Cara Lockwood - Shelter In The Tropics

She managed to keep her eyes on the broiled fish she scooped onto her plate, then she moved on to the steamed veggies. He watched her every move. She made the mistake of glancing up at him once, and they made eye contact. She held his gaze for a beat too long, unable to break free. It had been so long since a man had been this focused on her.

Not since Rick, she thought.

She glanced down at her own frumpy cutoffs, her faded T-shirt and flip-flops. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup, and she’d swept up her hair into a messy, careless knot at her nape. She had no idea why Tack studied her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. It made her uneasy.

She hurriedly finished filling her plate and then scurried it back to her son’s table. The faster I eat, the faster I can get away from that man.

Cate sat and Tack followed, slipping into the chair opposite her. His shoulders were enormous, she decided, like a well-muscled wall, sitting in front of her. It was going to take effort to eat with this hulking man sitting at the table.

Avery just grinned at the stranger. “Hi! I’m Avery,” he said, beaming. The boy wasn’t the least bit shy. Raised in a resort, he was more than used to strangers. Mark had joked that they ought to put the boy out in the lobby as a concierge.

“Hi, Avery. I’m Tack.”

“Nice to meet you,” the precocious four-year-old said. He grinned. “You’ve got lots of muscles. Are you Captain America?”

“Avery,” Cate said reprovingly, feeling the blush of embarrassment creep up her neck. The air-conditioning suddenly seemed a little too weak in the room. Leave it to a preschooler to say exactly what’s on his mind.

“He’s in a superhero phase,” she said, apologetically.

“I’m not Captain America,” Tack said, trying to sound serious. “But I used to be a marine, actually. First Lieutenant Thomas Reeves, at your service. I might know a thing or two about saving the day.”

“I knew it! You are a superhero! Can you fly?”

“Oh, now you’ve started it,” Cate said, and Tack chuckled a little.

Over Tack’s shoulder, Cate saw Carol peek out from the door to the kitchen. The woman was spying! When she was caught, she gave Cate a huge thumbs-up, and that’s when Cate knew somehow that this was all Carol’s doing. It would be just like her to try to set her up on some kind of date. Carol was under the misguided impression that Cate was lonely, that she needed a man’s company. Cate had sworn off men. She didn’t trust herself to pick a good one, and she’d never, ever be beholden to one again.

Tack took a sip of soup and nodded his appreciation at the taste of the conch chowder.

“My daddy can fly,” Avery said suddenly. “He’s an angel in heaven.”

Cate nearly spit out her food. Tack coughed, as if the soup had gone down the wrong way. He coughed louder, face turning red as he gave his chest a hard pat.

“Is that right?” he managed to say, recovering.

Now Cate really wanted to be anywhere but here. Carol was still spying, and she sent her what she hoped was a look of stern disapproval.

“I don’t have a dad. Do you want to be my dad?” Avery asked.

“Avery! That’s not...” Cate wanted the ground to open her up and swallow her whole.

Tack laughed a little. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Well, how about we see first if we can get through dinner, all right, champ?”

Cate had never felt more embarrassed in her whole life. The table sunk into silence then, the only sound the clink of Tack’s spoon on his soup bowl. Tack seemed to be preoccupied, no doubt thinking she was the most desperate woman on earth. She’d not put Avery up to that, though, she swore.

That’s when Cate saw Carol bustle out of the kitchen, seeming determined.

Oh, no. This was not going to be good.

“Everything all right here?” Carol said brightly. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re fine.” Cate wanted Carol to go away. Besides, this was a buffet, not table-side service.

“So, Mr. Reeves, I know it’s your first trip to St. Anthony’s. Do you snorkel?” She barreled on, not picking up on the cue from Tack’s now-somber face that he probably wasn’t interested in any tour. He looked like a man who wanted to escape. Not that Cate blamed him. Kids at all were a nonstarter for most men, but kids talking about dead fathers and wanting new dads were probably more serious deal breakers.

“Snorkel?” Tack looked momentarily taken aback.

Cate knew exactly what Carol was doing. She was talking about the boat tour around the island that Cate led every morning around ten.

“I’m sure Mr. Reeves has other things to do with his first morning on vacation,” Cate said.

Tack studied her. “Well, I...”

“Cate gives the best tours, and she knows the best snorkeling spots. She leads a group every morning...”

Cate mentally shook her head. No, Carol. No! She tried very hard to telepathically tell her friend to stop what she was doing. The last thing she needed was Tack on board her boat at nine in the morning.

“I love to snorkel. Sounds like fun.” Tack stared at Cate as he said that. Avery happily chomped his chicken tender and Carol just beamed, like she’d won a prize at the state fair. Oh, she’d won a prize, but it wasn’t anything she’d like, Cate thought. She’s going to get an earful when I get her alone.

“The boat is already full,” she lied. Only four other guests had booked a trip for the morning. And two of them were simply strong maybes. The boat could hold ten easily.

“One already canceled just this afternoon,” Carol said. “You’ve got room for one more.” The woman wasn’t going to let this go. The steely look in her eyes told her she was not going to be deterred from this matchmaking mission. Tack quirked an eyebrow, almost as if daring her to deny him now.

“All right,” Cate said, giving in. There was no use fighting them both.

CHAPTER FOUR

TACK LAY ON the soft bed in his room and stared at the second hand of the clock sitting on his nightstand as it ticked forward. The sunlight streamed in; he’d seen the slow progression of light since dawn. He’d been up since three in the morning, his usual wake-up call. He hadn’t sleep through a night since he’d left Afghanistan. And every time he woke up, he thought of Adeeb, fighting side by side with them in some of the worst firefights.

He sent up a little prayer that he was okay. That he’d eluded the Taliban another day.

Tack had met Adeeb when he was twenty-five and worked with him for three years straight on sensitive ops to find Taliban strongholds in Helmand Province, one of the most dangerous areas of Afghanistan. Adeeb, a lanky and thoughtful man, never once got rattled, not even under heavy gunfire.

Tack had been suspicious of the idea of a local translator at first. After all, what reason did he have to help the Americans? But Adeeb hated the Taliban and everything they stood for. “They are terrible people. They’re not about Islam, they’re about power.”

Adeeb had watched his sister be terrorized by the Taliban, and his family threatened when they tried to send her to school. He had every reason to hate them.

Still, Tack wasn’t sure. How could he trust a translator he just met? Sure, he’d volunteered and been vetted by the military, but still. Tack didn’t like wild cards, especially when the lives of his men were on the line.

On their first mission together, Tack and his team were looking for a Taliban leader who’d been causing a lot of trouble. Adeeb interviewed a local family, and after several minutes of discussion as Tack stood by, not understanding a word they said, Adeeb turned to Tack and said, “They told me he’s not here. But they’re lying, and here’s why. They have a son, and he was kidnapped by the Taliban last year. They’re scared.”