In the Enemy's Arms. Marilyn Pappano

trees and flowers everywhere, the swimming pool glittering brightly next to a thatch-roofed restaurant. Behind them was the water, dotted with boats, the most amazing blue-green hue she’d ever seen. With the warm sun, the gentle breezes, the rustle of palm fronds and that incredible water, it was…

      “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Justin’s voice was low and coming from right behind her, resonant, as it usually was, with self-satisfaction. But in this case, she couldn’t hold it against him. “The mainland’s over there. See those buildings? That’s Playa del Carmen.” He pointed, his forearm resting on her shoulder, bringing with it the mixed fragrances of sunshine and cologne. He smelled as expensive as he looked and, touristy T-shirt aside, he did look expensive.

      And handsome, all golds and tans and browns, like some sort of tropical sun god.

      She squeezed her eyes shut, chastising herself, blaming him. She wasn’t a foolish romantic. She preferred substance over form. She’d had her heart broken once before by a man so exactly like him they could be twins, and she’d learned her lesson. She wouldn’t repeat the past.

      Besides, she didn’t even like the man, nor he her, and she was taking a self-imposed break from any kind of relationship, even with men she did like.

      “This isn’t your first trip to Cozumel, is it?”

      And there was a timely reminder of the man Justin Seavers was. “You know it isn’t. Trent and I came here on our honeymoon. We stayed at a hotel down there—” she pointed to the right “—all the way at the tip of the island, and he had a fling with not one but two women who worked there. I’m sure he told you all about it when we got home.”

      For an instant, she thought she saw regret on his face, but his features shuttered so quickly, she was sure she must have been mistaken. He shifted away, then began walking again. She felt vaguely…guilty as she followed him.

      On the opposite side of the bridge, a few steps led to the pool area, then a few steps more into the restaurant. It was open to the air, few walls, with an uncovered patio that held a scattering of tables. Justin headed in that direction, choosing a seat where he faced the ocean and the street.

      “They’ve got great burgers here,” he said, his voice level as the waiter brought chips, salsa and menus.

      “I didn’t come to Cozumel to eat a hamburger.” She didn’t realize how snippy she sounded until he replied.

      “No, you came to find an outlet for that relentless dogooder side of yours, to show people that you’re more compassionate than they are and—” he accepted a bottle of water from the waiter and twisted the cap off before raising it in a toast “—to spend some quality time with your ex-husband.”

      Cate didn’t know whether to be insulted, dumbfounded or amused as he swigged the water. She did have a do-gooder side. She wasn’t nearly as giving as Susanna, but she donated her time and expertise when she could. She wasn’t trying to put on a display of compassion. Most people back home in Copper Lake, Georgia, didn’t have a clue about her volunteer activities, and she certainly didn’t care whether strangers in another country were impressed with her. As for the last…

      The sound that finally escaped was as much snort as laughter. “I gave up on quality time—any time—with Trent about five years before the divorce. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s in love with Susanna. In case you hadn’t noticed, he hasn’t been in love with me for years, if he ever was.”

      She’d thought he was, once upon a time. He’d thought he was. But Justin never had.

      Uncomfortably, she drank some water while studying the menu. Everything sounded so good, including the hamburger he’d recommended, but by the time the waiter returned, she’d settled on seviche. Shrimp, fish and conch cooked by way of chemical reaction—there was a dish she couldn’t find at home in Copper Lake.

      Silence settled over the table after the waiter took their orders. She snacked on the chips and chunky salsa and watched the birds searching for treats on the patio. Justin watched the traffic on the street. To anyone who bothered to notice them, they probably looked like just another pair of tourists instead of two people who’d known each other thirteen years and had run out of civil things to say about ten minutes after they’d met.

      Thirteen years. A long time. She’d been a sophomore at the University of Georgia at Athens. Justin and Trent had been juniors, despite the lack of attention they’d paid to their classes. College had been a four-year vacation for them, paid for by their families, with the only expectation that they earn a degree—not necessarily one they would use.

      Expectations for after college had been slim, too. While Cate had studied her butt off in medical school, Trent had traveled—skiing in Colorado, cruising the Mediterranean, diving around the world—and Justin had gone with him. Her third and fourth years she’d spent days in clinical rotations and nights in the med school library, cramming data about each monthly specialty into her weary brain, and they’d gone mountain climbing in Nepal and surfing in Australia. Trent had barely made it back from China for her graduation, literally walking in the door of her apartment as she and her parents were walking out.

      She was basking in self-pity, she realized, and that wasn’t her style. So what if she’d begun her medical career with a grand total of $342,769 in debt? Who cared if they’d been out seeing the world while she’d worked so hard? She was a doctor. The only thing she’d ever wanted to do in her life.

      Besides, Trent had paid off that debt as a divorce gift.

      Yes, other husbands gave their wives wedding and anniversary gifts. Hers had rewarded her for putting up with him as long as she had.

      “What did GayAnne tell you?”

      Her gaze shifted to Justin, leaned back in his chair, wearing sunglasses that had come from nowhere. The backpack, she realized. He hadn’t left it locked up at the dive shop with her suitcase. “Nothing. Just that everyone was gone and she was leaving, too. Where are they?”

      His only response was a shrug so lazy, so arrogant, that she wanted to smack him. She curled her fingers around the water bottle to make it harder to reach across the table and do just that. “Knock it off, Justin. The volunteers have fled. The girls are gone. The local employees are gone. Susanna and Trent are gone. You know damn well they wouldn’t just take off on a whim. La Casa is too important to Susanna, and she’s too important to Trent. Something has happened, and you at least have an idea what or Trent wouldn’t have told me to call you.”

      Another long swig of water, another lazy shrug. “Maybe he’s trying to set us up together.”

      Cate sat back. The idea was ludicrous. As if Trent would wish her on his best friend, or vice versa. As if she would willingly stay five minutes in the room with Justin if she wasn’t forced to. She didn’t like him at all, but she liked him best when he was on another continent, and Trent was well aware of that.

      She loaded her voice with scorn. “Come on, Justin. Tell me what the hell is going on so I can—”

      His cell phone rang, and he raised one hand impe riously to stop her while he answered it. Rude, obnoxious, self-centered. She fumed as the waiter approached and set a plate in front of each of them. Immediately her stomach growled, overriding her annoyance. It had been a long time since breakfast, and she needed to refuel in order to deal with her present company.

      The seviche looked incredible; the hamburger Justin had ordered smelled even more so. She dug in, closing her eyes briefly at the first mild, sweet, spicy, limey flavors, silencing the low mmm of satisfaction that hummed through her. If she’d been with her last serious boyfriend, AJ Decker—the cop who’d gone and fallen in love with his ex-partner while Cate wasn’t looking— she would have immediately picked up another forkful and insisted he taste it. She didn’t offer Justin anything.

      Silence followed his hello for a moment, then his mouth tightened. The muscles in his fingers holding the phone contracted, too. He didn’t look pleased.

      Fear niggled in her belly, but it didn’t