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might take you out to dinner or something.” Her tone of voice was plaintive. “You didn’t scare him off, did
    you?”
    “Of course I did,” Cathy shot back. “Isn’t that what I always do with importunate young men?”
    “I wouldn’t call Sin importunate. Or that young, either. He’s older than Charles—probably around thirty-five or thirty-six. That
    would make him ten years older than you, so I hardly think that qualifies him—”
    “Enough, Meg. You know I don’t like match-making.”
    “Yes, ma’am. How did you manage to scare him off?” she questioned, a very real interest in her voice.
    “It was quite simple. I don’t think he was the slightest bit interested in the first place.”
    There was a long, disbelieving pause. “Well, we shall see. Sin isn’t one to give up easily, and—”
    “He’s not interested in me, Meg. If I thought he was, I wouldn’t be coming with you to the Caribbean.”
    “But you don’t dislike him, do you, sweetie?” Meg’s voice was anxious.
    “No, Meggie. I just have no intention of getting involved with someone at this point. If I ever do, I will let you know, and you can rush right out
    and round up all your eligible friends for my inspection.”
    “Well, all right. Maybe I should encourage Sin to bring a girlfriend along, if you two really aren’t going to hit it off. Though I don’t
    know if I like the idea of some nubile young thing accompanying those two horny men on that very romantic boat for however long it’ll take them to
    sail down. I’ve never seen Sin with anything less than a bona fide beauty.”
    “Do whatever you think is best. That might be a very good idea,” she said, lying through her teeth. “Let me know what’s happening,
    will you? Oh, and I forgot to give him back his sweater. Do you suppose I could drop it off with you and you could return it for me? And maybe get my
    sunglasses back?”
    “Why don’t you do it? I’ll give you his number.”
    “No, please. I’d prefer it if you’d take care of it.” All Cathy’s earlier good humor was rapidly vanishing. “I
    don’t want to see any more of Sinclair MacDonald than I absolutely have to.”
    “Hmm.” Meg’s voice was knowing. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, take it easy, okay?”
    “Sure thing. Don’t I always?”
    “Not recently,” her sister said wryly, hanging up.
    The last tiny bit of sandwich went into the trash, the rest of the beer down the drain. Heading toward the bedroom, Cathy hesitated listlessly by the open
    windows, then shrugged and continued on her way. Tomorrow morning she could pull the curtains again.
     
    She woke up suddenly, her slender body in the light cotton nightgown shivering in the predawn light. Another dream, another nightmare. With no Sin
    MacDonald to save her, she thought muzzily, huddling down under the light summer blanket. Still her body trembled, both from the cold and the aftermath of
    her nightmare.
    Five minutes later, she sat up, sighing. A heavy flannel nightgown hung on the hook inside her walk-in closet, a cardigan sweater lay across the chair
    beside her, her quilted robe was just inside the bathroom door. Getting up, she padded all the way across the apartment in bare feet, out to the front
    hall. Sin’s sweater lay there, where she had left it the night before. Pulling it over her head, she made her way across the apartment and got back
    into bed. The scent of her perfume mingled with the traces of his after-shave and the faint smell of the sea. Pulling the blankets around her, she shut her
    eyes, snuggling down into the Irish wool. A moment later she was asleep.

 
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    Chapter Five
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    Putting Sinclair MacDonald out of her mind was far easier said than done. During the next two weeks, Cathy found herself jumping every time the phone rang,
    racing to answer it, all prepared for the scathing denunciation that she had reworked several times during the ensuing days. But the phone had