Eclipse Bay

convinced that the only good, working definition of ‘normal’ is the fact that you’re still walking around outside and not locked up in a padded cell.”
    “Okay, I’ll buy that definition. It’s as good as any other I’ve ever heard.”
    “Thanks. You know, for a guy who never made it through his second year of college, I say some smart stuff sometimes.”
    She smiled wryly. “And so modest, too.”
    He shot her a quick glance. “What’s with the sudden depression here? Losing the glow of victory so soon?”
    “You know the old saying, all glory is fleeting.”
    “Damn.” He accelerated at the foot of the hill. “You have lost the sparkle.”
    “I hate when that happens.”
    “Me, too. Victory over the jerk should buy you more than a moment of exuberance. But don’t worry, I’ve got a surefire cure for what ails you.”
    She turned her head on the back of the seat and studied his hard profile from beneath lowered lashes. It felt good to be here with him in the intimate confines of the powerful car. She wondered what her family would say if they knew where she was tonight.
    For some reason the answer did not matter at that moment.
    “What’s the cure?” she asked softly.
    A wicked expression, barely visible in the eerie light given off from the instrument panel, flickered across his face. “Come home with me, my sweet, naïve little dupe, and I will show you.”
    She knew the smart answer to that invitation. The only intelligent, sane, reasonable, logical, suitably Harte-like response was to tell him that she had to get home to her dog.
    “Okay,” she said instead.

    She finished the last of the key lime pie and put down her fork with a sigh of mingled satisfaction and regret. The pie had been delicious, tangy and smooth on the tongue, with a flavor that conjured up images of the tropics. The slice had been arranged with artistic precision on the plate and trimmed with a paper-thin almond wafer and a slice of lime.
    She looked at Rafe, who was sitting on the other side of the old oak table. He had removed his tie, unbuttoned the collar of his pristine white shirt, and rolled the sleeves up to the elbows. Nothing had changed since that night on the beach, she thought. He wasn’t the handsomest man she had ever met, but he was far and away the sexiest.
    “The pie was incredible.” She tried to focus on something other than sex. It wasn’t easy when she was near Rafe, she had discovered. And the problem seemed to be growing worse.
    “You don’t think I went a little overboard with the lime zest?” he asked.
    “You can never have too much zest, I always say.”
    He nodded. “It’s sort of like sparkle, I guess.”
    “You know, when it comes to cooking, you’ve got a real talent. Why haven’t you ever opened a restaurant?”
    “I’ve been waiting until the time was right.”
    She put her elbows on the table. “Okay, I can’t stand the suspense any longer. If you aren’t the owner of a five-star restaurant, how did you finance the Porsche and all this free time you seem to have on your hands?”
    He gave her a cryptic smile. “Starting to wonder about all those rumors you’ve heard concerning my career as a gangster?”
    “It never crossed my mind for one second that you might be a gangster.”
    “Yeah?” He thrust his legs out in front of him, leaned back in the chair, and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Why not?”
    “Wrong clothes. Everyone knows gangsters wear shiny suits with big lapels.”
    “That’s East Coast gangsters you’re talking about. Out here on the West Coast, your average wise guy prefers a more laid-back look.”
    “Huh. Well, that blows that theory. So what have you been doing for the past eight years? And don’t give me that line about working in a hotel.”
    “I did work in a hotel. For a while. I’ve also done a little investing.” He paused. “Day trading.”
    Computer stock trading took nerves of steel and a fine sense of timing, she thought. “I’ve heard that’s an easy way to lose your shirt.”
    “It is.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t.”
    She grinned. “Of course not.”
    “I’m out of the market now,” he said evenly. “I took my profits a few months ago and stuck them into nice, boring bonds and my own portfolio of high techs.”
    “Stop.” She held up a hand. “You’re scaring me. It’s disconcerting to hear a Madison talk seriously about sound financial planning. Ruins the image of wild, impulsive