During those first miles, she braced herself with one arm on the seat back and the other on the dash, her head bent to one side. But she was so tired from whatever medication Hazel had given her earlier, eventually, she leaned back against Cole’s chest and rested her head on his shoulder. She was beyond caring what he or anyone else thought, and she had to admit, though the old MG was a drafty wind tunnel, the heat they were generating between them was more than enough to keep her warm. She said, “Wake me when we get there.” It was the drugs, she told herself.

Of course, try as she might, she wasn’t able to go to sleep. Drowsy or not. She couldn’t shut off her mind. What was wrong with her? After what she had been through this day, men should be the last thing on her mind. But, there was something comforting about being cradled in his arms. He made her feel safe, and sometimes she opened her eyes in thin slits and watched the curve of his jaw line as it hardened when Hazel bumped over the reflectors in the road. Her weight must be crushing his legs, she thought.

The front left tire dropped into a pothole with a jarring lurch, and Riley’s butt dropped hard onto Cole’s lap. With no more feeling in her legs, she wasn’t even trying to make the bumps easier on him. She was pretty sure this had stopped being fun for him quite a while ago.

He slid his hands under her and cupped her buttocks. “Sorry, Magee,” he said. “I’m just going to adjust your position a little.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes open wide. She saw his white teeth shining in the glow from the headlights. “Hey,” she said. Maybe she was wrong about the amount of fun he was having.

“Well, I reckoned we were almost there, and if I was gonna cop a feel, it was now or never.”

Hazel laughed. “Riley, Sweetcheeks here’s a hoot. Stick with him and I won’t have to worry about you getting a cat.”

Cole said, “A cat? You mean like a boat cat?”

“Ignore her,” Riley said.

 “Well,” Hazel said, “your fella is right about us almost being there. The house is right up here.”

“He’s not my fella.” As she spoke the car went over a little rise and Riley saw the white columns of an enormous old antebellum mansion. “Jesus, Hazel, are you dating Rhett Butler?” she asked.

“No, darling, he’s an adorable Greek by the name of Niko Boulis and we’re not an item anymore, just good platonic friends.”

“He must be gay,” Cole said.

“You know those Greeks, darling. They always play for both teams — or at least they’re more honest about it than the rest of us.” Hazel chuckled. “His father’s in shipping and they have the nicest couple of yachts.” She pulled the car up in front of white steps and swung around to face them. “The Savannah Jane happens to be in Antigua at the moment, only a few miles from Guadeloupe.”

“Savannah Jane doesn’t sound Greek to me,” Riley said.

“Well, he’s got this sort of obsession with the Old South. Like this place. Looks historic, right? Nope.  It’s a reproduction — right down to the last detail.”

The front door swung open and a tall, dark haired man in a white linen suit came running down the steps. He opened Hazel’s door and offered her his hand to help her out of the low car. “Hazel, honey! How wonderful to see you!”

Riley could hear the smacks of the air kisses coming from that side of the car. She felt Cole’s hand moving along the outside of her hip, then the door swung open. He shifted his knees, and she slid right off his lap onto the hard packed snow.

“Wake up,” he said. “We’re here.” After he climbed out, he reached out a hand to help her to her feet.

She rolled onto her knees and made a wobbly ascent to her feet on her own. The pins and needles in her legs were killing her, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

In the porch light, she admired the shine on the big, black curls that clung to Niko’s head. Platonic, my ass, she thought.

He led them inside the house, and it looked to her like all the furniture pieces were museum-quality antiques. It was as though the plantation owner had just left and handed over the keys.

Their host led them upstairs and showed Riley and Cole to their rooms. “The bathroom is down the hall,” Niko said, “as it would have been in the 19th century.” Riley’s room had a four-poster bed with what looked like handmade lace fringing the canopy. Niko explained she should help herself to any clothes in the wardrobe and that his cook had prepared some food for them. They could eat downstairs once they had freshened up from the trip.

Hazel, who was holding Niko’s hand, whispered, “I know we’re safe here, but are you going to be okay?”

“I’m good. I just need sleep. You go have fun. But spare me the details.”

Hazel smiled at her. “See you in the morning.” She fluttered her fingers at Riley.

Riley leaned against the closed door. So much for Hazel and Niko’s “just friends” status. She flopped down backwards onto the bed and stared up at the canopy. As usual, her friend would be having hot sex with some deliciously sensuous man and here she was back in her Semper Fi Immaculate Heart Convent for Wayward Marines.

Riley closed her eyes and the image of Diggory Priest standing over her father flashed in her mind.

Her eyes snapped open.

Through the wall, she heard them usher Cole into the room next to hers. With everything that had happened over the last few hours, she hadn’t asked him what he was doing in DC. How did he come to be in her father’s house today? What made him leave his beloved submarine hunt and come up here?

Time to change the subject again, she told herself. She didn’t want to think about him so close on the other side of that wall. But thinking about him kept her from reliving the events of that afternoon.

She got up and explored the room. On a dressing table, she found a pitcher of cold water, soap and towels.  Just what she needed. She pulled her shirt off over her head and splashed her face and hands, then scrubbed her skin with the soap and washcloth. The cold water felt good on her hot skin.

As she dried herself, she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. Her eyes darted between staring at her scars and looking into her own eyes.

“Stop dreaming, sailor,” she said aloud. “Men aren’t interested in women who look like you.” She bent her shoulder forward to examine the red skin there again. “He might be attracted to you when you’re dressed, but once you take your clothes off?” She held her index finger up straight, then slowly let it droop down. She looked at the grim smile reflected in the mirror. “Better to laugh than to cry, right?” She had cried enough today, she thought as she pulled her T-shirt back over her head.

From the armoire, she selected a white, long-sleeved men’s shirt and draped it over a chair to put on before going to bed. She needed a good night’s sleep, she told herself.

When she found her way to the kitchen a few minutes later, Riley discovered Cole already standing next to an enormous stone fireplace. He was staring at the spread on a long rough-hewn wooden table. The surface was covered with bottles and dishes including Greek salad, quiche, various cheeses and meats, a bowl of large prawns nestled in crushed ice, warm French bread, and a selection of wines.

Cole looked up when she came in. “Can you believe this spread? Or this house? Not to mention Hazel’s house. I feel like I’ve been dropped into the reality TV show, ‘Who Wants to Visit the Millionaires?’”

Riley looked at the food and felt her stomach churn. “I’m not really hungry.”

“How about a glass of wine then?”

She nodded. As she wandered around the room exploring, Cole opened a bottle of pinot noir and poured them both glasses. He motioned her over to a pair of chairs set up before the big stone fireplace.