“They say there are probably Paleo-Indian sites out there.” She nodded. “Buried when ocean levels rose with the melting of the glaciers in the late Pleistocene.”
“I thought your friend was the archaeology student.”
“When you spend a lot of time with them, it rubs off,” she apologized. “I know more than I want to about fluted points and ancient stone tools.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever been exposed to that sort of prehistory. I majored in business and minored in economics.”
She glanced up at him. “You’re in business, then?”
He nodded. “I’m a banker.”
“Does your son want to follow in your footsteps?”
His firm lips tugged down. “He does not. He thinks business is responsible for all the ecological upheaval on the planet. He wants to be an artist.”
“You must be proud of him.”
“Proud? I graduated from the Harvard school of business,” he said, glaring at her. “What’s good enough for me is good enough for him. He’s being enrolled in a private school with R.O.T.C. When he graduates, he’ll go to Harvard, as I did, and my father did.”
She stopped. Here was someone else trying to live his child’s life. “Shouldn’t that be his decision?” she asked curiously.
He didn’t bat an eyelash. “Aren’t you young to question your elders?” he taunted.
“Listen, just because you’ve got a few years on me…!”
“More than fifteen, by the look of you.”
She studied his face closely. It had some deep lines, and not many of them were around the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t a smiling man. But perhaps he wasn’t quite as young as she’d suspected, either. Then she realized that he was counting from what he thought her age was.
“I’m thirty-four. But that still makes me an old man compared to you,” he murmured. “You don’t look much older than Ben.”
Her heart leaped. He was closer to her age than she’d realized, and much closer than he knew. “You seem very mature.”
“Do I?” His eyes glittered as he studied her. “You’re a beauty,” he said unexpectedly, his silver gaze lingering on her flawless complexion and big pale blue eyes and wavy, long blond hair. “I was attracted to you the first time I saw you. But,” he added with world-weary cynicism, “I was tired of buying sex with expensive gifts.”
She felt her face go hot. He had entirely the wrong idea. “I’m…” she began, wanting to explain.
He held up a lean hand. “I’m still tired of it,” he said. He studied her without smiling, and the look he gave her made her knees go weak, despite its faint arrogance. “Do your parents know that you’re making blatant passes at total strangers? Do you really think they’d approve of your behavior?”
She almost gasped. “What my parents think is none of your business!”
“It certainly is, when I’m the man you’re trying to seduce.” He glared at her. “So let me set you straight. I don’t take college girls to bed, and I don’t appreciate being stalked by one. Play with children your own age from now on.”
His statement left her blustering. “My goodness, just because I smiled at you a time or two…!”
“You did more than smile. You positively leered,” he corrected.
“Will you stop saying that?” she cried. “For heaven’s sake, I was only looking at you! And even if I was after that kind of…of thing, why would I pick a man with a son? Some father you are! Does he know that his father wanders all over the beach accusing people of propositioning him? And you must be attached—”
He was oddly watchful, not at all angry. He was studying her face with keen, faintly amused interest. “My, my, and you’re not even redheaded,” he murmured, watching the color come and go on that exquisite complexion. “My son is too smitten with you to consider my place in your thoughts, and I don’t have a wife. She died some years ago. I do have a fiancée—almost,” he added half under his breath.
“The poor woman!”
“She’s quite well-to-do, in fact,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “So am I. Another reason to avoid college students, who are notoriously without means.”
She wanted to tell him what her means were, but she was too angry to get the words out. She flushed furiously at being misjudged and insulted. She decided then and there not to tell him about her background. He’d have to get to know her for herself, not her “means.”
“Thinking up appropriate replies?” he asked helpfully. “Something along the lines of feeding me to the sharks?”
“They’d have to draw straws so the loser could eat you!” she blurted out.
She turned and set off back down the beach, hot all over from her surge of fury.
She ran along the beach in her haste to get away from him. She’d been playing mind games with herself. She hadn’t realized that he mistook her rapt regard for serious flirting. She’d certainly be more careful in future to keep her fantasies to herself! Never again would she so much as glance at that man!
It was a pity she didn’t look back. He was standing where she left him with a peculiarly predatory look in his pale eyes, and he was laughing.
* * *
SHELLY AND NAN STUCK to the beach and the shops for the rest of the day, and that evening she persuaded Nan to go to a fast-food joint with some of the other students instead of the restaurant. She didn’t dare tell anyone why, or confess the result of her stupid behavior. If Nan suspected, she was kind enough not to say anything.
Two good things had come out of the experience, Shelly thought as she now walked by herself along the beach. It had been two days since she’d run into the man. She’d managed to avoid the worshipful glances of Mr. Sexy’s son, and she’d learned a painful lesson about obvious flirting. He was a banker. Wasn’t he supposed to be dignified and faintly reticent and withdrawn? Her father was an investment counselor, and he was like that. Of course, he had inherited wealth, too, and that made him faintly arrogant. Mr. Sexy almost cornered the market on arrogance, of course, and conceit. She had to add conceit to the list, since he thought she couldn’t wait to jump into bed with him!
I might have known, she told herself, that no man could be that perfect to look at without having a few buried ugly flaws. Conceit, stupidity, arrogance…
As she thought, she walked. There was a long pier that ran down from the hotel, and usually at the end of it were fishermen. But this particular day the pier was deserted. A sound was coming from it. A series of sharp cries.
Curious, Shelly walked onto it and started out toward the bay. The sounds grew louder. As she quickened her pace to reach the end of the pier, she heard splashing.
She stopped and peered over the edge.
“Help!” a young voice sputtered, and long, thin arms splashed for dear life. She knew that voice, and that face. It was the teenage son of Mr. Sexy, the one she’d been dodging for two days. Talk about fate!
She didn’t stop to think. She tugged off her sandals and dived in after him, shoes, cutoffs, sleeveless white blouse and all. She’d taken a Red Cross lifesaving course and she knew what to do.
“Don’t panic,” she cautioned as she got behind him and caught him under the chin to protect herself. Drowning swimmers very often pulled their rescuers down with them, causing two deaths instead of one. “Stop flailing around and listen to me!” she said, moving her legs to keep afloat. “That’s better. I’m going to tow you to shore. Try to relax. Let your body relax.”
“I’ll