Read Online Echoes by Laura K. Curtis - Free Book Online Page B

to the hotel and watched until the door closed behind her.
    ***
    What was she up to? No way did the theft alone drive her down to the beach in the middle of the night. And it wasn’t some damned article, either. She’d seemed so straightforward, so honest out there in the night, just a woman sitting on the sand, reminiscing about a lost parent, that she’d drawn him in for a few minutes. He’d almost fallen for the act, but Mac had never had any patience with liars, and his marriage had only served to strengthen his disgust. It had taken the whole trip back to his cottage, but he’d shaken off the brief sense of camaraderie. Whatever Calliope Pearson was hiding, he’d dig it out.
    He crawled out of bed at five, unable to sleep, and spent the morning packing and fuming. He didn’t touch anything of Nikki’s, or even the items they’d bought together. In ten months on the island, he’d acquired three boxes of books; a few clothes; climbing, sailing, and snorkel gear; and a darkly stained teak chest of drawers into which he folded all his clothes, including the two suits Nikki had insisted he buy. The only thing he intended to keep from their marriage was the Jeep. In the unlikely event of Nikki’s return, he’d give it to her, but his motorcycle just wasn’t practical for everyday use.
    At ten, he locked up the house and set out. Because he planned to take Callie into Marigot, he drove rather than walked, cutting the travel time from fifteen minutes to five. He could have left later, but he wanted to observe Callie and John together, strictly for investigative purposes.
    They sat closer than they had the previous day, their elbows almost touching. Dark hair spilled over Callie’s shoulder and brushed her breast in a chaos of curls as she leaned over her pad to make notes, and Mac felt an unwelcome tug of desire. She looked up, catching his eye, and blushed. He raised an eyebrow, and she shifted her attention back to John, who covered her hand with his own and spoke to her for a few seconds before letting her gather her possessions to leave.
    When she stood, Mac saw she’d donned a loose, sand-colored, knee-length linen dress rather than the shorts she’d worn the day before. She probably thought the straight line hid her curves, lent her a professional appearance.
Wrong
. As she approached, the dress shifted slightly with each step, each swing of her toned arms, and his body reacted as if the nubby material were caressing his skin rather than hers.
    He reminded himself not to underestimate her. How many times had he watched Nikki hold up various outfits against her body, judging the effect they’d have on those she met? Of course, Nikki usually had only one goal, but a few subdued, conservative outfits did hang in her walk-in closet. She liked to wear them for her martyr appearances, after a particularly long night or a blowout argument, to prove people had misjudged her. So perhaps Callie was aware to precisely what degree that demure little dress raised his blood pressure.
    His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Callie faltered, then stopped a few feet from him.
    â€œMac?”
    â€œReady to go?”
    â€œOf course. But is everything okay? You look . . .” He raised an eyebrow, watching her struggle for the right word. “Nothing happened?”
    â€œNot a thing.” He held open the hotel’s door and let her out into the blazing heat. She squinted against the glare, reaching into her bag for sunglasses, and he wondered whether she’d slept any more than he had.
    He led the way to the Jeep, opened the passenger door, and held out a hand to help her in.
    She pushed the sunglasses down and looked at him over the top with skeptical astonishment. “Southern gentleman?”
    Seldom-used muscles quirked his lips into a grin. “I’ll give you the Southern part.”
    â€œOh, dear.” Her dark eyes