Gone Tropical Read Online Free

frown, the waiter retreated toward the coffee bar. Amy poured the steaming liquid into her cup, adding a drop of milk.
    “The name’s Jake.” Turner extracted a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table, then pocketed the wallet and sat back down.
    Huh. Jake. It suited him. “Why pay in cash? Sign the check to the room. I’m sure Daddy’s covering your expenses.”
    “Never leave a paper trail.”
    “Oh.” She watched him over the rim of the cup.
    “What?” he asked, without turning his head.
    Her body pulsed with the memory of his touch. She was here on a vacation, of sorts. A fling would be okay. They’d never have to see each other again. She sighed. It would never happen. She’d go back to being ordinary, serious, non-trusting Amy, the smart psychologist. And she’d steer clear of men. She put the cup back on the saucer, slipped Fray’s photograph into her purse, and straightened her shoulders.
    “I think explanations are in order, Turner.”

Chapter Two
    Minutes later, Amy still awaited an explanation. She looked up and her breath locked in the back of her throat. Oh hell, another bad guy. She waved a hand toward Jake, and then toward the burly man who strode toward them. “Ahhhh—”
    “Great,” Jake said, swiveling his head and leaping from his chair. “Good to see you.” He gripped the older man in a bear hug.
    “Yeah, you too,” the man said. “Bloody beaut.”
    “Amy, this is my mate, Sarge,” Jake said. “He was a sergeant in the Australian Army for years. Served in ’Nam, retired now. Known to everyone—family included—as Sarge.”
    “Hello.”
    Sarge peered around Jake. “So, this is your lady?” He reached over, shook her hand.
    “My employer’s daughter, Amy Helm.”
    “Well, I’ve heard of kissin’ up to the boss, but the daughter?” Sarge laughed.
    Jake shook out the fingers of his right hand. “It wasn’t a…it was a shield…a cover.”
    Amy smiled at Jake’s obvious discomfort. It had been an almost kiss. There had been a moment; she was certain of that.
    Sarge sat on the couch next to her, slapping his naked knee with his hat, mindless of the red dust that flew everywhere. “A cover?” He hooted with laughter. “Yeah, too bloody right it was. You sure had her covered . ”
    “Where were you?” Jake asked, and frowned again.
    “Hidden.” Sarge laughed.
    He was larger than life. Noisy. Colorful. At least thirty years older than Jake. His hairy legs stuck out from beneath khaki walking shorts, which he’d topped with a yellow tropical shirt that sported parrots in reds and purples, and all were nestled in bright green palm fronds. He wore dusty brown sandals, and pulled a pair of dark aviator sunglasses out of the front of his shirt, and then perched them on the top of his thinning hair.
    “Hides the hat hair,” he said with a wink.
    There wasn’t enough hair to leave a hat impression. Amy smiled. She liked Sarge. “I just asked Jake for an explanation.”
    “Better be a bloody good one.” Sarge slapped Jake’s thigh with his hat. “Old man might fire your arse, mate, for groping his daughter. I would.”
    “I’ll explain in a sec.” Jake gave a quick flick of one eyebrow.
    Amy and Sarge sank back in their seats. The waiter returned with toast and coffee. He fussed around, arranging things on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “No. Thank you,” Jake said.
    The waiter glanced at Amy, and then walked away. She wasn’t interested. She’d only flirted for information. Her recent response to Jake flooded her body. Now that was a surprise. She shoved those feelings aside. Who had time for sex? She was on a mission.
    “I got your message,” Sarge said softly. “How’d you know the bloke was ever on the third floor?” He kept his head down and stirred a couple of spoons of sugar into his coffee.
    “Made friends with a gal…got into the room.”
    “Good. Then what?”
    “Room had been vacated. Not much evidence