Dirty Lies

THE SPY

What the hell was this? I looked down and scowled.

The Gulf of Mexico looked pretty and sparkly and blue, but it was as warm as a bath.

Wearing an ugly, hot pink one-piece swimsuit I'd bought to blend in with the rest of the Americans, along with a floppy hat and big sunglasses, I waded out until the water was hip-deep.

Using the address the bureaucrat gave me, I located Federico's house with relative ease.

I wasn't ready to bribe the guard for information, not yet. Since the house was so close to the public beach, I didn't want to attract attention by lingering at the gate, so I went out just far enough in the water to spy from a distance through a tiny pair of binoculars. Surely if Luca stood on the terrace of that big house, he couldn't see me.

My foot touched something underwater, and I kicked frantically, nearly dropping the binoculars in the water. The hotel desk clerk had warned me about stingrays hidden in the sand, and the very thought of touching one with my toes turned my stomach.

I hoped it was just a rock or a shell. Even the idea of sea grass disgusted me.

I slowly turned to face the beach and slipped off the sunglasses. The binoculars weren't as effective if I used them over the sunglasses, I'd discovered. The glasses were attached to a strap that matched my suit, and the whole clunky ensemble dangled around my neck. I'd never looked so unfashionable in my entire life, but the whole point of this stupid getup was to blend in.

Normally, I loved attention and standing out in a crowd. I knew that would be dangerous here on this little, boring island where everyone looked old and sunburned.

Thank God there weren't many people here on the beach today, and they all seemed too absorbed in sunbathing or reading to notice my odd behavior. Then again, this was America, where everyone let their freak flag fly. No one cared if I was spying on houses.

People probably thought I was a birdwatcher, looking at those scrawny white birds with legs that resembled sticks.

Adjusting the binoculars, the terrace of Luca's home came into focus. I spotted a familiar, black-haired head. A little cry leaked out of my mouth, and I had to lower the binoculars to regain composure. I looked around to see if anyone heard me. No.

Slowly, I raised the binoculars. It was him.

My Luca.

I drank in the sight. He was even more bronze and muscular than when I last saw him. Yummy. The shaking in my legs made me unsteady in the water, and I took a few slow steps toward shore, keeping my eyes on him. I couldn't wait to see him up close, to feel the hunger and desire in his grass-green eyes.

Then another figure came into view. A woman. A rival.

I sharpened the focus on the binoculars and sucked in a breath when I saw Luca wrap his arms around the person. Did he just kiss her temple? Was I seeing things? He smoothed her hair back and kissed her on the mouth.

"Shit," I whispered softly.

My rival had dark hair, wore a sloppy T-shirt, and from the shape of the nose and the plump lips, she looked like Skylar Shaw, the local reporter. She had a wide ass. I scowled. Swaying palm tree fronds blocked my view, and I lowered the binoculars, my mouth drooping along with my mood.

Fuck. How much time was he spending with this Skylar woman? Surely she was just one of his many conquests.

This complicated things. It would be trouble if the American became involved.

I shuffled through the water. I didn't want to hurt anyone, much less a reporter. I liked reporters, because I had been one. And I believed in girl power and sisterhood and all that.

But I'd come all this way and wasn't above eliminating a woman if it meant getting what I deserved.

I raised the binoculars again, catching an eyeful of his glossy dark hair and muscular back.

What I deserved was Luca.

____