his head. “Just leave me and Liberty alone, and we’ll be fine.”

He hadn’t even thanked her for offering. Still hadn’t looked at her. He reached for Liberty, and again the dolphin shied away. As she watched Chris, she wondered if her father wasn’t like him, other than the dolphin-saving thing.

“Is this what you do for a living? You said something about a free dolphin society.”

“I am the Free Dolphin Society. I travel around to different abusement parks and work on freeing the dolphins trapped there.”

“Abusement parks? Is that what this is?”

“For this dolphin, yes. I don’t know how the other creatures are treated.”

She looked around, but couldn’t tell from where she was crouched. The park looked clean, if old. “Do you think my father was being cruel or just thoughtless?” She was surprised to find him looking at her when she turned back to him. More surprised at the effect that gaze had on her.

“I only met the man once, when I first came to investigate claims of neglect. It was probably a little of both. Liberty here eats about fifteen pounds of fish a day, so Sonny bought the cheap stuff. He didn’t want to mess with filtering in fresh seawater or even making phony salt water, so he put chlorine and copper sulfide in the pool. Your father was upping the profit margin, and Liberty was paying the price. Now I’m pumping in seawater, and hopefully he’ll be able to open his eyes all the way soon.”

“Will he bite? I mean, was I in any danger when I fell in?”

A smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth, and she bet he had a great smile, if he ever did smile. Of course he was probably laughing at her expense, remembering how she must have looked, all arms and legs and terror.

“The only thing in danger was your dignity. Dolphins are pretty docile in captivity.” He tossed Liberty the last of the fish in the bucket and rubbed his hands together under the water. He lifted an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t your spirit be broken if you were held captive?”

She shivered at the thought, watching Liberty as he waited patiently for more fish, his head bobbing. “Probably,” she answered at last, meeting Chris’s gaze across the sparkling water. “Dolphins are your life, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” Chris lifted himself from the pool and grabbed a towel. “How long are you here for, anyway?”

“A week. It’s all I can get away with.”

He nodded, rubbing the towel through his curls. Then she realized he only wanted to know how long he had to put up with her. When he stopped near her, he looked down at the clothing plastered to her body. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the gleam of appreciation, but he offered her his towel before she could consider it further.

She lifted the soggy towel with her fingertips. “Your chivalry touches me, to be sure, but I think you’ve just about used up all the saturation.” She handed it back.

He shrugged in a suit-yourself way, removed a pair of shorts and a cotton shirt from his duffel bag, and shoved the towel inside. “I’m just a gallant kind of guy.” He stepped into the shorts and slid his feet into leather sandals. Golden hair sprinkled his long, lean legs. The muscles in his arms moved intriguingly as he shrugged into the button-down shirt, though she was trying hard not to look. She met his gaze and found that smile she’d been wondering about. Yep, heart tickling all the way down to her toes. “Take it easy.”

Like a fool, she watched him go, watched what might possibly be the cutest derriere in the world walk away. He walked through the gate and mounted a moped. Never once did he look back. Not even a furtive side glance while her gaze was glued to him.

Well, what was she in a snit about? Because he’d been as clear as the sky that he didn’t want her around? Not a man of subtleties and courtesy, that one. She could take a hint. Lucy Donovan did not go where she wasn’t wanted. She hadn’t hung around in her marriage once it was old and stale and she wasn’t about to hang around Chris Maddox, either.

Lucy had a feeling it went beyond that, though. Chris Maddox simply didn’t want people around. And now she had to wonder why.

2

CHRIS WEATHERED the rocks and dips in the narrow road as he sped toward The Caribe Plantation. The other drivers were the biggest hazard. His clothes flapped in the wind, the tips of his shirt snapping against his skin. The Caribe was just down the road from the park, a mere fifteen life-threatening minutes away. The plantation wasn’t in the touristy area of the island, something Chris was grateful for.

The plantation’s driveway was crushed shell, pristine white for those times when the Eastor family vacationed at their Colonial mansion on the ocean. Luckily they weren’t there, and even luckier, they had offered their grounds and lagoon to his cause. He wasn’t impressed by the flowering gardens and trees; what mattered was the private slice of azure water where Liberty would learn to be a dolphin again. He barely glanced at the mansion as he headed to the hut perched over the water that doubled as a boat dock—and constituted his accommodations.

Through the traffic and roar of wind in his ears, it was Lucy Donovan’s face he had seen and tried to exorcise. Lucy with her brown hair plastered to her cheeks and framing her dramatic features. He caught himself smiling at the terror in her face when she’d fallen into the pool. He shook his head as he parked the bike and made his way over the boardwalk that led out to the boathouse. Lucy with her brown eyes that shadowed when he’d accused her of her father’s neglect. He knew she had nothing to do with Liberty’s plight, because he’d investigated the park and found no Lucy anywhere. He’d only wanted to rattle her—and get rid of her.

The last thing he needed was a woman hanging around. Women didn’t take being ignored for long, especially a woman like Lucy Donovan. He could tell she was a lady who required care and attention. In her fancy suit and nice jewelry, she reeked of class. He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, and he wasn’t going to bother exploring why he’d even looked. She wasn’t going to go for a quick fling with the likes of him. Besides, she wasn’t the type of woman he’d think about having a quick fling with.

But he was.

His body stirred as he walked around to the back of the boathouse and stripped out of his shorts and swimsuit. The freshwater shower faced the open ocean, which was free of anything but clouds piling up in the distance like whipped cream on a sundae. He rubbed the shampoo through his hair and focused his thoughts on the weeks ahead.

And again his thoughts settled back on Lucy. What was the point? He’d snubbed her but good, and tomorrow she’d return the favor. That’s how women were. Besides, she was no great beauty. Pretty, definitely, with a heart-shaped face and thick eyebrows. Full breasts molded by the wet shirt, the peaks of her nipples evident even through her lacy bra. A mouth that could have a man fantasizing in no time. And that derriere of hers, soft and shapely and fitting perfectly in his hands. He’d been going for the economy of the move; the rest was a bonus.

Forget about that derriere and the woman it belongs to. He directed that to his male member that obviously thought he was on vacation—and forgot that he was thirty-six. He thought of those few hello-goodbye affairs with women who lived by the ebb and flow of the islands. Lucy was a city girl. City and island didn’t jibe.

A seagull shrieked as it hovered nearby. Creatures of nature were his only friends. He found them easier to understand than people. Easier to live with. His passions didn’t leave room for a woman in his life. He knew he’d never find a woman who would share his dedication to saving dolphins, who would sacrifice a secure, stable life for the cause. A woman who would be okay with coming second to it.

It was easier to be alone.

He had grown up in a world that lacked compassion. His mother died when he was too young to remember, leaving his father bitter and cold. He’d lived only for his fishing charter business. He catered to his guests and criticized them later. All he cared about was having enough money to continue living on the boat and buying the beer he subsisted on…the beer that would later claim his liver, and his life. Chris had been a means to that end, a hardworking employee who found his only joy in the sea life around him.

After his shower, he stretched out on his lounge chair. He’d flown in that morning, found the Caribe, then went to the park to work on phase one: gaining Liberty’s trust. He should be exhausted, and lying down doing nothing sounded wonderful.

Exactly two minutes later, he was up again.

Restlessness ran through him. He walked to the beach, measured out where Liberty’s pen would go, and stretched out nets and floaters along the beach like some sea monster washed up on shore. When it was too dark to work, he took a ten-minute ride farther south down the winding road that followed the coastline to Barney’s Happy Place for a Red Stripe beer. Maybe that would purge Lucy and her incredible derriere from his mind.

LUCY HAD finally wrenched herself away from watching Liberty, changed into dry clothes, and found Bailey hosing down the cement walkways.

“You didn’t chase the wicked man away?” he asked.

“No, and honestly, I don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “I see the way you look at him. What a crosses! Our only hope, and she fall for the wicked man!”

“What are you talking about?” She’d only looked at his eyes maybe once or twice. Only been slightly bewitched by them.

He shook his head. “Everyt’ing gonna go down the drain now dat your pupa is gone.” He nodded toward the drain the water swirled down.

Guilt nagged at her when she thought of his six—no five kids. “What would my father—pupa have done?”

“He would have punched the wicked man out who tief the big fish.”

“He’s not a fish,” she said.

“Cho, now you even sound like the tief!”

She rolled her eyes, glad not to have to put up with such insubordination back home. “My father would have been arrested for punching him out. Besides, Chris Maddox says he has authority. Is that true?”

“He must have tickled dere noses with a bit of cash.”

Somehow she doubted that. “Well, why don’t you show me the books? Let’s see if my father had a head for business.”

The books did not look healthy, she soon found out. No wonder Sonny only had two employees. When she propped her chin on her hand, she caught sight of a small photograph on a shelf. She walked over and picked up the dusty frame, surprised to see her own childish face smiling at her. Something tightened inside her. Sonny hadn’t forgotten her after all.

“Miss Lucy, I be ready to leave now. You want me to take you where Sonny live?”

“Yes, please.”

Bailey drove her south on a winding road in need of some repairs—and police supervision. The drivers were crazy, regularly crossing the centerline or stopping for no apparent reason.

“The rich people buy the fancy places and only live in them a few weeks a year,” Bailey said, pointing to some elaborate entrances on the ocean side of the road. “Everybody else live over dere.” The housing to her left was lower- to middle-class. People sat out on rickety front porches watching the traffic while goats grazed on weedy front yards. She shifted her gaze to the right side and caught sight of an entrance proclaiming The Caribe Plantation in discreet lettering.

Bailey turned shortly after that and pulled up to a pink three-story building with thick white balconies. Sonny’s apartment was a one-bedroom efficiency, a hot, stuffy one at that. She turned on an air conditioner unit installed in the window. She was beginning to regret her decision to stay there while she packed up his belongings, practical though it was.

If she’d hoped to find traces of her father here, she was out of luck. Against one wall were shelves of broken tanks and pump parts he’d obviously intended to fix. The furnishings were sparse, old, but clean. The junk food that had been behind his heart attack filled the shelves. She found a stack of wrinkled, water-stained Caribbean maps covered in notations. She ran a finger over his small, neat script. He’d found pleasure in nature, apparently, noting various reefs and abundant water life.

It was after eight-thirty when she dropped onto the old green sofa. Her foot pushed in a drawer in the coffee table, and she pulled it open. Yellowed newspaper clippings were piled up inside. She sifted through them, her throat tightening. They were all of her, graduating college, getting married, opening the advertising firm.

Sonny had kept up with her life from a distance. She felt like crying and smiling at the same time. If he’d known about her wedding, why hadn’t he written? At least he hadn’t known about her divorce.

Lucy peeked out of the listless curtains and watched people come and go at the nearby store. She had to get out for a while, breathe some of that fresh, salty air, and think things through. Bailey had said the neighborhood was safe, so Lucy pocketed some cash and walked into the starry night air. The muggy, starry night, she amended, as moisture wrapped around her. She’d been so busy fighting with Chris, and then with the numbers, she hadn’t begun to appreciate the island.

She walked along the ocean side of the road and headed south to a place Bailey had recommend for “da best ribs on the island.” Her stomach gurgled at the aroma of spices and hickory smoke emanating from Barney’s Happy Place. She paused, trying to judge the clientele by the exterior. Barney’s was right off the road, perched several yards from the ocean, or what she guessed was the ocean beyond the sandy shore that turned to inky darkness. The place looked like a large shack, with its faded wood and half walls. Reggae music tainted the night air with a festivity punctuated by the red, yellow and green Christmas lights strung outside. Palm trees rustled in the evening breeze, cast in the glow of those lights. Her parents and ex-husband would be horrified to know she was going into a place like this. She smiled and walked up the ramp.

She almost walked back out again when she saw all the people. Many looked like locals, dressed in colorful garb, their heads adorned with dreadlocks and cornrow braids. Barney’s was not a tourist hangout, to be sure, except for one couple that sat at a corner table with froufrou drinks and burned noses. Music rivaled the laughter and conversation that flowed out the back, which was entirely open to the beach beyond.

A long bar stretched out to the right where a bartender was telling a joke, using his hands and face for expression. The people sitting on the stools laughed in unison. She took a deep breath. Be adventurous. You can tell everyone you went into a real island joint.

Yeah, like they’d believe her.

She made her way to the bar. At least she had brought her one pair of shorts and a tailored shirt with short sleeves. She slid onto the padded stool.

The bartender flopped a red napkin in front of her. “And what have you, miss?”

What was it with the “misses” around this place? First Bailey, then Chris’s mimicked version and now the bartender. She realized that she’d been ensconced in her own little world where she was in control. No one there would dare call her Miss Lucy, nor would they ignore her. “I’ll have a frou-frou drink like that couple is having.” She watched him splash several liquors into a glass with the grace of someone who loved his job.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miz Lucy herself hanging out with the locals.”

Her heart lurched at the sound of Chris’s voice, but she attributed it to surprise and turned to the man at her left. She let her gaze drop from his curly hair to the tank top and jean shorts he wore. To cover what she hoped wasn’t appreciation in her eyes, she said, “So that’s what you look like with clothes on.”

The bartender chose that moment to bring her drink. “Ah, so you know the lady already,” he said to Chris with a smile and a wink.

Her face went up in flames. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. He was in the pool….”

The bartender waved his hand. “No problem, lady. The island bring out the animal in lots of people.”

“But—” The man had already walked away, and she turned to Chris who was chuckling. She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t move too fast to defend my honor, now. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m way out of practice coming to a lady’s defense.”

She rolled her eyes. “To be sure.”

“So what if he thinks we’ve had a round or two of wild, steamy sex? He’s a bartender in a foreign country.” He gestured toward the lot of people behind him. “Probably sees illicit affairs all the time.”

Wild, steamy sex…just the thought of it sent blood rushing through her veins. She was not, absolutely not, picturing him on the other side of that steamy sex scenario. “But we are not having a steamy affair, I have not seen you naked, and I don’t want him thinking I have.”

He leaned one arm against the bar, facing her. Those green eyes had a lazy glaze to them, probably from those Red Stripe beers he was drinking. “Would you like to?”

“What?”

“See me naked?”

A tickle raced through her stomach even as she made a face and turned to her monstrous pink drink with the umbrella in it.

“Given that tiny bathing suit you wear, I don’t have to see you naked.” Oh, that was great. You sure told him.

He grinned even more widely. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

She couldn’t handle those eyes sparkling at her, teasing her. She turned back to her drink and caught the bartender smiling, probably catching the word “naked” a few times. She pretended to look at the paraphernalia on the walls depicting all kinds of happy faces: buttons, posters, bottle caps, even round yellow faces with dreadlocks.

Her gaze fell to Chris’s long fingers as they slid up and down the curves of his sweating bottle of beer. He had great hands, strong and capable, calloused and work-worn. He tossed back the rest of his beer and set the bottle in front of him. The bartender brought another. He tipped it to her and took a swallow. He seemed different away from his dolphin. More relaxed, open.

He turned around on his stool and leaned back against the bar, one knee jiggling to the beat. His curls dipped to the top of his shirt in the back, and his biceps flexed as his arms balanced him. A few freckles topped his shoulders and that necklace lay over the curves of his collarbone. His tank top was deep blue, which brought out the green even more in his eyes. Did he have maps and beer and not much else wherever he lived?

She turned around, too, after waiting the appropriate amount of time so he didn’t think she was copying him. She had to admit it was nice finding a familiar face among strangers. That was why she felt warm and easy sitting there with the fans pushing the air around and the music lulling her with its beat. Indeed, Barney’s was a happy place.

“Where are you staying?” she asked, keeping her gaze just shy of his eyes.

“At The Caribe Plantation, down the road a piece.”

She remembered seeing the fancy entrance earlier. It didn’t seem like his style. “Sounds nice.”

“The house is something, Colonial style with pillars and stuff. I’m staying in the boathouse.”

That sounded more like Chris. When he didn’t reciprocate, she said, “I’m staying at my father’s apartment a few blocks from here.”

He pulled one leg up and propped his chin on his knee. He leveled that gaze right at her, and she felt as though he were probing her mind. “So, Miz Lucy, what do you do back home?”

Even though she knew he was being sarcastic, something about the way he said her name felt the same way the music did as it washed over her in waves. “I own an advertising firm in St. Paul, Minnesota. Well, I own half of it. My ex-husband owns the other half, unfortunately.”

He lifted his eyebrows, but not in the admiring way most people did when they heard she owned her own agency. “Ah, so you own a company that promotes greed, materialism and bodily perfection that most people can’t live up to.”

She didn’t know what to say for a moment. “We get our client’s product out there in the best light, the light that’s going to appeal to people. And what appeals to people is—”

“Sex,” he said, that light expression now gone from his face. “And excess.”

“If that’s what the client wants. We have some big clients, like Krugel. You know, the largest manufacturer of paper products in America…Soaker paper towels, Cloud Soft toilet paper.” Her biggest client, and what did the lout have to say about it?

“So, you make your living telling people that if they wipe their tush with Cloud Soft, they’ll be sexier.”

It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed. Luckily she caught herself. “Forget about the toilet paper. We sell the company first, then their products. My company…” She narrowed her eyes at Chris. “Why do you make me feel like defending a profession I’m proud to be a part of?”

He shrugged. “Maybe somewhere deep inside, you aren’t so proud of it.”

“I beg to differ with you.” Her shoulders stiffened. “I am very proud of my company and what we do. I’ve worked hard for my success.”

He watched her, those eyes creating sensations that almost overruled her indignation. “What?” she asked at last.

“I was waiting to hear you beg.” He swiveled around and grabbed his beer, which was already beaded with sweat.

“I don’t beg for anything,” she said at last, lifting her chin. She grabbed her glass and turned back to the open area. When she glanced his way, she was unsettled to find him watching her again. She was still stinging from his earlier comments, not to mention the begging remark. “I suppose you think you’re some kind of hero, then. I mean, the irony of it—I push toilet paper and you save dolphins.”

“Not at all.” He took a sip of beer, scanning the crowd. “I put some of these dolphins where they are. It’s my duty to get them out.”

“What do you mean?” Despite his pigheadedness, she found herself wanting to know more about him.

“It’s a long story,” he said with a shrug.

“You’ve got a whole beer to go. Tell me.”

He glanced at that beer as if it had betrayed him. “I worked at Aquatic Wonders down in the Keys for nine years. I started as the fish boy and worked my way up to head trainer, but in between, I also went out and caught wild dolphins for the park and to sell elsewhere. That was before I realized how unhappy they were in captivity, how wrong it was to keep them from their real home. Now I’m only trying to make up for my wrongs.” He shrugged, as if it were all so inconsequential, though she knew by the look in his eyes that it wasn’t. When he reached out and took hold of her wrist, she jerked responsively. “I hope your watch didn’t get ruined when you fell in the pool.”

His fingers felt cool and wet on her wrist. Because he was leaning close, she caught a whiff of shampoo and sea air. She glanced down at her diamond watch with the steamed face.

“I hadn’t thought about it, actually.” That watch had been her treat to herself the first year she made one-hundred-thousand dollars. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He wore the kind of watch that looked waterproof to about a thousand feet. “Or you can buy another one.”

“Yes, I could do that, too.”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

She found herself wanting to lie for some reason. “A BMW.”

“I knew it.”

“What do you know, mister almighty?”

“You’re a status girl, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“A Beemer, a diamond watch, you’re probably wearing designer clothes and perfume, too. Probably even designer underwear,” he added in a low, intimate voice that shivered through her.

As a matter of fact, she was, now that she thought about it. That’s what she’d always worn, at least since her mother had married her wealthy stepfather.

“My underwear is none of your business. And so what if I am? What’s it to you?”

He shook his head lazily. “It’s nothing to me, Miz Lucy. Not a thing. Ah, you can’t help it—you’re another victim of the Great Green Lie.”

“The what?” Why did it feel as though they spoke different languages?

“Green, money, the idea that money makes you happy, and the more you have the happier you are.”

“I am happy.” She wanted to shout it out, to somehow make him see how happy she was. “I am exactly where I want to be in my life. Not many people can say that when they’re thirty. Can you?”

He lifted his chin in thought. “When I was thirty…let’s see, I was in jail.” He tipped back the rest of his beer and set it on the counter, then stood and pulled out some bills. “Have a nice vacation, Miz Lucy.”

She watched him weave around the tables and out the front door, not a glance backward or a smile to soften his words. Her fingers clenched around the glass stem on her drink. She knew what he was trying to do: throw her off so she wouldn’t talk to him the rest of her stay. And in case that didn’t work, the jail thing might even scare her off.

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that. She had no use for a man with an ocean-size chip on his shoulder. She realized then that she’d come down here to eat, and he had distracted her. She ordered ribs and people-watched as she ate.

When the bartender brought her bill, she said, “My drink’s not on here.”

“Your man paid for your drink, miss.” He shrugged, giving her a sympathetic look. “All that sex talk and begging, and he still leave. Maybe next time you should play coy.” He batted his eyelashes.

She wanted to bat him. “If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it, okay?”

He smiled. “No problem, mon.”

She merely shook her head and slid off the barstool. This was not her night for men, and that was a fact.

3

THE BAHAMIAN SUN seemed even brighter and warmer than the one in St. Paul. Especially now that fall was moving in, rendering the air crisp and the skies muddy. But here in this strange world, the air was muggy and warm even at seven-thirty in the morning.

Lucy’s heels clicked loudly across the concrete and echoed off the buildings as she made her way to the park’s office. At lunch she would go shopping for something casual. She had resolved that under no circumstances would she even glance at Liberty’s pool, but her gaze drew right to it. And right to Chris. All she could see of him was that head of curls and his shoulders gleaming in the early morning sun. Instantly she remembered his sultry words about seeing him naked. Worse, her body remembered, too, becoming hot and steamy itself. He wasn’t serious. And just because he was sexy didn’t mean she wanted to see him naked. As he started to glance up at the noise her shoes created, she averted her gaze to the wooden shutters of the office.

The air was warm and stale inside, without sign of an air conditioner anywhere. Just one old-fashioned fan that made the articles taped to the walls flutter. She propped the door open with a pink conch shell filled with cement. Once safely inside the office, she opened those shutters and peeked out over the other pools to Liberty.

“Good morning, Miss Lucy!” Bailey said in a loud, cheerful voice that made her jump.

Her fingers involuntarily slammed the shutters closed with a loud clack. She turned to his beaming face and tried not to look irritated, or worse, guilty.

“Good grief, Bailey, make some noise before coming in like that.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I jus’ wondered if you needed any help with the figures, or deciding on whether to keep the place open.”

“No, but thank you. Being left alone will be the biggest help.” She opened the shutters again, but did not look out. “I see the wicked man is back.”

“Yah, in the wee hours this morning. I t’ink the man is part fish.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. All right, I’ve got to get to work.”

It was easy to reduce her father’s park to numbers. Business was her life, even if the creative side was her favorite part. Here, making it a business meant not looking at it as something her estranged father owned, and perhaps loved. Well, as much as a man like that could love something. He’d told her a few times that he’d loved her, too, but she felt neglected as perhaps Liberty was.

Silvery reflections from the Touching Tank danced across the walls like restless ghosts. Her gaze went out the window again, where Chris’s long arms were outstretched and water splashed up to sparkle in the air. In some ways he reminded her of Sonny, or at least of the image she’d always had of him: seafaring, wandering and a loner. She wondered if he had ever been lonely, her father, and what he felt inside, and then she realized she was thinking about Chris and not her father at all.

“Hellooo,” Bailey said in a singsong voice as he poked his head in the doorway a few hours later. “I didn’t scare you dis time, did I?”

“Not much.”

He stepped inside, looking crisp and professional in his white uniform. “Are you going to close us down?”

“I’m still looking at the numbers.”

“I t’ink you were looking out da window, Miss Lucy,” he said with a solemn nod.

She felt a warm flush and hoped he hadn’t seen exactly where she’d been looking. “I was thinking. Now go away and let me think some more.”

“Yes, Miss Lucy.”

He disappeared, and she caught herself smiling. Miss Lucy. Her lips quirked even more. Miz Lucy. Chris only called her that in fun, but something in the way he said the words rippled through her. Ridiculous. Back to the numbers.

Not thirty minutes later, Bailey was back in the doorway with that white grin. “Decision yet?”

“No, and go away!”

BAILEY HELD OUT until almost noon this time.

She glanced over at her notepad full of numbers and calculations, then up at his hopeful face. “It doesn’t look good.” He dropped into one of the chairs in front of her desk. She felt as though she were firing the man, like she’d fired a few people back home. They looked the same way, and she felt the same way: bad. “This place was scraping by as it was. I don’t know how long even Sonny could have kept it going. Without the star attraction, I don’t see that it has a chance.”

“We could buy another dolphin fish,” he said.

“No, I’m afraid we can’t afford one, no matter what they cost. Besides, unless we get better facilities, Mr. Maddox will be back to take him away, too.”

Bailey lifted an eyebrow. “You could beg him, you know, bat your eyelashes and say pretty please can we keep the dolphin fish?”

She lowered her chin. “Have you been talking to a particular bartender at Barney’s?”

He looked innocent enough. “No, why?”

“Never mind. Anyway, I’m not the kind of woman who can convince a man to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

“Sure you are. You’re very pretty.”

“Thank you, but pretty isn’t going to cut it. It never has, to be honest with you. Anyway, forget the begging thing. I’m not going to ask him to leave Liberty because I already know he won’t.”

“You’re right,” another voice said from the doorway. “You could be Marilyn Monroe reincarnated and you wouldn’t get me to give Liberty back to you.”

That flush Lucy experienced earlier was nothing compared to the full fire that lit her face now. She met those green eyes that reeked of smugness. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since the begging thing.”

She made a sound that combined embarrassment and irritation and wasn’t ladylike by any means. “What do you want?”

Bailey made a quick exit, mumbling something about feeding the squid. Chris wore that bathing suit that had to be illegal on a body like his, moving up to her desk and planting his hands on the edge. His long fingers were shriveled underneath. He wore a band made of colored threads on his right wrist, though sun and water had faded it a little.

“I was wondering if Sonny kept any records on Liberty. Medical, training…anything like that.”

If the person behind the desk was supposed to emit any kind of authority, she was doing a poor job. “You’re dripping on my desk,” she finally said, standing to face him.

He glanced down at the droplets of water swirling down his curls and puddling on the Formica surface. “Sorry.” He stood, forcing her to look up at him again.

“I’ll look around.”

He glanced down at the paperwork scattered across the desk. “I can look if you’re busy.”

“I need a break anyway.”

She found a junk drawer, another filled with more maps and notes on places like Aruba and Barbados, and stacks of National Geographic dating back to the seventies. She walked to the four-drawer filing cabinet. He walked up behind her, so close she could feel the moist heat emanating from him.

“Thanks for the drink, by the way,” she said, diverting her thoughts.

“No problem.”

Her fingers flipped through the hanging folders, nails clicking against the plastic tabs in Sonny’s small writing that read Moray Eels, Sea Turtles and Clown Fish. It was then that she realized she hadn’t only inherited numbers; she’d inherited living creatures that depended on humans to feed and take care of them. Who now depended on her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There are so many creatures here.”

“Haven’t you seen them yet?”

She glanced to her left, finding him right beside her. “Just a cursory glance. I wanted to look at the numbers first.”

“Of course.” He glanced back at the desk. “Did you inherit a moneymaker or a money pit?”

She turned to face him, finding him still too close to her personal zone. “I don’t care about the money aspect. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with this place.”

“Surely not move here to run it, not the advertising princess.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am not an advertising princess.”

He scanned her styled hair, gold-plated barrette, and continued slowly, agonizingly down the rest of her body. “Look like one to me.” Despite his words, his eyes gave away some appreciation of what he saw.

The man was infuriating, but she tried her best to hold her mouth firm and not show him the effect his appraisal was having on her. She locked her knees and stood straighter. “Is there some reason you’ve chosen to pick on me? I mean, am I lucky, or are you holding my father’s treatment of Liberty against me?”

“Neither.”

“Okay, then for some reason you think I’ve, what, set my sights on you? That I’m attracted to you in some bizarre way, and you want to anger me so I’ll change my mind?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Leaning closer, he said, “Maybe I just enjoy getting your ire up.” His hand slid past her and snatched a file from the drawer. “I’ll return this when I’m done.”

“Keep it!” she shouted after his glistening, retreating back.

Ooh, he was a wicked man.

LATER IN THE DAY, she took a cab into the shopping district to find appropriate attire. She felt out of place wearing tailored clothing among a population dressed for fun. Unfortunately, she was out of practice for fun.

Had she really thought that?

She was darn well going to get back into it, then. She bought several outfits, changing into white shorts and a flowery shirt before returning to the park.

The sight of Chris’s moped made her smile and wince at the same time. He probably didn’t even own a car, yet he could make fun of the car her friends, employees and most importantly, her ex, drooled over. What did the man know about being happy, anyway? The Great Green Lie, indeed.

She was surprised to find Chris absent from Liberty’s pool, more surprised at feeling disappointed. Her leather sandals quietly took her over where Liberty swam in circles beneath the surface. She crouched down and watched him, pleased when he lifted his head out of the water to look at her. What secrets of the universe did he hold? Looking into that horseshoe-shaped pupil, she believed he knew them all.

“Hi there, fellow,” she said, returning his grin.

She glanced around to see if Chris had left the bucket. “Sorry, guy, no fish to give you. I’m sure the creep will give you something soon.”

She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the creep walk up behind her. Not only had they gotten off on the wrong foot, they were walking a mile on it. Oh, but he was a gentleman as always. No snide remark from him, no rubbing in her tactless remark.

He simply threw a fish in her lap.

She screamed as the slimy, headless thing landed on her, inadvertently batting it into the water where Liberty scooped it up. She jumped to her feet and faced Chris.

“You, you….”

“Creep?” he supplied with a lifted eyebrow.

“Yes!” She wiped at her new clothes, hoping they didn’t smell of fish. “And a few other words I’m too much of a lady to use.” No other man, even her ex, ruffled her the way Chris did.

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Sounded like you wanted to feed him, so I obliged. Shucks, I thought women liked chivalry.”

She couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. “Chivalry? I’m surprised you even know the word. How many women do you know that like fish thrown at them? Tell me that, hmm?” She turned back to the dolphin, her hands still clenched at her sides. “And what is it around here with people sneaking up on me?”

Chris sat down at the edge of the pool, and Liberty seemed to know the bucket had arrived. He bobbed his head and made whistling, clicking noises. Chris lifted up his hand, and Liberty met his palm with a touch of his nose. Something tightened in Lucy’s stomach at that simple act of trust.

“Aw, that is so sweet, touching his nose to your hand.”

He broke the moment by pointing out, “That’s not his nose. His nose is here.” He gestured to Liberty’s blowhole. “That’s where he breathes. He touched my hand with his snout.”

“I’m just learning more and more each day.” Despite the teacher, she did want to know more about Liberty.

“I’d ask if you wanted to feed him, but I know the advertising princess wouldn’t want to touch a dead fish.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Give me the stupid fish.” Why was it so important to prove him wrong? “And this time not in my lap, if you don’t mind.”

“Come to think of it, I didn’t get very high scores in chivalry class.” He handed her a Spanish mackerel, trying not to laugh as she took it with the very tips of her polished fingernails. He was goading her and enjoying the heck out of it. What he wasn’t sure of was exactly why he was doing either.

“Hold it beneath the water,” he said. “I’m trying to get him to eat underwater from now on, like wild dolphins do.”

She dangled the fish by where the tail used to be, and Liberty lifted himself up out of the water. “No, no, you have to let me put it in the water,” she said earnestly, all traces of her ire gone. She dunked the fish in the water, and Liberty took hold of it. Her delight caught him in the gut, a look of pure amazement on a heart-shaped face that was prettier than she thought. Not Marilyn Monroe pretty, but pretty enough.

Liberty came out of the water and tossed the fish to position it before swallowing it. Lucy giggled, then turned to him. “Can I feed him again?”

He should have told her to scram. He had work to do and he wanted as little human contact with Liberty as possible. But before he could form those words, his hand was already passing her another mackerel.

“Why don’t you just free him now?” she asked.

“Because he’s not used to fending for himself.” He threw another fish to the far side of the pool. “He’s been humanized. Everything a dolphin is comes from his hierarchy within the pod.”

“You mentioned a pod before. What exactly is it?”

“The school or any group of dolphins. Together, they can protect each other and hunt for food. Liberty here is a nobody. He probably doesn’t even know he’s a dolphin anymore.”

She watched Liberty with such compassion, he was actually touched for a moment. Then he remembered who she was, what she represented.

“I have to teach him to become a dolphin, to catch live fish, and to swim in a straight line again. It’s not only Liberty’s health I want to restore, it’s his spirit.”

She looked at him with those deep brown eyes. “I think that’s…wonderful.”

He looked away, uncomfortable with that gaze. “It’s just what I do.”

“Do you get paid for doing this?”

He laughed, because that sounded more like the advertising princess. “Untraining dolphins is not on the list of professions a woman looks for in a future husband. In other words,” he said before she could get too huffy, “no, I don’t get paid. Someone usually contacts me about a dolphin in trouble, and I ask them to get someone to sponsor me to come out and investigate. I get proof and go to the authorities for permission to free the dolphin. People send in donations, and when I’m home, I work odd jobs to get by.”

Liberty swam by, brushing against his legs. Contact, trust. It was a start. He put his hand into the water, but Liberty hesitated, keeping his distance.

“So you travel all over doing this?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

He stood, less comfortable with her questions than with her gaze. “Like I said, it’s what I do.”

She stood too, planting her hands on her hips. “You should hire an agency to get the word out about your organization and bring in financial support.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. I can’t afford any kind of agency, and I don’t want what I do played out to tug at the heartstrings of America. I do the occasional radio or television appearance because it’s good for publicity, and that’s it.”

“Fine, whatever,” she said in clipped tones.

She’d changed into clothing more befitting to the atmosphere, but he wasn’t about to comment on that or her nice legs in those blue shorts. Or the way the red hibiscus flowers on her shirt molded to her full breasts in the breeze. He didn’t want the advertising princess to get the wrong idea. She was definitely not his speed. He was in the no-wake zone, she was freeway.

“So, Miz Lucy, what are you going to do with this place anyway?”

She looked around, as if the answer might be found somewhere nearby. Bailey waved, his smile overly bright.

“Do you really care, now that you have your dolphin?”

He shrugged. “I’m wondering more for all of the other marine animals. If you sell it to someone like your father, what will happen to everything in here?”

She looked at him, her brows furrowed. “You don’t think my father mistreated Liberty because he was…wicked, do you?”

“No,” he said with some amount of certainty. She obviously wanted to believe her father wasn’t such a bad guy; he could grant her that. “He was looking at the bottom line. And he probably just didn’t know any better. Mostly, people think animals are put here for our amusement or use. He was one of those people.” He turned back to the pool, more comfortable with working with the dolphin than talking to Lucy. “Well, Miz Lucy, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” He tipped his head at her and slid into the water.

He waited a few minutes before looking back to see her walking to the long building that housed the aquariums. She didn’t know her father, wasn’t aware that he even owned this place if he remembered correctly. But she’d done all right anyway, at least by the world’s standards. And she definitely belonged in that world. He’d be glad when she returned to it. She was fast becoming a temptation he didn’t need.

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