Risky Business

Sharpe was a man on a mission, and she was no more to him than a map. He was ruthless in his own patient way. When he had finished what he’d come to do, he would turn away from her, go back to his life in Philadelphia and never think of her again.
    Some women, Liz thought, were doomed to pick the men who could hurt them the most. Making her mind a blank, Liz stripped and changed to her bathing suit. But Jonas, thoughts of Jonas, kept slipping through the barriers.
    Maybe if she talked to Faith—if she could touch her greatest link with normality, things would snap back into focus. On impulse, Liz picked up the phone beside her bed and began the process of placing the call. Faith would just be home from school, Liz calculated, growing more excited as she heard the clinks and buzzes on the receiver. When the phone began to ring, she sat on the bed. She was already smiling.
    “Hello?”
    “Mom?” Liz felt the twin surges of pleasure and guilt as she heard her mother’s voice. “It’s Liz.”
    “Liz!” Rose Palmer felt identical surges. “We didn’t expect to hear from you. Your last letter just came this morning. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
    “No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Everything’s wrong. “I just wanted to talk to Faith.”
    “Oh, Liz, I’m so sorry. Faith’s not here. She has her piano lesson today.”
    The letdown came, but she braced herself against it. “I forgot.” Tears threatened, but she forced them back. “She likes the lessons, doesn’t she?”
    “She loves them. You should hear her play. Remember when you were taking them?”
    “I had ten thumbs.” She managed to smile. “I wanted to thank you for sending the pictures. She looks so grown up. Momma, is she…looking forward to coming back?”
    Rose heard the need, felt the ache. She wished, not for the first time, that her daughter was close enough to hold. “She’s marking off the days on her calendar. She bought you a present.”
    Liz had to swallow. “She did?”
    “It’s supposed to be a surprise, so don’t tell her I told you.”
    “I won’t.” She dashed tears away, grateful she could keep her voice even. It hurt, but was also a comfort to be able to speak to someone who knew and understood Faith as she did. “I miss her. The last few weeks always seem the hardest.”
    Her voice wasn’t as steady as she thought—and a mother hears what others don’t. “Liz, why don’t you come home? Spend the rest of the month here while she’s in school?”
    “No, I can’t. How’s Dad?”
    Rose fretted impatiently at the change of subject, then subsided. She’d never known anyone as thoroughly stubborn as her daughter. Unless it was her granddaughter. “He’s fine. Looking forward to coming down and doing some diving.”
    “We’ll take one of the boats out—just the four of us. Tell Faith I…tell her I called,” she finished lamely.
    “Of course I will. Why don’t I have her call you back when she gets home? The car pool drops her off at five.”
    “No. No, I’m not home. I’m in Acapulco—on business.” Liz let out a long breath to steady herself. “Just tell her I missher and I’ll be waiting at the airport. You know I appreciate everything you’re doing. I just—”
    “Liz.” Rose interrupted gently. “We love Faith. And we love you.”
    “I know.” Liz pressed her fingers to her eyes. She did know, but was never quite sure what to do about it. “I love you, too. It’s just that sometimes things get so mixed up.”
    “Are you all right?”
    She dropped her hand again, and her eyes were dry. “I will be when you get there. Tell Faith I’m marking off the days too.”
    “I will.”
    “Bye, Momma.”
    She hung up and sat until the churning emptiness had run its course. If she’d had more confidence in her parents’ support, more trust in their love, would she have fled the States and started a new life on her own? Liz dragged a hand through her hair. She’d never be sure of that, nor could she dwell on it. She’d burned her own bridges. The only thing that was important was Faith, and her happiness.
     
    An hour later, Jonas found her at the pool. She swam laps in long, smooth strokes, her body limber. She seemed tireless, and oddly suited to the private luxury. Her suit was a flashy red, but the cut so simple that it relied strictly on the form it covered for style.
    He counted twenty laps before she stopped, and wondered how many she’d completed before he’d come down. It seemed