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Dressing quickly, she hunted for her sandals, crawling on the floor. Finally, she located them under the bed and was on her way into the bathroom to see what she could do with her hair when something stopped her. The faint sound of someone singing in Spanish drifted in past the balcony door that had been left ajar. Those deep male tones were unmistakable.
After eagerly parting the draperies, Carla opened the sliding glass door farther. The music and voice grew stronger, and the lovingly familiar voice sang loudly off-key.
“Philip!”
Standing below, playing a guitar and singing at the top of his voice, was crazy, wonderful Philip. A band of curious onlookers had gathered around him. Now, however, they focused their attention on her.
“You’re unbelievable!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
“Serenading you,” he shouted, completely serious. “Do you like it?”
“I’d like it a lot better if you sang on key.”
He strummed a few bars. “Can’t have everything. Are you hungry?”
“Starved. I’d eat turtle tacos.”
“You must be famished. Hurry down, will you? I think someone might arrest me.”
Stuffing her hair under her straw hat, Carla bounded down the stairs. She paused on the bottom step, straightened her dress, and took a deep breath. Then, feeling more composed, she turned the corner and found Philip relaxing on a chaise longue.
“Hi,” she said, fighting the breathlessness that weakened her voice.
He rose to his feet with an ease many would envy. “I must have sounded better than I thought.”
“What makes you think that?”
A grin played at the edges of his mouth as he dug inside his pocket and pulled out a handful of loose change. “People were obviously impressed. Soon after you went inside, several started throwing coins my way.”
Fighting back the bubbling laughter, Carla looped her arm around his elbow. “I hate to disappoint you, Philip, but I have the distinct feeling they were paying you not to sing.”
The sound of his laughter tugged at her heart. “Where are we going for dinner? I wasn’t teasing about being hungry.”
“Anyplace you say.” Tucking her hand more securely in the crook of his arm, he escorted her through the hotel to the series of stairs that led to the busy street below.
“Anyplace I say,” she repeated. “My, my, you’re agreeable all of a sudden.”
“With a beautiful woman on my arm, and my pockets full of change, why shouldn’t I be?”
She smiled, pleased by the compliment.
“Then dinner wherever the lady chooses.”
“Well, I suppose I’d better choose a restaurant where I won’t have to take off my hat. I didn’t wash my hair after our dip in the pool this afternoon, and now it resembles Raggedy Ann’s.”
“Then it’s perfect for what I have in mind,” he said with an enigmatic toss of his head. Sandy locks of hair fell across his brow and he brushed them aside.
“Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?” she asked with a hint of impatience. She noticed that Philip had a way of arousing her curiosity, then dropping the subject. Her father did the same thing, and Carla briefly wondered if this was a common trait among policemen. They didn’t want to give out too much information—keep the world guessing seemed to be their intent. Other things about Philip reminded her of her father. He was a kind, concerned man. Like her father, he cared when the rest of the world didn’t want to be bothered.
“Ever hear of La Gruta de Cerro del Crestón?” Philip asked, snapping her out of her musings.
“He was some general, right?”
“Wrong,” he responded with a trace of droll tolerance. “It’s a cave where, it’s rumored, pirates used to store their treasure. Stolen treasure, of course. It’s only accessible at low tide, but I thought we might pick up a picnic lunch and eat along the beach. Later, when the tide is low, we can explore the cave.”
Carla’s interest was piqued. “That sounds great.”
“And of course there’s always the advantage of having you to myself in a deep, dark cave.”
