Summer Secrets

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Summer Secrets Page 24

by Barbara Freethy


  Tyler caught up with her a second later. "What were you going to do, Kate? Pull yourself off the boat? Isn't she a grown woman? Aren't you being a little overprotective?"

  She turned to face him. "Caroline has dark purple bruises all over her arm. I saw them earlier today. She said she banged her arm, but I think she was lying. Rumor has it that Mike's wife left him because of abuse. I'm afraid he might have hurt Caroline."

  "Did you ask her about it?"

  "She said he didn't do it."

  "Maybe you should believe her."

  She ignored that. He didn't know Caroline as well as she did. He didn't know how many lies Caroline had told in the past.

  She pulled out cell phone and called Caroline, hoping she had her phone with her.

  "Hello," Caroline said a moment later.

  "It's Kate. I just saw you get on the ferry with Mike."

  "Are you spying on me?"

  Kate ignored the outrage in her sister's voice. "Where are you going?"

  "None of your business, Kate. I'm hanging up now."

  "When will you be back?"

  "When I feel like it."

  "But -- " Kate's words were met with a click. "She hung up on me."

  "I can't say I'm surprised. Are you going to call her back?"

  "She'll probably just hang up again. If I tell Caroline not to jump, the first thing she wants to do is jump. I should know that by now." Kate stared after the rapidly disappearing ferry. "I just hope she'll be all right."

  "I saw them together yesterday," Tyler said. "They were arguing, but he backed off when I approached them."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because Caroline wasn't upset, Kate. She wasn't scared. She didn't act like she was in trouble."

  "Maybe she didn't want you to know." She frowned, hating feeling so out of control. Caroline might be an adult but she was still her baby sister. "I wish they hadn't left the island. I'd feel better if she was within shouting distance."

  "She has her cell phone. She can call you if she needs help."

  Kate let out a sigh. "I guess there's nothing more to do."

  "Except have some ice cream."

  "Except that. Then I really have to get to work. What are you going to do with the rest of the day?"

  "I'll probably wander down to the marina, talk to some sailors, figure out a new angle for my story. Unless you have another idea, one that might involve your house, your bedroom, maybe some candles?"

  "I don't think so," she said with a smile, knowing he was only teasing. And she was glad that he wasn't serious, because if he had asked her seriously ... In fact, if he'd kissed her instead of asking, they might be on the way to her house right now. Talk about acting crazy; apparently Caroline wasn't the only one making foolish decisions right now.

  "Well, tomorrow is another day." Tyler put his arm around her shoulders. "You never know what the future will bring."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tuesday was far too quiet, Kate thought as she checked her watch for the sixth time in an hour. It was almost five thirty, and she hadn't heard from anyone -- not Caroline, not Ashley, not Duncan, and not even Tyler, who had been her constant shadow the last few days. She wondered if he'd gone sailing with her father. Tyler would love being on the water. She knew that, even if he didn't. The wind rushing, the waves rolling, the boat flying. He'd be hooked. He'd never again be able to say he wasn't a boat person. She almost regretted that fact. It had been nice to know someone different, someone who didn't eat, sleep, and breathe sailing.

  "I'm leaving," Theresa said, stopping in front of the counter with purse in hand. "I know it's early, but everyone is down at the square for the annual clam chowder cook-off."

  "It's fine." Kate smiled at her assistant. "You must be eager to see how well you'll do against your mother-in-law's clam chowder."

  "I doubt I'll beat her this year, but, one of these days I will. She still doesn't think I cook as well as she does."

  "She's wrong. You're a terrific cook."

  "But not good enough for her little boy. Just wait till you get married, Kate. Pray for a good mother-in- law, preferably a non-cook, non-homemaker type, who doesn't criticize or interfere. And make sure you also pick a husband who stands up for you and doesn't become Mommy's little boy as soon as she steps in the room."

  "Are we talking about me or you?"

  Kate gave her a compassionate smile. Theresa's battles with her mother-in-law were nothing new.

  "By the way," Theresa continued. "I saw the Moon Dancer when I had lunch at the marina today. She's a beauty. Everyone in town is talking about the boat and your family, wondering how you all feel about it."

  Kate hated to hear that, but she'd expected as much. It was one of the reasons why she'd brought a turkey sandwich from home and had her lunch in the back room instead of going into town. "It will all be over on Saturday. I just keep telling myself that."

  "Why don't you put out the closed sign and come have some clam chowder with me? We haven't had a customer in more than an hour."

  "I'll be down in a bit."

  The door shut behind Theresa, and the silence was suddenly deafening. Her cozy store of fantasy felt empty and lonely. Kate sat down at the desk in front of her computer. She clicked on her inventory program first, checking on upcoming releases and pre-orders. She supposed she could have gone through all the titles, but she just didn't feel like it at the moment. In fact, she hadn't felt like working all day. Switching from inventory to the Internet, she pulled up one of her favorite gardening sites and read through the headlines for the latest articles involving introducing toads into your garden, getting rid of unwanted pests, and growing the best vegetables. The toad idea was a new one on her. She was just getting into the article when the door opened.

  Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw Tyler. She'd known he would come. In reality, she'd been waiting all day for him. And here he was. But she wouldn't tell him that. She forced herself to stand up slowly and casually, as if she had her mind on other things, as if she hadn't expected him.

  "Hi," Tyler said. His voice was low, intimate, as was the look he gave her.

  She cleared her throat. "I thought you were out on the water today," she said. She was grateful to have the counter between them. It provided a much needed barrier, as she fought the urge to throw herself in his arms and kiss him until she forgot why getting involved with him was not a good idea.

  "Your father begged off," Tyler said. "Apparently he's busy interviewing potential crew members. He said Thursday would work better."

  "I wouldn't set my heart on it," she told him. "My father isn't known for keeping his promises."

  "So what have you been doing all day?"

  "Working. What about you? Have you found a new angle for your article?"

  "No. Are you sure you won't reconsider? Don't you trust me enough yet to tell me your story? I'm not a bad guy. I won't crucify you."

  It wouldn't be up to him, she could have answered. Telling her story would affect far too many lives, and at this point there was nothing to be gained and everything to be lost. She was moving forward with her life. She was making positive changes. Discussing the past with Tyler would not be in any way productive.

  "I should introduce you to Mitchell Haley. He competed in the Whitbread ten years ago. I'm sure he has a lot of stories to tell. He actually lives in Seattle, but he usually comes to Castleton for race week. If he's here, I'm sure my father will know where to find him. They're old friends."

  "I'll keep that in mind." He took a step closer, resting his arms on the counter between them. "You look good."

  "I -- Uh, thanks." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with his intimate perusal. She was suddenly very aware of how empty the store was.

  "Kate," he said in a husky voice.

  "What?" She looked into his eyes and saw them darken with desire. "Tyler. We can't start that all over again."

  "Why not
?"

  She couldn't think of an answer. And it didn't seem like she really needed one. Words were passing back and forth between them and yet not a one was spoken aloud.

  "I was sent here to get you," Tyler said, surprising her.

  "By whom?"

  "Caroline. She was setting up a clam chowder booth down by the marina."

  "Oh." Her baby sister's name brought her back to reality. "I can't believe she sent you. She's been avoiding my calls all day."

  "Maybe sent wasn't the right word."

  "I didn't think so. What did she say, exactly?"

  "That you should stay out of her business or she won't tell you which of the clam chowders Mrs. Rayburn made. Whatever that means."

  "Mrs. Rayburn sent ten people to the clinic last year for using bad clams."

  He nodded. "Your sister doesn't pull her punches."

  "I just hope she's not taking any."

  "She looked fine, Kate."

  "Some scars aren't visible."

  He sent her a curious look. "What does that mean?"

  She couldn't begin to tell him. "Nothing. It doesn't mean anything. I'm glad she's fine, and I'll tell her I'm sorry for sticking my nose in her business when I see her later."

  "Good, then let's go."

  She wavered. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning in her bed, reviewing all the reasons why she needed to keep her distance from Tyler. Those reasons had nothing to do with his job as a reporter and everything to do with who he was as a man and the way he made her feel.

  "You think too much, Kate," he murmured. "It's just a bowl of clam chowder I'm offering you."

  "Is that all it is?" She gave a helpless shake of her head. "When you're around, I have trouble remembering my own name," she confessed.

  "Kate McKenna," he offered, his expression a bit grim, his voice a little harsh as he said her name.

  She frowned. "Why do you suddenly sound angry?"

  He stared back at her. "Sorry. Are you coming, Kate?"

  Making a quick decision, she reached into a drawer and pulled out her purse. "Let's go." She turned off the lights, changed the sign to closed, and locked the door behind them. That's when the wind almost knocked her off her feet. "Where did that come from?" she asked with a shiver.

  "The weather turned about an hour ago. You hadn't noticed?"

  "I've been inside."

  "I'll keep you warm," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  That's exactly what she was afraid of.

  * * *

  "Hold on tight," Sean yelled as the wind caught his words and threw them back at her. "This hill will be one hell of a ride."

  "It's too steep," Ashley protested, tightening her arms around Sean's waist as he stopped at the top of Sorenson's Hill. So far he'd driven his motorcycle with caution, taking care not to alarm her. Apparently, that was about to change.

  "I won't let anything happen to you, Ash," he said. "You can trust me."

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let it all go, the worries, the fears. She wanted to be that girl again who could soar down a hill with her hair flying out behind her. But he was asking too much of her. Wasn't it enough that they'd spent the last two days together, that they'd explored some of their favorite haunts and gorged themselves on fish and chips? Wasn't it enough that she'd actually agreed to get on the motorcycle with him today? Did she really have to agree to this, too?

  He flipped up the visor on his helmet as he glanced back at her. "Remember what you used to say to me?" he asked her, his eyes warm with understanding. "When we used to ride our bikes down this hill?"

  She shook her head.

  "Just take your foot off the brake. That's all you have to do."

  When she was a kid, she'd lived for speed, but no more. "I really wish I had a brake right now. I'd stop you from doing this."

  "I won't do it, if you really don't want me to. But I think there's a part of you that wants a fast ride. Come on, Ash."

  "All right. Do it before I change my mind," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

  She heard him laugh, then he revved up the motor, and they were off.

  She hugged herself to Sean's body, tightening her legs around the bike, praying they wouldn't lose their balance or hit a big bump. But there was no more time to think. The speed, the wind, the motion of the bike were all terrifying and exhilarating. She felt like she was flying, sailing, racing into the wind on a glorious day.

  Within a minute they reached the bottom of the hill, back on even ground, the bike slowing faster than her heart. She opened her eyes to see that the world was still upright. The sun was still shining. Life was good. And she felt better than she had in a long time.

  Sean stopped the bike on the side of the deserted road. He got off, threw his helmet onto the ground, and said, "Wasn't that fantastic?"

  She took off her helmet with shaky fingers. She wasn't sure she could actually get off the bike. Her legs were shaking. Sean must have read her mind, because he helped her off the bike, put his arms around her, and spun her around in a dizzying hug.

  When he finally put her feet back down on the ground, his grin went from ear to ear. She couldn't help but smile back. His joy was contagious.

  "Tell me you loved it as much as I did. Tell me."

  "I liked it."

  "You loved it."

  "I was scared out of my mind at first, but then it was like before, better than before. I felt like myself again," she confessed. "I didn't know it was possible to have courage again. It's been so long." Her eyes filled with tears. "You gave it back to me, Sean. I don't know how you did it, but --"

  He cut off her words with a kiss, a demanding, hard kiss that was as impatient and reckless as he was -- and just the way she wanted to be.

  * * *

  He was in the mood to do something outrageous, Tyler thought. Two hours of clam chowder tasting, chatting with Kate's friends, and listening to local bands had done nothing to quiet the reckless feeling in his gut. He wondered if Kate felt the same way. She'd glance at him, then look away without saying a word. She'd barely touched her food, which was unusual, because in his experience she was not shy about eating. And then there was the way her fingers tapped nervously, or was it impatiently, on the red-checkered tablecloth. He wanted to put his hand over those fingers and pull them to his lips in a silly, old-fashioned kiss.

  Maybe it was the small-town party atmosphere that made him feel like a stranger in his own body. Or maybe it was the magic of a summer night, He wasn't a romantic, but he suddenly wanted to tell Kate how beautiful she looked in the deepening twilight, how the music made him want to take her in his arms in a long, slow dance. He drew in a deep breath and let it out, wondering how he could feel so hot when the evening air was decidedly chilly.

  "You haven't said a word in a long time," Kate remarked.

 

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