Heather Graham: The Island

Ben didn’t jump when Amanda was around; he seemed to be immune to her wickedly sensual charm and oblivious to her frequent vicious abrasiveness.

There was no use trying to explain Amanda to her brother. He would just think it was feminine envy.

“Having them here makes everything just perfect,” she assured him dully.

“Amanda,” Amber said, making a face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Is something the matter with her?” he demanded.

“Dad, she’s a bitch.”

“Amber!”

“It’s not really a bad word,” Amber said.

“Not like a four-letter word or anything,” Kim added hastily.

“Beth,” Ben said, “aren’t you going to say something?”

She shrugged. “They’re calling it as they see it,” she told him.

He frowned. “I don’t like that language.”

“Amber, your father doesn’t like that language. Please don’t use it.”

“All right,” Amber said, “Miss Mason is a rude, manipulative snake, how’s that?”

“With really big boobs,” Kim added.

“Kim…” Ben protested.

“Sorry,” Kim said, without meaning it in the least.

Ben pointed a finger sternly. “You will be polite.”

“Of course,” Beth said. “I mean, she’s always so polite to me.”

Ben groaned out loud and turned away, walking to the spot where he had pitched his own tent, his back to them. “Maybe you’ll like the new people better,” he said irritably over his shoulder.

She could hardly like them any less, Beth thought.

It wasn’t exactly as if they were going out, but Beth chose to throw a cover-up on over her bathing suit, and the girls did likewise. They hauled their coolers with sodas and beer, and their contribution of salad and chips, down to the meeting point before any of the Mason family appeared but just after the arrival of the new couple, Sandy Allison and Brad Shaw.

She had sandy hair that matched her name and pleasant amber eyes, a medium build and was of medium height. She wore a terry cover-up and sandals, while Brad, about six feet even, with the same sandy hair but green eyes, was still in swim boxers with a cotton surf shirt over his shoulders. They were both cheerful and hailed from the West Coast, according to Brad.

“Love it here, though,” he assured them. “When we’re diving, I feel like I could stay down forever.”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Sandy agreed, slipping an arm around his waist. “There are areas here when you can practically walk right from the beach to the reef.”

“Dangerous for ships. Well, at one time,” Keith put in, handing Brad a beer. “The area is very well charted now.”

“Well, it has been a few years since the first Europeans made landfall,” Beth murmured.

Keith looked sharply at her. She should have guessed. His eyes were a deep, dark, true brown, rimmed with black lashes that were striking against the light color of his hair and the bronze of his face.

“A few ships did miss those reefs,” he murmured, and turned back to the men. “Lee has some equipment on his boat that would do the navy proud.”

“So you’re not a boater yourself, Mr. Henson?” Beth asked. She hadn’t meant for it to sound as if she was heading an inquisition, but it did.

“I am. We’re just here with Lee’s boat,” he said.

Here from where? she wondered.

She could just ask the question, of course, and immediately spoke before she could think better of it.

“So where are you three down here from?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as suspicious as she felt.

Lee looked at Matt and Ben, then shrugged. “We’re from all over, really. I was born here.”

“On the island?” she teased.

“Vero Beach,” he said.

“I’m your original Yankee from Boston,” Matt said.

“Great city,” Beth said, looking at Keith.

“Virginia,” he said.

“But you must know something about these waters,” Beth said. “This island isn’t exactly on the tourist routes.”

“I told you, I’m originally from Vero Beach,” Lee reminded her. “The locals use the island a lot.”

“It’s our first time camping out here, though,” Keith said.

“So how do you know each other?” she asked, unable to stop herself from probing. “Are you business associates?”

“Dive buddies,” Keith said. “Hey, here come your friends.”

Whatever her opinion of Amanda, Beth had to admit that the Masons were one attractive family. Roger was fiftysomething but had the build of an athlete, and, so she had heard, competed with the young studs at the nightclubs on the beach. Hank was blond and blue-eyed, like his cousin, but he was all man, with a broad bronzed chest and shoulders. Gerald was a shade darker, but obviously a family member.

“Ben!” Amanda cried, sounding as delighted as if she’d met a long-lost relative. She hadn’t bothered with a cover-up and was clad in only a small bikini.

A string bikini at that.

Her hair was loose and falling around her shoulders in a perfect golden cloak.

“She’s indecent,” Amber whispered from behind Beth.

“Totally,” Kim agreed.

“She does it awfully well,” Beth murmured, watching the woman.

While Amanda was greeting Ben, Hank looked over her head and saw Beth and the girls. He offered a real smile. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Hank,” Beth called.

“Hey, you remember our cousin Gerald, right?” Amanda said.

“Absolutely.” By then the two men had walked over to her. Hank gave her a kiss on the cheek and greeted the two girls. Gerald took her hand. “Small world, huh?”

“Not really, considering how close we are to home,” she told him.

“True,” he said with a laugh, then turned to the girls. “Amber, if you get any taller, you’ll be giving me a run for the money. And…don’t tell me, it’s…Kimmy, right?”

“Kim,” the girl corrected.

“Kim,” he agreed. She blushed slightly. He was nice, not condescending, and it was apparently appreciated.

“Fish all right for everyone?” Keith called out. “We’ve got hot dogs and hamburger patties, as well, for any landlubbers.”

“I’d love a hot dog,” Kim called out, hurrying toward the barbecue. A pleasant aroma was already beginning to emanate from the portable cooker. Amber followed her friend, leaving Beth behind with the other adults.

“Beth, how nice to see you here,” Amanda said. She walked over, perfect smile in place. “You have the weekend off?” she asked politely, as if surprised.

“Hello, Amanda. Yes, I have the weekend off.”

Amanda looked disapproving. “I would have thought they really needed you, what with the tourists and all. I suppose the club really does run itself. Still, I’m surprised the commodore didn’t want your lovely face around.”

“I’m sure he can manage on his own for a few days,” Beth said sweetly. “Have you met Sandy and Brad?”

“Briefly,” Amanda said, turning.

It was enough for Beth.

She escaped.

To get anywhere, though, she had to pass the barbecue, since the three men had their tents set up in the other direction, and if she made a point of going around the barbecue, she would be heading inland, into the dense foliage, rather than along the sand.

She had nearly made it past when Amber caught her arm. “Aunt Beth, come see. Everything looks perfect!”

She smiled weakly as Keith expertly flipped a fillet, then shook a mixture of seasonings onto it.

“That looks great,” Amber told him, though her enthusiasm sounded forced.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a hot dog, like Kim?” He laughed at her grateful expression and put another hot dog on the grill.

“You guys are ready for all occasions,” Beth murmured. She was wedged between her niece and Keith Henson. They were almost touching. Almost. Not quite.