Perfect for the Beach (23 page)

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said primly, then rolled over, lithe as a cat, and crawled toward him. “Let’s get that suit coat off—jeez, how many layers are you wearing? Are you aware that it’s ninety degrees outside? Are these
wool
pants?”

“It’s fifty in the hotel lobby,” he retorted. “Don’t pull—I have no intention of spending the evening sewing buttons back on.” He shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it carelessly over a nearby chair. “Now where—”

They both heard the tiny
clink
at the same time, and looked. The chair was in the kitchenette part of the suite, resting on tile, and the
clink
had been the sound of a small gold ring hitting the floor.

“What the hell…?” Robin bounded off the bed and crossed the floor in half a second. “That’s
it!
And you’ve got it!”

“What,
it
it? As in, the it you’ve been stealing?
That’s
it?” He stared. “But … it’s so small. It’s just a gold band. You probably couldn’t get fifty dollars for it in a pawnshop. And you’ve been stealing it back and forth for a decade?”

She scooped the ring off the floor and locked it in her small fist. Her eyes were narrowed, furious. She was pale with rage. “It’s my father’s wedding band. And
you …”

John remembered the hug, remembered thinking it was an odd move for a man like Rich to make. Not so odd if you wanted to plant something … “Wait, Robin, it’s not what you—”

The ring, within her fist, looped toward his face. There was a bright flash, and then there wasn’t anything.

Chapter Nine

“You crooked, slippery, sneaky, willful, stubborn
bastard!”

“And my niece will be joining me,” Rich told the waiter without missing a beat. “Could you bring her a strawberry daiquiri, please? Nice robe,” he added as she sat down across from him.

“You think you’re so smart,” she said bitterly. “Pulling a new guy into this. Getting him to trick me. Giving him
my father’s ring.”

Rich rubbed his temples. “Please don’t shout. I was up rather late last night entertaining in my suite, and the bourbon flowed like wine. And what are you talking about, getting him to trick you?”

“Don’t play games, Richard. Not now I…I really liked him and you had to go ahead and ruin it.”

“Oh, Robin. What did you do?”

“Left cross,” she admitted.

He slapped his forehead. Then he leaned across the table and slapped her forehead.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right, and if I were younger, you’d get worse. Where’s your brain, Niece? Of course John Crusher isn’t involved. What use is a goody-goody accountant to me? I’ve got all the crooked ones I need on the payroll.”

“Well, then how—”

“Use your head. I slipped him your dad’s ring when he was still trying to decide if I was making a pass at him.”

“But that means—”

“You just made a humongous ass of yourself.”

She sniffed, and when the waiter brought her drink, took a gulp. “I think
humongous
is a bit harsh,” she muttered, then chomped on her strawberry garnish.

“Robin, Robin … you’re screwing up all my perfectly laid plans. As usual. Do you know how long I had to sit in that freezing lobby until your boytoy wandered by? And then you go and leap to the wrong conclusion and coldcock him—in his own hotel room!”

“I thought he was on your side,” she whined. “I thought he’d used me. And you, you rotten old puppet master, the last thing I need is for you to be interfering in my life, pulling strings—”

“Well, someone’s got to pull your head out of your ass,” he snapped back. “This all started because you didn’t want to leave your father’s ring in my keeping. In other words, ten years of silliness because you couldn’t trust the one man in your life. Now there’s a new one, and you don’t trust him, either.”

“Wllalleavenyway,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, well, you all leave anyway.” She glared at him defiantly, then dropped her eyes.

He sat back in his chair and studied her, with that keen regard she both loved and hated because it missed nothing. “Ah,” he said after a long moment. “So that’s how it is.”

“That’s how it is.”

“Your father didn’t
leave,
darling.”

“Well, he’s not here having drinks, is he?” she bitched.

“He went out kicking and screaming, and you damned well know it. He was still walking around when doctors were sure the cancer would have him in the ground by your tenth birthday.”

She rubbed her forehead, forcing the thoughts—

Ah, there’s my Robin-bird, how’s my best girl? I have to see my P.O. and then we can go to the playground, won’t that be nice? And see, look what I found! Isn’t it pretty? Just right for my Robin-bird’s neck.

—away.

“All this time,” Rich was muttering. “I had no idea. I thought it was your nature, you’re so like your father, I thought you didn’t want to settle down, I never dreamed—”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said dully.

“Everything can be fixed,” her uncle corrected firmly. “There’s still time. You can make amends. You can … start a whole new life. One where you’re not chasing me all over the country, and vice versa.”

That was ridiculous. That was too good to be true. Start a new life? Live like a normal person? Like Mrs. John Crusher? What had her uncle been smoking?

“Is that … is that why you gave John the ring?”

“No, I thought he should accessorize more. Of
course
that’s why I gave him the ring.”

“Don’t bite my head off, old man, I’m in no mood,” she snarled back. “We were doing just fine before you stuck your fingers in and started to interfere.”

“Ha. And again I say, ha.”

“So I’m supposed to believe that you gave the ring to John, that you’re not going to try to steal it back?”

He yawned.

“Seriously?”

“Ten years, Robin, for the love of God! I’m tired, do you understand
tired?
John can have it. Or you can take it from him. Or you can take it from him and then give it to him. Or you can flush it down the toilet. I’m tired, and this has gone on far too long. Here’s your escape hatch, Robin. Take it, if you love me. And even if you don’t.”

“Of course I love you,” she said absently. “I just fantasize about strangling you sometimes. Also, I’m having a little trouble keeping up. You have to admit, this is a big—sudden!—one-eighty.”

“Worry about it later. For now, get some ice, get a washcloth, and minister to your man. Assuming he’ll still talk to you.”

“I—”

“Too late.”

She turned; John was staggering toward her, and right on his heels was Ken, the embalmed-looking hotel manager.

Chapter Ten

“Hi, honey,” she said weakly as he staggered up to the table.

“You—you—”

“Care for a drink?” Rich asked. “You look like you could use one. Or five.”

“Mr. Crusher, are you sure you don’t require an ambulance? I didn’t mean to intrude, but you practically fell out of the elevator. Pardon me for saying so,” Ken-the-manager stammered, “but you don’t look well.” Rasp-rasp, as he rubbed his hands together.

Robin tried not to shudder.
Cripes, hasn’t the guy heard of hand lotion? He sounds like a snake getting ready to molt. Or whatever snakes do.

John grasped the back of her chair to steady himself. “I’m fine. Go away. Robin, you—you—”

“Treacherous idiot?” Rich supplied helpfully.

“You
stay out of this. And don’t hug me ever again. Come on, Robin. Back to our room. Gotta figure this out.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You want me to come up?”

“Errr … Mr. Crusher … I thought you were in a single for the week,” the manager ventured.

“I, uh …”

“Better check your reservations computer,” Robin said sweetly. “Mr. and Mrs. Crusher, big as life.”

“Oh. Beg pardon. Well, if you don’t want an ambulance … and everything’s under control …”

“You could talk to the chef,” Rich suggested politely. “The endive’s a bit wilted.”

Looking relieved to have a task at last, Ken immediately departed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Crusher? When,” John muttered as the manager scuttled away, “did you do
that?”

“Some things will never be told. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. I think you better lie down.”

“I think you’d better sling an arm across my shoulders. Unless you’ve noticed the room is spinning, too—it’s not just me?”

“Uh … sorry. It’s just you.” She stood and stepped to his side, and put her arm around his waist. “Come on, poor thing. We’ll have you prone in five minutes.”

“Spare me the sordid details,” Rich said. “And bring me a waiter. My Perrier is flat.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Startling them both, she bent and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now buzz off. Leave us alone. No more puppet mastering.”

“I do have a life outside of you, Robin,” he said dryly. “Not much of one, granted …”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m so, so sorry. I thought you were working for Uncle Rich. I thought … I thought what we did—what we had—was a put-on. That you were putting me on. And … I lost my temper.”

“Lost your temper? You unleashed the hounds of hell—on my face!” He touched the knot rising on his forehead and winced. “Christ, I’ve been in bar fights that weren’t this bad.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that big a deal. Okay, the whole felony assault thing, that’s not so great, but does it really still hurt?”

“Have you noticed this third eye growing on my forehead?” he growled. “Yes, it still hurts!”

“Oh, come here.” She had him lie down beside her, and cuddled him in her arms. He sulked in her embrace for a long moment, then fished around in his pocket.

“I noticed it, that time. You’re not quite as good as your uncle. Now
there’s
a guy who knows how to hug while slipping stolen merchandise onto a fella. Here’s your ring back.”

“No, it’s for you,” she said quietly. “You keep it.”

He reared up and stared at her. “Are you shitting me? And am I actually yelling when my head hurts this bad?”

“John—”

“You and your uncle have been stealing this back and forth forever, then you punched me when
he
gave it to me, and now
you ‘re
giving it to me?”

He’s right, it sounds ridiculous.
“I’m—I guess we’re both tired of the game,” she said slowly. “It was fun at first—fun for years—but there’s got to be more to it than … than all this. And I … I want you to have it.”