Risky Business by Nora Roberts Page A

adding charm to an oval, tanned face. If it hadn’t been for the eyes, Jonas would never have connected the child with Liz. They were richly, deeply brown, slightly tilted. Still, they laughed out of the photo, open and trusting, holding none of the secrets of her mother’s.
    “This is your daughter.”
    “Yes.” Liz slipped on the second shoe before taking the photo out of Jonas’s hand and setting it down again.
    “How old is she?”
    “Ten. Can we get started? I don’t want to be out late.”
    “Ten?” A bit stunned, Jonas stopped her with a look. He’d assumed Faith was half that age, a product of a relationship Liz had fallen into while on the island. “You can’t have a ten-year-old child.”
    Liz glanced down at the picture of her daughter. “I do have a ten-year-old child.”
    “You’d have been a child yourself.”
    “No. No, I wasn’t.” She started to leave again, and again he stopped her.
    “Was she born before you came here?”
    Liz gave him a long, neutral look. “She was born six months after I moved to Cozumel. If you want my help, Jonas, we go now. Answering questions about Faith isn’t part of our arrangement.”
    But he didn’t let go of her hand. As it could become so unexpectedly, his voice was gentle. “He was a bastard, wasn’t he?”
    She met his eyes without wavering. Her lips curved, but not with humor. “Yes. Oh yes, he was.”
    Without knowing why he was compelled to, Jonas bent and just brushed her lips with his. “Your daughter’s lovely, Elizabeth. She has your eyes.”
    She felt herself softening again, too much, too quickly. There was understanding in his voice without pity. Nothing could weaken her more. In defense she took a step back. “Thank you. Now we have to go. I have to be up early tomorrow.”
     
    The first club they hit was noisy and crowded with a high percentage of American clientele. In a corner booth, a man in a tight white T-shirt spun records on a turntable and announcedeach selection with a display of colored lights. They ordered a quick meal in addition to drinks while Jonas hoped someone would have a reaction to his face.
    “Luis said they came in here a lot because Jerry liked hearing American music.” Liz nibbled on hot nachos as she looked around. It wasn’t the sort of place she normally chose to spend an evening. Tables were elbow to elbow, and the music was pitched to a scream. Still, the crowd seemed good-natured enough, shouting along with the music or just shouting to each other. At the table beside them a group of people experimented with a bottle of tequila and a bowl of lemon wedges. Since they were a group of young gringos, she assumed they’d be very sick in the morning.
    It was definitely Jerry’s milieu, Jonas decided. Loud, just this side of wild and crammed to the breaking point. “Did Luis say if he spoke with anyone in particular?”
    “Women.” Liz smiled a bit as she sampled a tortilla. “Luis was very impressed with Jerry’s ability to…interest the ladies.”
    “Any particular lady?”
    “Luis said there was one, but Jerry just called her baby.”
    “An old trick,” Jonas said absently.
    “Trick?”
    “If you call them all baby, you don’t mix up names and complicate the situation.”
    “I see.” She sipped her wine and found it had a delicate taste.
    “Could Luis describe her?”
    “Only that she was a knockout—a Mexican knockout, if that helps. She had lots of hair and lots of hip. Luis’s words,” Liz added when Jonas gave her a mild look. “He also said there were a couple of men Jerry talked to a few times, but he always went over to them, so Luis didn’t know what they spoke about. One was American, one was Mexican. Since Luis was moreinterested in the ladies, he didn’t pay any attention. But he did say Jerry would cruise the bars until he met up with them, then he’d usually call it a night.”
    “Did he meet them here?”
    “Luis said it never seemed to be in the same place