Volcano by Patricia Rice

on the shore, leaving them to wade through the water. Admiring the flash of long legs as Penelope climbed out, Charlie thanked whatever gods there were for her intelligence in not wearing panty hose and high heels or something equally outrageous. She probably would have demanded he carry her ashore. As it was, she simply slipped off her sandals.
    â€œFood,” she demanded as soon as they reached shore.
    Charlie admired the way she stalked right past the stares of the men and boys idling around the dock. Surely she realized the ripple of excited chatter all around them had little to do with the arrival of new suckers for their wares and more to do with her looks. Hell, he didn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing him. They didn’t even notice his existence.
    â€œDon’t talk to anyone, keep your eyes straight ahead and your feet moving,” he ordered, steering her past the street vendors hawking their wares. “If you so much as make eye contact, we’ll never escape.”
    She had the maneuver down pat. Charlie suspected she used the same attitude when walking past a construction site full of howling workers. For just a moment, he felt sympathy for her plight. But the moment didn’t last long.
    As they strolled up the shadowed street between narrow two- and three-story buildings jammed together like a medieval city, Charlie decided he liked walking beside Miss Penelope Albright. She didn’t make him feel like a Gulliver giant who had to stoop to her level to carry on a conversation. She strode briskly, matching him step for step.
    In the interest of scientific experiment, Charlie increased his stride. Penelope increased hers accordingly, without any noticeable lessening of her questions on their surroundings. By the time they reached the restaurant, they were practically running, and she hadn’t uttered a word of complaint.
    Charlie glimpsed a decided glint of mischief in her eyes as he opened the door for her. The lady liked meeting his challenge. That should have scared the hell out of him, but his mind had already gone on to the next test.
    The hole-in-the-wall restaurant had changed hands since his last visit, but the food was still delicious. Charlie watched in anticipation as his companion bit into the spicy seafood concoction he’d ordered for her. His mouth fell open in surprise as she closed her eyes and savored it with ecstasy. Who would have thought Miss Blue Blood could handle chili peppers? As she sampled the exotic plantains and cassava next, he wondered if he’d been hanging out with the wrong women all these years.
    Not liking the path of his wayward thoughts, Charlie glanced impatiently at his watch. If he wanted to catch Jacques, he’d better do it soon.
    â€œI’m going out the back door and down the alley,” he whispered to drag her attention away from the food. “There are craft shops all along the street by the shore. I’ll meet you down there in about an hour.”
    Horrified at being abruptly deserted in a strange place where she knew nothing of the local customs, Penelope started to object, but Charlie merely left some bills on the table and walked out. For a brief moment she considered running after him, then common sense prevailed. She wasn’t any safer with Charlie Smith than by herself. She had half a notion to go down to the dock, hire a water taxi, and leave him here alone.
    Penelope had second thoughts about that while she idled over the rest of her meal. The architecture of Soufriere was a fascinating blend of French, Spanish, and something definitely island original. But the houses were old and decaying, resembling the shabbier parts of Miami or New Orleans. Some of the inhabitants of the town were little better. With her height and looks, she was accustomed to people staring at her, but here she felt like a duck ripe for plucking.
    When she couldn’t linger any longer over the meal, Penelope thanked the cook