The Pirate Ghost Page 2

  ONCE SHE WAS SAFELY HOME and standing under the hot spray of her shower, she began to find a bit of humor in her situation. It could have been worse after all. She might have drowned and her body washed out to sea.

  And if that had happened, and they found no sign of her but her purse lying on the beach, they’d assume she had committed suicide. She’d be remembered as a woman who just couldn’t face life without Darrell Cage. Now that was a far worse fate than to be caught on the beach in her underwear. She’d rather be caught naked with her face painted blue than to have anyone think that.

  Thinking of it that way, her night’s adventure hadn’t been all that bad. She’d survived her ordeal with no worse damage than some sand in her hair after all. That could be washed away.

  She wished she could wash Darrell Cage out of her hair as easily, but even he would eventually tire of trying to get her back. Even he must realize that she didn’t need him for anything.

  Of course, in the daylight, she was able to remember some nice things about the man. When he hadn’t been drinking, he was almost charming. He could flatter a woman out of anything and make her feel like the center of his universe. Darrell was a charmer and a good provider. His real-estate business covered most of the Gulf Coast, earning him a substantial income.

  It was just too bad that he had seen her simply as a possession. It was also too bad he didn’t know the first thing about love.

  But now she was free. She’d even done without alimony—so far. He’d offered a great deal, but she wanted him completely out of her life.

  The memory of Darrell chilled her. It made her think of the baby, too. Had she gone full term, her child would have been over a year old by now, and she didn’t want to think about that. No, her life was in the present.

  She turned off the shower and stepped out to towel herself dry. She left the bathroom toweling her hair and walked across the hall to her bedroom. Glancing at her naked body in the mirror above her dresser, she thought about the man on the beach again. He had, apparently, been skinny-dipping last night and wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it. Nor was he flaunting his nakedness; he simply was as he was How she wished she were that much at ease with anything in her life.

  But who was he? He intrigued her, this vision of strength and certitude rising to her aid like a sea god and then returning to his domain when his task was completed. She wished she could remember more of what he said, but the memory of his kiss had left her grasping for the threads of his words.

  The man had not just kissed her, but he’d taken her lips as though they were due him. It wasn’t the kind of taking that Darrell had done, either. This man had shown restraint. The liberty of a kiss and nothing more. She had been in no condition to stop him if he’d had more predatory intentions. But he was a gentleman. At least as much as a man could be in such a situation.

  And what had he said? What was his name? She was sure she had been told, but the memory slipped from her mind like everything else he’d said. The more she tried to remember, the harder it was to do so.

  Tess dressed herself in a pair of blue running shorts and a tank top and then went into the kitchen where she made herself a light breakfast of toast and coffee. She took her plate and cup to the breakfast nook overlooking her small, fenced-in yard and sat to read the Sunday paper.

  Although the house she rented was small, it was a friendly space and it was hers. That was all she had asked for. The furnishings, which she’d rented along with the house, weren’t all to her taste, but they were serviceable pieces.

  Thank God I’m not in here, she thought as she read the paper. She could imagine the report. “Woman missing, feared dead. Purse found on beach.”

  All at once, the man’s words rushed back to her. “Now that you’ve found me, I’ll come running.” That was what he had said. “Just call for...”

  Call for whom? She still couldn’t remember his name. All she could really remember was his face and the Irish lilt of his voice.

  “Just call for...”

  God, how she wished she could remember his name.

  Her doorbell rang, startling her. She didn’t normally have visitors on a Sunday morning. Normally she’d be in church. But this wasn’t a normal Sunday. After one quick sip of coffee, Tess hurried to the door.

  “Coming,” she called. When she threw open the door, she felt truly disinclined toward company.

  “Hello.” Charles Dumont, the man who had surprised her on the beach that morning, was standing on her small porch with a paper bag in one hand and a large smile lighting his amiable features. “So, we meet again.”

  “It appears so. What on earth are you doing here?” she asked, taken aback by his appearance at her home. “And how did you find me?”

  “Well, let’s see.” He opened the bag and withdrew the contents—her denim jeans freshly laundered. He chuckled. “I thought it would be nice if I brought your jeans back to you.”

  “Those aren’t mine,” she said quickly, regretting the foolish lie immediately.

  “No? Gee, then I guess whoever lost these jeans must have stolen your credit card.” He took a card from the breast pocket of his shirt and read the name aloud. “Teresa Cage?”

  Tess stared at the card for a moment, remembering with sudden clarity that she’d bought gas with the plastic and slipped the card into the back pocket of her jeans rather than fumble with her purse.

  “Teresa Miller,” she said then, somewhat sheepishly. “But, yes, that’s my card.”

  “And these?”

  “All right. They’re my jeans. Thank you very much for returning them to me.” She accepted the garment and credit card from the man as graciously as she could.

  “It was no problem at all,” he said. “I smell coffee.”

  “The gulf air must sharpen your senses,” she replied stonily. But then she smiled, relenting. “So, could I offer you a cup?”

  “I don’t mind if I do.” He smiled again and folded the grocery bag neatly as he accepted the invitation and followed her into the house. “Nice place. Comfortable,” he observed.

  “Rented,” she returned. “With rented furniture.”

  “That explains the fly-fishing pictures on the wall.”

  “I haven’t been here very long. How do you take your coffee?”

  “Black, no sugar, thank you.”

  They walked through her kitchen, then took their cups to the breakfast nook and sat across from each other at the small table.

  “So, what do you do for a living, Mr. Dumont?” Tess asked.

  “Please, it was Charlie this morning,” he said.

  “I wasn’t feeling very chipper earlier.”

  “And now that you’re feeling better, you’re inclined to be more formal?”

  “I—no, but I don’t know you.”

  “Okay, fair enough. My name is Charlie Dumont, and I’m a banker. While I might make some joke about ‘Mr.’ Dumont being my father, I don’t recall anyone calling my father ‘Mr.,’ either. He was a banker, too, and everyone called him Ted. We’re an old New England family who made our money in the Boston area. I’ve recently moved south because I wanted to enjoy a bit of our accumulated wealth rather than spend all of my time accumulating more.” He paused, sipping his coffee. “Let’s see, I think that’s the basic outline. Will you drop the Mr. Dumont business now?”

  “I think that’s enough to move on to Charles, yes,” she said, laughing. “Why on earth did you drive across town to bring me these things?”

  “It was a beautiful Sunday morning for a drive,” he answered. “I didn’t mind.”

  “Thank you again.” She didn’t know what else to say. Though he was good-looking and well spoken, she was hardly interested in starting any new relationships.

  “So how did you manage to land on our beach this morning?”

  He, apparently, wasn’t at a loss for words and was determined to have a conversation.

  “That’s none of your business,” she said.
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br />   “I know I’m being nosy,” he admitted over his coffee. “But when I see a beautiful woman on my beach, I get curious.”

  “Oh, you do? I would think it happens all the time,” Tess replied, smiling innocently. “Besides, why were you up and around so early in the morning? Dawn is hardly banker’s hours. Maybe I’m curious, too.”

  “I always get up early,” he said easily. “A family trait, really. My father is a bird-watcher, always up at the crack of dawn with his binoculars. I guess it’s genetic.”

  “Bird-watching?”

  “Very funny,” he said, amused. “But Dumonts do tend to rise early for whatever reason. You’re quick. I like that.”

  “You’ve made my day. But to tell the truth, I’m not really feeling much up to company today.”

  “Hangovers can be painful, can’t they?”

  “I’m not hung over.”

  “My mistake.” He laughed and finished his coffee. “Well, hey, I’ll leave you alone for now, but I’d appreciate your company for dinner this evening if you can make it.”

  “Well, I do have to eat,” she said. “But I was rather looking forward to a TV dinner tonight.”

  “Postpone it,” he returned. “We’ll have a quiet meal and I’ll get you home early. Tomorrow is a working day after all.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave my supper in the freezer and trust you to know a good restaurant.”

  “I can think of a couple.” He stood then, smiling warmly. “Shall I come for you at seven?”

  “Sure, if that’s when you get here.”

  “It’s a date, then. Well, goodbye, Teresa Miller.”

  “Goodbye, Charlie Dumont.”

  Tess walked the man out of her house thinking that life did, indeed, move in strange ways. Last night, she nearly drowned, and now she had a dinner invitation from a good-looking and very eligible young banker.

  And then there was the matter of her mysterious rescuer. He was the person who intrigued her even more. Despite Charles Dumont’s charm and good looks, she couldn’t help but compare him with the half-remembered image of the man on the beach Where Charles seemed to be a nice man, the other was...

  Well, he had something special. She couldn’t describe it, but she could see and hear it in her mind. It was the glint of green in his eyes and the Irish lilt of his voice; it was the sure strength of his limbs and the kindly restraint of his gentlemanly manner. It was all of that as well as the feeling that he was someone she had been waiting for without ever knowing it

  As she closed the door behind her visitor, she realized that she’d trade a dinner with Charlie Dumont just to remember the name of the man who’d saved her.

  All she needed to know was his name

  Chapter Three

  The Gulf Shore Club was a bit fancier a place than Tess had expected when Charles Dumont asked her out for dinner, but she had fortunately overruled her first inclination and dressed in a black dress rather than slacks and a blouse. They were seated at a table with a perfect view of the gulf, and it seemed that Charles was well-known and important.

  “I neglected to ask what you do for a living, Teresa,” he said, his smile brightening, when he mentioned her name.

  “I’m an accountant,” she told him. “I keep books for a small manufacturing company here in Los Palmas.”

  “An accountant. Then we’re in the same field.”

  “Except that the only banking I do is when they tell me my checking account is overdrawn.”

  Charles laughed, nestling comfortably back in his chair as he watched her. “You don’t do the payroll at your company?”

  “No, we have an office manager who handles that. I take care of sales accounts.”

  “If you’re ever looking to move up, please do think of me. I never seem to have enough accountants.”

  “Do you mean a personal accountant?” she asked with an impertinent tilt of her head.

  “Any position you might like, of course.” He turned toward the approaching wine steward with a welcoming smile. “A white wine, I think,” he said to Tess as the man came up to the table. “Do you agree?”

  “Yes, white wine,” Tess said. “But just a glass.”

  Charles shot her a look of playful censure and ordered a bottle. “So,” he said, “are you hungry?”

  “Ravenous,” she replied.

  “They have a fine selection of seafood.” He opened his menu. “I can’t really recommend the beef. Nothing out of the ordinary there anyway.”

  “I’ll let you decide,” she said with a smile.

  “We’ll just have a look, then,” he said, grinning over the menu. “Crab sounds nice, no, lobster. Yes, because I always embarrass myself fighting with crab. Is lobster all right?”

  “Fine.”

  The setting sun was creating a beautiful scene of reflected glory on the ocean beyond the window. Its low-angled rays cast shadows that reached for the golden light that struck the waves. A pair of children were at play on the sandy shore—two dark shapes chasing a ball around. In another moment, the sun would be gone.

  “So;” he said, “were you on the beach all night? It was certainly a lovely night for it.”

  “Charlie, I’d rather not go into it.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but if you were stranded, I could have at least offered you a couch to sleep on.”

  “If you must know, I went for a swim and the tide took me a bit too far from shore. I nearly drowned trying to get back. And when I did, I passed out on the beach,” Tess said impatiently. “There, that’s all there is to it.”

  “The tide took you out?” Charles’s eyes widened with concern, though his tone remained even. “This night-swimming habit of yours could be fatal. Do you know people on the beach? Friends?”

  “No, I don’t know a soul there,” she said, “and it’s not a habit. It was just a whim.”

  “It must have been hard to get your bearings on a moonless night like that.”

  “That was the problem. Everyone had their lights off, and I was too low in the water to make out shapes on the horizon. I was lucky someone turned his deck light on for a moment so I could see my way.”

  Charles frowned, tracing his finger over the rim of his wineglass “And here I’ve been teasing you about it when it was really quite an ordeal.”

  “It’s all past now.”

  “Whose light was it? Do you know?”

  “No, but I swam straight toward it.” Tess tasted her wine. “It might even have been your light. Were you awake that late?”

  “No.” Charles shook his head quickly “I’m up with the birds, remember?”

  “Oh, yes You like to get out right away to see what the tide washes in ”

  “And I had quite a find today, didn’t I?”

  Tess chuckled, even though she was beginning to suspect he was the blunt, nosy type, who couldn’t help prying. “I did meet a neighbor of yours last night,” she said, trying to both keep the conversation moving and hide her curiosity.

  “Oh, really?” Charles said. “Who?”

  “I didn’t get his name, or rather, I don’t remember what he told me. Anyway, an Irishman.” She smiled, the man’s voice coming back to her as she spoke. “Do you know him?”

  “Can’t think of any Irishmen near me.” Charles was frowning, apparently taking inventory of his neighbors. “No, none that I can think of. How did you meet him?”

  “On the beach, earlier,” she lied. She didn’t want to carry the conversation back to her foolish swim. “You know, I think I do remember his name. It was something with a D, Donnell or O’Donnell. No, it was Dyer!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Is there a Dyer near you?”

  “No,” he stated positively. “There isn’t any Dyer.”

  His frown had deepened as though the mention of another man had dampened his enthusiasm for the conversation. Nevertheless, Tess felt strangely happy about remembering her benefactor’s last name.

  “I assumed that he lived nearby,” she went on. �
�But then that isn’t necessarily the case, is it? I don’t live there after all.”

  “It is a nice location,” Charles said. “And, as you pointed out, the beach is public.”

  “No, I don’t imagine he lives in the neighborhood at all,” she said then, noticing her dinner partner’s distraction. “You said you came here for the sun, but did you bring any business with you?”

  “Sure. It’s a global market now. Anyplace with a fax machine and a modem is as good as the home office. Location isn’t as important as influence and information.”

  “So you moved here just for personal reasons.”

  “Right. I like the climate here much more than in Boston.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m from Connecticut originally, but I’ve gotten used to the climate here.”

  “Why did you move down?”

  “I married a Floridian. He worked in Tampa.”

  “But you’re no longer married?”

  “No, I’m no longer married,” she said simply. “But I’m going to stay put”

  “Maybe I will, too,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I think I like the people here.”

  Tess smiled, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny even though his was a friendly gaze. She found his attentions somewhat suspicious, though she didn’t really know why. Maybe it wasn’t him she didn’t trust, but herself. Now that the divorce was final, she’d intended to remain free of men for a while. But here she was dining with a wealthy young banker while entertaining less than platonic thoughts about some stranger on the beach last night.

  Fortunately, their meal arrived. It wasn’t until after dinner that Charles began to get personal again. He raised his glass toward her and said, “I’ve enjoyed the evening.”

  “I have, too,” Tess replied honestly. “I haven’t been out in a while.”