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or dare? Give me a break.”

      Sydney shrugged, walking a fine neutral line between her friendships with the two women. “I think she was trying to break the ice. You have to admit it worked. Too bad Macy wasn’t here to take notes for gIRL gAMES.”

      Lauren blew out an inelegant snort. “What I want to know is where Poe gets off thinking it’s her place to break the ice?”

      “Why don’t you ask her?” Poe said, walking uninvited and unexpected into Lauren’s room and plopping on the end of the bed opposite Sydney. “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping. I came back for my suit—” she dangled the black bottoms to the top she’d been wearing all day “—and to ask if either of you wanted to join us in the hot tub on the sundeck. But now that I’m here, I’m more than happy to clear any air that needs clearing.”

      “All right.” Lauren cocked her head to one side and considered the other woman and her offer. “This isn’t exactly a tropical reality show, Poe. We don’t need a cruise director. We’re all adults. We know how to get along and how to entertain ourselves, thank you very much.”

      Poe shrugged carelessly. “Maybe so. But it’s obvious that certain tensions exist between some of us that will ruin this vacation for others if not dealt with.”

      Lauren pulled up her knees and pressed them into the pillow she held tightly to her chest. “You’re talking about me and Anton.”

      “That, yes.” Poe inclined her head, lifting both brows in a visual challenge. “And your feelings toward me.”

      “What about my feelings toward you?”

      “Obviously they are hardly charitable. And obviously they are rooted in the fact that Anton has taken me out a couple of times since the two of you broke up.”

      “Well, then, what else is there to say?” Lauren asked, clearly believing she held the upper hand.

      Sydney glanced from Lauren to Poe, who easily yanked away Lauren’s hold by replying, “You mean, besides the fact that you can’t have it both ways?”

      Frowning, Lauren asked, “What are you talking about?”

      “Either you want to be with Anton or you don’t.” Poe got to her feet, begin untying the knots holding her sarong pants in place. “You can’t dangle your feelings like bait, hoping he’ll bite. That’s hardly fair to him. It’s certainly not fair to me. But most of all, it’s unfair to yourself.”

      “And how do you figure that?” Lauren asked, watching along with Sydney as Poe’s pants and barely there bikini panties hit the floor.

      Poe slipped one foot, then the other into the swimsuit bottoms and pulled them on. “Are you dating anyone else?”

      “I’ve been seeing someone, yes,” Lauren answered, then, avoiding Sydney’s gaze, hurried to add, “It’s not serious, though. We’re just very close friends.”

      “Are you happy just being very close friends? Or do you miss being in a committed relationship?”

      “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

      Poe snagged her pants from the floor, tossed them over one shoulder and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Sydney suddenly knew that Poe was about to breathe the fire by which she’d earned her dragonlady reputation.

      “C’mon, Lauren. If you want Anton, go for it. If you love him, fight for him. Fight with him, if you have to. Because I can tell you right now that he won’t be unattached for long. He’s intelligent and successful. He’s kind and he’s funny and he’s sexy as hell.

      “If you’re sitting around waiting for him to come crawling back on his knees, it’s not going to happen.” And then Poe’s voice softened. “But you know that, don’t you? You know exactly what he’s worth. And exactly what you’re missing, now that you don’t have him in your life.”

      As Sydney watched, tears filled Lauren’s eyes. She reached for Lauren’s foot, wrapped a comforting hand around her ankle. But before Sydney could soothe her friend with heartfelt words, Poe said, “Don’t cry, Lauren. Get tough. Get mean. Stand up to him. Stand up for what you want from him. There are so few men worth fighting for. And you’ve found one.

      “Don’t let him go, because if you do, I guarantee he’ll be snatched up before you can blink. And I can’t say that I won’t be the first woman in line.”

      3

      WRAPPING AN ARM around a beam supporting the second-floor balcony, Sydney stared out across the stretch of white beach and over the rippling water.

      The moon was high and full, and the light thrown across the sea and the sand was easily bright enough to see by. The view was almost no different at midnight than it had been at sunset, except the sky was now a velvet cape of star-studded indigo and the Caribbean a darkly mysterious surface of sinuous, white-capped waves.

      She couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was being in a strange bed or being in strange company. This group would try the patience of the pope. At least Lauren and Poe seemed to be headed toward an understanding, if not a complete truce. And though Sydney had never before considered enlisting outside help in her initiative to get Lauren out of her funk, Poe’s direct approach had certainly given Lauren food for thought. And given Sydney a lot to consider, as well.

      She supposed it wasn’t easy for Lauren to see Anton in the company of any woman with their relationship so newly ended. But there was something about Poe as the other woman that might even have given Sydney pause. Poe made no effort to suppress her sexuality. She made no apologies for her candor. And she had the potential to make for tough competition as a business adversary or as a rival for the attention of a man.

      Lauren certainly had Sydney’s sympathy. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if Poe was to take a sudden interest in pursuing Ray while here on Coconut Caye. Sydney supposed that after she’d worked him out of her system and out of her fantasies, after they were all back in Houston, he’d be fair game. Poe would be welcome to go after him, if she had a mind to, and Sydney would have no reason to object.

      So why did the picture of Poe, or any other woman, in the arms of Ray Coffey suddenly have Sydney’s claws flexing?

      It had to be the bourbon, she decided, frowning, even while recognizing the explanation of “too much alcohol” as not making a whole lot of sense. She’d barely sipped enough of her father’s stock to get a buzz. Too much of a lightweight to overindulge, she’d wanted to stay sober. The alcohol she had consumed had only served to loosen her inhibitions, allowing her to seize the moment and boldly make a move on Ray.

      The come-on she’d made once the room had cleared had been more than effective, judging by Ray’s effort to steady his ragged inhalation of breath. Standing there beside the dining table and looking up into his eyes, Sydney had been struck by the suppressed passion she saw simmering there. Her own breathing had been rattled, her chest constricted, her throat so tight she’d found it impossible to speak in a level tone.

      And that was totally unlike her, responding in an overtly physical fashion when attracted to a man. She’d always prided herself on being cool, being in control, which had, unfortunately, served to further her Ice Queen image, no matter that she was anything but cold.

      For most of the evening, she’d watched Ray covertly, not wanting him to catch her staring or to sense any of what she had on her mind. While the others had been caught up in the flirtatious rules of the game, Ray had, for the most part, sat silently. He’d thrown in two or three smart remarks as guys, being guys, were prone to do.

      But he’d been distracted, which Sydney could tell by the way he’d studied his plate, smiling at random comments, toying with his glass but never really doing much damage to his drink. He’d remained as sober as she had and then he’d left the villa with the others. She wondered if he’d had much to say while in the hot tub, or if his thoughts had been as consumed as hers by their parting

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