the fact that she lived only a few blocks away.
“Seven is perfect.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
* * *
Swan watched him walk out of the shop.
David had the kind of tush that made a woman want to squeeze it...after doing all kinds of other things with it.
She jumped when fingers snapped in her face. Frowning, she looked at Jamila. “What did you do that for?”
“To keep you from having an orgasm in the middle of your shop.”
Swan rolled her eyes. Jamila, the attractive twenty-two-year-old green-eyed blonde, evidently thought reaching a climactic state was that easy. “It would take more than ogling a man for that to happen, Jamila.”
“I don’t know. Your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets and your breathing sounded funny.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Denial can be good for the soul, I guess. So who is he?”
Swan and Jamila had more than an employer-and-employee relationship. Their friendship had started when Jamila first moved to the island a couple of years ago and patronized Swan’s. It didn’t take long to discover that Jamila liked nice things and decided Swan’s was one of her favorite places to shop. Last year, Jamila had been looking for work after she lost her job as a day cruise ship captain.
As far as Swan was concerned, it hadn’t been Jamila’s fault when an intoxicated customer had tried coming on to her and she’d kicked him in the balls. Surgery had to be performed and the man had sued the ship company. They’d settled out of court but not before firing Jamila for all the trouble she’d caused.
Jamila had gotten an attorney herself so she could not only sue her former employer for an unfair firing but also sue the intoxicated customer. To avoid negative publicity, her former employer wanted to settle out of court with her as well. The intoxicated customer was also trying to settle since the woman he’d been with on the ship hadn’t been his wife. If things worked out in Jamila’s favor, she wouldn’t need a job at Swan’s much longer.
“He is a customer who came into the shop a couple of days ago to buy a gift for his mother.”
“His mother and not his wife?”
“He says his mother.”
Jamila snorted. “Men lie all the time.”
How well she knew, Swan thought. Then she wondered why Jamila was men-bashing today. This wasn’t the first comment of that type she’d made since arriving to work. Her boyfriend had come to town a couple of days ago with the cruise ship, right? So what was going on?
Swan decided not to ask. She didn’t want to hear another sad story about a man that would ruin her date tonight with David. It was a date she was definitely looking forward to. She figured going out to dinner with him wouldn’t be risky as long as she kept things in perspective.
She knew what could happen if she let her guard down when it came to a man.
* * *
Flipper deliberately arrived at Summer Moon early so he could see when Swan arrived. His stomach felt floaty the moment she turned the corner from the street where she lived.
Be still, my...everything.
She was wearing a printed sundress and a pair of high-heeled sandals, but what caught his attention—and was still holding it tight—were her long shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. He would love to see where they stopped under that dress. He forced that thought to the back of his mind.
But the closer she got, the more that thought wiggled back to the forefront. He shouldn’t let it. He was on assignment and she was the subject of an investigation. He shouldn’t see her as temptation. Letting his guard down around her could be a dangerous and costly mistake. He had to keep his head screwed on straight, no matter how innocent she seemed and how beautiful she was, and she was definitely one gorgeous woman.
Men, even some with female companions, were giving Swan second looks, and Flipper tried to downplay his anger. He had no right to be upset about other men checking her out when he was checking her out himself. The best thing to do to control his crazy reaction was to stop looking at her, so he glanced down at his bottle of beer and thought about the reports he’d finished reading a short while ago on her employee and her tenant.
Jamila Fairchild had worked for Swan for a year. He knew all about her former job as a captain of a day cruise ship, why she’d gotten fired and her litigation against not only her former employer but also the man who’d caused the ruckus in the first place. Naval intelligence hadn’t left any stone unturned in Ms. Fairchild’s report and she’d come up clean. Flipper would verify that she was.
Then there was Rafe Duggers, the tattoo artist. Although his parlor was located inside Swan’s shop, there was a back door for his customers to use without entering through the jewelry shop. Flipper hadn’t gotten a chance to look around the tattoo parlor and he intended to do another visit in a few days. Rafe was too squeaky-clean to be true.
No wonder naval intelligence was trying to point the finger at Swan. After all, it was her shop and they had somehow traced activity as originating there. But how? When? He hadn’t found anything.
He had searched Swan’s office, the small kitchen in the back, the bathrooms and another room that she used as a workshop where she made her jewelry. He’d come up with nothing, even after checking out her computer. So what were the grounds for accusing her?
Flipper’s mind flicked back to Swan and he stood when the waiter escorted her to his table. “Hello, Swan. You look nice.”
“Thanks and so do you. I was trying to be early and you still beat me here,” she said, sitting down across from him.
“I was thirsty,” he said, sitting back down and indicating the beer. Now that she was here and sitting directly across from him, he was more than thirsty. If he wasn’t careful, he could have a full-fledged attack of desire. She had a pair of beautiful shoulders and her skin appeared soft and smooth to the touch.
Then his mind drifted to wanting her and he quickly snatched it back. “You walked here. Does that mean you live close by?” he asked, deciding it was best to keep the conversation moving.
“Yes, not too far,” she said. He knew she was deliberately being evasive.
The waiter handed him another beer and gave them both menus. “What would like to drink, miss?” the waiter asked her.
“A glass of Moscato please.”
When the waiter left, she glanced over at Flipper before picking up her menu. “You’re not working so hard that you’re not enjoying the Keys, are you?”
“I’m doing a bit of both. I admit the ocean is beautiful tonight.”
She smiled. “I think it’s beautiful every night.”
He nodded as he took another sip of his beer, straight from the bottle. “So are you a native or a transplant?”
“A native. I was born and raised right here on the island in the same house I live in now. My mother never made it to the hospital before I was born.”
He raised a brow. “She didn’t?”
“No. Mom came from a part of Jamaica where the belief was that when it comes to delivering a baby, a midwife is better than a medical doctor. My father promised to find her a midwife here. Otherwise she would have insisted that I be born in Jamaica and he didn’t want that. He wanted me born in America.”
“So he was able to find a midwife?”
“Yes, but I was born a few weeks early and the midwife wasn’t here.”
“So who delivered you?”
“My