“You did it.” Rafe smoothed out a beach towel beside her, but it was too late. Her body had turned into rubber, incapable of movement. Pressing her wet cheek into the sand, she watched him through a comfortable haze.

“I’m tired,” she said.

“Over a mile.” He grinned. “The whole length of the bay, against a decent tide and a swell. Merry Christmas.”

“Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.” She let out her breath in a long, exhausted sigh. “Unless we missed the party. How many hours did I flail behind you out there?”

“We didn’t miss the Christmas party.” Rafe laughed. “You know, you’re the first girl who ever swam the bay with me.”

“I can’t move.”

“Stay here, and I’ll get you something to eat. I know I’m starving.”

“Mmm,” she said. Without lifting her head, she watched him sprint toward the concession stand. She didn’t know how he could possibly run after their marathon swim; she wasn’t sure she could even stand up.

Closing her eyes as he disappeared, she rolled over on her back, luxuriating in the warmth tickling her skin. Endorphins, she had read somewhere, flooded the body during strenuous exercise to provide a natural high. She was floating on endorphins right now, drunk with exhaustion and euphoria.

She replayed the image of Rafe sprinting across the beach a moment ago, his perfect body dark against the white sand. It was time to kiss him, she thought languidly. She still missed Alan desperately, but her sorrow held a growing seed of resignation. She’d been wrong to think Alan was the answer to all of her problems. Her lonely imagination had created a ghost in shining armor, when she really knew nothing at all about him. Washed up on the beach as a baby? Maybe it was better if she didn’t know the real story.

Now all she had to do was convince herself of that.

When she opened her eyes, Rafe was sitting several feet away, watching her. His arms were draped over his bent knees, a can of grapefruit soda hanging loosely from his hand. She blinked, her body instantly reacting to the hungry look in his eyes. Yes, it was definitely time. No matter what Carmen said, Esti wanted those lips touching hers again. She didn’t care about his reputation, and she could think of no better way to get Alan out of her mind.

As she eagerly sat up, however, her head began to throb. The endorphins had fled, and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. When Rafe reached out to brush dry sand from her cheek, she winced back from him, pressing her hands against her temples. “Headache,” she muttered in frustration.

Her head was still pounding when she followed him to his Jeep half an hour later. “Rafe,” she said. “I don’t think I can go to your dad’s Christmas party.”

He opened her door for her, waiting until she sat down. “Tired of me?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“Of course not.” She met his guarded look with a reassuring smile. “But everyone on the island thinks I was kidnapped by a jumbee, and honestly . . .”

“Yes?”

“I know some talent scouts will be at the party. I’m not sure I can face them yet.”

“The hard work’s done, babe.” Now he sounded amused. “When my dad introduced me around, every one of them asked me about you. All you gotta do is kick back and let ’em come begging.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she said, trying to feel flattered. After the wonderful days of swimming and no stress, the theater seemed like a threatening former life, loaded with anxiety. “The thought of getting back onstage is overwhelming.”

“Because of your Shakespeare jumbee?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “Should I be worried?”

“Nothing like that.” She leaned against the door frame, wondering if Rafe did have anything to worry about. “It’s a lot of pressure, that’s all.”

“I bet it is. Well, you don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to.” Rafe climbed into the Jeep, flexing his arms. “That’s why you got a bodyguard.”

She smiled. “I’m lucky.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one. You keep a lot hidden under the surface, don’t you?” He studied her face. “You remind me of the sea, beautiful and quiet, and way too easy to take for granted. But there’s something dangerous about you that I haven’t quite figured out.” He gave her a sudden, mischievous grin. “I like that.”

Jayna Solomon stood at the door greeting her guests, tall and elegant in a deep blue dress and matching head-wrap that perfectly complemented her dark skin. “How pretty you are tonight,” she said warmly to Esti. “I saw your performance at school. You’re all Rafe talks about these days, you know.”

Esti welcomed Rafe’s arm around her shoulder as she and Aurora made their way through the house to the back door, chatting with Carmen and her parents.

“Esti Legard?” An artistic-looking fellow appeared from nowhere, thrusting out his hand. “Darling!”

She cautiously shook his hand.

“I’m sure you know how difficult I am to impress,” he said, apparently assuming she recognized him. “After watching your performances, I have to tell you that your remarkable talent reaches a level I rarely see. I take it you studied Shakespeare with your father until his death?”

“He taught me a lot.” Esti clutched Rafe’s arm, feeling ridiculously intimidated as the man rattled on about Juliet. It was Alan who had given her the magic she needed to perform, she thought, but his disappearance undermined everything. This artistic man expected too much from her.

With a polite excuse about catching the sunset, Rafe finally pulled her outside, past a line of coolers on the big stone porch. She followed him across the crowded beach, leaving Aurora to chat with George Moore, who looked much less imposing in baggy shorts and a gaudy red shirt. The smell of barbequed chicken followed them across the sand, spiked with the scent of rum and coconut.

As they left the crowds behind them, however, Rafe suddenly slowed down. Danielle’s sister stood in the sand nearby, watching them. Tight black clothes flattered her petite build, her dark hair pulled into a severe knot on top of her head. She looked nothing like Danielle, Esti thought, but was pretty in an eerie, pixyish kind of way.

“Marielle,” Rafe said uncomfortably. “How’ve you been?”

“Looks like you scored again.” As she looked from Rafe to Esti, she raised a single, condemning eyebrow. “Be careful, Esti Legard.”

As Marielle turned and walked back toward the house, Esti heard an almost inaudible groan from Rafe.

Esti reached up and put her finger on his lips. “Doesn’t matter.” At his nonplussed look, she changed the subject. “How long has your family owned Coqui Beach?”

“A hundred years,” Rafe said slowly. “More or less. Look, about Marielle—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Esti repeated. “There’s some things I won’t tell anybody, and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I want to hear about your family instead.”

Rafe was quiet for a minute. “They lived at Manchicay until the massacre. After they moved here, my greatgrandfather eventually bought Coqui Beach from his boss. Esti, look—”

“A pretty nice northern swell tonight. Why do you think that is?”

He seemed completely at a loss. “Uh . . . big storm out on the ocean. Hurricane season usually ends in November.”

“This seems to be the year for unusual storms.” Without saying any more, Esti watched the clouds become pink, then orange. After a moment, Rafe gingerly took her hand and she squeezed his fingers.

As the sky darkened to gray, Ma Harris approached them with purposeful steps. Lucia followed, along with a wiry young West Indian boy wearing thick dreadlocks. Although Lucia gave Esti a smug look, her boyfriend merely stared at Esti as Ma Harris began to talk. Rafe replied in words so fast and deeply accented that Esti didn’t even try to understand them. She needed no brains to know what they were talking about. When she heard the word wicked followed by jumbee, she mumbled an excuse and yanked herself away.

“Hold on, babe,” Rafe said in surprise.

She walked faster, back toward the house. Bright lights and cheery calypso music spilled over the porch and onto the warm beach. She could see Aurora, lit up by a bonfire beyond the smoky grills, eating chicken with her fingers and laughing with George Moore.

This was nothing like the snow-dusted Christmas parties Esti’s dad had thrown in Oregon. She wanted to be back there, when everything had seemed predictable and normal, her dad tousling her hair as he made his way through the house from one group of friends to another.

She wished with all her heart she was in the dark theater, reciting passages with Alan. Even that seemed more normal than this tropically cheerful Christmas party with so many eyes on Esti Legard. A sliver of understanding sliced through her about Alan’s obsessive need for privacy.

As Rafe caught up to her, she began to run.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm. “What’s the matter, babe?”

“He’s not wicked! He’s honorable.” She clamped her mouth shut at the silly words. A moment ago, as she listened to Ma Harris, she had finally begun to wonder if maybe—the shivers started deep in her stomach—maybe Alan truly was a jumbee. It was crazy to believe in ghosts, she thought wildly. He couldn’t really be a jumbee, but nothing else made sense.

“He’s not,” she whispered.

“It’s okay.” Rafe held both of her hands in his, his dark eyes glued to hers. “All Ma Harris said was that I have to protect you. She said I should take you to Carnival, so you can dance with the moko jumbees.”

He smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a faint sparkle hiding in his eyes. “You’s powerful too bad. No matter you all strong and ting, de jumbee he is unpredictable. We gon find moko jumbee dem at Carnival and make sure it have no evil spirit does stalk you.”

Esti closed her eyes. “I’m going insane,” she muttered.

“No.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “But you are so damn complicated, I can’t even figure out how to make you feel better.”

She looked out at the blackness of the sea, beyond the thin white line of crashing waves. “I know how you can make me feel better.”

“Did you know that I’ve only been kissed twice?” She reached up behind her head, weaving her wind-tangled hair into a braid as she tried to hide her nervousness.

“Twice.” He stared at her as if the concept were completely beyond him.

“The first time I almost drowned,” she said, “and the second was under hostile circumstances. So they didn’t really count.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Onstage doesn’t count either, of course. I’m talking in real life.”

“You? Esti Legard?”

“Darling!” She imitated the flamboyant talent scout. “I’m sure you know how difficult I am to impress.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. “That’s not possible. Don’t tell me your honorable jumbee never kissed you.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Esti met Rafe’s eyes, her body roiling with emptiness and fury and desire. “I just want to know what a real kiss feels like.”

Rafe stared at her with an inscrutable expression.

“What?” Esti looked at him defiantly. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

His chest rose in a fierce breath, but he didn’t speak. Esti forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to ignore a sudden panic that she had somehow alienated him too. After what seemed like forever, he finally came closer. Although she wished she knew what he was thinking, the desire on his face was unmistakable. As the sand shifted beneath his knees, she choked back a fleeting sense of hysteria. Would this make her feel better?

But Rafe didn’t kiss her. He reached out with his hand instead, touching her cheek. His fingertips lightly followed the line of her jaw, then her nose and the ridge of her eyebrows, exploring the shape of her face. His eyes not leaving hers, he let his fingers move to her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips. His touch felt like fire on her skin, glorious and frightening and wonderful.

Abruptly he leaned forward. His fingers twisted into her hair, cupping the back of her head and tipping her face up to meet his. His mouth took over where his hand had begun. Esti melted into him, heat exploding through her body as his tongue traced the tip of her tongue, the line of her teeth. Slowly, his lips discovered the rest of her face, returning to her mouth every now and then as they brushed against her closed eyes, her cheekbones, the lobes of her ears. When he finally straightened, still cupping her head in his hand, she sagged and stared up at him.

“Did that kiss feel real enough?” he whispered.

Instead of answering, Esti reached up to his face. She let her hands make their way across his smooth dark skin, caressing his lips, his nose, his soft eyebrows. She ran her fingers along his cornrows, like knobby silk beneath her fingertips, then brought his head down to hers again.

She was barely aware of him pulling her onto his lap, their lips locked together. His hands felt warm and delicious as they stroked her face, her shoulders, her arms. Her body arched against him hungrily. She was awkwardly unfastening the shoulder straps of her dress, when he abruptly pulled away. Gasping for breath, she stopped, embarrassed.

“I can’t be the only guy you ever kissed,” he said.

“Three times now,” she managed. “You just made up for all those years of wondering.”

“Oh.” He closed his eyes.

“What?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

“You’ve never done anything else then either.”

“No.” She looked away, hating the sudden thickness in her throat. She didn’t want to think about what she was doing right now. She just wanted to let go and stop worrying, like he’d suggested so long ago.

“Does it matter?” She tried to touch his face again. “I want to do it now. All of it.”

“Crap.” He backed away, dropping to the sand just beyond her reach. “Yeah, it does matter. He’s in your head tonight, isn’t he? Even though he left you alone in a dark corner, all you can say is that he’s honorable.”

“Rafe . . .”

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a girl so bad.” He slumped over, panting. “I’ve been waiting for this since the minute I laid eyes on you. If you were any other girl, it would have been a week after we met, but I don’t want you just one time.” His voice rose angrily. “I’ve been with enough girls to know how girls are, and I ain’t making the biggest mistake of my life tonight just because you’re not done pining over him yet. I got more honor than a dumb-ass jumbee.”

“Rafe, please.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped.

She ran her hand along his arm. “It’s not a mistake.”

With a groan, he turned his eyes up to the sky. Suddenly pounding his fist into the sand, he leaped to his feet and crossed the sand in a few long strides. As water churned up around his feet, Esti rolled over and covered her face with her hands.

By the time he returned, dripping with salty water, her raging emotions had subsided into an annoying string of hiccups. She watched his moonlit outline in embarrassment, noticing how he carefully sat down on the edge of the blanket so he wouldn’t get her wet.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No.” Esti couldn’t look at his face. “I’m sorry.”

“If I’d stayed here one more second, I would have ripped your dress off.”

“Aurora would have been pissed.” Rubbing her eyes, Esti rested her chin on her updrawn knees. “It was a Christmas present. Probably a bad idea for me to leave it in shreds on the beach.”

“I made you cry.” His voice was glum.

“Rafe, why do you put up with me?”

He snorted. “That is a weird question.”

“I mean it. I’m not the most stable girl you’ve ever met.”

“Do you want the truth? You might not like it.”

“I want the truth.” Esti sat up straight.

He looked out at Manchineel Cay, dark against the starry sky. “Okay, truth. I’ve always been the guy who can get girls. Girls are predictable and needy, and basically good for one thing. The minute I saw you after all those years, I had one thing on my mind. Definitely not honorable, and I figured it would take me a week, tops.” He gave her a sideways glance.

“I already knew all that.”

“You did?” He seemed stunned.

“Well, duh.” Esti half smiled. “Carmen told me about your reputation months ago. But it’s been three weeks now, and you just turned me down.”

“I’m an idiot.” He shook his head, looking back out at the sea. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you knock my feet out from under me. The first night when you told me why you changed your name, that threw me. I watched you blow everyone away with your power onstage, then land shivering on the beach, totally vulnerable. You kissed me, then set me up to get busted, then bailed me out, then said you’re having some kind of affair, then practically killed yourself to swim the bay with me. Your head seems wrapped around this other jerk, except I really do think I’m the only guy you’ve ever kissed. And now I’m all worried about a stupid thing like honor.” He slowly shook his head. “I never met a girl like you before.”

“How many times have you used that line?”

“Esti . . .”

“That wasn’t fair.” She sighed. “Sorry. Everything I know about love, I learned from Shakespeare. Boy wants sex; girl wants boy. If boy gets sex too easily, he doesn’t want girl anymore. If boy has to work for sex and prove himself to girl, that’s a much more interesting story.”

“Huh.” Rafe looked at her suspiciously. “Is that why he left you? I thought you never—”

“I never,” she said dryly.

“So, why . . . ?”

“Why am I throwing myself at you?” She dug her fingers into the sand, letting the grains spill out between her fingers. “I’m trying to be careful, but maybe that doesn’t mean what Marielle thinks it means. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

Rafe scowled. “Because I’m a jerk.”

“No, you’re not,” Esti said. “But that’s the thing. I don’t want you to be honorable right now.”

He shook his head, baffled. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Esti lifted a handful of sand into the air. Would it be possible to actually keep Rafe Solomon in her life? “Look, Rafe. You’re cute. Your dad is rich and famous. You know how to kiss.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m predictable and needy, and good for one thing.”

As his expression turned stony, she gave him a rueful smile.

“And maybe you want the truth.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Truth.”

“The truth is, I trust you.” A gust of whispery wind blew her disheveled hair into her face. “You’re my friend. You let me be myself, and you don’t freak out when I occasionally lose my mind. When I’m with you”—she closed her fingers around the sand—“I know I won’t drown.”

He slowly shook his head. “You’re knocking my feet out from under me again.”

“You do happen to be gorgeous, which is a bonus,” Esti said softly. “And your kiss is killer. The problem is, I am completely messed up right now.”

“You’re irresistible right now.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to fall in love with you because I’m afraid of hurting you. But part of me wants you to hurt me first, so I can blame being messed up on you.” Anger flared through her as she realized her words to Rafe seemed eerily like Alan’s words to her. “That’s a dumb way to go through life, isn’t it?”

“Dumb as a doornail.” Rafe’s arms went around her, strong and solid as he pulled her close.

As seawater soaked through her dress, she leaned into him.

“I’m tough,” he said. “You’re not going to hurt me, and I’ll make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“I’ll stop worrying, then.” She nuzzled into him, pressing her ear against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “I am falling, even though I told myself I wouldn’t.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“I got a real chance then, long as I don’t blow it.”

She felt his fingers on her skin again, deliciously following the outline of her face.

“I’ll work on my honor,” he said, “even if it kills me. Nothing more than this; not yet.” He traced his lips along her hairline, breathing in the scent of her hair. “And speaking of that killer kiss . . .”

As Esti eagerly tipped her face up to meet his, she became aware of Alan’s necklace against her throat. Unexpected grief broke into her bliss, followed by a rush of anger that she still even cared. How dare Alan intrude right now? Hoping Rafe wouldn’t notice, she unfastened the clasp with one hand. She held the chain in her fist for a single, aching moment, then flung it into the sea grape trees behind them.

It wasn’t hard to lose herself in the blissful touch of Rafe’s lips. She could forget about theater for a while, forget the necklace and the entire fantasy named Alan. And when she went to Carnival next weekend, maybe Ma Harris really would find some magical spell to banish him from Esti’s thoughts. Esti didn’t know if she would ever impress the talent scouts again, but she did know one thing. Her days of being cold and frightened were over.