Sidney Sheldon’s The Tides of Memory. Сидни Шелдон

you. Toni loved them for that more than anything.

      Today, however, hungover and in serious need of a line of coke, she could have done without the noise, and the questions, and the endless sweaty little hands pawing at her.

      “I’m trying, Graydon, okay?” She sounded grumpier than she meant to. “Throw it again.”

      “Let me help.”

      Billy Hamlin had materialized beside her, his sleek blond head emerging out of the crystal-clear water like an otter’s. After scooping up a giggling Graydon and Nicholas under each arm, he dropped them in the shallows, dividing the other boys up into teams and getting the game started. After a few minutes, Toni swam over, allowing her bare arm to brush against Billy’s as she retrieved the ball. Just that small hint of physical contract was electric.

      “Thanks.” She smiled. “But go enjoy yourself. You only get a half day off per week, and I know you don’t wanna spend it with my kids.”

      “That’s true.” Billy gazed unashamedly at Toni’s breasts. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.”

      “A deal?”

      “Sure. If I find a freshwater pearl in the next fifteen minutes, you spend the night with me tomorrow.”

      Toni laughed, enjoying the attention. “You’ve only found three pearls in the last month. You’re hardly likely to scoop one up in fifteen minutes.”

      “Exactly. It’s hopeless. So why not shake on the deal?”

      “You know why not.”

      Toni glanced out to the harbor lanes, where the Braemar Murphys’ yacht, Celeste, glittered in the afternoon sunshine.

      “Oh, come on. Live a little,” Billy teased. “You know he bores you. Besides, like you said, I’m hardly likely to find a pearl in a quarter of an hour, am I?”

      “But if you do?”

      Slipping an arm around Toni’s waist, Billy pulled her close so their lips were almost touching. “If I do, then it’s fate. We’re meant to be together. Deal?”

      Toni grinned. “Okay, deal. But it has to be at least the size of a pea.”

      “A pea? Oh, c’mon now. That’s impossible!”

      “A pea. Now get out of here! I’ve got some serious possum playing to do.”

      BILLY SWAM OUT INTO DEEPER WATER, his shucking knife clamped between his teeth like a pirate’s cutlass. He made a couple of dives, emerging each time with a large oyster shell and making a great theatrical show of prizing it open, but with no success, clutching his heart and swooning into the water, all for Toni’s benefit.

      Within a few minutes, a growing crowd of spectators had gathered to watch from the beach. The boy was an incredible swimmer and he was putting on quite a show.

      Toni Gilletti thought, He’s funny, but he’s getting way too big headed. Turning away, she threw herself into the game with the boys, deliberately ignoring Billy’s antics.

      CHARLES BRAEMAR MURPHY WAS FEELING GOOD. He’d enjoyed a delicious lunch of fresh Maine lobster rolls on his parents’ yacht, washed down with a couple of glasses of vintage Chablis. His old man had agreed to raise his allowance. And Toni had promised to wear the satin crotchless panties he’d bought her in bed tonight, a prospect that had had him in an almost constant state of arousal since daybreak.

      Stretching out on a lounge chair on the upper deck, Charles felt his confidence returning. I have to stop obsessing about the Hamlin kid. Sure he’s after Toni. Everyone’s after Toni. But he’s no threat to me. She already had him and she tossed him aside.

      Toni would be on the beach now, building sand castles with her group of little boys.

      I’ll surprise her, Charles thought on a whim. Bring her some chocolate-dipped strawberries from the galley. Chicks love that sort of meaningless romantic gesture. She’ll be even more grateful in bed tonight than usual.

      He clicked his fingers imperiously at one of the deckhands.

      “Get one of the tenders ready. I’m going ashore.”

      THE BOYS HAD TIRED OF POSSUM and were hunting for crab claws in the shallows. A collective gasp from the beach made Toni turn around.

      Oh my God! Idiot!

      Billy had swum out beyond the barrier that separated the swimming and harbor lanes. There were three large yachts moored offshore, and a host of smaller boats between them and the beach. A lone swimmer was as good as invisible amid such heavy traffic. Diving for pearls out there was preposterously dangerous.

      Toni waved frantically at Billy, beckoning him over. “Come back!” she shouted into the wind. “You’ll get yourself killed out there!”

      Billy cupped a hand to his ear in a can’t-hear-you gesture. Leaving the boys on the shore, Toni swam a few yards farther out and shouted again. “Get back here! You’ll get hit.”

      Billy glanced over his shoulder. The nearest yacht tenders were at least fifty yards behind him.

      “It’s fine,” he called back to Toni.

      “It’s not fine! Don’t be a moron.”

      “Two more dives.”

      “Billy, no!”

      But it was too late. With an effortless flick of the legs, Billy disappeared beneath the waves again, earning himself more gasps and claps from the beach.

      Toni bit her lip, waiting anxiously for Billy to resurface. Ten seconds went by, then twenty, then thirty.

      Oh, Jesus. What’s happened? Has he hit his head? I should never have taken the stupid bet and encouraged him. I know how reckless he is. He’s like me.

      Then suddenly there he was, shooting up out of the blue like a dolphin at play, waving a huge oyster shell. The crowd on the beach whooped and cheered. Billy cut the thing open and pulled out a pearl, to even louder applause. But he shook his head sadly at Toni.

      “It’s too small. My princess needs a pea.”

      “Cut it out,” Toni shot back angrily. The game wasn’t fun anymore. Couldn’t those idiots on the beach see how dangerous this was? “Get back here, Billy. I mean it.”

      Billy shook his head. “Two minutes left!” And with a deep gulp of air, he was gone again.

      “WHY DON’T YOU LET ME PILOT the tender, sir. You sit back and relax.”

      Daniel Gray was an experienced crewman who’d spent the last twenty years working on rich people’s yachts. The Braemar Murphys were no better or worse than most of the families Daniel Gray worked for. But their son, Charles, was an entitled little prig. He’d clearly been drinking, and should not be left alone at the wheel of an expensive piece of equipment like the Celeste’s tender.

      “I’m perfectly relaxed, thanks,” Charles Braemar Murphy drawled. “Just bring me the strawberries and champagne I asked for and let my mother know I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

      “Very good, sir.”

      Dickhead. I hope he runs aground and spends the next decade paying his old man back for the damage.

      IT TOOK BILLY HAMLIN FORTY-FIVE SECONDS to surface this time. He still seemed to think it was a joke, barely pausing before he went back down again.

      Furious, Toni turned away—no way would she spend the night with him now, however big his damn pearl, or his damn anything else, might be. As she swam back toward the boys, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was a rowboat, a tiny, old-fashioned wooden affair. What the hell is that doing out in the shipping lane?

      No sooner had the thought occurred to her than she saw two tenders, one gliding sedately through the water, the