Florida Knight by Blair Bancroft Read Free Book Online Page A

Gulf of Mexico , usually to a spectacular display of rainbow-hued colors.
    Dear God, when was the last time she’d watched a sunset?
    Kate’s gaze retreated to a row of pelicans lined up on the wooden bumpers that marked the narrow navigable channel under the center of the bridge. The area boasted three restaurants plus small boats that frequently fished under the shelter of the concrete span. The pelicans had long since learned that not all their food had to be plucked live from the water in traditional plunging dives. Between leftovers and offerings from soft-hearted fishermen, the birds lived well. So they sat on the bumper and waited.
    Reluctantly, Kate abandoned the view as their drinks arrived—Guinness for both of them. Must be the first thing they had in common, Kate thought as she sipped from an iced mug so cold it nearly stuck to her lower lip. Words were sticking to it too, she realized. If there was one thing LALOC emphasized, not to mention the public relations portion of her job as Barbara Falk’s maid-of-all-work, courtesy was all-important. She might not be on a date, but polite conversation was not only expected, it was mandatory.
    “Do you like living in Twin Lakes ,” she inquired. Kate had been around long enough to know that although the condominium complex was in the medium price range, it had been so well laid out with lakes, trees, green grass, flowers, and swimming pools that it was one of the most sought-after locations in the area. Condos at Twin Lakes were usually snapped up as soon as they came on the market.
    “It’s peaceful,” Michael replied. “Hard to believe it’s right off a main road.” Then—even though he’d vowed to play it cool, strictly business—some evil genie made him add, “I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”
    Fortunately, the waitress arrived with their salads before Kate could do more than grimace. This was business, she reminded herself. If she could deal with LALOC fighter jocks, she could deal with Michael Turco. Face it, idiot, he was just passing an innocuous remark. He didn’t even smirk. You’re the one who’s making something of it. The lechery’s in your head, not his.
    Kate swallowed a mouthful of romaine, radicchio, and arugula coated in honey-mustard dressing. It wasn’t just sunsets she’d missed. When was the last time she’d been in a fine restaurant, eating superior food, with a panorama of water, boats and birds against the backdrop of a barrier-island beach? She should be grateful instead of going into her prickly pear routine. “The next Event is a week from tomorrow,” she tossed out as a peace offering.
    Michael glanced around the crowded restaurant. “Let’s eat first,” he suggested. “We can talk out on the dock when we’re done.” Since her baked stuffed shrimp had just arrived, Kate was more than willing to agree. At least she’d tried to meet him half-way. Truthfully, she still hadn’t decided if he was a lech or cold as her iced beer.
    Later, as they exited onto the narrow dock that ran along the side of the restaurant, an eighteen-footer pulled up. Obligingly, Michael grabbed a line, wrapping it expertly around a bollard. A family of five—gramma, grampa, daughter and two small children—got out. After disengaging the children from their life jackets and a hearty thanks to Michael, the family went inside The Troll House to eat.
    “That’s nice,” Kate murmured, looking after them. Michael answered her with a grunt. Kate felt like a fool. Lieutenant Michael Turco was about as sentimental as a robot. Not true. The man hadn’t agreed to wear a costume to LALOC Events because of his job. He was doing it for vengeance. Personal, family vengeance. She should never forget there was a lot of fire—probably volcanic—beneath that cool, sharply etched exterior.
    The sun had set, the pelicans gone to roost; traffic on the Waterway slowed to a trickle. Lights twinkled down from the bridge and from the spotlights