Chapter 10: Part 4

Delanie smoothed cool lotion onto her legs, wondering what Sam was doing. Her mind wondered to events and places she had no business thinking about. Marriage, or even living with the man, was totally out of the question. The breakup with Rhye was too fresh. Plus, there wasn't room in her life for another guy. But could this guy, this stranger, be worth the risk?



She groaned, disgusted with her musings. He would be gone soon. His boat had sustained a little damage. Nothing that he couldn't fix, but the damage would keep him on the island for another night.



"Ugh, can't think about that." Delanie rubbed her arms, smoothing in the last of the lotion. Tonight would be different. There would be no need for him to stay in the same room where she slept.

Her heart lurched, already missing the comfort of his touch. Sleeping with Rhye hadn't been comfortable. They'd only spend the one night together, during which they didn't have sex. But that wasn't the issue. Rhye tossed and turned worse than anyone she'd ever known. He woke up frequently, asking her questions, talking about his dreams. It had been a stressful event. She vowed never to do that again. Probably her fault for breaking up, but she couldn't help it. Sleep was important when only your looks kept you on top.



Sam had been totally different. He hadn't woken her with his snoring, nor had he moved much. Of course telling him that she liked sleeping with him would sound wrong.



She opened her underwear drawer, searching for the white thong. There was only one outfit she would dare to wear it with, and she intended on wearing it tonight. After rifling through her drawer unsuccessfully, she decided to look through the laundry room. Out the window she saw Sam coming up from the beach. He looked magnificent with his tanned torso and crazy wild hair.



Her feet kept moving but her eyes stayed stuck on Sam. Pain erupted in her hand when she struck the doorframe, lucky for her she was able to ducked into the laundry room, avoiding a head on collision with the door.



"Ow, ow, ow." She grabbed her injured hand, inspecting for any critical injury. Nothing more than a small bruise, but her pride had been pricked. Mortification filled her. Why had she been ogling the man?



She sifted through her clothes, still not finding her underwear. Maybe she'd forgotten the thing back home. Its not like she would have cared to dress up, but still, it was strange that she couldn't find her underwear.



Delanie went back to her room and changed into black slacks and a white shirt. The other outfit would have to wait until she was home.



Sam called to her as she walked from her room. "Just back here changing. I'll be there in a bit."



"Sure, no rush." She smiled, they were rather domesticated together.



Tonight they would have fajitas, a treat she rarely ate. She pulled out a cutting board and went to search for the butcher knife. After looking through three drawers she stopped and leaned against the counter top, surveying the kitchen. Could she have left the knife in the dishwasher? With two quick steps she moved over to the stainless appliance and pulled open the door.



No knife.



Where could she have left the thing? And was she sure she had one here. Maybe she was thinking about home.



Her mind rolled through the last few days, thinking about the food she'd prepared. No, the knife had been here. No way had she cut through the mangos, and pineapples with out the sharp blade.



Could she have moved it to another room? Surely she wouldn't take the knife to her bedroom or bathroom by mistake. There were things she misplaced, but not a butcher knife.



Sam stepped around the corner as she turned down the hall to her bedroom. He reached out to steady her. "Sorry, you okay?"



"Yeah, the butcher knife. You didn't take it down to your sailboat today?"



"Nope, have my own one there. Why?"



"It's missing. You didn't use it last night for anything?"



He shook his head, brow furrowed. "Maybe you put it in a different cabinet. I do that all the time."



Annoyance shot through her. How could she have misplaced knife? "I've looked in all of them. I don't know where it is."



"Let's look again."



Sam opened every single drawer while she just watched. "Hmmm, I see the place for it, the little wooden knife holder thingy is empty, but you're right. It's gone."



"I just used it yesterday or the day before."



"I believe you. How about we get dinner started. Maybe it'll show up."



Delanie pulled the meat from the fridge and plopped it down on the counter. She looked back over her shoulder at Sam. How well did she know the guy? He'd behaved himself twice in her house, well that is until now. Her thong and now the knife, missing.



She pulled a steak knife out of the drawer and started slicing through the meat. It was harder to cut through with the small knife. Sam worked on the vegetables on the other side of the kitchen. Every few minutes she felt compelled to look over her shoulder and check. For what she didn't know.



If he had stolen the knife and her thong, would she see an attack coming? Maybe she should confront him. Would that set him off? Was there anything to be set off about?



"I'm done."



Sam's proclamation startled her. The knife slid forward and nicked her finger. "Ouch." It was automatic, her finger flew towards her mouth. Sam's hand shot out of nowhere, clamping down on her wrist before she could put the injured finger against her mouth.



"No," he barked. "You'll spread germs. Here let me see."



He led her to the sink and ran clear, cool water on her hand. Then he reached for the soap and lathered up his hands.



She jumped back when the stinging soap hit the cut. "Ouch, that hurt."



"I know, but it will clean off any bacteria."



"I can't believe I cut myself."



"It happens."



"Not to me. I'm careful with sharp knifes. Are you comfortable around knifes?" Oh damn, why had she asked that. What if he were a mass murder, and now she'd set him off?



"Never touched anything in the kitchen until I moved onto my boat. I'm not scared of them, but comfortable, I guess so."



What the hell did his answer mean? Maybe she should just come out and ask if he took her thong.



"There we go. Where are your band-aids?"



"Next to the oven in the upper cabinet. Right side. There's a first aid kit."



Sam moved to the other side of the kitchen. She watched as he opened the cabinet on the right then moved to the left. "I'm sorry, but I'm not seeing anything."



"What?"



"No first aid kit."



She'd had it. First her underwear, then the knife, and now the first aid kit. "What kind of game are you playing?"



"Game, I'm just trying to help you get a band-aid."



"Stuff just doesn't just up and walk away. The knife, the first aid kit and my underwear."



"Your underwear?"



"Don't play stupid."



"Delanie, I'm not playing anything. I don't know what you are talking about."



"You took the knife."



Sam stepped back and threw up his hands like she held a gun on him. If he were the knife thief, she would need a gun.



"I didn't take the knife Delanie. On my sailboat, I have two sets for filleting fish, both of them probably better than anything available in this kitchen."



"You didn't take my thong?"



"Thong?" He shook his head and cleared his throat. Red crept up his neck. "I may be attracted to you but stealing women's underwear isn't my thing."



She slid to the floor, her bloody finger wrapped in a paper towel. "I don't know what to believe. If I knew you better...but I don't."



"Shhh, I'm not stealing knifes, underwear or first aid kits. I wasn't going to say anything, and maybe I shouldn't now, but a few things are missing off my sailboat."



"What?"



"Some rope."



She wanted to cry. "This doesn't sound good."



"The rope could have been tossed overboard during the storm. I thought I had everything secured, but who knows."



"I hate this feeling."



"Me too. How about I finish cooking dinner then later I'll motor back out to my sailboat and get a band aid."



"No need, I think I have one in my suitcase."



"Let me go look."



"In the hall closet. The yellow case." She waited patiently, holding her finger over the sink and letting the blood drip in the drain. She should have already stopped bleeding if the cut were shallow. If she washed off the cut again she'd be able to see how bad it was, but part of her didn't want to know.



Sam dropped one of the bags on the floor. The slip of the zipper could be heard in the kitchen. Then his footsteps followed. Two seconds later he was in the kitchen, triumph shown in his eyes.



"I have a bandage. Let me see your hand."



"Is it bad?"



"No, just need something to keep it clean. Better let me cut the meat."



Delanie didn't answer. Sam turned her to face him, his eyes bore into hers. Could she trust him? What if he was a psycho killer?



"I'm only going to cut the mean. I swear I didn't take that other knife."



"I didn't say you did."



"You didn't have to." Sam dropped her hand went to work on the chicken. The muscles in his back were tight, his knife work quick.



There had to be something she could say, but she didn't know what. She trusted few people, Sam was no exception.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011