Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [112]
"To see what she would tell you."
"Something happened to you during that race, Kate. Something that you and your sisters can't tell anyone. I have an instinct for a story, and I know there's one you could tell me if only you would. I can see in your eyes that I'm right."
"What you see is anger that you're invading my privacy."
"That's not what I see at all." He took a step closer, and she took a step back.
"Don't," she said, putting up a hand.
He didn't say anything for a moment. "Why don't we just have our picnic and save this discussion until later?"
"I won't change my mind."
"Then you won't," he said simply.
She hesitated. "All right, fine. We'll eat. Then you'll go." She started to head toward the kitchen, but he caught her by the arm.
"Let's eat in the living room."
"There's only a coffee table in there."
"We'll eat on the floor. You'll spread out a blanket, and we'll pretend this is a grassy park."
She rolled her eyes. "Is this part of your seduction strategy? I just told you -- "
"I heard you, believe me. But I paid for a picnic supper, and you owe me one."
"You're a very annoying man."
"So I've been told."
She led him into the living room and he set the basket down on the coffee table. "I'll get the blanket," she said, but he followed her down the hall. "This isn't exactly a two-person job, you know."
"I want to check out your house."
She opened the linen closet and waved her hand toward the neatly stacked piles of towels and bedding. "This is where I keep the sheets. Excited?"
"Actually, sometimes sheets do get me excited."
She reluctantly smiled. He was a hard man to dislike. "That's a very bad line. And you, a writer, should be ashamed." She tossed him a blanket. "Everything else we need is in the basket."
"Are you sure there isn't anything in your bedroom that we need?" he asked, stopping to peer through a half open door.
Kate grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "Bedroom tours are not part of the picnic auction."
"They should be, for the price I paid."
She ignored that, returning to the living room where Tyler spread the blanket out on the floor.
"How about a fire?" he asked.
"It's not that cold."
"I heard there might be a storm coming in this weekend. The racers will not be happy."
"Actually, most sailors love a good storm. It's the calm that makes them crazy."
"So they'll race even if it's raining."
"If there's a good brisk wind, you bet. The boats will run even faster." She paused. "Are you still going out with my father tomorrow?"
"That's what he said."
"I hope it's before he gets drunk."
"So do I," he said.
"Tell me again why you're sailing with him?"
"To get some firsthand experience on a boat. It will make my story more realistic."
"Yeah, whatever story that is -- if there even is a story." She paused. Had Tyler just flinched? Maybe there wasn't a story. But he was a reporter. She'd already checked that out.
"Of course there's a story," he said quickly. "There's always a story."
"You can probably find one anywhere, can't you?"
"Yes. It's just a matter of simple curiosity and a sharp eye."
"What about your story, Tyler? What if I said I was going to write an article and tell the world about your father stealing you away from your mother? Would you want that revealed to the world? Or would you be protective of your family, maybe even of your father, who you probably have a lot of mixed feelings about?"
Tyler met her questioning gaze with a small smile. "You're very good, Kate. Very perceptive. Smart. Beautiful. Sexy. A deadly combination."
Beautiful? Sexy? Smart? Did he really think she was all those things? Kate shook her head and cleared her throat, realizing he'd successfully sidetracked her once again with his unending