Free Vacation with a Vampire & Other Immortals by Maureen Child, MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

experienced a pang of longing for her own lost vessel. The feeling faded, though, as she noticed colorful items littering the shoreline. Frowning, she pointed. “Are those…?”
    He smiled. “Your clothes and belongings have been washing up all evening. I spotted them earlier but wanted to check on you before coming down to gather them up.”
    “You spotted them…all the way from the house?”
    “The workshop.”
    “That’s a long way to see—especially in the dark. You must have very good eyesight.” Suddenly her theory was seeming less and less ridiculous. Could he really be…? She couldn’t even think the word.
    “Excellent, in fact—particularly my night vision,” he said.
    She tried to hide her look of…well, shock, she supposed. Her crazy supposition was seeming more and more possible. To avoid his probing eyes, she started forward toward the debris on the shoreline, but he held up a hand. “I’ll get them. You should rest.”
    “I’m fine at the moment, Diego. But thank you.” She walked with him, and as the frothy surf washed over their bare feet she bent and began gathering up items she’d thought were long gone. A bikini top, no bottom in sight. A pair of denim shorts. A couple of tank tops and a T-shirt. She picked them up one by one, wringing them out as best she could and then draping them over one arm. She located one tennis shoe. A lot of good that was going to do her, she thought, when she failed to find its mate.
    “It’s better than nothing, though,” he said, speaking as if in response to her thoughts. That was, of course, impossible.
    Or was it?
    When they’d picked up everything, she found herself closer to the little dock, and she studied his boat for a moment. “It’s small,” she said. “But nice.”
    “Wait until you see the new one,” he said proudly.
    “Don’t tell me. The Santa Maria…XIV? ”
    He smiled, but didn’t confirm it.
    “Have there really been thirteen other boats, Diego, or does the number mean something else?”
    “I…are you sure you have all your clothes?”
    “Just how long have you been here, Diego?”
    He averted his eyes. “A long time.”
    “And you only go to the mainland…what did you tell me? Once a month?”
    “Once a season, if I can manage it. But if supplies get low, I sometimes have no choice.”
    “I see. And when was the last time you went? For supplies, I mean.”
    “Just this past April. I was—” He stopped there, then began again. “Or it might have been March. I don’t really keep track.”
    But she knew it had been April. April 10. The day she’d received her death sentence and gone to the shore to process the news. The day she’d met her guardian angel. And he’d been there, too. She knew it now for sure. She’d known it as soon as he’d said April, and he’d seen her know it, and then quickly tried to cover—to change his answer. But it was too late, and he knew it.
    “It was you I met, you I kissed that night, wasn’t it, Diego?”
    He met her eyes again, held them. “Don’t be ridiculous. How could it have been?”
    She shrugged. “I guess you must be…some kind of…supernatural being. You spoke to me mentally. You knew my name. You heard me crying out for help on the night of the storm. Didn’t you?”
    He lowered his head, saying nothing.
    “How would it hurt you to tell me the truth, Diego? I’m dying, remember?”
    He heaved a great sigh, then turned to focus on his small sailboat. “So what do you think of her?” he asked, changing the subject.
    “I think she shouldn’t be in the water. You don’t leave her there all the time, do you?”
    “Of course not. Only when a trip is imminent.” He looked at her. “I put her in earlier tonight.”
    She blinked, afraid to ask why, but he answered, anyway.
    “You’ll be well enough to leave soon.”
    Was it too soon for her to ask him to let her stay? No. No, it was the right time, but she hadn’t worked up enough courage to do it yet.