Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [88]
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.