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when a young boy came running up to the window. He was dressed in a bathing suit and slick with suntan lotion. With a twenty-dollar bill crumpled in his hand, he babbled a request for snorkeling equipment for himself and his brother. He spoke in quick, excited Spanish as Liz checked out the equipment, asking if she thought they’d see a shark.
    She answered him in all seriousness as she exchanged money for equipment. “Sharks don’t live in the reef, but they do visit now and again.” She saw the light of adventure in his eyes. “You’ll see parrot fish.” She held her hands apart to show him how big. “And if you take some bread crumbs or crackers, the sergeant majors will follow you, lots of them, close enough to touch.”
    “Will they bite?”
    She grinned. “Only the bread crumbs. Adios.”
    He dashed away, kicking up sand.
    “You speak Spanish like a native,” Jonas observed, and thought it might come in handy. He’d also noticed the pleasure that had come into her eyes when she’d talked with the boy. There’d been nothing remote then, nothing sad or haunted. Strange, he mused, he’d never noticed just how much a barometer of feeling the eyes could be.
    “I live here,” she said simply. “Now, Mr. Sharpe—”
    “How many boats?”
    “What?”
    “How many do you have?”
    She sucked in a deep breath and decided she could humor him for another five minutes. “I have four. The glass bottom, two dive boats and one for deep-sea fishing.”
    “Deep-sea fishing.” That was the one, Jonas decided. A fishing boat would be private and isolated. “I haven’t done any in five or six years. Tomorrow.” He reached in his wallet. “How much?”
    “It’s fifty dollars a person a day, but I don’t take the boat out for one man, Mr. Sharpe.” She gave him an easy smile. “It doesn’t make good business sense.”
    “What’s your minimum?”
    “Three. And I’m afraid I don’t have anyone else lined up. So—”
    He set four fifty-dollar bills on the counter. “The extra fifty’s to make sure you’re driving the boat.” Liz looked down at the money. An extra two hundred would help buy the aqua bikes she’d been thinking about. Several of the other dive shops already had them and she kept a constant eye on competition. Aqua biking and wind surfing were becoming increasingly popular, and if she wanted to keep up… She looked back at Jonas Sharpe’s dark, determined eyes and decided it wasn’t worth it.
    “My schedule for tomorrow’s already set. I’m afraid I—”
    “It doesn’t make good business sense to turn down a profit, Miss Palmer.” When she only moved her shoulders, he smiled again, but this time it wasn’t so pleasant. “I’d hate to mention at the hotel that I couldn’t get satisfaction at The Black Coral. It’s funny how word of mouth can help or damage a small business.”
    Liz picked up the money, one bill at a time. “What business are you in, Mr. Sharpe?”
    “Law.”
    She made a sound that might have been a laugh as she pulled out a form. “I should’ve guessed. I knew someone studying law once.” She thought of Marcus with his glib, calculating tongue. “He always got what he wanted, too. Sign here. We leave at eight,” she said briskly. “The price includes a lunch on board. If you want beer or liquor, you bring your own. The sun’s pretty intense on the water, so you’d better buy some sun-screen.” She glanced beyond him. “One of my dive boats is coming back. You’ll have to excuse me.”
    “Miss Palmer…” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to her, or why he was uncomfortable having completed a successful maneuver. In the end, he pocketed his receipt. “If you change your mind about dinner—”
    “I won’t.”
    “I’m at the El Presidente.”
    “An excellent choice.” She walked through the doorway and onto the dock to wait for her crew and clients.
     
    By seven-fifteen, the sun was up and already burning off a low ground mist. What