Risky Business

drink with me.”
    Liz glanced at the cup and wondered if she’d been businesslike or rude. At the moment she would have liked nothing better than to be alone with her own thoughts, but a customer was a customer. “That’s nice of you. I’ve been pretty tied up.”
    “No kidding.” He gave her a quick smile that showed straight teeth and easy charm. “You’re either out of town or out on a boat. So I thought about the mountain and Mohammed.” He glanced around. “Things are pretty quiet now.”
    “Lunchtime,” Liz told him. “Everyone who’s going out is already out. Everyone else is grabbing some food or a siesta before they decide how to spend the afternoon.”
    “Island living.”
    She smiled back. “Exactly. Tried any more diving?”
    He made a face. “I let myself get talked into a night dive with Mr. Ambuckle before he headed back to Texas. I’m planning on sticking to the pool for the rest of my vacation.”
    “Diving’s not for everyone.”
    “You can say that again.” He drank from the second cup he’d brought, then leaned on the counter. “How about dinner? Dinner’s for everyone.”
    She lifted a brow, a little surprised, a little flattered that he seemed bent on a pursuit. “I rarely eat out.”
    “I like home cooking.”
    “Mr. Trydent—”
    “Scott,” he corrected.
    “Scott, I appreciate the offer, but I’m…” How did she put it? Liz wondered. “I’m seeing someone.”
    He laid a hand on hers. “Serious?”
    Not sure whether she was embarrassed or amused, Liz drew her hand away. “I’m a serious sort of person.”
    “Well.” Scott lifted his cup, watching her over the rim as he drank. “I guess we’d better stick to business then. How about explaining the snorkeling equipment to me?”
    With a shrug, Liz glanced over her shoulder. “If you can swim, you can snorkel.”
    “Let’s just say I’m cautious. Mind if I come in and take a look?”
    She’d been ungracious enough for one day, Liz decided. She sent him a smile. “Sure, look all you want.” When he’d skirted around the counter and through the door, she walked with him to the back shelves. “The snorkel’s just a hollow tube with amouthpiece,” she began as she took one down to offer it. “You put this lip between your teeth and breathe normally through your mouth. With the tube attached to a face mask, you can paddle around on the surface indefinitely.”
    “Okay. How about all the times I see these little tubes disappear under the water?”
    “When you want to go down, you hold your breath and let out a bit of air to help you descend. The trick is to blow out and clear the tube of water when you surface. Once you get the knack, you can go down and up dozens of times without ever taking your face out of the water.”
    Scott turned the snorkel over in his hand. “There’s a lot to see down there.”
    “A whole world.”
    He was no longer looking at the snorkel, but at her. “I guess you know a lot about the water and the reefs in this area. Know much about Isla Mujeres?”
    “Excellent snorkeling and diving.” Absently, Liz took down a mask to show him how to attach the snorkel. “We offer full-and half-day trips. If you’re adventurous enough, there are caves to explore.”
    “And some are fairly remote,” he said idly.
    “For snorkeling you’d want to stay closer to the reefs, but an experienced diver could spend days around the caves.”
    “And nights.” Scott passed the snorkel through his fingers as he watched her. “I imagine a diver could go down there at night and be completely undisturbed.”
    She wasn’t certain why she felt a trickle of alarm. Automatically, she glanced over his shoulder to where her police guard half dozed in the sun. Silly, she told herself with a little shrug. She’d never been one to jump at shadows. “It’s a dangerous area for night diving.”
    “Some people prefer danger, especially when it’s profitable.”
    Her mouth was dry, so she swallowed as she replaced the mask on the shelf. “Perhaps. I don’t.”
    This time his smile wasn’t so charming or his eyes so friendly. “Don’t you?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “I think you do.” His hand closed over her arm. “I think you know exactly what I mean. What Jerry Sharpe skimmed off the top and dumped in that safe-deposit box in Acapulco was petty cash, Liz.” He leaned closer as his voice lowered. “There’s a lot more to be made. Didn’t he tell you?”
    She had