Death by Desire (Caribbean Murder #4)

Cindy stopped talking and stared at him. “I don’t know,” she answered quietly.

“You don’t know what?” The muscle in Mattheus’ jaw started working.

“I don’t know how I’m going to proceed,” Cindy said definitively.

“You’re furious because of me and that red head?” Mattheus looked outraged.

“I think things have gotten a little out of hand between us,” Cindy said quietly. “It happens. I’m not blaming you.”

Mattheus took a step closer. “I was doing my job,” he said. “This is the way to get women to spill, you butter them up. She’s an important undercover agent.”

Cindy said nothing.

“It’s a known tactic,” Mattheus repeated.

“And maybe she was doing the same to you?” Cindy quipped. “Ever think you could have been set up? Lured in? It sure wasn’t difficult.”

“I wasn’t caught in anything,” said Mattheus.

“That’s not how it looked to me,” Cindy said.

Mattheus breathed out hard. “You got jealous,” he said.

“Yes,” Cindy answered. “You made a fool of me.”

“What are you talking about? There’s not one woman at that party who could ever hold a candle to you,” said Mattheus, emotionally.

Cindy didn’t buy it. It was more of the same banter they engaged in that turned created these fantasies.

“That’s an unnecessary comment,” she said.

“No, it isn’t,” said Mattheus. “In fact, it’s exactly to the point. I’ve never met a woman I felt about the way I feel about you.”

Cindy’s chest constricted. She found it hard to breathe.

“You’re not only beautiful, you’re smart, gutsy and I respect you,” Mattheus said.

It was hard to take all this in.

“And it seems as if you feel the same way about me,” Mattheus slowly grinned.

“I don’t know what I feel exactly,” said Cindy. “It’s easy to get lost in a fantasy here.”

“It doesn’t have to be a fantasy,” Mattheus said then, slowly. “We can make it real.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Cindy said, tears suddenly stinging her eyes.

“You have to trust me,” Mattheus was pleading. “I didn’t do anything. I told you, I was only working.”

“But it didn’t look like that to me, Mattheus.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but that’s all it was. Now, let’s go down to the restaurant and have a Christmas meal.”





CHAPTER 18


Before Cindy and Mattheus went down to the restaurant in the hotel, he reserved the best seats in the front, overlooking the ocean. They needed some time together, not only to soothe ruffled feelings but go over what they’d found.

Even though she was hungry, Cindy felt somewhat hesitant about going for a meal with Mattheus. Last night had been taxing and had taken a toll. But, she also knew that she and Mattheus had work to do. She planned to keep their meal focused squarely on that.

Mattheus went back to his room to change and Cindy dressed casually, in a rose, silk dress with sandals and a light sweater. She pulled her hair back to look more professional and went very light on the makeup. Simpler and plainer was better, she thought.

Cindy dressed quickly and as she inspected herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help feel an odd sense of loneliness she hadn’t felt in a while. Probably because of the holiday, she thought. It was odd being away from friends and family, made her feel as if she were a drifter with no real anchor in her life. Cindy was suddenly struck with a strong desire to call home and speak to her sister, Ann. Ann had been so disapproving of Cindy’s new life that it had been a long while since they spoke. Cindy wondered if maybe Ann might be missing her as well.

On impulse, she reached for the phone and dialed her sister in the States.

The phone picked up immediately. “Merry Christmas,” the voice on the other end rang out.

Cindy dove in, “Merry Christmas, Ann.”

Silence. Her sister had probably been expecting someone else.

“Is that you, Cindy?” the voice on the other end was faltering.

“Yes, it’s me,” said Cindy, “How are you?”

Another pause. Obviously, Ann was taken aback.

“I’m fine,” Ann said. “What prompted you to call out of the blue?”

“It’s Christmas,” said Cindy, in what she tried to speak in a light hearted tone.

“Oh, that’s it!” Ann’s voice grew tighter. “The other three hundred and sixty four days of the year don’t matter at all?”

Cindy’s stomach clenched. She wondered why she’d expected a different response, had hoped her sister might have mellowed by now.

“I was hoping you’d be glad to hear from me,” said Cindy.

“You mean you want me to pretend that I have a sister for a day? Someone who cares what becomes of us all?”

“I care about what becomes of you, Ann,” Cindy responded. “Sounds like you don’t feel the same way.”

“Don’t twist this around,” Ann’s voice started to slur a little.