“So, Jagger disappeared, huh?” Goldie asked.

“Don’t start on him, Gold. I have no idea where he went. All I know is, I don’t need him.”

Goldie gave me a nod, but it was followed by a “but you want him” kind of look. Thank goodness he didn’t verbalize, cause there was no way I could lie to my best friend.

I waved my hands in the air. “Enough about that. What the hell am I going to do about my date with Neal tonight?”

Goldie walked to the window, sat in the chair and looked at me. “Do, Suga? I’d think you would know what to do.”

“If you were closer, I’d smack you, but I’m too tired to get up.” I rolled over onto my side as I pulled the duvet up on Goldie’s bed. “I mean, I should be wrapping this investigation up, Gold. I really don’t have time for a date.”

“A $255,000 date?”

I peeked at him from under the duvet. “I hope I don’t have to spring for the damn dinner!”

What does one wear to a 255 grand date? I asked myself that question a gazillion times and even looked around my empty room and asked Samuel. “You’re no help, Sam,” I said then laughed.

A gentle breeze touched my face.

I laughed again. “Okay. You’re a guy anyway. I’m sure we’d never agree on what looked good for me to wear. Only Goldie and Miles have that market cornered.”

I lifted my black dress and decided that was the only decent thing I had. Then again, I’d worn it the other night and Neal never did say how dressy we were going to get. There was nothing worse than showing up for a date under- or overdressed.

I flopped onto my bed, pulled my cell from my scrubs top and poked in the numbers.

“Hey,” I started to say then realized it was Neal’s voice mail. So I left the “what to wear tonight” message, flipped the cell closed and pulled the blanket over me. There wasn’t much I could do until I heard from him.

For a few seconds I stared at my cell phone, and then picked it up. “Damn it. I shouldn’t do this, but-” I pressed the contacts button, scrolled down and pressed Talk.

“The Nextel subscriber you are trying to reach is not available,” the disembodied voice said in my ear.

I slammed the phone shut-as if Jagger could see that I’d tried to reach him.

Strictly for business purposes.

Really.

Ring. Ring.

My eyes flew open to see the red light blinking on my cell phone. I had a voice-mail message. Jagger? I pressed the button, listened to the female voice go through her rigmarole and then heard, “Casual. Jeans are fine. Bring a sweater or jacket.”

Neal.

Okay, he wasn’t Jagger, but my stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice and my mind flashed back to imagining a near-miss of pretty damn decent sex (remember, I had no recent comparisons). I sat up in bed-feeling as if Samuel were right next to me, jeering.

“Damn it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a long lost descendent of none other than my Jagger.” I laughed and realized how easily the word “my” had come out. Then I jumped out of bed and headed for a shower-a cold one.

“You look fantastic, Pauline,” Neal said as he put his arm around me and kissed my cheek.

I purred. Purred? Geez how unlike me, but it felt kinda good. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself, although for 255,000 bucks, I’d expect maybe a tuxedo.”

We both laughed, and I realized the little crow’s-feet at the ends of Neal’s eyes deepened significantly when he laughed-and the damn things were way too sexy. He probably spent a bit too much time out in the sun, and guys were notorious for not using sunscreen. But then again, it did look good on him.

“So, Doc, where are we headed in our casuals?” Neal’s hand moved to the small of my back and he led me out the door. I could get used to this. Really.

“It’s a surprise.”

Yikes. He’d leaned closer to my ear, as if I couldn’t hear normal talking, and when his breath tickled my cheek, I sighed and mumbled, “A surprise sounds…surprising.”

A surprise sounds surprising?

What the hell? I really needed to take a deep breath and to get out more. I let Neal guide me to his car. After I got in, I took several long, slow breaths to get my wits about me. This was way too much excitement for a gal from Hope Valley.

Newport. Money. House with a name. Handsome doc. Wow.

I’m there.

As we drove along Bellevue, Neal cranked up the CD on his stereo. Not much into music except the few country songs I liked by Trisha Yearwood and Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying,” I was not any kind of expert.

By the time we made it down to America’s Cup Avenue, I couldn’t stand the suspense. “Come on, Neal. Give me a clue.”

He laughed.

My heart danced and hormones surged.

“We’re almost there. Patience is a virtue, Pauline.”

“Ha! You just enjoy being in charge!” We laughed some more and soon Neal turned into a parking lot at the marina. “We’re going on a boat?”

Yikes. Water. Not a good swimmer. Maybe seasickness.

“No.” He shut the car off, leaned near, touched my hair, gently pushing it behind my ear, and said, “We’re going on my boat.”

“Oh…my…God…that sounds…fantastic,” I whispered, as if I could swim to save my life if the boat capsized.

Something that large is not going to capsize, Pauline, I told myself, looking at the gigantic white yacht bobbing gracefully before me, all the while twisting my pink locket in my hands. I’d forgotten to take it off when changing, but it came in handy for nervous energy.

Neal bustled about with lines and carrying stuff from the car. A picnic basket of sorts that I wondered might be filled with food was the first thing he’d brought out.

The boat bobbed.

My stomach lurched.

Damn. “I wish I had some Dramamine in my purse,” I mumbled.

“Prone to seasickness?” Neal asked.

I swung around, ready to jump in the water and drown myself. “Umm.”

“We could head back to a drugstore and get some, but then I’ll be late making my post-op rounds tonight.”

I thought of Goldie. “No. I don’t want you to do that.” I opened my purse and started to look inside.

“Well, what do you have in there? Anything of use?” he asked.

I dug around until I found my pill case, opened it and took out a little pink and white capsule.

“Well, there you go. Benadryl. Should help. Take that,” he said and eased my hand toward me. “Good thing you had it.”

“I carry Benadryl in case I ever have some weird allergic reaction.”

“Even though it’s not for motion sickness, Pauline, it might help alleviate any nausea because it has the histamine blocker ability.” His eyes kind of sparkled when he said it. I smiled to myself. Doc Neal looked so proud of himself. Then again, maybe he just wanted me to enjoy the boat ride.

Made sense coming from a doctor, so I promptly popped it into my mouth.

He looked at me and smiled.

I smiled back then thought, Shit. I only hope the Benadryl doesn’t make me sleepy!

The pictures on the wall shifted-as did my stomach.

I looked up from my comfy spot in the cabin near Neal and watched him sail or drive or whatever the yacht until we were out in the Atlantic far enough that I couldn’t see any land.

How romantic…if I didn’t barf.

If I didn’t watch the pictures sway, hear the swells of water outside the front window or acknowledge that this teeny, tiny boat could actually flip over like the Poseidon, I would be enjoying myself.

Then I yawned.

“Is it the company?” Neal asked, turning around to look at me.

“Hey, keep your eye on the road, water, whatever. And, no, it isn’t the company.” I yawned two more times. “I think yawning is a sign of lack of oxygen.”

He did something with some parts on what I called the dashboard of this vessel and walked over to me, bent down and took my hands in his. “Then we need to do something about that. Maybe mouth-to-mouth?”