She couldn't keep doing this, smothering who she was. It was slowly eating at her insides, making her an unlikable person – until Tyler came along. She didn't want to keep being secretive, and though she knew the consequences, she'd take baby steps. Lane studied the clothes, seeking classically conservative, instead of startling. She wasn't ready to show the real Elaina yet. A moment later, she grabbed navy slacks, a striped boat-neck shirt and a canvas windbreaker off the rod.
Now, if she could get to the pier on time to see the start of the regatta…
* * *
Tyler glared at Kyle. "I'm trying to feel sympathetic."
"Try harder. I didn't intend to get thrown off the horse, you know."
Kyle had been in the charity rodeo this morning riding a bronco. He'd been tossed off and landed on his arm, which was now in a cast.
"I know this blows our chances in the race."
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not the race, it's the tradition. Without your help, I'm short an experienced deckhand."
"Tyler," Kate said, "I'll sail with you."
Tyler looked at his little sister and smiled tenderly. "Thanks, peanut, but I know how you feel about it. I don't want you scared if it gets hairy out there." Besides, she had a family to think about, and this race was dangerous sometimes.
"Look who I found," a voice called.
Tyler turned, his gaze snapping from his mother to the woman walking beside her. It took a second for recognition to register, and his gaze slid over Lane's body before meeting her gaze. He turned from his siblings and walked toward her. His mother continued on past him to her other children as Tyler stopped, his gaze moving over the slacks that hugged Lane's curves and matched the canvas windbreaker.
"I don't know if I like seeing you dressed like that."
Lane flushed. "How come?"
"Because every man around is going to see what I knew was already there."
"Oh, really?" She felt extraordinarily flattered.
"Yeah, really. Unless they're blind and numb." Her hair was drawn into a ponytail, and he realized it was longer than he'd first thought. And that ponytail made her look fresh and young, and damn sexy. He held her gaze and her hands, leaning forward to brush his mouth over hers. "I thought of you all night," he said.
"You must really be tired, then."
"Nah. Went to sleep with dreams of you shivering in my arms like you did last night."
Heat seeped up her face from her throat. "Tyler, hush. Your family is close enough to hear you." They weren't, but Lane didn't think she could take much more of his pillow talk before she made a fool of herself.
He leaned over, his mouth near her ear. "I look at you and see you like I did then. Damp and incredibly hot. Panting."
Lane felt her heart skip a couple of beats and settle with a slow, hard thud. "Be careful or the whole town's going to know how you feel."
Tyler shifted, his groin responding to her.
She smiled. A smile so sexy and mischievous Tyler felt he'd been let deeper inside her closed world. "I'm glad you came." He glanced back at his brother, then looked at her again. "It might be for nothing, though."
"What's wrong?"
"Kyle broke his arm in the rodeo this morning."
"That's terrible, but why is it a problem for you?"
"He was my partner. I'm short help. Reid's out of town. Kate's afraid of water, though she wouldn't admit to how scared she really is. Mom is … well, too old. It's strenuous."
He turned, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her to the family. Tyler pulled her down beside him on a wooden trunk on the docks. At their back, the sailboat rocked in the water. The other landings were peppered with entrants readying their crafts.
"How about asking Jace Ashbury?" his mother said.
Tyler shook his head and pointed down two piers to one of his oldest friends. "He's racing this year, too. Ah, well," he said, shrugging and standing. "Might as well shut it down and find a seat in the crowd."
"I'm really sorry, Ty." Kyle apologized again.
"No sweat, it's just a race." Despite his disappointment, Tyler wasn't going to make Kyle feel any worse than he was. Tyler stood up, released Lane and headed to the boat, walking up the plank and dropping onto the deck.
"You really want to do this, don't you," Lane called from the dock.
"It's tradition. A McKay has never missed a race in over a hundred years." Tyler started lashing the sails he'd loosened an hour ago.
Lane felt badly for him. He was trying to hide his disappointment. She looked around in indecision. Who was she to let a tradition die?
"I can sail."
Tyler looked at her, then smiled gently. "It's okay, Lane. It's just a race."
She stepped onto the gangplank, standing halfway between the dock and the boat. "McKay, do you want to sail in this race or not?"
"Yes, but I can't take just anyone as a deckhand. Especially someone who doesn't know how to sail."
"But I do know, Captain." Lane pointed to parts of the boat and named them, then to destroy the rest of his doubt, told him which sails she'd work and that the cross wind changed on the river when they met the bridge, so he should be ready for it.
Tyler grinned.
"I think she's serious, Ty," Kyle said from the dock. "I'd take the offer."
Tyler came to the rail, staring into her whiskey-brown eyes. "Why?"
"Because it means so much to you."
Something opened inside him, and he suspected it was the piece of his heart he'd held closed for so long. He smiled and inclined his head for her to come aboard. As she stepped onto the deck, he looked down at her. "Thank you, darlin'." He brushed back a lock of hair that had come loose from the ponytail, watching his moves before meeting her gaze. "Are you ready, Mate?"
"Aye, aye, Captain."
He kissed her quickly, then headed to the bow.
The signal to line up on the water came and they sailed off. Lane's heart pounded, a little sliver of fear working into her. It had been a while since she'd sailed and she didn't want to let Tyler down.
Tyler manned the wheel, the boat engine puttering and taking them to the start line. "You'll have to move fast," he called.
She stood up, her hand on the boom. "Trust me, Tyler. We can do this," she said, and he nodded, his expression serious. She readied herself, and as they approached the line, he cut the engine. The boat rocked as they waited, positioned.
The start gun fired. Tyler unfurled the main sail. The wind, cold and crisp, caught, billowing the bright blue sail, and the boat slid over the water like a razor, gaining speed. Tyler shouted commands and she obeyed. He knew the river and they swept between other boats, neck and neck. It was a fast, hour-long race, the halfway point at the bridge, which was open to accommodate the tall masts. The turnaround just past the bridge would be a telling moment, one that revealed the most likely winner.
Tyler had one of the largest boats, and as she braced her feet and leaned with the heel of the boat, Lane thought he should get a prize for doing this with only the two of them. It was exciting, maddening, and Lane hadn't had this much fun in a long time. They had to make the turnaround quickly, and when she rushed to pull in one sail and let go of another, the boat listed sharply.
"Lane!" Tyler called. "For God's sake, hold on!" She was leaning out over the water, feet braced, rope wrapped in her fists and giving the boat a deep tilt that could put her in the brink.
"I got it!" she yelled. "Just steer!"
He did, his gaze flicking from the open water and her.
"Hey, McKay!" she shouted as the sailboat finished the curve and started to come upright. "Want to win this race?"
Tyler glanced behind, then to her, grinning. "I'll be damned. Come on, baby, let's show them."
They worked in tandem, as if they'd done this a thousand times together. Lane was fast, ducking booms and handling the sheets, stretching her muscles to the limit. The crowd roared, the sound only a growling whi
sper over the snapping sails and the rush of water.
Another boat pulled alongside them, barely half a length behind. Tyler glanced for a second, then looked at Lane. It was his friend, Jace. Lane took in the sail positions and wind direction for a split second, then pulled the sheet for the main sail. They shot out in front and crossed the finish line a whole length ahead.
The spectators shrieked.
Lane quickly locked down the sail.
Tyler was there, grabbing her in a hard embrace. "We did it! You were magnificent!"
His excitement spilled into her and she leaned back, meeting his gaze. Her smile was bright. "Nothing like breaking a bad streak, huh?"
"Thanks, Lane." He kissed her hard, and when he finally drew back, she was breathless, the chill leaving her skin.
"You sailed, too, you know."
"Yeah, but that last minute there, I thought Jace would take us."
Jace sailed past, saluting them, and Tyler waved, grinning hugely. He looked down at Lane, ridiculously pleased she'd helped him.
"It's a new day, you know."
"Yes," she said warily. Ask me tomorrow, she'd said last night.
"Come to the Winter Ball with me."
She stared up at him and couldn't disappoint him. He was so happy right now, and she wanted so much to shed the skin she'd been hiding in for so long and be who she really was. Tyler had peeled away layers and liked what he saw, and that gave Lane the confidence she needed.
"Yes, I'll go with you."
He grinned, a sappy smile. "Good. It's formal, remember."
"I think I can manage to scrounge up something suitable."
He pressed his forehead to hers. "Thanks, baby. What do you say we dock this thing and enjoy our new celebrity status."
Lane paled and her smile disintegrated. She looked down at the dock before he'd notice. Oh, no. She'd forgotten that the winner would be in the papers.
Front page. Statewide.
Wonderful. And when he let her go to secure the craft, she looked toward the pier. The press was already running to the end of the docks to the slip.
How was she supposed to hide from that without hurting Tyler?
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
Lane had turned her face away from the camera and hoped Tyler didn't notice. She answered a couple of questions from reporters, but when they got personal, she'd slipped from Tyler's side to let the town golden boy have his limelight. It wasn't every day someone broke a hundred-year-old losing streak.
While the press snapped pictures, Lane headed toward home, only to be called back into the McKay fold by his mother. And sister and brother. Then Tyler. It was clear she wasn't getting out of joining them for the charity football game this afternoon, then the beach barbecue afterward.
Lane admitted she didn't want to spend the rest of the day alone. She wanted to spend it with Tyler. Changing into warmer clothes for the afternoon, Lane showed up at the field and was welcomed like an old friend. It touched her that these people were so open with friendships, and she hated the thought of any of them learning that she'd been hiding her true identity. She focused on the field in time to learn Tyler's number and watch him get tackled by boys the size of tanks.
Lane winced as Tyler landed with a thud. "That's going to hurt tomorrow," she said, and beside her, Laura laughingly agreed.
His family wasn't like hers. Oh, hers was big and loud and loving sometimes, but the McKays were actually more friends than siblings. Lane's own brothers would be in hot competition in a game like this, trying to steal the show and not play as a team. She supposed it was because they each felt, in his own way, that he had to shake the Giovanni name and be something on his own, something that had nothing to do with the winery, much to her father's disappointment. But then, the McKay children seemed comfortable with their heritage. Go figure.
A few minutes later Tyler was tackled again. He didn't get up from the ground quite as fast as the last time. Lane was out of her seat, worried, till he finally climbed to his feet and limped to the bench. After another play, the game was over, the alumni suffering a shameful loss to the younger players.
Tyler approached the stands, motioning for Lane to come to him. She trotted down the bleachers, feeling young and excited. It was silly of course; she was thirty, after all. But just the same she felt like a high-school cheerleader with the captain of the football team. Sweaty and covered with black mud, he smiled down at her, pulling off his helmet.
"I have about five seconds before I collapse in a heap and embarrass myself," he confessed.
She smiled tenderly. "You're hiding it splendidly."
"Good. I'm going to put my arm around you and pretend I'm not leaning on you for support."
She laughed and let him, saying goodbye to his family, then walked with him to the parking lot. She'd walked from her shop, her own car repaired and sitting in the small garage beside her house.
When Tyler stopped beside a big SUV and keyed in the lock code, she frowned. "What happened to the sports car?"
"I traded it in."
The SUV was cherry-red and huge. Lane couldn't imagine driving it without scraping other cars. "Why? I thought you liked the little silver car."
He shrugged. "Outgrew it, I guess." The truth was, since he'd met Lane, Tyler had started looking to the future, and the sports car was impractical. For the first time in three years, he'd considered marriage and a family. And there was a woman he wanted both with.
He frowned as he stripped off the shirt and shoulder pads, then pulled on an old college sweatshirt. When he'd been at the dealership to pick up the repaired car, it seemed right to choose something big enough for a family, not one man who was getting too old to be playing the field. And who didn't want to anymore, anyway. He glanced at Lane. So why wasn't he afraid of getting hurt again?
"Good grief, Tyler, your hand. It looks broken." Gently she grasped his hand, examining the scrapes and swollen finger. "This needs ice right now. Come back to my place."
"Mine's closer and I have to shower and change. Hop in." When she hesitated, a challenge lit his eyes. "Afraid to be alone with me?"
"Of course not. But I'm driving. With that hand, you'll likely crash this car, too."
Grinning, he handed her the keys and climbed in the passenger side, giving her directions as she backed out and into traffic. She drove the three blocks to his place, and he groaned like a wounded soldier getting out of the SUV. He still managed to get his cleats off before leading her inside. "Make yourself at home."
She glanced around the sparsely furnished house. It looked as if no one lived here, only visited. She met his gaze. "How about some coffee?" she asked.
"If you can find some – I haven't had the time to shop since the festival started." Tiredly, he mounted the staircase.
"Remember this moment when you want to play ball with teenagers again, McKay," she called to him.
"Your sympathy is touching, darlin'."
"I try." Poor baby, he was moaning with each lift of his foot. She almost offered help, but then turned away and explored his house, liking the design and hating the decor. There was nothing really there to make a statement, and it showed her that Tyler was rarely home and rarely enjoyed it. She put on a small pot of coffee, found mugs and heard the shower running about the time the brewing finished.
A little voice inside her said, take it to him. Another said, Careful. He's up there naked and wet. Near a bed.
Leaning against the counter, Lane sipped her coffee, debating on whether or not to remain here or go find him. Thoughts of last night in his arms stirred through her mind, calling back images and feelings. The feelings topped the charts, and her breasts tightened inside her lace bra and sent the sensation low in her belly. She admitted she hadn't stood a chance from the moment he'd crashed into her car. She was falling in love with Tyler McKay. The impact of that made her heart ache, suddenly and sharply. She had to tell him the truth.
But s
he couldn't bring herself to destroy what was growing so strongly between them. Carrying on a silent debate in her mind, she walked through the sparsely decorated house, ending at the foot of the staircase, two cups in her hands and an ice bag tucked under her arm. With a deep breath, she climbed the stairs, listening for the sound of the shower, and was amazed to find four rooms on the second floor. Steam lingered in the air and she followed it, nudging open the bedroom door.
A lavish, four-poster rice bed dominated a room with dark mahogany furnishings and textured fabrics. She imagined them in that grand bed, skin to skin, Tyler hovering over her before he pushed himself inside her. Her insides clamped tight and heat spiraled through her. He was under her skin, tucked in her heart. And when she looked at the open bathroom door, the sound of water and the roll of steam coming toward her, she knew exactly what she was doing. It was time to stop running. From life, from Tyler. Setting the mugs and ice bag aside, she moved to the doorway, watching him.
He had his hands braced on the tile wall, his head down as the spray hit his muscled back, and through the clear glass she studied every glorious inch of him. And there was a lot of him to see. He tipped his head back into the spray and she moved into his line of vision.
He went still, his gaze clashing with hers as the spray beat down on him.
She smiled.
He shut the water off, then reached for the black towel slung over the top of the door. He barely dried his face and chest before wrapping the towel around his waist.
He pushed open the door. "You came up here because you wanted to," Tyler said, fighting an intense need to drag her into his arms. Her being here, now, sent a clear message.
"Yes."
He stepped out. "Do I need to ask you if you're sure?"
"No. You don't." She removed her glasses and tipped her head. "How about you?"
"Oh, darlin'," he growled, taking a step closer. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you here." From the start, he thought. From the moment he first kissed her and felt her holding back, hiding.
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