Page 11 of Beachcomber Danger

“Actually, it’s more like a house-sitting assignment. I need you to get over to the beach shack pronto and let yourself in. Pack for ten days.”

“Got it. Ronnie will be disappointed—”

Shana grabbed the phone from his hand before he had a chance to answer.

“Bring Ronnie with you.”

“I would have told her the same thing if you didn’t grab the phone from me.”

She put a hand over the phone. “Since when are you a romantic?”

He gave away nothing of his confusion, but he didn’t know what to say about his being a romantic or not, because he had no idea what she was talking about. A full second passed without a word.

“That’s what I thought.” She spoke into the phone again. “But don’t wait for Ronnie. Get over to the beach shack right away.”

“Great. This works out perfectly.”

“I know. You rented out your place.”

“Do you and Dane know everything?”

He smiled, leaning over her shoulder to listen in, he took the opportunity to breathe in her scent and nuzzle her neck She elbowed him.

He grabbed the phone back. “See you later, Sassy—oh, one more thing. We have a couple of Secret Service agents as house guests. They’ll be bunking in the office on cots. Set them up for me. You and Ronnie take the guest room.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Sassy, I need you to keep an eye on these two when Shana and I are out. We’re counting on you.”

“Yes, sir.”

He signed off and they stood in the parking lot leaning on the Jeep, neither of them anxious to get inside.

“You’re going to have Andrews and Goodley bunk in the office on cots?”

“Where else? It’ll serve them right.”

“It’ll also be a good test to see how motivated they are to stay with us. I think the more willing they are to share tight quarters, the more suspect and nefarious their motives are.” Shana relaxed back with a satisfied look.

“When did you get to be the smart one in this partnership, girlie?”

She slapped his arm. “I have fresher brain cells is all.”

Dane hated when their age difference was obviated.

“We need Sassy to get there before Andrews and Goodley. I hope she knows how to pack faster than you.”

Instead of rolling her eyes as he’d expected, she gave him her mock deadly stare. Shana was learning and evolving. He felt a twinge of disappointment. He didn’t want her to change. Not too much, not from the woman he’d fallen in love with.

He pulled on her hair, twirling a lock around a finger. She didn’t tug it away from him and her look softened. If they stood this way, close and staring—simmering wasn’t too strong a word, even in the parking lot of the grocery store—they would start smoldering. He took a breath. Hell.

He wanted to smolder. He wanted to shove the Secret Service and the terrorist cell threat and all of the damn Beachcomber Investigations business off the deep end of a pier and spend his time smoldering with his soon-to-be bride.

Had he gone completely soft? What the hell was wrong with him?

Before he let on how he felt, before how he felt got any more obvious or insistent, he let go of her hair and stepped back from Shana “Kryptonite” George.

The damn President had a terrorist cell threatening assassination. It didn’t get any more important than this. Even if it was the President’s double visiting the island instead of the actual President, he and Shana had to do their part to shut down this cell.