Guilty Pleasures Read Free Page A

haven’t bought me a drink.”
    “Would you like a drink?” He groaned aloud.
    Polly wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”
    “You looked at my chest.”
    She covered her mouth.
    He should have stayed in the dinghy. “I mean, I think you find me attractive, too. I think I turn you …” Great going, Ferrito. “We may have a mutual appeal. ”
    “You are absolutely unbelievable. And if you’re doing what I think you’re doing to me, stop it. I don’t have any proof yet, but I’ll get it.”
    He gaped at her.
    “Oh, I know about scrambling numbers for anonymity, but sooner or later you’ll make a mistake and get caught.”
    “Er, sure. Anything you say.” Most people might be wholly confused by what she said. Nasty also knew about scrambling numbers—and a great many other covert procedures. “Polly, we’ve gotten off to a bad start.”
    Her laugh cut him. “We haven’t started, period!” With that, she set off at a brisk pace.
    Nasty followed. “I guess I’ve said everything wrong. Will you give me another chance? Can I see you again?”
    “Not if I see you first.”
    He strode along beside her. “That’s a cliché .”
    “You ought to know. It’s about the only one I haven’t heard you use.” She glanced at his face, then down. Most people glanced down when they met him. They couldn’t help reacting to his limp.
    “If you knew me, you’d like me.”
    “I’d hate you. I already do.”
    The venom in her tone stopped him, but only for an instant. He fell into step as she turned to walk along another of the bobbing docks. “All I can say is sorry, again. I’ll go away now.”
    “Good.”
    “You’re very beautiful, you know.”
    When she looked sideways at him he could swear there were tears in her eyes. She said, “You just told me you were going away.”
    “I am. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you are, though.”
    “Thanks. I’ll tell my husband you said so.”
    “You don’t have a husband.”
    “Who are you?” Her voice rose. “Who are you?”
    “Ferrito,” he said quietly. “Nasty Ferrito. Nasty to my friends.”
    This time her voice was faint. “Nasty?”
    “You can call me Nasty.”
    “Nasty?”
    “Sure. And don’t ask me why that’s my name because I don’t discuss it.” He didn’t even think about it. “Dusty Miller and I run Room Below. It’s a dive shop. We’re trustworthy people. I’m trustworthy.”
    A woman in red climbed from a motor cruiser and set off toward land. The flash of relief on Polly’s face was impossible to miss. “You really are afraid of me, aren’t you?” he asked.
    “Good night, Nasty.”
    “Aren’t you? Doesn’t matter. I’ll find out why.”
    “You’ll leave me alone.” Trotting now, Polly followed the woman.
    “If you’re scared, it isn’t because of me. Let me help you.”
    “No!” She started to run.
    “Lock your doors, Polly.” Jesus Christ, she was terrified. Something had crawled inside her skull and ripped up her nerves. He’d just happened along when she was ready to break. “Do you hear me? Lock yourself in.”
    Her strides lengthened, but he kept the same distance between them with no effort.
    As she reached the grass verge at the shore end of the docks, Polly paused and looked back at him. Her eyes were dry but wild.
    “It’s okay,” he told her. “Talk to me. Let me help you. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
    She didn’t answer, but sped away once more.
    Nasty threw up his hands and said, “Okay, you win. For now. But remember to lock those doors. A lovely woman alone is always vulnerable.”
    He let her leave him behind.
    So he wasn’t smooth. Maybe he’d handled things badly even. But not badly enough to warrant her behavior. She was scared shitless about something, and he wasn’t through asking what it was. Next time he’d just have to be more forceful.
    Yeah, next time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
    When she ran, her long, white skirts flipped