The Spy Who Left Me (12 page)

Ty glanced in the direction of her finger. There was no one there.

She frowned. “He’s gone now.”

“That’s a long way off. Are you sure it was him? You barely got a moonlit glimpse of him last night.” She could tell he was trying to be reassuring. “It was probably just some guy admiring the view, thinking what a juicy dudette you are.”

Why did her heart still flutter when he complimented her? Why did it beat with the same high she felt riding a wave? She peered into his eyes, wishing … for what? For things to be different? For him to be a different kind of man? The kind who preferred a nine-to-five office job and quiet evenings at home to playing James Bond?

She shook her head. “It was
him
. The man from last night.”

“You barely got a glimpse of him,” he reiterated. It was almost a command. A Jedi mind trick—this is not the Chinese man you’re looking for.

“It
was
him, Ty. I’m telling you. I remember the tattoo.”

His arms tightened around her. “What tattoo?”

“A large Chinese character on a background that looked like a jagged red lightning bolt. It covered most of his neck.”

They reached knee-deep water. Hal, Carrie, Carla, and the instructors ran out to meet them, cutting off further conversation. One of the instructors carried a first-aid kit. He unleashed her board and took it from her. The others waited on shore with anxious expressions, crowding around Greg for reassurance.

“Give her some air,” Ty said as the group clustered around them.

Carla directed Ty to put Treflee on a beach towel someone had laid out for her. He put her down as gently as the concerned, loving husband he used to be. She hadn’t even realized she’d been clinging so tightly to him until he pried her loose. She let go then, embarrassed and confused as he squatted in the sand beside her.

Carla crowded in, hovering above Treflee. As she stared into Treflee’s eyes, she mumbled something about how this was supposed to be a vacation, but with Treflee around there was no danger of her nursing skills getting rusty.

A reed-thin Chinese girl burst through the crowd to hover next to Ty. She waved at Treflee hysterically, pointing and saying something in Chinese.

Seeing her, Treflee realized she must have been the person who’d knocked her off her board. She started to tremble uncontrollably.

“She’s upsetting my patient,” Carla said in the impatient, imperious tone of an emergency room doctor. “Get her out of here.”

Ty stood and took the Chinese girl’s arm, whispering something in her ear that seemed to calm her. He handed her off to Greg, who had been standing with the others. He returned to Treflee’s side as Greg led the girl away toward the surf shack.

“Her eyes aren’t dilated.” Carla took Treflee’s pulse. Why do nurses always do that? It was pretty obvious Treflee was alive. “Do you hurt anywhere? Did you hit, bump, or pull anything when you crashed?”

Treflee pointed at the back of her head. “My board hit here.”

Carla felt her head like a phrenologist reading Treflee’s future, only all she found was pain.

“Ouch!” Treflee rubbed her head where Carla had probed.

“You’ve got a big goose egg.”

No duh!

When Carla finished her examination, she pulled a bag of instant ice out of the kit and opened it, squishing it between her fingers to activate it. She handed the bag to Treflee. “Ten minutes ice on. Ten ice off. Repeat. You’re lucky you weren’t really hurt. You should be fine.”

“Dude, you ate some good foam!” Carrie’s instructor dude said from the sidelines, as if trying to encourage her. “No worries. Every surfer eats foam.” He nodded. “It’s like part of the experience.”

Carla closed up the kit and shooed Ty away from Treflee. “Give her some air. She’ll be fine.”

Laci sidled up and clutched Ty’s arm, whispering in his ear as she pulled him away after Carla dislodged him from Treflee’s side. Teaming up on Treflee—no fair!

Ty could have resisted. He was her husband. He had a right to be by Treflee’s side. Instead, he glanced down at Laci and gave her a flirty smile. It hurt watching him jump back into character so quickly after her near-death experience.

Yeah, she knew it was his job.

As the others moved off, Hal plunked to a sit next to her in the sand. He looked embarrassed. “Sorry I didn’t get there first.” He glanced at Ty.

Treflee shot Ty a quick glance as a swell of jealousy overcame her. “You’re here now.” She smiled at Hal, trying to quell her surge of anger at Ty for deserting her for the job. “Don’t feel bad. It’s his job to look after me. Us. He’s one of our tour guides while we’re here on vacation this week. I’m sure there are liability issues.”

“Ah,” Hal said, sounding amused and somewhat reassured he hadn’t lost her interest. “I suppose you’ll want to take a rain check on lunch?”

She glanced at Ty and his beach barnacle Laci, and the others who had started gathering up the equipment from the beach. “I’m feeling better.”

“What you need is a little one-on-one attention.” Hal turned around.

“Hey, tour guide,” Hal called out to Ty. “Mind if I take this one off your hands for a while and feed her lunch? I promise to watch her closely.” He reached over and squeezed Treflee’s hand. “At the first sign of head trauma or concussion, I’ll rush her to emergency. Scout’s honor.” He laughed.

Ty studied Hal and shrugged. “Whatever our guest wants. The van leaves for the plantation from King Street at one sharp.” He turned back to Laci as if he hadn’t a care in the world about what Treflee did or who she saw.

Treflee stared after him, her heart in her stomach, fighting back against her hurt feelings.

“Well?” Hal asked, hope and anticipation dancing in his eyes.

Damn Ty! She thought they’d been reconnecting. She’d thought …

Well, she was a stupid little fool for considering putting off the divorce for one second. What could she say? She needed an excuse to get to that lawyer’s office.

She smiled at Hal. “I’d love to. Where do you have in mind?”

*   *   *

Ty watched the spark fade from Treflee’s eyes as he gave Hal the okay to take her to lunch. The moment was over. He’d killed it. He cursed his job and its conflicting missions. He’d blown it. For now. He’d make it up to Tref later, rekindle the moment. Find some way to explain.

She wasn’t over him. He’d seen her eyes light up when he’d mentioned sunny weather. It had just been a quick spark. There and gone. But he’d caught it and it gave him hope. She still wanted him, no matter how much she protested. She hated the spy lifestyle as much as he loved it, but she was as trapped in it as he was.

He’d get the mood back. But right now, he needed Treflee to play spy for him.

He caught up with Greg in the surf shop’s men’s changing room, the only place totally safe from Laci. He hoped. He wouldn’t put it past Laci to “accidentally” wander in for an eyeful.

Greg, his spying NCS cohort in crime, was just stepping into the communal shower.

Ty got out of his wet trunks. He stepped up to the showerhead next to Greg and lathered up. Despite the pretense, surfing wasn’t Ty’s favorite thing. He liked riding the waves, but hated the sticky feeling of dried saltwater and sand on his skin, which itched and stung.

With the white noise of running water for cover, he filled Greg in. “Tail Treflee. I’d do it myself, but I can’t take the chance of either Hal or her spotting me.”

Greg shook his head as he soaped up. “Dude, I can’t believe you sent your wife off to have lunch with that traitor. I thought I was supposed to be her nonthreatening escort while she’s here?”

Ty shrugged and rinsed his hair. “It was the opportunity of a mission.”

“You’re a stronger man than I am.” Greg turned his shower off and reached for a towel.

“Just don’t let her out of your sight, Mr. Master of Disguise.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Later at the van as Greg helped him load up the gear, Ty dropped a bug and tracking device into Treflee’s beach bag.

If that slimebag Hal tried to take any liberties at all, Ty would be on him before he knew what hit him.

*   *   *

Hal drove a red Porsche Boxster convertible, accelerating away from the clunky plantation van as they pulled away from the surf shop.
If the car makes the man, we’re off to an excellent start,
Treflee thought, trying to console herself and move on from Ty.

Hal drove the short distance into the heart of town with the roof down and pulled to a smooth stop in front of a cheeseburger joint on the waterfront.

He came around and opened her door for her, offering her a hand out of the ground-hugging car. “They make the best grilled pineapple cheeseburger on the island and serve their famous tropical salsa as fry sauce.” He leaned in and whispered into her windswept hair, “You’ll love it!”

Treflee smiled back at him and ran her fingers through her hair. After icing her bump, she’d showered and changed into a tank, shorts, and rhinestone-studded flip-flops at the surf shop.

Hal was almost too good to be true. He’d picked the perfect restaurant for the way she felt and was dressed. “I’m starving. A burger sounds like heaven.”

He took her hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “In that case, welcome to the Pearly Gates.”

She liked his sense of humor and couldn’t help smiling. Funny how smiling can make you feel better all by itself.

Inside, the hostess led them through the kitschy bamboo-walled interior to the back terrace overlooking the ocean. She seated them in the shade of an awning where the pop music that blared inside provided a pleasant background ambience and allowed them to talk without shouting.

Hal held Treflee’s chair out for her, an endearing, chivalrous move in such a low-key establishment. One thing Treflee was definitely looking for in husband number two was a man who took care of her.

“Wow! Look at the view. So crystal clear today. You can see Lanai as if it were right next door.” She sat and stared at the view a second longer, trying to get a grip on her emotions and forget about Ty. “I like this place already. Do you eat here often?”

“Whenever I can.” Hal went around the table and took a seat.

The hostess handed them each a large, laminated menu complete with cartoon drawings, and disappeared.

Treflee smiled at him as sexily as she knew how, testing her rusty flirting skills—anything to reassure herself she was still attractive and desirable, even if Ty had pawned her off on another guy.

She gazed at Hal with what she hoped was a totally enthralled look, imagining the way she used to look at Ty before things went sour. “You know, I know
absolutely
nothing about you. Other than you look great in board shorts and can surf a four-foot wave like a pro.”

He laughed, obviously flattered. “Hey, I have skills. I can ride
way
bigger waves than that. I can even create a few.” His tone nearly made her blush. She had the feeling he wasn’t speaking strictly of ocean waves.

“Oh, I bet you can,” she said, still staring at him as if he were pure beefcake. “Are you here on vacation? Or are you a local?”

“Neither and both. I was born and raised here on Maui,” he said, studying her in the intense way of a man who’s interested and admiring. “I live on the mainland now. Virginia. I’m here on business. Seeing an important client.”

“Important client, huh?” Treflee picked up her menu and pretended to study it. “Is she young and beautiful?”

“Would you be jealous if she was?”

She lowered her menu just enough to peek over the very top of it at him. “Maybe.”

He grinned, looking pleased. “Old. Definitely not blond and
gorgeous
like you.”

She liked the way calling her “gorgeous” rolled off his tongue. Treflee looked down at her menu and smiled as the waitress brought them water and took their drink order. Hal ordered them each a Maui mai tai and asked for hers in a pineapple mug.

When Treflee shot him a quizzical look, he answered, “You look like you could use a souvenir, a reminder of your surfing victory.” He winked. “The glass comes with the drink. The mai tai will clear your head and mellow you out.”

A clear head sounded like a terrific idea, but alcohol usually had the opposite effect on her. Worse, even as she smiled at Hal, her initial ire and jealousy of Laci were starting to wear off. Never a good thing when you’re a married woman out on a revenge date with an attractive, interested guy. Too easy for guilt to creep in. Like she was the cheater, here.

Maybe that ice pack had really worked. As she studied the menu, she began to think more clearly. She was suddenly suspicious—why had Ty been so eager for her to go to lunch with Hal in the first place? How was he so sure no lei strangler would get hold of her? Or that Hal wasn’t some modern-day Ted Bundy or an enemy agent out to kill her?

Could it be Ty wanted her out of the way while he was off playing spy games?

Palming her off on a date, who’d gladly play guard unawares, probably seemed like a good way to keep her occupied, out of trouble, and out of his hair.