numbers and she fumbled in her bag for her phone, repeating them.
“Call me,” he said. “Then you’ll be in my phone.”
She called him. He answered by pushing a button on the steering wheel. “Hey, turn up there, right?”
“Right,” she said into the phone. Then she quickly hung up, shaking her head, and added, “We head right, and then down a half mile or so and take another little road.”
He grinned.
When they reached the property, he pulled off the road and looked across the expanse of the grounds. In the rear, they could see the houses and a paddock and stables. They opened the doors and took a few steps away from the car.
“It’s amazing it’s here, really.”
He glanced at her. “Not quite so amazing. We are on the edge of the Everglades.”
“I have friends almost in the Everglades. Especially up in the western area of Broward County. They keep building farther and farther west.”
He nodded. “Well, if this comes to fruition, it will be great. It is an wonderful piece of property—and almost in the Everglades. In fact, at one time, it might have been. When I was little, half of this property didn’t exist out here. It was the sticks.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Well, guess I’d better get you home,” he said.
He walked around, opening the passenger-side door for her. She slid into the car, quiet as he started to drive.
He was silent for a few minutes. “Who is the friend?”
“Her name is Elly Taylor. She’s an event coordinator. I went all the way through school with her—until college. But a lot of my friends wound up coming back, and we kept in touch. Social media can spread rumors like wildfire, but it can also keep friends and family close. Anyway, she’s working it pro bono as is everyone involved. A lot of my old friends—and new ones—will be there.”
“Thanks. I’d love to come.”
“No problem.”
They both fell silent for a few minutes, heading toward Bird Road since they’d turned. After a minute, he muttered something beneath his breath.
“Pardon?”
“Food. I’m sorry. I’ve had you out all day. I didn’t think about food and I’m suddenly starving. Do—do you want to stop somewhere?” He shrugged with a twisted grin. “I don’t mean to take more of your time. You may prefer your own place and I can drop you right off—”
“No, um, sure. I mean, I do eat at home, but I love restaurants, too. It will be a very, very, very late lunch...not even early for dinner anymore—it’s after seven. Food sounds great. So, where—where should we go?”
“I haven’t been here in a long time. Any particular type of food? Anything good on the way?”
She laughed, glad that, for once, she didn’t think the sound was awkward. “Oh, come on! You haven’t been gone that long! You can have just about any food you want and there must be a hundred plus places on the way. What do you like?”
“Food. Any kind. And you?”
“Anything.”
He glanced her way. “I guess this is good. I guess it means we’re both polite enough to defer to one another on food. But we should pick something—in the interest of actually eating.”
She smiled, lowering her head. He was good-looking; he always had been. Intriguing, different—and different in the right way. Today, she was liking him too much.
Maybe she should have gone straight home. And maybe she shouldn’t have said he could come to the fundraiser.
And maybe she should just enjoy time spent with him.
“Cuban? You may not get the best wherever you live, just because this is Miami. Or something South American or Caribbean. Oh, there’s a great Jamaican place down on Bird!”
“It’s a go for me,” he assured her.
Within a few minutes, he had followed her directions to the Jamaican restaurant. Once seated, they surveyed the menu and both opted for the jerk chicken. Raina found herself rambling again—inanely about food—until they’d been served.
Then she set her fork down and looked across the table at him. “I’m still so lost. You believe in me. Andrew believes in me. I’m thinking the Miami-Dade Homicide cop we met—Detective Ferrer—trusts in what you say, too. Okay, they’re friends. They trust you. But...you’re not out of the FBI office here, right? You said you’re with an unusual unit. Please, give me something here. I don’t like to feel as if I’m being humored or—”
“You think I’m humoring you?”
“I never saw that ghost ship again.”
“Maybe you were never in the right place at the right time again.”
She was quiet for a