So Hard To Forget Part 13

"Three, no four, by the time we boarded the flight in Miami."

"Next time, Doug, I don't care what I say, or the cost, we hire a private jet. If I give you any guff, just remind me of this trip." He gave Nicole a sidelong glance. She was so s.e.xy in that little yellow thing she was wearing that he valiantly forced himself to keep his eyes locked on her face. But, h.e.l.l, he was a b.o.o.b-and-leg man and a sucker for cleavage. His gaze kept drifting downward.

Doug watched the interchange and the effort they were both making to keep from looking at each other. Max, when he wanted to, could charm the pants off the most cynical and experienced women. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. There was something odd going on between him and Nicky. At first, after they'd come back from the lodge, he'd thought, from the hostility, that Max might have seduced her. But he must have been wrong. Max acted as if he was walking on eggsh.e.l.ls around her. It was out of character, and Doug was curious as h.e.l.l to find out what was going on.

Nicole captured the fluttering skirt from the wind and tucked the ends between her knees. She wasn't ready to reveal the rest of herself to Max's gaze. ""Tell me something, now that you've talked me into doing this and I'm here on the island with no means of escape." She gazed from one man to the other. "You knew all about me before you ever showed up in Montana, didn't you? I mean, that story you two cooked up might have convinced my father, but it was a little much for me."

Max placed his hand over his heart. "I swear, Nicky, we came to Montana only because of Bedford. We had absolutely no idea about your existence. It was just meant to be. Fate, pure and simple." "Kismet," Doug put in.

"Karma." Max wasn't about to be outdone. "Chance."

"Luck," Max shot back.

"G.o.dsend."

"Destiny." Max grinned when Doug glared at him. Determined to have the last word, Doug said, "Nick's been curious about how to handle Gillman. I told her you'd fill her in on all the details." He stood up quickly, secured his hat on his head and strolled down to the water's edge.

"Is he wearing what I think, or am I having a hallucination Max asked.

"He's gone native."

Max finished his coffee, then secured the mug in the sand beside the lounge. "The natives have better taste."

"Why is it I wonder, that no one wants to tell me what I'm supposed to do now that I'm here?" Nicole said.

"Maybe because we know you're going to be put in an awkward position.

It's not going to be a picnic." Max immediately regretted the reference to "picnic" even though it brought back some lovely memories.

"Listen, Nicky," he went on, "everyone here is a professional. They know their jobs in this sort of sting operation. Above all, they know their first priority is to keep you safe and unharmed. I won't lie to you. As vigilant as everyone's going to be, as closely as you're going to be watched and the fact that I'm going to be with you every minute nevertheless, there's always room for human error. One wrong move. One slip and you could be in a dangerous situation."

"Now you tell me," she muttered.

"That's why I have to have your word, no matter what's happened between us, that you'll do what I say."

She took a moment to consider what he'd asked, then nodded. "Fill me in."

"First thing to remember in a con game or a sting operation is to stick as close to the truth as possible. Don't fabricate or you're going to be tripped up. You're going to call yourself Nicole with no last name because you can't remember. The good doctor, M. Adair Gibson--me. By the way, the M. stands for Marion, but you like Max better. I don't think that'll bother Gillman."

She agreed it would be far easier to answer to her own name. "What am I doing here? Why haven't you informed the authorities of my existence? Tell me about Dr. Gibson." Suddenly there seemed so much to know for the scare to work that she began to doubt if she could do it.

"Don't choke on me, sweetheart. The halt's rolling and picking up speed and can't be stopped now." Without thinking, he reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Nicky, most of the explanations are going to be coming from me, Remember, you have amnesia and you can always fall back on that. But one thing has to be convincing--the fact that you're in love with me. You have to be rock solid in your love and devotion to me. It's the key, the one thing that's going to tip Gillman over the edge."

"I don't see it."

"Think about it. Gillman believes he's done the perfect crime and is about to reap the rewards and get his hands on his wife's five-million-dollar estate." Nicky gasped and he nodded. "Yeah, a bundle. Think how he's going to feel when he's told his wife is alive. It's going to shake him up really good. But remember this, too. From all the background and research we've done one thing was clear--Gillman was always possessive and jealous of what was his, and Sandra was his." "Don't you think he'll suspect a setup?"

"Of course he will. He'll be suspicious and dangerous. But when he sees us together, so obviously in love, sleeping together--"

"Wait! Did I miss something? You kind of ran those last few words together."

"We're supposed to be deeply in love--husband and wife, in our eyes. Don't you think he'd be suspicious if we didn't sleep together?"

"I guess." She was having trouble taking it all in. "So when he arrives, you move in with me? In the master bedroom?"

"No. I've already moved in."

She opened her mouth and closed it then slowly tugged her hand out from under his. "I don't think SO.".

"Do you see what you just did? You don't want me to touch you. You're still p.i.s.sed off at me, and as much as you try not to show it you stiffen up a little when I'm close. Gillman's a smart man he'll spot the reaction. In the next couple of days we're going to be close---day and night, twenty-four hours a day. You have to get use to my touching you and being affectionate, even loving. Furthermore, you're going to have to reciprocate the feelings and actions."

"Did you have this all planned in Montana?" "Sure."

"It's the only way, sweetheart. d.a.m.n it you just made a face at me."

"Think of something besides' sweetheart darling. My ex-husband called me that all the time because, I'm sure, he forgot my name. I hate it." She couldn't sit still any longer. Yanking off the skirt, she got up and headed for the water.

Max watched, his breath hanging in his throat and his heart hammering like crazy. The bikini bottom was no more than a tiny triangle of mated hal Her backside was taut and her legs long and shapely, with strong thighs and rounded calves. Years on ho:seback had hardened and defined every muscle, without making them overly muscular. He sat staring, drinking in the sight and remembering the strength "of those legs wrapped around him. The way she'd squeezed him and held him inside her.

Max shook his head. He figured a dip in the water would be therapeutic. It would cool his desire and clear his head. Though the thought that he might get close enough to feel her wet-slick skin against him made him hasten his steps.

Nicole slipped under the water, letting it inch over her head, savoring the feel. The rivers at home were all fed by melting snow high up in the mountain and always cold. She'd swum in the Pacific, too, and found it cold, dark and unappealing. But the Caribbean water was different, sliding over her body like warm silk. She came up for air, wiped the water from her eyes, then squealed when she came face-to-face with Max. "Wonderful, isn't it?" she said.

Max glanced around, taking it all in. He'd been to the island before and never noticed until that moment just how beautiful it was. "Yes. But you know, I don't like it half as much as your mountain in Montana."

She treaded water in front of him, laughed and said, "Sure, you can say that now--you've never spent a winter there." Then she started swimming parallel to the sh.o.r.eline, her strokes long and sure.

Max watched her body slice through the clear blue water and started after her. He had no idea how they ended up in a race. One moment he was simply trying to catch up with her, the next they were beating their bodies against the water, fighting to outdistance the other.

Nicole finally admitted defeat and stopped, her breathing labored. Max swam circles around her, no more tired out than if he'd taken a stroll on the beach. "That's how you keep in shape--you swim?" she asked. She could barely get the words out she was so fired, and she flipped onto her back to float and catch her breath.

"Yes. Hard swimming takes some discipline. The first thing is to make yourself breathe slowly, the next is to remember to let your thigh muscles do all the work. You were exerting most of your power from the knee down, and that can wear you out real fast. Plus, you're not used to the way salt water can weigh you down and sap your strength."

"You're being too kind. You're just stronger, better and more experienced than I am."

"Oh, h.e.l.l, Nicky. Stop trying to rub my nose in what I did."

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about." She glanced around and realized how far out in the lagoon they were and started doing a backstroke toward the shallower water. Max followed her.

"Of course you do. Everything you say to me has a sarcastic undertone." He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him, so she could hold on to him while he treaded water. "If I remember correctly, I didn't exactly force myself on you. You were as willing and, yes, eager as I was. You're just mad at me for deceiving you. Okay, I'm profoundly sorry. But how the h.e.l.l could I tell you I thought you were another woman when I wasn't sure myself?. Then when I was sure--well, h.e.l.l, shoot memI just didn't want anything to mess up what was happening between us."

She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth a few inches from his. He was having trouble concentrating. "Nicky, you have to get over your anger. Be mad at me when this is all over with. But right now, for your own good, let's call a truce."

"Fine. Now will you shut up and help me get where I can stand up? I honestly don't think I can swim an other stroke."

"See where always trying to be the winner gets you?"

"Tired?"

"That, too, Montana. And sometimes dead."

"Sorry, I'm not as strong a swimmer as I It's a little humiliating."

"Don't let go of me.

using his strong backstroke. Her body settled on top of his as he carried her to shallow water. When he was certain her feet could touch bottom, he stopped, pried her arms from around his neck and started wading toward sh.o.r.e.

"Okay, New York. You win. I'll do whatever you want, without the lip service and sarcasm."

He glanced over his shoulder but kept moving. "Sure, and I believe in fairies. You better movemthis isn't a Montana river. There are things in this water that just love little white toes."

She went very still, then turned in a complete circle, searching the surface for a triangle fin. When she realized he was teasing, she didn't so much as jump at him as dive, catching him around the waist and dunking him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE PLAYFULNESS and banter of the morning swim set the tone for the rest of the day. Nicole decided she'd allowed the instant attraction she'd felt for Max to overrule her judgment and good sense. It was a bad habit a flaw, this expecting others to feel the same way about her as she felt about them. She berated herself for her foolishness.

So he hadn't told her he thought she was another woman. And when he realized she wasn't Sandra, why would he have told her in the first place? It was a convoluted excuse, but it worked for her. It was obvious Max was attracted to her, and they had been lovers, but that didn't necessarily mean he had stronger feelings for her. Her problem was that she cared more about him than she wanted to admit even to herself.

As she'd stood in the shallows earlier that morning watching him walk away, she'd made a promise to herself. Why she ever thought there could be anything serious between them, she had no idea. They were miles apart. As opposite as day and night. When all this was over and she returned to Montana, she wasn't going to regret whatever happened between them on the island. She wasn't going to beat her head against a wall the way she had with her ex-husband, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong.

"Are you listening to me, Nicky?"

Max was amused by her faraway expression. He'd been taking her on a tour of the island, the places she needed to be familiar with. She'd changed dramatically after their swim. She seemed more relaxed and open.

He'd been so used to the tough capable Nicky that the delicate beauty who stopped to ooh and aah over some wild profusion of exotic flowers made him laugh.

"It's paradise lost, Max. Only we've found it." They were at the rear of the compound and heading toward the other lagoon and the boat dock. She glanced over her shoulder at the way the green hills rolled toward a thickly forested volcanic mountain that ended in a sheer dropoff into the ocean. "How can Dr. Gibson bear to leave it?"

"He spends most of his time in England working on his cancer research."

Max glanced around. "It is beautiful, but I still don't think it compares with your mountain, the river by the lodge or the warm spring by the cliffs."

By speeding up and walking ahead of him, she was able to hide how it thrilled her to hear him compare her home so favorably with this paradise. When she reached the steps leading to the wooden dock, she paused and let him catch up with her. "When will Helen call Gillman?"

The dock looked like a long bony finger bleached gray by the sun and left to stretch out across the water. The deepening colors, from dark turquoise to almost midnight dark, and the fact that the doctor's yacht was tied here, made her realize the lagoon was very deep.

"We figured you'd need at least three days to get

familiar with the island and your role." She was so busy taking everything in he took hold of her arm and led her around a coil of rope

before she tripped over it. "Helen's in Miami waiting for me to give her the word to start her part of the sting. She'll call Gillman, tell him the miraculous news that Sandra's alive. Then she'll sadly explain that Sandra has amnesia and doesn't remember who she is.

"Gillman's going to die by seconds and inches until he sees Sandra. I hope the sight of you doesn't give him a heart attack--that would be too d.a.m.n easy.

"Helen knows she's not to tell Gillman much beyond the fact that Sandra's been found. It's believable that she'd be so excited her details would be sketchy and jumbled. But she'll make sure he knows the location and the name of the island. After the call her jet will fly her to St. Thomas, then one of our men will bring her to the island."

"What if Gillman doesn't take the bait?" They were at the end of the dock, and she gazed into the water. "And if he does, how will you know when he's coming?"

"He'll have to come. How can he not? A couple of things are going to happen very quickly. Never forget, Nicky, that John Gillman is a cunning man. First off, because he's guilty, he's going to suspect everything and everyone--a setup, a trap. When he sees you, everything will fall apart. He'll realize if Sandra's alive it'll cost him her inheritance, and he'll have to pay back the life insurance. Furthermore she's a time bomb waiting to blow up in his face. He'll never know when she might remember and expose him.

"So he'll be ecstatic his wife has no memory of the no it. He'll be thinking of ways to get you away from the island, and somewhere down the line, say in a couple of days or months, another accident will happen."

Nicole felt a chill. Since they'd arrived on the island, the mere mention of John Gillman gave her the oddest feeling. A sick kind of fluttering in the pit of her stomach. A sensation she couldn't exactly put a name to, other than maybe fear. But that was strange. She'd known all about Sandra's husband back in Montana and hadn't had this feeling, this premonition.

They headed down the dock, and with the hypnotic slapping of their rubber-soled sandals against the wood planks of the dock, Nicole fell into the darkness of her thoughts. She hadn't realized she'd been so lost in her own world or that they'd walked so far until she was startled by Max's tug on her arm to stop. She lifted her gaze to the long sleek lines of the yacht, the gleaming bra.s.s and dark wood, and the man pus.h.i.+ng the mop as he scrubbed the deck. She recognized him as one the bodyguards who'd met them at the airport. "Is he really working or just keeping an eye on us?"

"Not me. You, Nicky. Even when I'm with you, you're still under their protection."

"That's a comforting thought." And it was. She was just beginning to realize how seriously everybody took his or her job and how really dangerous the situation was.

They came alongside the yacht and Max stopped. "Nicky, this is James Thamesrowe call him Big Jim. When Gillman gets here, Jim will always be near you. He's an expert in self-defense, weapons and explosives. And don't let his size fool you. Jim moves as quickly and quietly as a cat."

Nicky smiled as the big man made an effort to clean his ma.s.sive hand before he shook hers. "I don't think with Jim around I have anything to worry about." The man grinned, and she had a feeling his heart was as big as the rest of him.

As they moved on she asked, "Besides the four I've already met, how many of your people are here?"

"Including Doug, about eight. Three are on St. Thomas watching for Helen and Gillman. One will ferry Helen over as soon as she arrives, and the other two will wait and follow Gillman over." He "began to count off the ones on the island. "The ones who attached themselves to you at the airport are Jim, LeRoy and Elyis, your bodyguards. Where you go they go. Paul and John are setting up the outside surveillance, cameras, things like that. And Karen, a woman of many talents, is going to be our cook on this operation, and she's quite good at it. But don't let her culinary talents fool you--her expertise is languages, electronics and handguns.