“So, now we keep an eye on him,” Teo said after the server left. “In a minute I’m going to move beside you, like I can’t stand to be this far away.”

“Were it only true.”

“It is, but making eyes at each other isn’t the reason we’re here, right?”

“What if he leaves?”

“He went behind the bar. What’s he doing now?”

“Talking to one of the bartenders.” I smiled at Teo, as if he’d said something funny.

“Okay, I’m coming around. Pretend you’re thrilled.”

“I’m so good at pretending.” I sat back and focused on him, a slight smile, eyes sparkling. None of it was hard.

Teo pulled his chair around and took my hand and kissed it, cuddling beside me. “Now we can both keep an eye on him,” he said, his mouth against my ear. “What’s he doing?”

“Looks like he’s mixing drinks.”

“I bet he’ll be there until the bar closes.”

“Are we going to stay awake that long?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

An hour passed. As impossible as it seemed, I was hungry again. We ordered a platter of fresh vegetables, crackers and cheese. I fed Teo bites from the platter, and kissed him in between.

“Keep that up and we might need to adjourn to our room,” Teo said.

Kearns had been conversing with patrons at the bar as he served. Suddenly he came out from behind. “He’s leaving. Are we going to follow him?”

“Not yet.” Teo was watching, too. As we both looked on, Kearns began to visit tables, spending a minute or more at each one.

“Customer satisfaction survey,” I said. “But he’ll be over here before long.”

“It he asks where we’re from, don’t say Seabank.”

“Delray Beach,” I said.

“Fine. Me, too.”

“Honeymooners?” I wiggled my eyebrows.

He held up his hand. “No ring.”

“Just lovers, then.”

“Just?”

I laughed. “Lovers on fire?”

“Tell him we’re here to relax. And then look at me the way you did this afternoon.”

“How hard will that be?”

His laughter rumbled through my body in all the places it was meant to.

We studiously ignored Kearns, but we didn’t converse, afraid, even without consulting each other, that he’d think he was interrupting. As we sipped and listened to the guitarist, he finally made it to our table. I looked up and smiled, but mentally I was checking his features against the ones in the mug shot. He was definitely our man.

“How are you enjoying this beautiful evening?” Alexander Milton Kearns had a nice smile and an open, friendly face, although he was built like a bouncer, not a bartender. With his reddish hair and freckles, he looked like a product of Ireland, but I knew from a little research that Ticos, the name for native Costa Ricans, came from a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds.

“You sound like you’re from the United States.” I held out my hand. “I’m Rose, and this is my friend Matt.”

If Teo was surprised at our new names, he didn’t show it. “Great place here,” Teo said, offering his hand, too.