Freefall (24 page)

Sabrina wasn't really afraid. After all, what were the chances of some crazed killer choosing her for his next target? Even if he was still on the island, which was unlikely. You'd think that, having called attention to himself, he'd want to move on to a larger city, where he wouldn't stand out.

Somewhere like Somersett. Charleston. Or even Savannah. Once the media latched on to the Swann Island Slasher story, everyone would be watching every move every stranger made.

Still, she couldn't deny that there was something comforting about having Zach follow her back to Swannsea.

The sun was hovering below the eastern horizon when they got to the house, casting a soft lavender pink glow over the still-dark sky. A few valiant stars winked overhead, but the sound of birdsong from the marsh announced the approaching dawn.

She pulled up in front of the carriage house, but before she could get out of the car, Zach was already lifting the heavy wooden door.

She knew better than to object when he insisted on walking her to the front door. Which she was glad she'd remembered to lock, because she was in too mellow a mood for another safety lecture.

"I had a lovely time," she was appalled to hear herself saying, as if she'd spent the hours attending a ladies' tea. "Thank you."

Could it get any worse?

His lips quirked. "I think I'm supposed to be thanking you. Since you managed to cover just about every item on my top ten things I want to do with Sabrina Swarm list."

"You have a list?"

"In here." He tapped his temple.

"You said 'just about' "

"Well, there are a couple more items I'm hoping we can discuss down the road," he said, answering her unspoken question.

"Such as?"

"I don't imagine you could pick up one of those French maid outfits while you're shopping over in Somersett?"

"I'm disappointed," she said, even as her blood spiked at the idea. "I would've thought a man of your vast experience had moved beyond such an ordinarily prurient fantasy."

"What can I say?" He pulled her into his arms and touched his smiling lips to hers, which curved in response. "Men are slugs."

"True." She lifted a hand, played with the dark waves she could still feel skimming over her breasts. "But I suppose you do have your uses."

"Feel free to use me anytime your little ol' heart desires."

She could feel herself melting, like a beeswax candle left too long in the hot Carolina sun. "How would you like to come to dinner?"

"Dinner?" He pulled his head back. "Like real food that doesn't come in a box or a take-out bag?"

"That's pretty much what I had in mind. I'm not exactly Julia Child, and I can't touch Titania's talent, but I've spent enough time in hotel kitchens to know how to grill a steak and bake a potato."

"Be still, my heart." He tapped his fingers against his chest. "Man food." He kissed her again. "Roger that. I think I love you, New York."

Even as the robust kiss caused the blood to drain from her head, Sabrina assured herself that he didn't really mean it. The same way his earlier "need" could have so many different interpretations, "love" also meant so many things.

You could love fettuccine Alfredo. Love an icy glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade on a hot summer day. She herself loved fluffy kittens, the Three Tenors, and Italian shoes.

Zach hadn't meant anything personal. Or romantic. Obviously he like most men, loved steak and potatoes.

Which was why, although she seldom ate red meat, she'd proposed it in the first place.

"I take it 'Roger that,' is SEAL talk for 'yes'?"

"Usually. This time it means, 'You're a goddess and I count myself the luckiest male in the universe to be permitted to worship at your feet.' "

"Well." She laughed when he dropped down on one knee and kissed the top of her foot. "That's quite flattering. But a simple yes would have been sufficient."

"But not as heartfelt." He stood up and looked inclined to kiss her again when he suddenly slapped a palm against his forehead. "Damn."

"What?"

"I forgot. I've got a thing tonight."

A thing. Like a date. Of course he did. Just because they'd spent the last few hours fucking each other blind didn't give either one of them proprietary rights over the other.

"Don't worry about it." She forced a smile that she feared looked as fake as it felt. "I haven't even bought the steak, and it's not that I was asking you over for, like, a date or anything. I thought we could talk about the plans for Swannsea, and—"

Oh, God. She was babbling. She
never
babbled. Not ever! Not even after being pulled out from under her hotel.

"Sabrina." He touched a finger to her lips. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than spend time with you. But I've got this semimonthly poker game, and—"

A poker game? He was turning down red meat and hot sex for a damn poker game?

"Of course." Her already fake smile turned cool. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to miss that."

"Dammit." He plowed a frustrated hand through his hair. "Would you let me explain?"

Wishing she'd gone inside the house when they'd first arrived, she gave him a go ahead gesture.

"That's very good." He nodded. "That duchess-to-peon wave thing you've got going there," he explained when she arched a brow, inviting elaboration. "Makes a man want to grovel, even when he hasn't done anything wrong. But here's the thing," he said quickly, cutting off any response. "It's with my dad."

"Oh." That was, she considered, somewhat different than drinking beer, eating unhealthy snack foods, and belching with a bunch of guy pals.

"He's the one who started them after I got back, because he figured I needed something to get me out of the house. And out of the bottle."

"Oh." All right, that was a
great
deal different.

"And, in case you're wondering, it wasn't drinking I was having a problem with. But living. Now that I'm sort of remembering how to do that, an occasional beer hasn't proven a problem. Though," he said consideringly, "after that flashback at Harlan and Lillian's, I guess I'll stay clear of bourbon.

"So, although I'm doing okay these days, and a lot better the last couple days—" he tugged playfully on the ends of her hair—"I think he still feels the need to keep tabs on me. Plus, though he'd probably never admit it, I suspect he enjoys getting together with the guys. Especially since he's seemed at loose ends since Lucie passed."

"Oh, damn." She felt her eyes Ming. "You had to do it, didn't you?"

"Do what?" The sun rising out of the Atlantic had gilded everything in a brilliant pink and gold glow that allowed her to see what appeared to be panic in his eyes.

"Are you crying about Lucie, because, damn, Sabrina, I didn't realize bringing her up… shit." This time he plowed both hands through his hair. "I mean, we've talked about her a couple times since you got back, and you've seemed okay with it, but—"

"I'm not crying because of my grandmother, idiot."

Although she'd never hit anyone in her entire life, Sabrina smacked a fist against his shoulder and felt the shock, like hitting a concrete wall, reverberate up his arm.

"If I
was
crying, which I damn well am not, because I never, ever cry, it's because you're being so fucking nice!"

She also never said the
f
word.

What
was
this man doing to her mind?

"Being nice is a bad thing?" No longer panicky, he now looked confused.

"It is when I want to think of you as some oversexed bad-boy SEAL who I'm going to sleep with from time to time while you build an addition on my grandmother's house. Of course you need to play cards with your father. We can have the steak some other night."

"If you're sure."

"Positive." Lifting a hand to his shoulder, she went up on her toes, and this time it was she who kissed him.

Deepening the kiss, he planted his palms against her butt and drew her closer against him. "What time do you go to bed?"

"My schedule's been screwed up since I got back, but usually somewhere between eleven and midnight."

He began planting light little kisses from one side of her mouth to the other. "What would you say if I came by about ten thirty? With dessert?"

She refused to play coy. "I'd say yes."

"Terrific." He captured her mouth one last time, a quick, hard kiss that left her head spinning.

She watched him take the steps two at a time. He was, she noticed with a smile, whistling.

"Oh, one more thing," he said before he climbed into that ridiculous red muscle car. "For the record, I sure don't have any problem with you thinking of me as some oversexed bad-boy SEAL you're going to be sleeping with while I'm building an addition onto your grandmother's house."

"Are you certain you want to do this?"

Jeremy Macon frowned at Sabrina across the wide expanse of mahogany desk, which had been polished to a mirror sheen. The banker, whose cotton ball white hair, mustache, and goatee made him look as if he were channeling Colonel Sanders, was known as a man who appreciated life, and it showed in the belly straining against the front of the blue shirt he was wearing with his white summer seersucker suit that he donned every year from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

"Are you suggesting you don't think it's a good investment?"

Although she'd grown accustomed to dealing with millions of dollars during her years with the Wingate chain, Sabrina was surprised to be so nervous. It was different when you were talking about your own money.

"Oh, I didn't say that." He waved her concerns away with a pudgy hand that looked as if it had never done anything more physical than swing a golf club.

He cleared his throat. Folded his hands over the expanse of his stomach. "As I told your grandmother when she first came to me with the idea, it could be very successful.

"However," he tacked on with a frown, "it would also require a great deal of hands-on involvement."

"I understand that. I'm prepared to give it my best shot." Sabrina rubbed an uncharacteristically damp hand on the skirt of her suit. "After all, I do know a bit about the hospitality industry." Her smile was meant to reassure.

"Well, of course you do." He plucked a pencil from the round walnut holder on the corner of his desk and began passing it from hand to hand. "And to hear Lucie tell it, you've been doing a bang-up job for Wingate. But surely you're not thinking of giving it all up to run a little tea shop here on Swann Island?"

"It wouldn't be just a tea shop." She leaned forward and tapped a fingernail on the manila folder he'd yet to open. "If you'll notice, along with the proposed budget that Tremayne Construction has given me, there's also a projected P&L for not just the tea shop but also the gift shop and tours."

"But you're not planning to charge for the tours?"

"No. They're merely a draw to get people to the farm so they can spend their money. And hopefully become loyal Swann Tea customers."

He finally opened the folder and skimmed the pages. "It appears you've put an impressive amount of work into this."

"Lucie and Titania created the concept," Sabrina said. "I merely tweaked it a bit. Such as adding the museum and the carriage rides."

"Both nice touches," he allowed. "But they'd make for even more work."

"I've never been afraid of work."

"Of course not. Still, Swannsea isn't exactly the fast lane." He closed the folder again and clasped his pudgy hands on top of it. "May I ask if you've thought about selling?"

Bingo
. Sabrina was tempted to glance up over her head to check out the lightbulb that had flashed on. "To Brad Sumner's development company, perhaps?"

"Brad's been doing a great deal of work on the island," the banker said. "And so far he appears to have the Midas touch."

"How lovely for Brad." Sabrina leaned back in the chair on the visitor's side of the desk, crossed her legs with a swish, and folded her arms across her silk blouse.

"However, I've no intention of selling the farm. If you have problems with my request for construction financing, although I'd prefer to do business with a local bank—"

"Oh, no," he said swiftly. "My family and your family have been doing business together since before the war." Meaning, Sabrina knew, not the current war, but the Civil War. "It was merely a suggestion."

The smile beneath that white mustache was a bit smarmy for her taste, but Sabrina had learned very early on that it wasn't absolutely necessary to like someone to do business with him.

"Even if I wanted to sell Swannsea, I wouldn't dare," she said mildly. "Because Lucie would come back and haunt me."

His belly shook as he chuckled at that. "I hear you." His expression sobered as he began playing with the pencil again.

"Lucie's death was not only a loss for the entire island, but for me personally," he confided.

"It seems everyone felt close to her." She hadn't been able to go anywhere in town without someone wanting to share an anecdote about her grandmother.

"Some more than others." A spark of what appeared to be anger flashed in his pale blue eyes. Then was just as quickly contained. "I asked her out a few times, after your grandfather took off. But she always turned me down."

"I'm sorry."

"So was I. I always thought she married beneath her when she chose Robert Swann."

"There was a problem between you and my grandfather." Sabrina remembered it now.

"More than a problem. He took advantage of our friendship to bilk the bank out of nearly a million dollars in a check-kiting scheme."

There was an audible snap. Both their eyes went to the broken yellow pencil.

He put the two pieces down and shook his head.

"The man definitely didn't deserve Lucie. Which is what I told her at the time."

"I didn't know." Pressing a finger to her temple, where a headache had begun to threaten, Sabrina wondered how they'd gotten on this topic.

"I know Lucie always considered you a dear friend." She had no idea if that was true, but figured it wouldn't hurt to say. It wasn't as if her grandmother was around to correct her.

"I would have been more than a friend if she'd let me. Did she ever tell you I'd proposed?"

"Marriage?" Okay, now they were getting into some really strange territory.

"Exactly. Not long after Robert took off. And several other times over the years. But she would never go through with the legal work that would have made her a free woman."

"I'd no idea." That was definitely true. "I suppose she decided marriage wasn't for her." It was definitely time to get this conversation back on track. "So—we have a deal?"

"Absolutely." He, too, seemed relieved to ditch the unpleasant stroll down memory lane. "I'll have my girl get the papers drawn up. They should be ready by Monday afternoon."

"Thank you." Cringing inwardly at his chauvinism, Sabrina stood up and held out her hand.

Well. This made it official.

As she left the bank, which, like so many others in the South, was yet another Tara replica, she felt a giddy little thrill at the thought that she was now running her very own business.

She would make a success of it. Despite Brad hovering like a vulture, despite Jeremy Macon's less than enthusiastic response to the plan, despite Harlan's outright objections, she would make this work. Make Swannsea the most desired destination spot on the island.

Not just the island.

How about the entire Lowcountry?

Maybe this was just the beginning.

Her mind raced as she imagined Swannsea resorts scattered around the country. Why think small? How about the
world
!

She could establish a brand, build on it—but no franchises. No, that's how you start losing control, and once that happens, quality can slide downhill fast.

One of the reasons Wingate was even stronger now than it had been when Eve Bouvier's father had established his first hotel in New Orleans was that Eve kept her finger on the pulse of every aspect of the family business.

Which was what Sabrina intended to do with Swannsea.

She laughed as she realized that, once again, she was racing ahead of herself.

Part of her reason for having decided to stay on Swann Island was to slow down. To learn to balance work and play.

And speaking of play…

Taking out her BlackBerry, she made a notation on her memo pad to stop by the Somersett Victoria's Secret.

The memory of how Zach had looked at her last night as she stood in front of him in that white teddy and high heels created a definite zing.

Looking forward to surprising him tonight with some new bit of sexy lingerie, Sabrina didn't notice the car parked two slots down from hers.

Or the man watching her intently from beneath the bill of a black USMC cap.