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  His wheedling smile suddenly reminded her of just who she was dealing with, a man who could probably charm the socks off her, not to mention a few other items of clothing. "I feel like I'm choosing between the devil I know and the devil I don't know," she muttered.

  "Is that a yes?" he asked with a grin.

  "I'm going to regret this."

  "Don't worry. I'll still respect you in the morning."

  She smiled as she was meant to, but she knew she had to be careful. She had a lot more to lose than respect.

  Chapter Seven

  Ashley tried to tell herself that it would be impossible to find Sean on a Saturday night. He could be anywhere—a restaurant, a bar, the movies, making out on some woman's couch. The possibilities were limitless. She could only try so hard to find him. She couldn't work miracles. Maybe she'd just wait until tomorrow.

  Or she could walk down to the marina and check the family boat that Sean had always been fond of sleeping on.

  Indecisive and more than a little reluctant to actually locate Sean, she paused in front of the travel agency on Main Street. The windows were decorated with flyers inviting her to summer in Savannah, wine taste in Santa Barbara, take a ferry ride to Vancouver, or sail on a fancy yacht to San Francisco. None of those places appealed to her. If she went anywhere, it would be somewhere in the middle of the country, someplace where water came out of wells in the ground, where the hills rose up like protective guardians and the endless plains made her feel safe and secure.

  Who was she kidding? She wasn't going anywhere. She loved this island, loved the forested hills, the quiet coves, the pretty neighborhoods. This was home. It always had been, and it always would be. She could still remember the first time she'd seen the island after years at sea. A huge weight had slipped from her shoulders when she stepped off the boat and onto solid ground. She'd let out her breath after months of holding it. The island felt safe. The thought had come into her mind and never left. Just as she could never leave.

  Unless... What if Sean came back here to live? If she did convince him not to race in the Castleton, that might mean he would stay on the island, take over the family business. What would she do then? She wouldn't be able to avoid him. And avoiding him wasn't even her biggest worry—giving in was more the concern. If he still wanted her, if he tried to kiss her, tried to persuade her they should get back together, how would she keep saying no?

  Maybe he wouldn't stay. Maybe he wouldn't race, either. The best scenario was if he just went back to wherever he'd been and stayed there for another eight years.

  Turning away from the window, she trudged down the street, avoiding the bars overflowing with Saturday night sailors. She could almost hear their conversations, arguments about which boat was faster, who had the best crew, where the winds would be the strongest. Every one of those sailors would have the most information they could have, the best boat, the most experienced crew, the strongest and bravest men, but none of it would matter in the end. The ocean was the ultimate equalizer. It was Mount Everest in constant motion. Everyone wanted to conquer the sea, but no one could.

  As she neared the marina, the noise began to fade and the shadows lengthened. She passed by a couple kissing in a doorway. The man's hands were under the woman's shirt, and they were moving their bodies together in such an intimate way it looked as if they were having sex with their clothes on. Ashley caught herself staring, feeling a rush of warmth course through her body. How long had it been since she'd kissed a man like that, felt passionate, out of control, full of desire?

  "Maybe we should tell them to get a room," Sean said, coming up behind her.

  She whirled around in surprise, embarrassed to be caught watching. "You startled me."

  "Sorry. What are you doing down here?"

  "Looking for you. I thought you might be on your boat."

  "Now you're scaring me," he said with a smile. "Why on earth would you come looking for me when you usually do everything you can to avoid me?"

  "I want to talk to you. Can you sit for a minute?" Ashley walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. Sean took a seat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead.

  Ashley crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She smoothed out the sides of her jeans, then played with the necklace that hung around her neck. Sean didn't say a word. She didn't, either. The silence wasn't comfortable. The tension grew with each passing second.

  "Your mother came to see me," Ashley said finally, knowing she had to say something.

  "So that's why you came looking for me," he said with a nod.

  "She's worried about you. She doesn't want you to race in the Castleton, although I think it's the on-to-Hawaii part of it that really bothers her."

  "So she said."

  Ashley could tell that Sean wasn't in a particularly flexible frame of mind. Casting him a sideways glance, she was struck by the shadow of beard along his jaw, the lean lines of his face, the strength of his chin. It occurred to her how much he had changed. This wasn't the boy she'd fallen in love with. This was a man, a stranger almost. Their private conversations had ended years ago. The time when she had known his every thought, his every dream, was far in the past. She had no idea what he was thinking now, no idea whatsoever.

  "I don't know you anymore," she said softly, not realizing she'd spoken aloud until he turned his head, his eyes dark and somber.

  "Did you just figure that out?"

  "Maybe I did." The realization fueled the sadness that ran deep within her. The only person who had ever really known her was Sean. Not even in her sisters had she confided some of the things she'd told Sean all those years ago. She'd trusted him. He'd trusted her. And that was the crux of the problem. His trust had been misplaced.

  "What do you want, Ash?" Sean muttered, his voice edged with annoyance. "Why did you really come looking for me? I have a hard time believing you're at all concerned about anything I do."

  "Your mother was very persuasive. I couldn't say no."

  "You can say no to me, but you can't say no to my mother?" he asked with a skeptical look in his eyes. He started to stand up, but Ashley put her hand on his arm, the touch between them shocking in its heat and intensity. Their eyes met for a long, long moment.

  "It's still there," he muttered. "You can tell me whatever you want, but I can feel it right now, and so can you."

  She dropped her hand, her voice unsteady as she said, "This isn't about us; it's about you. Your safety. Your life. Your future. I don't want you to go chasing after Jeremy. You're never going to be able to catch him. You have to let go."

  "He was my brother. I can't let him go."

  "Whether you let go or not, he'll still be dead. And whether you sail in his wake won't matter a bit to Jeremy, but it will matter to your parents. They don't want to lose you, too."

  "I don't want to hurt my parents, but this is something I have to do, Ash. I was fifteen when you left and sixteen when Jeremy took off. I felt like the two people I cared about the most were somewhere in the world having this incredible life while I was plodding away here in town, going to school, doing my homework. I wasn't living the way you were, the way Jeremy was. Whenever he'd call, my parents and I would crowd around the phone, eager to hear every word that came out of his mouth. And when my dad would hang up the phone, he'd look at my mother with incredible pride in his eyes and say, 'That's our son, Naomi. Isn't he something else?'" Sean paused. "They've never said that about me. Why should they? I haven't done anything exceptional."

  "I'm sure they're proud of you."

  "How could they be? I dropped out of college halfway through. I've changed jobs as often as I've changed my shirt. I've been drifting. And when they asked me to come back and work in the family business, I said no. Believe me, they're nowhere near proud."

  "You're just figuring out what you want to do. There's no crime in that."

  "Then why are you trying to stop me from racing?"

  "Because I don't thi
nk you'll find what you want to do out on the ocean. It's a hard life, and it's lonely. And you've never liked being stuck in small spaces."

  "How would you know what I like anymore?"

  She looked into his eyes and saw anger, but also truth. Some of the things they knew about each other would never change. "You don't have to prove anything, Sean."

  "Don't I?" He paused. "I know why you broke up with me when you got back. You'd had all these incredible adventures, and I was just the small-town guy you'd left behind, who'd never understand what you'd seen, what you'd done. That's why you blew me off."

  Ashley tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked away from him. It was all so much more complicated than he realized. "I didn't come back to town thinking any less of you. It was me. I was different. I was the one who had changed, who had done things I wasn't proud of."

  "I don't understand."

  "I kissed someone else," she said impulsively, not really meaning to say the words, but there they were.

  He stared at her in bemusement. "What?"

  "I kissed someone else while I was away on that trip.”

  He cleared his throat. "Okay, well... You were young. We were apart for a long time. Why didn't you tell me? We could have started over. I can't believe you broke up with me because you kissed another guy, someone you were probably never going to see again. Why didn't you trust me?"

  She took a deep breath. "It was Jeremy." She looked him straight in the eye so there could be no mistake. "I kissed Jeremy."

  * * *

  Tyler sat back in his chair as the waiter filled their coffee cups. Dinner with Kate had gone surprisingly well. In light of her edgy state, he'd chosen a non-combative approach. They'd discussed the weather, local sports teams, the latest bestsellers, and finally the quality of the Italian pasta they'd just consumed at a tiny restaurant named Piccolo's hidden on one of Castleton's backstreets. He'd enjoyed getting to know her better, which only made his job that much more difficult. He had to start asking questions, but he selfishly didn't want to raise the wall back between them, which in turn made him feel guilty.

  He had no business liking Kate. His brother's family was at stake. Kate could be Amelia's mother. She could be the one hunting down his brother, threatening the life Mark had built with his daughter. And even if she wasn't the mother, she was the sister. She'd support Ashley or Caroline to the bitter end. And he'd support Mark. They'd never be on the same side. Never.

  Kate set her spoon on the table. "It's time, isn't it?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "To discuss what you really want to discuss. Despite the fact you've stuffed me full of tortellini, I'm still not interested in an interview. I don't trust you. I don't think you're being completely up front about your intentions."

  "I don't trust you, either," Tyler said with a smile. While he didn't trust her, he did admire her spirit. He liked being with a woman who gave as good as she got, who could keep up with the conversation, anticipate the twists and turns before he did. He'd always liked a challenging puzzle, and Kate was certainly that. He still didn't know who she really was, but he damn sure wanted to find out. Before he could say so, a woman stopped by their table. She had her hands full with two small children who had probably put some of the weary lines on her face.

  "Kate, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say thank you for the casserole. It was incredible and very much appreciated."

  "You're welcome," Kate said, smiling at the children. "Hello, Sammy, Joe. Did you like my noodles?"

  "They loved them," the woman answered. "In fact, they want to know why I can't cook like that.”

  The woman sent Tyler a curious look. Kate intercepted the look and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "This is Tyler Jamison. My friend, Ruth Lewis."

  "Nice to meet you," Ruth said, her brown eyes very curious. "Are you here for the race?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "My husband Larry was going to race, but he had an accident a few days ago."

  "I'm sorry," Tyler murmured.

  "Oh, he'll be okay. He just won't be able to race until next year. Kate saved me by making me enough dinners to fill my freezer."

  "It was nothing. I like to cook," Kate said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And let me know if you need anything else. Oh, I also picked out a few books for Larry in case he goes crazy waiting for that leg to heal. I'll bring them by tomorrow."

  "I can stop by the bookstore and get them."

  "It's not a problem."

  "Thanks again," Ruth said. "I hope you enjoy Castleton, Mr. Jamison."

  "I'm sure I will." Tyler paused, waiting until Ruth and her children had walked out of the dining room. "So you're a good neighbor and a good cook. I'm impressed. Was that a skill you learned after your mother died?"

  "Actually before. My grandmother taught me. She used to live with us when I was really small. She'd cook all the meals. I think she and my mother carved out their territories early, and they rarely crossed the lines."

  "Your mother's mother or your father's mother?"

  "My father's mother. She could make a feast out of nothing. She'd take celery and carrots and onions and turn it into a thick, rich stew. It was like magic."

  He leaned forward, captivated by the softness in her voice when she spoke of her grandmother. He had a feeling Kate was a woman who still believed in magic. He wondered if she could possibly rub off on him, but he doubted it. The thick skin he'd grown repelled magic and all other silly sentimental notions.

  "My grandmother died when I was eleven," Kate added. "After that, my mom and I split the cooking and, when my mom got sick, it became my job."

  "And are you as good a cook or magician as your grandmother?"

  "Oh, no, I'm not nearly as good. I've never quite mastered the concept of completely letting the recipe go and making it up as I go along. My grandmother knew instinctively what would work and what wouldn't. I still need a cookbook and a measuring cup.

  "What about you?"

  "Me? I need a microwave and a frozen dinner. Or a good take-out menu."

  Kate laughed, and the warm sound ran through him like a pretty song that he wanted to hear over and over again. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. "This is one thing I've never been able to master, a perfect cup of coffee."

  "Now, that's something I am good at, as long as you like your coffee strong and black."

  "Actually, a little hazelnut and vanilla are my preference."

  "That's sissy coffee."

  "I don't have anything to prove." Kate sat back in her seat. "Thanks for the dinner. It was a nice break."

  "You're welcome. But I'm sure there must be lots of men on this island interested in giving you a break."

  "Is that a roundabout way of asking me if I'm seeing someone?"

  "Are you?"

  She hesitated. "Not that it's any of your business, but no, not at the moment. I do get asked out. Just because I was free tonight does not mean that I'm not usually busy on the weekends."

  "I believe you," he said with amusement.

  She made a face at him. "Actually, I'm not all that busy," she admitted. "I've even been accused of not having a life."

  "Something else we have in common.”

  Disbelief flashed through her eyes. "That's a stretch. I can't believe you don't have a social life." She paused. "So, what's wrong with you?"

  "I don't think there's anything wrong with me."

  "There must be, if the girls are turning you down."

  "I may have heard a few comments about working too much." Along with not being able to open up, not trusting anyone with personal information, not sharing his thoughts, not putting his heart into the relationship and numerous other complaints. Tyler didn't really understand why the women he'd dated felt they had a reason to complain. He'd never promised to give his heart. He'd never led anyone on. But it didn't matter. Women who started off okay with casual inevitably ended up wanting more, a lot more.

  "Travels all
the time, doesn't want to commit, here today, gone tomorrow," Kate said with a knowing nod. "Ambitious, competitive, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for what you want. I know the type. I grew up with one."

  "Your father?"

  "Yes. He's a charming man, gregarious, fun loving, a storyteller. Most people think he's a terrific guy. Kind of like you, I bet. But my father has a dark side, an obsessive nature, an ambition that knows no bounds." Her blue eyes filled with shadows. "He has a desire to win at all costs."

  "And you think I'm like that?" Tyler asked, annoyed by her assessment. She didn't know the first thing about him, didn't know where he'd come from, what he'd been through, what winning even meant to a man who'd lost everything very early in life.

  She stared at him for a long moment. "Aren't you?"

  "No, but I know someone who is like that. My own father."

  "What do you mean?"

  He didn't answer right away. Talking about himself had never come easy. And his natural reticence had been increased by his father's constant reminders: No one needs to know who we are, where we come from, what we're doing here. Just keep quiet. Mind your own business, and make sure they mind theirs.

  "Tyler?" Kate prodded. "You were saying?”

  "Never mind."

  "You can't do that. You can't start and not finish.”

  "You do it all the time," he pointed out.

  "Tell me something about yourself. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk out the door right now and watch my back where you're concerned."

  He couldn't afford to have her walk out the door or start watching her back. He'd have to tell her something, but what?

  "Forget it," she said abruptly, reaching for her purse. "I think it's time I went home."

  "All right. You win. Put your purse down."

  She hesitated, her handbag firmly planted on her lap. "I will after you start talking."

  "You know, if you're this demanding on sharing personal information, there may be a reason why you aren't busy on Saturday nights."