"I'm Abigail."

"Nice to meet you. Libby and I have a date tonight. She's late."

"I wouldn't be late if everyone would stop coming into the bathroom. Get out. All of you. This dating business isn't as easy as it looks."

"She's cranky," Hannah said to her sisters. "Let's let her get dressed. Jonas can tell us why he thinks someone tried to hurt Libby."

"Good idea," Tyson said. "If there was an attempt on her life, I'd like to know about it."

"Libby!" Sarah said. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I'm getting a headache," Libby wailed, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. "And if I don't dry my hair it's going to frizz."

"Libby," Sarah insisted.

"Jonas doesn't know for certain. The cliff sort of crumbled and it just happened."

"I've seen you with your hair frizzy," Ty said. "It wasn't that bad. More like frothy fuzz than if you stuck your finger in a light socket. Just throw on some clothes so we can go. And I was with Libby when the cliff crumbled. Erosion, pure and simple."

"When did my hair look like frothy fuzz?" Libby demanded.

Hannah signaled frantically, but Ty frowned at the ceiling, missing her gestures completely. "Several times. The most memorable was when you arrived ten minutes late to Dr. Chang's cla.s.s and slammed the door, interrupting his lecture. He would have thrown anyone else out, but not the royal princess, Libby Drake. Your hair was wild and you were wearing jeans with a frayed hem and a hole in the right back pocket. Your shirt was two sizes too big and you had it knotted around your waist."

Libby pointed to the door. "Get out. Get out right now."

"I'm rather impressed he remembered every detail of what you were wearing when it was several years ago," Sarah said.

"You get out, too," Libby said. "My hair is not wild." She glared at everyone until they filed out. As soon as the door closed, she pulled the towel from her hair and stared at her image in the mirror. Her hair was wild, but it wasn't her fault. She needed to tame it the moment she was out of the shower. And she still had those jeans. They were her all-time favorite. She'd even thought about wearing them to dinner, but now she'd have to find something else. The water had washed away the dirt, but she still had a racc.o.o.n mask from her sungla.s.ses and her nose was bright red. Libby sighed and gave up. There was no miraculously saving the evening. Ty had already seen her as she really was.

Chapter Six.

"THE Chinese ideogram for trouble symbolizes two women living under one roof. What do you suppose the ideogram for seven women under one roof is?" Tyson asked as he broke off a piece of freshly baked bread.

"Joy," Libby answered immediately. "I like this place. I come here sometimes with my sisters. The food is excellent." She tried to relax, to just breathe and not blurt out that she didn't date much and was terribly uncomfortable. He'd probably laugh at her. She flew all over the world and exuded complete confidence in every area of her life except her personal one. The truth was, she had no idea why she was sitting across the table from Tyson Derrick.

"I knew you liked the restaurant."

She sat back in her chair and regarded him over the flickering candle. The shadows on his face emphasized his good looks, the stubborn set to his jaw and the sensual shape of his mouth. He wore a dark jacket over a blue shirt and faded blue jeans rather than slacks. Libby thought he looked incredible. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"People have a tendency to talk about your family."

Libby set her gla.s.s down and looked him directly in the eye. There was something about the way he said it, his tone, a curl of his lip, maybe even contempt in his gaze. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "Your family likes publicity. I think that's common knowledge."

She stiffened. "I am not going to sit with you and have dinner while you make disparaging remarks about my family. I can leave right now if you'd like."

"Don't be silly, Libby. You're too sensitive when it comes to your family. Of course people talk about them. Hannah is a supermodel. Her face is everywhere. Joley sells out every concert. If she makes a CD, it sells over a million copies immediately and hits number one on the charts. She wins every music award possible. Kate's books are bestsellers and stay on the Times list for weeks."

"That's only three of us, Ty. I'm a doctor, Sarah does security and Abigail is a marine biologist."

"And Elle? She does seem to manage to fly under the radar."

Libby's gaze shifted away from his. "Elle programs computers."

Tyson smiled at her. "Don't ever try to play poker, Libby. The point is, all of you are well known, whether you like it or not. Doesn't going into the music industry or modeling or even writing books demonstrate a need for attention?"

"No." She glared at him. "Joley plays music because it's who she is. She happened to get lucky and make it big, but that's beside the point. She was born to make music and Kate has to write. She'd be writing whether she was published or not. Abigail loves the ocean and sea life. I needed to help people." She leaned her chin into her palm. "What about you? Why do you work in a laboratory and fly rescues in helicopters?"

His eyebrow shot up. "You don't think it's for humanitarian reasons?"

"No. I think you're very removed from the human race most of the time, Ty. That's part of the reason you don't understand my family."

The waiter placed the plates in front of them and Tyson waited for him to leave before he sat back in his chair and regarded her through half closed eyes. "I suppose I am. I wish I could tell you I find cures for various diseases because I want to help mankind, but I'm just not that nice."

He wanted to lie to her, to give her an answer that would make her admire him, but he wasn't about to deceive her. Her entire life was built around a deception and those closest to her continued to perpetuate it. He loved looking at her, sitting across from her watching the shadows play across her face, and it suddenly occurred to him that he should exercise a little diplomacy-an art he'd never bothered to learn.

Libby studied his face. There was an expression in his eyes, hunger, desire, longing, she couldn't describe it exactly but she knew he hadn't wanted to tell her the truth. "You aren't as bad as you think you are. You've done a lot of good, Ty."

"For selfish reasons."

She shook her head. "Is it selfish of Joley to need to play music? Or Kate to write books? You do what you do because your nature demands it. You have to find answers. You were driven in college and you still are as an adult."

Deep inside his gut twisted and a vise seemed to squeeze his heart. She was so nonjudgmental, accepting his need, the furious compulsions that drove him, that kept him in his laboratory for weeks and months. The need was so strong and he was so focused at times he had complete tunnel vision, uncaring of his own health or the needs of the people around him. No one, not even Sam, had ever understood his relentless pursuit of science let alone simply accepted it as being integral to his nature.

He was all too aware of her sitting across from him. Desire spread like fire, leaping through his body, igniting every nerve ending until he was acutely aware of every breath she took. His mind captured and stored every detail, the way she turned her head, the way her hair fell like tousled silk around her shoulders so that he needed to feel it against his skin. Everything about her intrigued him-and it always had.

He took a sip of wine and allowed his gaze to drift over her with infinite slowness. He could look at her forever. It was silly, really, how much he loved looking at her. He'd discovered the pastime in college when he was bored with his cla.s.ses. She was so transparent, expressions chasing across her face, her eyes lighting up when she laughed-and there was her mouth. He loved her mouth, the way her lips were full and turned up at the corners. The way she could look s.e.xy with her hair a mess, no makeup and in jeans, like now. Who else could do that? He had a sudden impulse to lean over and kiss her. The taste of her still lingered in his mouth-and mind, making him edgy with need.

"You're staring at me, Ty." Embarra.s.sed, Libby lifted a hand to cover her sunburned nose. She couldn't wear dark gla.s.ses at night and not be conspicuous so he was probably staring at the white racc.o.o.n mask around her eyes.

"Am I?" He had fantasized about her a million times, but he'd never once thought she would be sitting across the table from him looking shy and confused, a soft rose color creeping up her neck to draw attention to her soft skin. "I like looking at you."

"That's a nice thing to say. Thank you."

"You're welcome. How much do you know about voodoo?"

"Voodoo?" Suddenly wary, Libby retreated, pulling back away from him. "I know a little bit. Why?"

"I just find things interesting and voodoo is a practice with thousands of believers even today. It's total bunk, of course, but the people who practice it are so fanatical they can actually present genuine physical symptoms or even die when they believe they're cursed. It goes to show how powerful our minds are."

She nodded her head in agreement. "I've seen women who want to be pregnant so badly that they manifest all the signs. The brain is extraordinary."

"The witch doctor holds tremendous power over his believers and yet in the end, instead of benefiting his followers, he dupes them. When you get right down to it, he's nothing but a con artist."

"Not all of them, Ty. Many of the witch doctors I've met actually do practice natural medicine and have an extensive knowledge of herbs."

"I'll bet they do. Herbs and poisons. That's how voodoo priestesses gained the reputation for raising the dead and creating zombies to use as slaves. The truth is, they gave their victims a potent c.o.c.ktail consisting of neurotoxins such as the poison of an adder fish, which is one of the strongest nerve poisons known to man."

Libby nodded. "The clinical drug Norcuron has similar effects and is used in surgery to relax the patient's muscles. The poison from the pufferfish would cause severe neurological damage primarily affecting the left side of the brain which controls the speech, memory and motor skills. The victim becomes lethargic and then seems to die. By the way, he's still awake to witness his own funeral and burial."

"You haven't by chance performed this ceremony have you?" Ty asked.

She smirked at him. "Along with the pufferfish poison, the potion contains gland sections from the bouga toad, which basically are the drugs bufogenin and bufotoxin. The compounds are fifty to one hundred times more potent than digitalis and are essential ingredients, for making a zombie. The secretions also contain bufotenine, which is a hallucinogen."

"So not only do you know your drugs, but you know how to make a zombie."

Libby smiled at him. "Like you, I find quite a few subjects fascinating."

Tyson let his breath out slowly. She wasn't getting the correlation between the witch doctor and her family. She was extremely intelligent, but like the pract.i.tioners of voodoo, she had grown up completely brainwashed.

"Don't you find it the least bit embarra.s.sing as a doctor to have to explain your family to other people?"

He asked so casually at first she barely registered what he'd said. When the words sunk in, Libby had to resist the urge to throw her ice water over him. "You think my family is embarra.s.sing! Have you considered that maybe for all your brains you are the stupidest, most socially inept person in the world when it comes to understanding people? I am not in the least embarra.s.sed about my family or what all of us do."

"You're angry, aren't you? There's no need to get upset, Libby. We're just having a casual conversation. Why do women always take things personally?"

"Calling my family embarra.s.sing is personal."

Tyson moved food around on his plate before forking a piece of chicken while he contemplated the situation. He chewed slowly, a faint frown on his face. If he was going to get her to use her brain and see her family for what it was, he was going to have to go a lot slower. She was intensely loyal, a great trait, but one that would be a severe impairment to his plan. "I never said I found your family embarra.s.sing. I simply asked if you did. You were the one getting personal saying I was socially inept. As for being stupid, the charge is ludicrous and I won't even address it." He took a sip of wine and regarded her over the gla.s.s.

"In answer to your question, I'm well aware I lack social skills. And for your information, my parents were embarra.s.sed by me all the time, so much so that they foisted me off on poor Sam and my Aunt Ida. Can you imagine what it was like for Sam to have me in school in the same cla.s.ses with him? I was several years younger, a total geek and a nerd. I completely embarra.s.sed him more than once and I still do."

Libby couldn't break away from his piercing gaze. There was no self-pity in his voice, he stated only fact. She was an empath, and whether he knew it or not-and she doubted he did-there was an underlying sadness in Tyson when he spoke of his parents. He was talking about his past and what had been painful, and still was, yet there was such longing in his eyes.

"You're right." She was ashamed of herself for jumping down his throat. Had anyone else said what Tyson had just said, she'd have known they meant to be insulting, but Tyson didn't think that way. In his mind, she was certain he thought he was being logical, separating the issues and comparing them to his own life. "I jumped to conclusions. I'm sure your parents weren't embarra.s.sed by you, Ty. As children we often draw incorrect conclusions about why our parents do things."

His eyebrow shot up. She had a thing for his eyebrow, black as a raven's wing, drawing attention to the intensity of his blue eyes.

"You sound like one of the twenty-seven psychiatrists my parents sent me to. They wanted to find out what was wrong with me, why I wasn't normal."

She sat up straighten. She could feel his pain, buried so deep he truly wasn't aware of it. "Ty, they didn't really send you to twenty-seven psychiatrists, did they?" She ached for him, for that never understood little boy.

"Absolutely they did. They wanted me to be normal. I think it was great to talk about having a genius for a son, but it was something altogether different living with one. I talked about things they had no interest in or understanding of. They told me many times I was a great embarra.s.sment to them for my antisocial behavior."

She pressed her lips together to keep from expressing sympathy, knowing he wouldn't want it. She had wonderful parents who doted on her all the time. Her sisters were loving and supportive and her aunts and uncles and cousins were the same. She couldn't imagine parents not wanting a child around or saying mean, hurtful things to their only son. Tears clogged her throat, shimmered in her eyes.

"Don't look so sad, Libby," Ty said. He reached out to run a finger down her cheek, tracing the path of a tear. "I didn't even notice after a while. I had other things to occupy my mind. I think I obsessed over their opinion of me when I was around seven or eight, but then I just accepted the fact that I was different and they weren't going to change and neither was I. Once I realized it, I moved on to the things I was really interested in. And I had Aunt Ida. She may not have really understood me, but she loved me and she always wanted me. She gave me the entire bas.e.m.e.nt for a laboratory. I was in heaven. My parents didn't want me messing with chemicals or anything that could possibly blow anything up. Aunt Ida encouraged me. After a while I wanted to stay here in Sea Haven with her. It was just easier."

"But you didn't," Libby said.

"No, my parents would drag me back every now and then so we'd look good for some write-up in a magazine. They tried, don't get me wrong, they wanted to be great parents, but they just didn't understand how to parent me."

"I didn't hear about their death until recently. What happened?"

"A plane crash. It was a couple of years ago. I still haven't sorted everything out. The estate was overwhelming. I hide in the laboratory and try to forget about it most of the time. I know I've got to deal with it, but it's just not a priority for me. Sam and I had a talk about it a couple of weeks ago. He took care of most of the details for me and has been overseeing a lot of things, but I can't keep expecting him to do it. He has a life, too, and sorting out the estate is a full-time job."

"You're very close to your cousin, aren't you?"

"He's more of a brother than a cousin. He tries to understand me just the way my aunt did." A small grin spread across his face, softening the hard lines that were etched in his face, making him appear almost boyish. "Tries being the operative word. He's given up trying to double-date with me. He says I'm abrasive."

"Imagine that."

He shrugged. "I get bored easily with inane conversation. I try to keep my mouth shut and just listen but after a while I can't take it and I have to leave. I see it as the lesser of two evils, but unfortunately, my dates don't agree."

"You don't sound like that bothers you very much."

He ducked his head. "Not especially. I wish it did. I want it to. I just can't seem to dredge up the effort to care what people think of me."

"Not even for Sam?"

He sat back in his chair, fiddling with the stem of the winegla.s.s, frowning a little as he thought about it. "No. Sam doesn't need me to be charming. We don't move in the same circles most of the time. He has his life and I have mine. Even when we're sharing the house, I'm mostly in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"You bring your work home," she guessed. "You take the time off, but you're still working."

"I can't let it go for long. I start thinking about things and then I have to experiment. Sam's used to me disappearing. He's the one that always looks after things, pays the bills, keeps the refrigerator stocked, but recently I realized what a burden I was putting on him and decided to get a full-time accountant. I'm trying to take some of the pressure off of him, to a.s.sume more of the responsibility."

"Sam? He's always so-" Libby paused, searching for the right word. Did Sam ever appear anything but charming? Certainly not pressured. "Laid back? Easygoing? I heard you shared your inheritance with him. That was generous of you."

He laughed. "Generous of me? The money doesn't mean anything at all to me. Half the time I forget it's there. Sam shared his mother and his house with me. The money is nothing compared to that, Libby."

She heard the complete honesty in his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the money had belonged to his parents, or that he was quite capable of making his own very good living, or maybe it was just his character, but she believed him-and she admired him. There was a lot more to Tyson than she'd ever thought.

"Why do you go parasailing and fight fires and find the wildest river to raft down? What drives you to do that?"

"I want to feel alive."

"Doesn't it bother you that you risk your bril-" She bit off what she was going to say. "That you risk your mind?"

His smile touched his eyes, warmed them to a deep blue. And there was too much heat in his smile. It was sensual and set the blood pounding in her veins.

"You were going to say brilliant, Libby. See? You did call me brilliant, didn't you? In the hospital."

His smile was so s.e.xy. Everything about him was s.e.xy, especially when he was teasing her. "I'm sure I didn't. You made the entire conversation up. I didn't say yes to a date at all."

"You really don't remember anything?"

"Bits and pieces. What about you?" She was curious as to what he did remember of that day.

"The rescue. Falling. It's all a little hazy. I don't remember much until I was in the hospital. I swear I saw Joe Fields there. He was standing in the corridor, but if he was really there, why didn't he come in and talk to me?"

"Who's Joe Fields?"