Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) (30 page)

“If it wasn’t for that beer can, you would almost think no other person had ever been here before,” Summer said, gazing down the beach.

The boat bobbed contentedly just offshore, pulling at its anchor rope. They had brought their blanket and picnic supplies ashore in a tiny inflatable dinghy, after exhaling themselves into a giddy high inflating it. The dinghy was just large enough for their things, with the two of them swimming alongside. Now it sat on the sand, limp and partly deflated.

They had laid out their blanket under the shade of a stand of palms, enjoying their peanut butter and jelly and sliced turkey sandwiches while they watched pelicans dive-bombing the water.

For the most part, they’d been silent. It didn’t bother Summer. She’d noticed that this easy silence often fell over them after they went for a dive. As if they were reluctant to reintegrate into the normal world of conversations that were carried on in words rather than gestures.

Summer stood up, brushing sand off the seat of her bathing suit, and walked up the beach to pry the can out of the wet sand. When she looked back she saw that Seth was bent over, collecting the debris of their picnic and putting it all in a plastic bag. She started back, then paused for a moment, unnoticed by Seth, enjoying the scene. Seth had the gift of seeming perfectly at home in every environment—when he was hammering and sawing and covered with sweat and sawdust; when he was sitting down to a dinner in a nice restaurant wearing the infrequent shirt; when he was underwater in a wet suit or just a bathing suit. She supposed it was something that came from inside him, this easiness in his own skin, the understated confidence. Not showy or charismatic like Adam, just centered and calm and sure of himself.

Even when he was holding her in his arms, looking solemn and serious, even as he…

Especially then, Summer realized with a pleasurable twinge. She walked back to him, and he held the bag open for her can. She bent to pick up a sandy crust of peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had fallen.

Summer wiped her sticky fingers on Seth’s bare, smooth chest.

“Hey,” he protested.

“Sorry, I forgot to bring paper towels,” she said.

“And that’s all I am to you—a paper towel.” He grabbed her and swung her to the ground. In contrast to the roughness with which he’d grabbed her, he kissed her with supreme gentleness, on her forehead, on her closed eyelids, on her throat, on her left ear…on her lips.

His lips were salty, as Summer supposed she was, herself. Salty and no longer so gentle. He kissed her deeply. Summer wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer still, suddenly possessed by a hunger that the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches hadn’t exactly addressed. Summer smoothed her own hands down his sun-warmed back, savoring the heat of his skin. Seth pulled his lips away, but only to kiss her neck, and then to move in slow, ever-so-slow increments toward the first swell of her breast.

“Um, wait,” Summer said, quite suddenly.

Seth raised his head and smiled. “Did I cross the ‘line of death’?”

Summer laughed and kissed him again, but in a way that signaled that they were done—for now. “I don’t know if it’s exactly a ‘line of death.’”

“But there
is
a line,” he said.

“Um, yes. I don’t exactly know where it’s located,” she said, “but I’ll know when you’ve reached it.”

“Is it”—he touched the swell of her breast where it met the edge of her bathing suit—“there?”

“Mmm, could be,” she said. “But it’s more like in my head.”

“Oh,
that
line,” he said thoughtfully. “You mean the line where you suddenly realize you aren’t exactly thinking clearly anymore and something
else
is taking over?”

“So you know that line?” Summer said, trying to make a joke out of it.

He nodded. “I go there every time I’m with you,” he said seriously. “I’ve been living right on that line since the first time I kissed you in the airport.”

Summer unintentionally made a little whimpering noise deep in her throat. “Sure. Right. You probably went to the line with lots of girls. Like you never did with Lianne?”

“Did you with Adam?”

Yes, she had, Summer realized. On a night that had a certain similarity with this day. There had been a beach. There had been a picnic. It had seemed a perfect day up to that point. And then…

“I think we should go back in the water,” Summer said, pushing him back, but not urgently.

“She says, avoiding the question.”

“I just think we both might cool off a little in the water,” Summer said. She got to her feet and helped drag a reluctant Seth to his.

“The water’s warm. We’d have to go deep to cool off,” he said. “And you are trying so hard to stay shallow.” He paused for a beat, then grinned unexpectedly.

Summer began to giggle.

“Okay, that did sound a little pretentious and serious, even for me,” Seth said. “Come on, let’s get wet.”

Diana dressed carefully, almost as if she were performing a ritual. She combed her hair. She brushed her teeth. She checked the tape recorder batteries and the tape itself. She slipped the tape recorder into the waistband of her loose-fitting silk slacks and carefully fluffed the tail of her blouse, checking the result in her mirror.

She had checked it all a dozen times, hundreds, if you counted just running the plan over and over in her mind. The small tape recorder could not be seen or heard. She had taped over the little red indicator light after an early experiment had revealed that it shined through.

Diana picked up the bag she’d bought. It was a hideous thing. Fortunately, neither Adam nor Ross had ever had much fashion sense when it came to female styles.

Diana went downstairs, sidling past the kitchen where her mother was talking to the housekeeper.

She went down to the stilt house and let herself in. It felt odd being there when Summer was away—sneaky, dishonest, like she’d have a hard time explaining herself if anyone discovered her. But Summer was far away, and Diana was confident that Diver would not be around. Summer said he only appeared late at night and early in the morning.

She got what she needed and left, feeling the weight of the bag on her shoulder.

She took her own car and drove to the Merrick estate, all the while going over and over what she had to say, how she had to act, the things she had to be careful
not
to say.

The Merrick mansion loomed huge and intimidating as she parked her tiny Jetta between a silver-and-black Rolls Royce and a mean, low-slung red Viper.

I should be afraid,
Diana realized.
I should be shaking, trembling, the way I was the last time I was here.
But as she took internal inventory, she knew she wasn’t afraid. Or if fear was present, it had been transformed somehow, had assumed a new and utterly different shape.

She took a deep, calming breath and got out. At the door she pressed the buzzer. Then she slipped her hand under the tail of her blouse. And, finally, she squeezed her bag.

“Do it, Diana,” she muttered under her breath. “Do it.”

The door opened. She’d expected Manolo, the butler. It was Ross. He leered cockily at her, and she took a step back, shocked.

Of course. They had deliberately sent Ross, thinking it would unsettle her. She reminded herself of what she had told herself a thousand times already—these were the Merricks. They were experts at using power and intimidation.

“Hello, Ross,” she said.

“Why, it’s Diana,” he said. “What a surprise.” He leaned close, to whispering distance. “Come back to get more of what I started to give you?”

“I’m here to see your father,” Diana said, fighting down the feeling of loathing. The burning anger deep inside her flared. Good. Anger was her friend.

She followed Ross down the hall, past the gloomy portraits of Merricks past. He led her to a room she’d never been in before, a huge, dark, walnut-paneled library with stacks of leather-bound books. More clever intimidation, she noted, another attempt to make her feel ill at ease.

She felt like laughing. The Merricks didn’t realize that they were not dealing with the same Diana they’d known. Not anymore.

Ross pointed to a single chair positioned before a massive desk. Diana sat stiffly, legs crossed. She rested her bag on her leg, holding it tight.

Adam entered the room, dressed in well-weathered but still spotless jeans, and a pale yellow shirt. She recognized the shirt. She had given it to him, part of an attempt to broaden his preppy clothing choices.

“Hi, Diana,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you again.”

For a split second Diana almost believed the warmth in his voice. Almost.

“I’m sure you’re thrilled that I’m here,” Diana said dryly.

Then the senator came in. He was a big, impressive man, wearing an expensively tailored suit that did not conceal his beefy shoulders or his spreading waistline. But the good looks he’d passed on to his sons were still in evidence.

He took a long look at her as he stood behind his desk, surveying her with open disdain.

It would have worked, Diana realized. Even two weeks ago, a week ago, she would have collapsed. His look, loaded with contempt, would have found resonance in her own mind. Even now she could feel that dark, twisted part of her endorsing his contempt, knowing, as he knew, that she was unworthy to be sitting here.

But Diana reached out for the new feeling she had allowed to grow. Anger. She let it flare and grow hot, and felt the power of it.

The senator sat down. His sons arranged themselves on either side of him. He waved a hand toward her. “You had something to say?”

“Yes, I did,” Diana said.

“Well, let’s hear it,” the senator said. He glanced at his watch. “What’s this about?”

“This is about rape.”

“
Attempted
rape,” Ross broke in. His father silenced him with a cold glare. The look surprised Diana. She’d thought the senator had treated
her
with contempt. But the frozen look he’d sent his son showed he was capable of much greater scorn.

Diana reminded herself to stay steady. She had a game plan worked out. So far it was still on track.

“Maybe it was just
attempted
rape,” Diana said. “But maybe it would make a much more interesting story if I left out the word
attempted.
”

“You lying bitch!” Ross exploded.

“Diana,” Adam said much more calmly, cutting his brother off, “you know that’s not true. I was there. I know that didn’t happen. There is no point in trying to pretend that more happened than actually did.”

“Sure, there’s a point, all right,” Ross sneered. “She’s thinking she can squeeze us for more money if she makes it look worse than it was.”

“Shut up, Ross.” The senator’s voice was like a knife. He breathed deeply and ran his tongue over his teeth while he favored Diana with a new look—amusement. “Yes, I suppose you
are
right,” he said, chuckling softly. “It would make a better story that way. I guess for once I should actually be glad that Ross failed to follow through on what he started. He’s had so many failures.”

“What is it you want, Diana?” Adam asked.

“They always want the same thing,” the senator said dryly. “You’ll learn that eventually, Adam. When you are rich, all anyone ever wants from you is money. Did you have a dollar amount in mind, Diana?”

“Did
you,
Senator?” Diana shot back.

The man laughed out loud. “Oh, Adam, you really should have found a way to hold on to this one,” he said. “What a perfect political wife she would have made. It’s a useful thing to have a smart, ruthless, and, may I say, beautiful wife at your side.” But Adam looked troubled. He was gazing narrowly at Diana, sensing that something was wrong. He had known her too long and too well. “She doesn’t want money,” he said.

“Then, what?” Ross demanded.

“You, Ross,” Diana said through gritted teeth. “I want you. In prison.”

Ross barked a wild laugh. “You
are
crazy. You think you’re going to put a Merrick in prison?” Unable to control himself any longer, he jumped around the corner of the desk, lunging toward Diana. “You want to mess with me?” he shouted. “I’ll finish what I started with you last year! I’ll finish it right now.”

Diana jumped up from her chair, just as Ross thrust out a hand to grab her. Suddenly everything was in motion.

Adam came around the desk from his side. But the senator, old as he was, was closer, and surprisingly fast. He reached Ross first. He swung his fist and buried it in Ross’s stomach.

Ross fell to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. He looked stunned and horrified. But no more horrified than Adam.

“Dad, Dad!” Adam took his father by his shoulders, restraining him and comforting him, too.

“Now do you see?” Diana screamed, shaking with rage and fresh terror. “Do you see what he is? Do you see what your son is, Senator?”