I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Let me get my food and I’ll join you.”

He pushed an empty chair forward. “No problem, but I think your buddy would rather you joined him.” He pointed a finger toward the other side of the room.

Tim Harwinton sat there sipping coffee and reading something.

I wanted to shout that he wasn’t my buddy, but I actually felt some kind of attachment to him. You know, in a friendship kind of way. After all, we were both investigators of sorts. “Let me go see if he’s all right.”

“Doc Pete checked him out this morning. One hundred percent cured. No problems.”

“Great news, Rico.”

He nodded and took a bite of his toast. One of the crewmembers at the table gave me a dirty look, as if I should leave Rico alone. Glad that Rico had someone interested in him, I smiled inside. Despite my earlier little talk with myself that I didn’t need a man, maybe I did want one.

It would be nice to have someone to share a laugh with, a stroll along the beach-and maybe a few other things.

“Hey. How do you feel today?” I pulled the chair out and started to sit across from Tim and then stopped. “Oh. Do you mind? Am I interrupting?”

He looked up. “No, and no.” He motioned for me to sit. “And my head is fine. The doc checked me out.”

“So Rico said.” For a few seconds, I felt foolish sitting there with not even a drink while he kept his nose in his paper. I lifted my head enough to see it was a map.

I guessed of Bermuda.

Obviously Tim was never off duty when on a case like this. “That Bermuda?”

He nodded. “Ouch.”

“You can’t shake your head after being injured like that. So, you are looking at a map of Bermuda to find your way around?”

Tim looked up.

Duh. I felt so stupid. “What I meant was-”

He leaned forward. “I know what you meant, Pauline.” He touched my hand.

Yikes! He knew I meant to make small talk since I was a bit nervous around him? Of course, Pauline, he’s the damn FBI! They know everything-or at least give the impression that they do.

“Don’t let last night interfere,” he said.

Last night? Did he mean the injury? Chasing Remy? Or…the kiss?

“I…do you want some more coffee?” I got up way too fast and knocked his cup over and what little he had left. “Sorry!” I grabbed several napkins and started to wipe the table, his hand, and the damn map, now a soggy mess. “Oh, shit. Look at your map.”

He looked at it, looked at me and pointed to his head. “It’s all in here. Don’t worry.” He got up. “I’ll take a rain check on that coffee. I’m meeting someone and can’t be late.” He leaned over and took my hand.

Geez. I felt some kind of heat in his skin. Wow.

“You be careful. I don’t want you walking around alone.” He gave me the once-over.

I was glad I had chosen an outfit that didn’t make me look frumpy.

“By the looks of you, you’re heading off the ship. Do not go alone. Stay with some friends, Pauline. Remy is out there, and we’ll be picking him up.”

Did I say frumpy? I felt like Joe Tourist. When I looked at my arm, a streak of sunblock hadn’t soaked in yet.

Now I was glad that Tim had to hurry off.

I gathered up my tan woven shopping bag, my sunglasses and my hat, and then started toward the elevator that went down to the main lobby where the passengers disembarked. I got into the elevator and went to push number three, but stopped.

Damn Tim’s words were so loud in my head that I actually looked around the elevator to answer him back. Instead, I poked the DOWN button to go back to my room. I’d see if Betty wanted to walk around with me. We only had half the day here in Bermuda, and I hated to waste time.

Our room was empty when I got there, so I called Goldie and Miles’s room, certain they’d taken off as soon as we’d docked. I mean duty-free shopping! No answer. I flopped on the bed and tried to talk myself out of calling my parents. For a while, nothing convinced me-other than not wanting to ruin my first trip out of the country-but then I realized I didn’t want to put them in harm’s way. Yes! That was thoughtful, logical and gave me the creeps thinking that Remy was out there and maybe after Pauline Sokol.

I wondered if he would recognize me and if he knew I’d been following him around with Tim. He had to have guessed Tim was FBI by now. Maybe Remy thought I was too.

Yeah, right.

I grabbed my bag, looked out the porthole and sighed. I had to get out into the swing of things fast. Staying in public places would keep me safe. After all, I had my pepper-spray necklace and a few tricks up my sleeve that involved the self-defense moves Jagger’d taught me on another case.

I was set for the day.

As I made my way up to the main lobby to get off the ship, I looked around at the opulent golds, purples and whites. The place looked like a ghost ship. I figured everyone was out shopping or sightseeing.

I headed to the corridor that led to the gangplank. Smiling at a crewmember stationed there, I asked, “Any recommendations for a good meal?”

“The Harborfront has fresh seafood, a sushi and tempura bar too. Very good.” She then introduced herself as Judy Mik.

She had the same British accent as Betty. I looked out the door to see that at the end of the gangplank there was a pink-and-white balcony of sorts. I figured I’d have to pass through the Customs building to get cleared to enter Bermuda.

In the parking lot below were tiny cars (compared to the SUVs that I was used to seeing in New England) and rows of mopeds. Little motorcycles. Maybe I’d rent one and ride around the island.

“Have a wonderful day,” Judy said.

I waved to her, walked down the plank and stopped to look around. The air temperature was perfect. Somewhere in the seventies with a sea breeze, I guessed. A faint salty scent filled the air, horns honked on Front Street below and people chatted while sitting on the pink walls of the balcony ahead.

I turned to see how the mighty Golden Dolphin looked from this angle-and gasped.

Directly above my head hung the red-and-white lifeboats, all lined up in a nautical row-with one gaping hole.

From the one Remy had stolen to come to this island.

Nineteen

I could barely contain myself when I stepped onto the sidewalk in Bermuda. This was so much fun! Maybe being a cruise-ship nurse wasn’t such a bad gig after all.

Wait, what was I thinking?

Any nursing job was out of the question, and when I got back to the States-that sounded so cool in my head-I was going to tell Fabio not to give me any more nursing cases. I’d burned out of that career and couldn’t take the stress of the job any longer. Apparently, thirteen years of nursing was my lucky number. One day, when I found myself being attacked by a flying throat swab shot from a five-year-old’s mouth, I decided I’d had it. No more staffing problems. No more almost exclusively working with females, who could be catty and gossip until hoarse, and no more watching patients suffer and not being able to help.

I really wanted to help people.

I was putting my foot down.

Learning more and more about how to investigate, I was sure I could do other fraud cases and not have to take these damn jobs.

Let Goldie do the medical.

When I looked at the bustling traffic, on the wrong side of the street, the men in Bermuda shorts with suit jackets and ties, and the obvious tourists with arms loaded with shopping bags, I decided to forget my problems and just shop.

No one ever had to tell me twice to enjoy myself shopping.

“Ha!” I said as I passed a litter can. Even those were classy on this island. They were painted in delft blue and decorated with some emblems that looked very royal. As colorful as the buildings were, I noticed that many of the vehicles, like little versions of our vans, were mostly white. How Bermudan was that?