Suzanne Brockmann - Nowhere to Run: Not Without RiskA Man to Die For

E MILY M ARSHALL was in the bathroom. No, not the bathroom, the head. On a boat the tiny bathroom was called the head.

And as long as youre correcting yourself, Emily thought as she leaned closer to the mirror to reapply her lipstick, this floating castle with sails cant really be called a boat.

Boats were unassuming, functional little things you sat in and used oars to row. Or they were things with sails attached that gave you calluses on your hands, sunburn on your face and a healthy lungful of fresh ocean air. Sometimes they took you from point A to point B, but mostly from point A to nowhere, and back again.

Despite the fact that there was, indeed, no destination for this evenings sail, there was nothing unassuming about the sailing vessel Emily was standing on. True, the Home Free wasnt large enough to be called a ship, but somehow the word boat didnt fit, either.

Yacht, thought Emily as she adjusted the straps of her new black party dress. Alexander Delmores boat really had to be called a yacht.

She looked at herself critically in the mirror. Shed picked up this dress in a fancy department stores bargain basement. Even marked down the way it had been, it had put her out nearly half of one of her weekly paychecks.

Spending that much money was a big deal to her. It meant shed have to watch her grocery money for the next few weeks, and really try to keep her expenses down. But to real estate tycoon Alexander Delmore, the amount shed spent on the dress would have been laughably small. When Alex took her out to dinner, he spent that much on one bottle of wine.

Of course, he made significantly more money wheeling and dealing in real estate than she made as a high school English teacher. That was just one of the simple facts of life. And it was typical of Emily to have fallen in love with a job in a city school system that couldnt afford to pay a decent salary. Sure, she could have applied for a job in a more affluent district. Or she could have stuck to her original college major and gone into business or gotten a job working with computers. It was her own fault that she never seemed to have enough money.

Emily made a face at herself in the mirror. But even with her tongue sticking out, she still looked sophisticated, thanks to the elegant lines of the dress.

Earlier this evening, Alex had asked her out again, for next Tuesday night. He wanted to take her to a party at a local country club. If she spent the other half of her paycheck on yet another expensive dress, shed be eating pasta or tomato soup until the end of the month.

Emily didnt like eating pasta day in and day out. She liked lobster. And veal. And expensive cuts of filet mignon. She liked asparagus, regardless of the season. She liked watermelon in the winter, and imported chocolate.

She liked houses like Alexs, houses that overlooked the clear blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. She liked houses like Alexs, with six bedrooms and four and a half baths. She liked fluffy new towels that werent fraying around the edges. She liked cleaning ladies and dinners out. She liked big floating weekend parties on Alexs yachtparties like this one that started early in the afternoon on Saturday and didnt end until late Sunday night. She liked big-screen stereo TVs and state-of-the-art compact disc players.

She liked the thought of having enough money that shed never have to worry about the phone bill or the electric payment. She liked the idea of vacations and cruises and trips to Europe.

She also liked Alexander Delmore.

But she didnt love him.

It was clear that he was interested in her. He had as much as told her that he was looking to settle down, to start a family. He was one of Floridas most eligible bachelors, and Emily was flattered that he found her attractive.

Butshe didnt love him.

Her neighbor, Carly Wilson, said so what if you dont love him? Love was overrated. A good strong case of like could outlast the most passionate love affair, particularly if it was combined with an enormous bank account. How often does real love come along, anyway? Carly had asked. According to Emilys neighbor, the answer was usually never.

Emily stared at herself in the mirror, searching the familiar blue of her own eyes. She was amazed that she could be wearing this gorgeous, expensive dress that made her look like a million dollars, and be standing here, in the bathroomheadof millionaire Alexander Delmores luxurious yacht, thinking aboutJames Keegan.

After seven years, youd think shed be over the man. And she was over him, Emily told herself firmly. Her affair with black-hearted Jim Keegan was dead and buried, deep in the past. Jeez, it had been over almost before it even began.

So what the heck was she doing thinking about him?

Because of love. She was thinking about Jim because she had honestly loved him. As rotten and cruel as he had been, as badly as he had hurt her, the fact remained that Emily had loved James Keegan with all of her heart and soul. And deep inside she knew that never, not in a billion years, would she ever love Alex Delmore even half that much.

Still Carlys voice seemed to echo in her head, as if she were a little devil perched on Emilys shoulder who says you have to love Alex to marry him?

I do, Emily said out loud to her reflection, then winced at her poor choice of words.

She gave the short skirt of her new dress one more yank southward and quickly ran her fingers through the short, blunt-cut of her chestnut hair. She took a deep breath to further exorcise James Keegans too-handsome ghost, then turned to open the door that led out into Alexanders tiny shipboard office.

She heard the angry voices as soon as her hand was on the doorknob, but it was too late to pull back. The door swung open, and the arguing men immediately fell silent. Alex and another manVincent somethinglooked up at her, and she could see surprise and annoyance in both pairs of eyes.

Im sorry, she said. I didnt mean to interrupt.

Alexander Delmore shook his head. No problem, he said, crossing the tiny cabin with a smile on his tanned, handsome face. I didnt realize you were using the head. He glanced back at the other man as he took Emilys hand. If Id known, we would have gone somewhere else to have ourchat.

Emily couldnt remember the other mans last name. They had been introduced earlier that evening, when all the party guests first boarded Alexs yacht. Vincent what? she thought. Martino? Or was it Medino?