“Don’t be silly. You know you could make any man forget business.” Shayne pressed his cheek lightly against her hair. “You been working here long?”
“Ever since they moved in. We all have.”
“And I suppose you’re pretty much isolated here on the island,” Shayne said sympathetically. “But you get a day off now and then, don’t you?”
“I’ll say we don’t. Old Briggs is a slave driver. She’s so ugly herself she’s jealous of any of the rest of us having a good time. All we get around here is work from morning till night. That’s the reason I went sort of all loose inside when you looked at me in there and I knew you liked a good time, too.” She turned against him and raised her face hungrily.
Shayne touched his swollen lips to hers again. She caught his face between her palms and held it, gently touching the tip of her tongue to his bruised mouth. She drew away, laughing shakily. “Does that hurt?”
“Soft as an angel’s wings,” Shayne told her throatily. “Couldn’t you slip away tonight — after they’ve all gone to bed?”
“I might get away with it. Would you meet me, redhead?”
“On the other side of the bridge — at midnight?”
“Better make it later. Two o’clock. Briggs is always up till midnight. She gives Mrs. Stallings her medicine then.”
“Is Mrs. Stallings really very ill?”