Jonas left them at Katie’s house, and they waved goodbye. They could still hear the loud sounds of revelry coming from Duval Street. “Kind of like Christmas, huh?” David asked. “Fantasy Fest starts just a little bit earlier every year.”
“We need to be glad. We do survive off tourism,” Katie pointed out.
“Yep. I guess I have been gone a long time,” David noted.
They walked into the house. Katie moved ahead, into the kitchen. “You know, it’s interesting that Danny Zigler was reading about the history of Key West. I mean, he grew up down here, we all heard it all the time.”
“We heard the history-but Danny must have had a reason to want to learn more about it.”
Bartholomew thought so, too. So did she.
Katie made a mental note to pursue that theory the following day. “Do you think that something happened in the far past that might have had something to do with Tanya’s murder? Is that why her body was left in the museum?”
“I don’t know. Oh, by the way, I gave the credit card we found to Liam and told him that I was pretty sure that the stuff on the card was ice cream. I don’t know what is going on, but sure, maybe something from the past can explain it all. Tanya was from the area, and her family went way back-I don’t know. I just don’t know. But, I intend to find out. I’ll start reading the books tomorrow,” David said.
She had started to pick up the kettle. “Want some tea or something?” she asked.
He took the kettle from her hands and set it back on the range top. He pulled her into his arms. “Yes…I want to bury myself in you, and forget the world, and even my own obsessions for the night,” he told her. “I mean, of course, if you don’t mind.”
She smiled. She stared up at him, wondering how she could feel so mesmerized by the sound of his voice and the feel of his arms.
She threaded her fingers through his dark hair and met his eyes. “You’re good, you know,” she teased. “Very good.”
“Oh?”
“Eloquent.”
“With words?”
“Oh, very.”
“Really? It gets worse. I was thinking that I could die in the radiant sunset of your hair, drown in the sea of your eyes.”
“My eyes are kind of hazel-green.”
“I’ve seen our waters blue and green, every shade between, and even dark and wild and wicked when storms are coming through.”
“Very eloquent.”
“And strong, too,” he assured her.
“Really?”
He swept her up into his arms.
Her world was in turmoil; he was still, she was certain, to others, a person of interest in a murder case-or cases. He was obsessed with the truth.
But at that moment, it didn’t matter. The world was holding still, and the world was pure magic. Wonderful, carnal, hot, wet magic.
“Strong, too,” she agreed.
They fell into her bed so easily. So quickly, naturally. Clothing only half off, they were kissing and removing tangles of clothes. She was aware of him as she had never been before, the sound of his breathing, every movement of his muscles, twist and turn, the beating of his heart. He was an experienced lover, and she didn’t want to think of anything that had come before in his life, or in her own. She just wanted to feel. And it was so easy. He knew where to touch, and where to kiss, and where to tease most sensuously with his tongue and teeth. Movements could be so tempestuous and passionate, and then just a breath or a whisper against her skin could send her spinning into a new spiral of arousal.
He kissed along her breasts. Ribs and abdomen. Teased beneath her thighs.
Moved ever more erotically.
And when she nearly reached a pinnacle, he would pause, just to lead her upward again, until she was frantic, returning every whispered breath, every touch, seeking to crawl into his very flesh, writhe and arch in absolute unison and abandon.
Eventually they lay together sated, exhausted and replete, and still touching while the cool air moved over their flesh.
She curled more closely to him.
“Ever so eloquent, in so many ways!” she whispered to him.
“Aye, but you make it so very easy to speak ever so ardently!” he assured her.
Smiling, she lay against him, and slept.
An hour later, she opened her eyes.
A breeze was blowing.
A breeze shouldn’t have been blowing. The windows were all closed.
But…
She thought that her drapes were billowing, blowing inward.
A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.
And for a moment, it seemed that Danny Zigler was standing there. Standing there-just outside her window. He couldn’t have been; her bedroom was on the second floor. There was no balcony beyond it. There was just…air.
She gasped, blinking.
She bolted up, and next to her, David bolted up, as well.
“What is it?”
“The window!” she said.
He jumped out of bed and went over to the window. The drapes were flat; there was no breeze. He moved the drapes.
The window was closed. And bolted.
He turned back to her in the shadows of night.