by Nora Roberts
“To get more chalk dust under your fingernails.”
She sat back slowly. “You have no right to criticize my profession.”
“I’m sure the chalk’s very exclusive at Yale,” Ky commented. “So you’re giving yourself six weeks or so to find a pot of gold.”
“If my father’s calculations are viable, it won’t take that long.”
“If,” Ky repeated. Setting down his bottle, he leaned forward. “I’ve got no timetable. You want six weeks of my time, you can have it. For a price.”
“Which is?”
“A hundred dollars a day and fifty percent of whatever we find.”
Kate gave him a cool look as she slipped the notebooks back into her briefcase. “Whatever I was four years ago, Ky, I’m not a fool now. A hundred dollars a day is outrageous when we’re dealing with monthly rates. And fifty percent is out of the question.” It gave her a certain satisfaction to bargain with him. This made it business, pure and simple. “I’ll give you fifty dollars a day and ten percent.”
With the maddening half grin on his face he swirled the beer in the bottle. “I don’t turn my boat on for fifty a day.”
She tilted her head a bit to study him. Something tore inside him. She’d often done that whenever he said something she wanted to think over. “You’re more mercenary than you once were.”
“We’ve all got to make a living, professor.” Didn’t she feel anything? he thought furiously. Wasn’t she suffering just a little, being in the house where they’d made love their first and last time? “You want a service,” he said quietly, “you pay for it. Nothing’s free. Seventy-five a day and twenty-five percent. We’ll say it’s for old-times’ sake.”
“No, we’ll say it’s for business’ sake.” She made herself extend her hand, but when his closed over it, she regretted the gesture. It was callused, hard, strong. Kate knew how his hand felt skimming over her skin, driving her to desperation, soothing, teasing, seducing.
“We have a deal.” Ky thought he could see a flash of remembrance in her eyes. He kept her hand in his knowing she didn’t welcome his touch. Because she didn’t. “There’s no guarantee you’ll find your treasure.”
“That’s understood.”
“Fine. I’ll deduct your father’s deposit from the total.”
“All right.” With her free hand, she clutched at her briefcase. “When do we start?”
“Meet me at the harbor at eight tomorrow.” Deliberately, he placed his other free hand over hers on the leather case. “Leave this with me. I want to look over the papers some more.”
“There’s no need for you to have them,” Kate began, but his hands tightened on hers.
“If you don’t trust me with them, you take them along.” His voice was very smooth and very quiet. At its most dangerous. “And find yourself another diver.”
Their gazes locked. Her hands were trapped and so was she. Kate knew there would be sacrifices she’d have to make. “I’ll meet you at eight.”
“Fine.” He released her hands and sat back. “Nice doing business with you, Kate.”
Dismissed, she rose. Just how much had she sacrificed already? she wondered. “Goodbye.”
He lifted and drained his half-finished beer when the screen shut behind her. Then he made himself sit there until he was certain that when he rose and walked to the window she’d be out of sight. He made himself sit there until the air flowing through the screens had carried her scent away.
Sunken ships and deep-sea treasure. It would have excited him, captured his imagination, enthusiasm and interest if he hadn’t had an overwhelming urge to just get in his boat and head toward the horizon. He hadn’t believed she could still affect him that way, that much, that completely. He’d forgotten that just being within touching distance of her tied his stomach in knots.
He’d never gotten over her. No matter what he filled his life with over the past four years, he’d never gotten over the slim, intellectual woman with the haughty face and doe’s eyes.
Ky sat, staring at the briefcase with her initials stamped discreetly near the handle. He’d never expected her to come back, but he’d just discovered he’d never accepted the fact that she’d left him. Somehow, he’d managed to deceive himself through the years. Now, seeing her again, he knew it had just been a matter of pure survival and nothing to do with truth. He’d had to go on, to pretend that that part of his life was behind him, or he would have gone mad.
She was back now, but she hadn’t come back to him. A business arrangement. Ky ran his hand over the smooth leather of the case. She simply wanted the best diver she knew and was willing to pay for him. Fee for services, nothing more, nothing less. The past meant little or nothing to her.
Fury grew until his knuckles whitened around the bottle. He’d give her what she paid for, he promised himself. And maybe a bit extra.
This time when she went away, he wouldn’t be left feeling like an inadequate fool. She’d be the one who would have to go on pretending for the rest of her life. This time when she went away, he’d be done with her. God, he’d have to be.
Rising quickly, he went out to the shed. If he stayed inside, he’d give in to the need to get very, very drunk.
CHAPTER 3
Kate had the water in the tub so hot that the mirror over the white pedestal sink was fogged. Oil floated on the surface, subtly fragrant and soothing. She’d lost track of how long she lay there—soaking, recharging. The next irrevocable step had been taken. She’d survived. Somehow during her discussion with Ky in his kitchen she had fought back the memories of laughter and passion. She couldn’t count how many meals they’d shared there, cooking their catch, sipping wine.
Somehow during the walk back to her hotel, she’d overcome the need to weep. Tomorrow would be just a little easier. Tomorrow, and every day that followed. She had to believe it.
His animosity would help. His derision toward her kept Kate from romanticizing what she had to tell herself had never been more than a youthful summer fling. Perspective. She’d always been able to stand back and align everything in its proper perspective.
Perhaps her feelings for Ky weren’t as dead as she had hoped or pretended they were. But her emotions were tinged with bitterness. Only a fool asked for more sorrow. Only a romantic believed that bitterness could ever be sweet. It had been a long time since Kate had been a romantic fool. Even so, they would work together because both had an interest in what might be lying on the sea floor.
Think of it. Two hundred and fifty years. Kate closed her eyes and let her mind drift. The silks and sugar would be gone, but would they find brass fittings deep in corrosion after two-and-a-half centuries? The hull would be covered with fungus and barnacles, but how much of the oak would still be intact? Might the log have been secured in a waterproof hold and still be legible? It could be donated to a museum in her father’s name. It would be something—the last something she could do for him. Perhaps then she’d be able to lay all her ambiguous feelings to rest.
The gold, Kate thought as she rose from the tub, the gold would survive. She wasn’t immune to the lure of it. Yet she knew it would be the hunt that would be exciting, and somehow fulfilling. If she found it…
What would she do? Kate wondered. She dropped the hotel towel over the rod before she wrapped herself in her robe. Behind her, the mirror was still fogged with steam from the water that drained slowly from the tub. Would she put her share tidily in some conservative investments? Would she take a leisurely trip to the Greek islands to see what Byron had seen and fallen in love with there? With a laugh, Kate walked through to the other room to pick up her brush. Strange, she hadn’t thought beyond the search yet. Perhaps that was for the best, it wasn’t wise to plan too far ahead.
You always had a problem seeing beyond the moment.
Damn him! With a sudden fury, Kate slammed the brush onto the dresser. She’d seen beyond the moment. She’d seen that he’d offered her no more than a tentative affair in a run-
down beach shack. No guarantees, no commitment, no future. She only thanked God she’d had enough of her senses left to understand it and to walk away from what was essentially nothing at all. She’d never let Ky know just how horribly it had hurt to walk away from nothing at all.
Her father had been right to quietly point out the weaknesses in Ky, and her obligation to herself and her chosen profession. Ky’s lack of ambition, his careless attitude toward the future weren’t qualities, but flaws. She’d had a responsibility, and by accepting it had given herself independence and satisfaction.
Calmer, she picked up her brush again. She was dwelling on the past too much. It was time to stop. With the deft movements of habit, she secured her hair into a sleek twist. From this time on, she’d think only of what was to come, not what had, or might have been.
She needed to get out.
With panic just under the surface, Kate pulled a dress out of her closet. It no longer mattered that she was tired, that all she really wanted to do was to crawl into bed and let her mind and body rest. Nerves wouldn’t permit it. She’d go across the street, have a drink with Linda and Marsh. She’d see their baby, have a long, extravagant dinner. When she came back to the hotel, alone, she’d make certain she’d be too tired for dreams.
Tomorrow, she had work to do.
Because she dressed quickly, Kate arrived at the Roost just past six. What she saw, she immediately approved of. It wasn’t elegant, but it was comfortable. It didn’t have the dimly lit, cathedral feel of so many of the restaurants she’d dined in with her father, with colleagues, back in Connecticut. It was relaxed, welcoming, cozy.
There were paintings of ships and boats along the stuccoed walls, of armadas and cutters. Throughout the dining room was other sailing paraphernalia—a ship’s compass with its brass gleaming, a colorful spinnaker draped behind the bar with the stools in front of it shaped like wooden kegs. There was a crow’s nest spearing toward the ceiling with ferns spilling out and down the mast.
The room was already half full of couples and families, the bulk of whom Kate identified as tourists. She could hear the comforting sound of cutlery scraping lightly over plates. There was the smell of good food and the hum of mixed conversations.
Comfortable, she thought again, but definitely well organized. Waiters and waitresses in sailor’s denims moved smoothly, making every second count without looking rushed. The window opened out to a full evening view of Silver Lake Harbor. Kate turned her back on it because she knew her gaze would fall on the Vortex or its empty slip.
Tomorrow was soon enough for that. She wanted one night without memories.
“Kate.”
She felt the hands on her shoulders and recognized the voice. There was a smile on her face when she turned around. “Marsh, I’m so glad to see you.”
In his quiet way, he studied her, measured her and saw both the strain and the relief. In the same way, he’d had a crush on her that had faded into admiration and respect before the end of that one summer. “Beautiful as ever. Linda said you were, but it’s nice to see for myself.”
She laughed, because he’d always been able to make her feel as though life could be honed down to the most simple of terms. She’d never questioned why that trait had made her relax with Marsh and tingle with Ky.
“Several congratulations are in order, I hear. On your marriage, your daughter and your business.”
“I’ll take them all. How about the best table in the house?”
“No less than I expected.” She linked her arm through his. “Your life agrees with you,” she decided as he led her to a table by the window. “You look happy.”
“Look and am.” He lifted a hand to brush hers. “We were sorry to hear about your father, Kate.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Marsh sat across from her and fixed her with eyes so much calmer, so much softer than his brother’s. She’d always wondered why the man with the dreamer’s eyes had been so practical while Ky had been the real dreamer. “It’s tragic, but I can’t say I’m sorry it brought you back to the island. We’ve missed you.” He paused, just long enough for effect. “All of us.”
Kate picked up the square carmine-colored napkin and ran it through her hands. “Things change,” she said deliberately. “You and Linda are certainly proof of that. When I left, you thought she was a bit of a nuisance.”
“That hasn’t changed,” he claimed and grinned. He glanced up at the young, pony-tailed waitress. “This is Cindy, she’ll take good care of you, Miss Hardesty—” He looked back at Kate with a grin. “I guess I should say Dr. Hardesty.”
“Miss’ll do,” Kate told him. “I’ve taken the summer off.”
“Miss Hardesty’s a guest, a special one,” he added, giving the waitress a smile. “How about a drink before you order? Or a bottle of wine?”
“Piesporter,” the reply came from a deep, masculine voice.
Kate’s fingers tightened on the linen, but she forced herself to look up calmly to meet Ky’s amused eyes.
“The professor has a fondness for it.”
“Yes, Mr. Silver.”
Before Kate could agree or disagree, the waitress had dashed off.
“Well, Ky,” Marsh commented easily. “You have a way of making the help come to attention.”
With a shrug, Ky leaned against his brother’s chair. If the three of them felt the air was suddenly tighter, each concealed it in their own way. “I had an urge for scampi.”
“I can recommend it,” Marsh told Kate. “Linda and the chef debated the recipe, then babied it until they reached perfection.”
Kate smiled at Marsh as though there were no dark, brooding man looking down at her. “I’ll try it. Are you going to join me?”
“I wish I could. Linda had to run home and deal with some crisis—Hope has a way of creating them and browbeating the babysitter—but I’ll try to get back for coffee. Enjoy your dinner.” Rising, he sent his brother a cool, knowing look, then walked away.
“Marsh never completely got over that first case of adulation,” Ky commented, then took his brother’s seat without invitation.
“Marsh has always been a good friend.” Kate draped the napkin over her lap with great care. “Though I realize this is your brother’s restaurant, Ky, I’m sure you don’t want my company for dinner any more than I want yours.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He sent a quick, dashing smile at the waitress as she brought the wine. He didn’t bother to correct Kate’s assumption on the Roost’s ownership. Kate sat stone-faced, her manners too good to allow her to argue, while Cindy opened the bottle and poured the first sip for Ky to taste.
“It’s fine,” he told her. “I’ll pour.” Taking the bottle, he filled Kate’s glass to within half an inch of the rim. “Since we’ve both chosen the Roost tonight, why don’t we have a little test?”
Kate lifted her glass and sipped. The wine was cool and dry. She remembered the first bottle they’d shared—sitting on the floor of his cottage the night she gave him her innocence. Deliberately, she took another swallow. “What kind of test?”
“We can see if the two of us can share a civilized meal in public. That was something we never got around to before.”
Kate frowned as he lifted his glass. She’d never seen Ky drink from a wine glass. The few times they had indulged in wine, it had been drunk out of one of the half a dozen water glasses he’d owned. The stemware seemed too delicate for his hand, the wine too mellow for the look in his eye.
No, they’d never eaten dinner in public before. Her father would have exuded disapproval for socializing with someone he’d considered an employee. Kate had known it, and hadn’t risked it.
Things were different now, she told herself as she lifted her own glass. In a sense, Ky was now her employee. She could make her own judgments. Recklessly, she toasted him. “To a profitable arrangement then.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He touched the rim of his glass
to hers, but his gaze was direct and uncomfortable. “Blue suits you,” he said, referring to her dress, but not taking his eyes off hers. “The deep midnight blue that makes your skin look like something that should be tasted very, very carefully.”
She stared at him, stunned at how easily his voice could take on that low, intimate tone that had always made the blood rush out of her brain. He’d always been able to make words seem something dark and secret. That had been one of his greatest skills, one she had never been prepared for. She was no more prepared for it now.
“Would you care to order now?” The waitress stopped beside the table, cheerful, eager to please.
Ky smiled when Kate remained silent. “We’re having scampi. The house dressing on the salads will be fine.” He leaned back, glass in hand, still smiling. But the smile on his lips didn’t connect with his eyes. “You’re not drinking your wine. Maybe I should’ve asked if your taste has changed over the years.”
“It’s fine.” Deliberately she sipped, then kept the glass in her hand as though it would anchor her. “Marsh looks well,” she commented. “I was happy to hear about him and Linda. I always pictured them together.”
“Did you?” Ky lifted his glass toward the lowering evening light slanting through the window. He watched the colors spear through the wine and glass and onto Kate’s hand. “He didn’t. But then…” Shifting his gaze, he met her eyes again. “Marsh always took more time to make up his mind than me.”
“Recklessness,” she continued as she struggled just to breathe evenly, “was always more your style than your brother’s.”
“But you didn’t come to my brother with your charts and notes, did you?”
“No.” With an effort she kept her voice and her eyes level. “I didn’t. Perhaps I decided a certain amount of recklessness had its uses.”
“Find me useful, do you, Kate?”
The waitress served the salads but didn’t speak this time. She saw the look in Ky’s eyes.