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out onto the beach barefoot to pick up shells. She met Bojo on the way. He was wearing the long
oyster silk hooded djellaba she'd never seen him out of.
He gave her a rueful glance. "The boss had to send to town for a new tuxedo last night," he said with
twinkling dark eyes. "I understand you took him swimming."
She couldn't help chuckling. "I didn't mean to. We had a name calling contest and he lost."
He chuckled, too. "You know, his women rarely accost him. They fawn over him, play up to him,
stroke his ego and live for expensive presents."
"I'm his sister," she said neutrally.
"You are not," he replied gently. He smiled at her surprised glance. "He does occasionally share
things with me," he added. "I believe the fiction is to protect you from Lisse. She is obsessively
jealous of him and not a woman to make an enemy of. She has powerful connections and little
conscience."
"Oh, I got to her before I got to him, if you recall," Callie said with a wry glance. She scuffed her toes
in the sand, unearthing part of a perfect shell. She bent to pick it up. "I guess I'll be fish food if she has
mob connections."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't rule that out, but you are safe enough here," he admitted. "What are you
doing?"
"Collecting shells to take back home," she said, her eyes still on the beach. "I've lived inland all my
life. I don't think I've ever even seen the ocean. Galveston is on the bay, and it isn't too far from
Jacobsville, but I've never been there, either. It just fascinates me!" She glanced at him. "Micah said
you were from Morocco. That's where the Sahara Desert is, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I am from Tangier. It is far north of the desert."
"But it's desert, too, isn't it?" she wondered.
He laughed pleasantly. "Tangier is a seaport, mademoiselle. In fact, it looks a lot like Nassau. That's
why I don't mind working here with Micah."
"Really?" She just stared at him. "Isn't it funny, how we get mental pictures of faraway places, and
they're nothing like what you see when you get there? I've seen postcards of the Bahamas, but I
thought that water was painted, because it didn't even look real. But it is. It's the most astonishing
group of colors..."
"Bojo!"
He turned to see his boss coming toward them, taciturn and threatening. It was enough for Callie to
hear the tone of his voice to know that he was angry. She didn't turn around, assuming he had chores
for Bojo.
"See you," she said with a smile.
He lifted both eyebrows. "I wonder," he replied enigmatically, and went down the beach to speak to
Micah.
Minutes later, Micah strolled down the beach where Callie was kneeling and sorting shells damp with
seawater and coated with sand. He was wearing sand-colored slacks with casual shoes and an
expensive silk shirt under a sports coat. He looked elegant and so handsome that Callie couldn't
continue looking at him without letting her admiration show.
"Are you here for an apology?" she asked, concentrating on the shells instead of him. Her heart was
pounding like mad, but at least her voice sounded calm.
There was a pause. "I'm here to take you sightseeing."
Her heart jumped. She'd thought that would be the last thing on his mind after their argument the night
before.
She glanced at his knees and away again. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather hunt shells, if it's all the
same to you."
He stuck his hands into his pockets and glared at her dark, bent head, his mouth making a thin line in a
hard face. He felt guilty about the things he'd said to her the night before, and she'd made him question
his whole lifestyle with that remark about Lisse. When he looked back, he had to admit that most of
the women in his life had been out for material rewards. Far from looking for love, they'd been
looking for expensive jewelry, nights out in the fanciest nightclubs and restaurants, sailing trips on
his yacht. Callie wouldn't even let him buy her a decent dress.
He glared at the dress she was wearing with bridled fury. Lisse had spent the evening condemning
Callie for everything from her Texas accent to her lack of style. It had been one of the most
unpleasant dates of his life, and when he'd refused her offer to stay the night at her apartment, she'd
made furious comments about his
"unnatural" attraction to his sister. Rather than be accused of perversion, he'd been forced to tell the
truth. That had only made matters worse. Lisse had stormed into her apartment house without a word
and he knew that she was vindictive. He'd have to watch Callie even more carefully now.
"I guess she gave you hell all night, huh?" Callie asked his shoes. "I'm really sorry."
He let out a harsh breath. His dark eyes went to the waves caressing the white sand near the shore. Bits
of seaweed washed up over the occasional shell, along with bits of palm leaves.
"Why don't you want to see Nassau?"
She stood up and lifted one of her bare feet. There was a noticeable blister between her big toe and the
next one, on both feet. "Because I'd have to go barefoot. I got the wrong sort of sandals. They've got a
thong that goes between your toes, and I'm not used to them. Sneakers don't really go with this dress."
"Not much would," he said with a scathing scrutiny of it. "Half the women on New Providence are
probably wearing one just like it."
She glared at him. "Assembly line dresses are part of my lifestyle. I have to live within my means,"
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