"A reporter came into the store today," Kate said. "His name is Tyler Jamison. He wants to do a story on us—a where-are-they-now piece."
Caroline didn't know what to say. The reporters had stopped coming around years ago, and they'd all begun to breathe easier. Lulled into a false sense of security, she realized now. "What did you tell him?"
"That we had nothing to say. That there was no story."
"Did he believe you?"
"I don't know. He seems very persistent. I just wanted to warn you not to talk to him if he comes around. Don't let yourself get taken in."
The way you usually do.
Caroline could hear the unspoken words as clearly as if Kate had said them out loud. "As if I would," she said, once again feeling defensive. "Ashley is the one you should warn. She's so nervous all the time. There's no telling what she'd say."
"I left her a message to call me, but if you see her first, let her know."
"I will." Caroline paused, wishing there was something else to say. When had it become so difficult to talk to Kate? They'd once been close. Kate had been her idol, her big sister, the one who told incredible stories, made her laugh, made her feel safe when the world outside got too scary. But things had changed. There was too much they couldn't talk about. It was easier to speak of nothing than worry about crossing a line that wasn't supposed to be crossed.
Caroline hung up the phone and walked back to her station. "Sisters," she murmured, meeting Peggy's gaze in the mirror.
Peggy nodded. "You love 'em and you hate 'em.”
"Exactly. I have another client, so why don't you move into this seat, and I'll put the hot lights on you. We'll see if we can't speed this process up a bit." Caroline moved Peggy to the station next to hers. She adjusted the octopus-style lights and said, "Let me know if it gets too hot."
"I love your color," Peggy said.
"You do? I did some experimenting." Caroline glanced at her reflection. Her hair was dark blond with brown streaks that were emphasized by a short, spiky cut and a lot of mousse.
"You look hip," Peggy said wistfully. "I haven't been hip in a while."
"Kate thinks I should go back to my natural color.”
"Which is what?"
"I don't remember," Caroline said with a laugh.
"Caroline, your client is here," the receptionist, Erica Connors, interrupted, tipping her head toward the man leafing through a magazine in the waiting area. "A hunk," Erica mouthed silently.
Caroline had to admit the guy was exceptionally good-looking, not in a pretty-boy sense, but in a mountain-climbing, ocean-racing kind of way. When he stood up, she saw that he was well over six feet tall, and as he walked toward her she got the full benefit of his sexy smile.
"Caroline?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I need a haircut."
"You've come to the right place." She motioned him toward the chair Peggy had just vacated. "Can I get you a cold drink or some coffee?"
"No, thanks." He sat down in her chair, and she looked at him in the mirror. His face was well-defined, with a square forehead, a strong jaw, intelligent eyes, and thick, black lashes that were wasted on a man.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"Uh, what?"
"About my hair? How short should I go?"
His hair, right. She was supposed to be concentrating on his hair, which actually was fairly spectacular—dark brown, thick, naturally curly she suspected as she ran her fingers through the strands. It was already well styled. In fact, it didn't look like it needed much more than a trim, if that.
"A quarter inch," she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "Unless you had something else in mind? A buzz cut, perhaps." She laughed at his wary expression. "Just kidding. I had you worried there for a second, didn't I?"
"For a second."
"Shampoo first?"
"If you want to just wet it down, that's fine."
"Whatever you like." She pulled out a plastic cover-up to protect his clothes and used the spray bottle to wet down his hair. "So, where are you from? You've got a touch of the South in your voice."
"Good ear. Texas."
"You're a long way from home. Are you here for the races?"
"As a matter of fact, I am. What about you? Are you a native?"
"I was born here." She ran a comb through his hair and picked up her scissors.
"Have you lived anywhere else?" he asked.
Caroline didn't know how to answer that question. Did sailing across several oceans count as actually living somewhere else? "I've been around. Are you crewing for someone?"
"I haven't firmed up my plans yet."
"Waiting for the best offer?"
"You could say that. Have you done any racing yourself?"
"Some."
"But you're not involved this year?"
"No, I have other things I'm more interested in right now." She trimmed his hair, then pulled up strands of hair so she could measure the cut. "How does that look?" she asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
"Perfect."
"Mousse, gel, blow-dry?"
"No to all three."
"A natural kind of guy. Or you're just cheap.”
"It's raining outside," he said with a grin.
"Then you're a smart guy." Caroline pulled off the cover-up and shook out the loose hair. "You can pay Erica at the desk," she said as he stood up.
"Maybe I could buy you a drink, hear more about your racing experience."
A date with a fascinating stranger? She'd be crazy to say no. In fact, every instinct in her body told her to say yes. Especially since Mike had already canceled their plans for the evening, and she didn't particularly want to be alone.
"I'd like to show off my haircut," he said persuasively.
God, his smile was hot! Reason warred with impulse. "I have to finish a highlight. It will be at least another thirty minutes."
"I can meet you. I saw a bar down by the wharf."
"How about some food instead? There's a terrific seafood restaurant a few blocks from here called the Castaway. It's on Gilmore Street. When you leave here, turn left at the next corner and go down about four blocks."
"Sounds good. An hour?"
"Sure."
"Good. I'll see you there."
"See you there," she repeated softly, as he handed Erica a twenty and told her to keep the change. Caroline was still staring when he went through the door, caught up in genuine appreciation of his nice ass. It wasn't until Peggy began to cough that she turned away. She forced herself not to say a word until she heard the door close behind him.
Erica let out a whoop and jumped up from her desk. "You got yourself a real hottie there, Caroline," she said with her usual twenty-year-old candor.
"He's all right."
"Honey, he's better than all right," Peggy put in. "If I wasn't married, with enough stretch marks to make a map of Washington on my hips, I'd have gone for him myself."
"Did you see his ass?" Erica asked.
"I wouldn't mind getting my hands on those abs," Peggy added.
Caroline groaned. "You are both terrible. Why do I suddenly feel like we're twelve and at a slumber party?"
"Hey, it's not like a gorgeous stranger walks in here every day of the week," Erica said. "Usually it's cranky old ladies or middle-aged marrieds, present company excluded, of course."
Peggy laughed. "Believe me, at this moment, with my head covered in tinfoil, I'm happy that the only name you called me was middle-aged married. But you look great, Caroline. It's no wonder he went for you."
"Do you think so? The skirt isn't too short?" Caroline looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her black skirt was as mini as they came, her stomach bared by a short, cropped, purple V-necked top that would have showed off some generous cleavage if she had any. Unfortunately, Kate was the only one of the sisters with more than a boyish bosom.
"You look terrific," Peggy assured her.
"I look like I've been at wor
k all day."
"A little lipstick, some blush, you'll be good as new."
They both turned as the door to the salon opened once again. For a moment she thought he might have come back. "Oh, it's just you," Caroline said, as her sister Ashley walked into the room. Normally, Caroline got along much better with Ashley than with Kate, but at the moment she wasn't particularly interested in talking to either of her sisters.
"Gee, thanks. Who did you think I was?" Ashley asked.
"A hottie," Erica said irrepressibly. "This incredible man came in to get his hair cut, and he made a move on Caroline. She's going to meet him for dinner as soon as Peggy's hair is done baking."
"Thanks for sharing," Caroline said with an annoyed look in Erica's direction.
"Who is this guy?" Ashley asked, her brows knitting into a frown. "Does he have a name?"
It was only then that Caroline realized she didn't know his name. Had he said it? She tended to think of her clients by their appointment time or what they were having done. But he must have said his name. What was it?
"You don't know his name?" Ashley asked when she didn't reply. "And you're having dinner with him? How can you go out with him if you don't know his name?" Ashley's lips tightened. "I don't like the sound of this at all."
"I know his name. I just don't remember it. For heaven's sake, Ashley, I'm not sixteen. It's just dinner in a public place."
"But he's a stranger."
"You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough. It's raining out there, too."
Caroline realized her sister's agitation had more to do with the storm than with her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Ashley said evasively. "I came to check on you."
"Fine here, too."
"Well, good. Why don't you cancel your date and have dinner with Kate and me instead?"
"Kate has Dad on her couch."
"Oh."
"Don't say anything," Caroline warned her.
"I wasn't going to. What could I say, anyway?" Silence fell between them as they both avoided a subject neither wanted to cover. "Did you want anything else?" Caroline prodded.
"Yes. Rumor has it you're dating Mike Stanaway."
"So what if I am?"
"He's too old for you. And isn't he still married?”
"He's separated."
"Caroline—"
"Ashley, I have work to finish. You don't have anything to worry about. Mike and I are just friends. Trust me."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Now, I really need to finish Peggy's hair."
"I guess I'll see you later," Ashley said after a moment. "But I think you should be careful about meeting this strange guy."
"He's not strange. He's just a stranger."
Ashley didn't look convinced as she said good-bye to her sister and dashed out of the salon into the rain.
"He's not a stranger, exactly. I have his name written right here," Erica said triumphantly, holding up the appointment book. "Tyler Jamison. Now you know who he is."
Caroline's stomach flipped over. Tyler Jamison? Wasn't that the name of the reporter Kate had warned her about? Don't let yourself get taken in. Kate's voice rang through her head. Caroline frowned. She hated it when her sister was right.
"Yeah, now I know who he is," she said heavily. And she also knew exactly what she had to do.
Chapter Three
"So what was it about me that made you think I was the most gullible? Because I'm the youngest? Because I have a reputation of being an airhead? What was it exactly?" Caroline set her purple purse on the table in front of Tyler, then sat down across from him in the lounge of the Castaway.
"You've spoken to your sister." Tyler took a drink from his frosted beer glass. He'd had a feeling Caroline would catch on to him sooner rather than later. But he'd taken a shot, and in the end he'd gotten what he wanted. She was sitting across from him. Mad as hell, maybe, but definitely within conversational distance. "Can I get you a drink?"
"No."
"Are you sure?" he asked as a waiter came up to take her drink order. "Our table won't be ready for a few minutes."
"Fine. I'll have a mineral water," Caroline said, forcing a tight smile as she said hello to the waiter. "Hi, Bobby. How are you?"
"Great," Bobby said. "No wine for you tonight?"
"Just the mineral water." She turned back to Tyler. "And I won't be staying for dinner."
Tyler hoped he could change her mind. "Why don't we start over? I'm Tyler Jamison."
"What do you want?" Caroline asked. "And why didn't you just tell me who you were when you came into the salon? I knew your hair didn't really need cutting, but I thought you were one of those types who has to have his hair perfect at all times."
Tyler put a self-conscious hand to his head, aware that he hadn't even looked at his hair since walking four blocks to the restaurant in the wind and rain.
"I can see I was wrong about that," Caroline said.
Tyler smiled. "Listen, I probably should have introduced myself, but you were busy, and your sister gave me the cold shoulder earlier, so I thought it might be better if we had a chance to speak in private. I did give my name to the receptionist at the salon. I didn't realize you weren't aware who I was." Actually, he had realized early on in their conversation but had decided to see how far he could take it.
Caroline appeared somewhat mollified, but she still had her arms crossed defiantly in front of her. "Fine. What is it you want to know?"
"I'd like to write a follow-up story about your family and the race, what happened then, what's happening now. I'd put the photograph of the three of you holding the Winston trophy right next to a photograph of the three of you today. Show where you are in your lives now, how the race may have changed you, that kind of thing. Where-are-they-now pieces are quite popular these days."
"I'm sure Kate told you we weren't interested."
"I thought you might have a different opinion. And I didn't think you'd want your older sister to speak for you."
Caroline sat up straighter in her seat. Tyler could see he'd hit a nerve with that one. Caroline was not about to let Kate speak for her, that was quite clear. He had a feeling this sister was his way into the family.
"I speak for myself," she replied. "But, that said, I can't imagine what you'd write about us that would be at all interesting. We're not exactly living a wild and crazy life here on Castleton Island."
"True, but I'd like to know how hard or how easy it was to go from sailboat racer to hair stylist."
Caroline gave him a wide, toothy grin that made her look young, fresh, full of life. "That sounds like a headline that will sell about ten copies. Tell me something. Are you even a good reporter?"
"I've done all right," he said, biting back a smile. "And the value of the article would, of course, depend on how forthcoming you and your sisters are with the interesting details that people want to know."
"I barely remember the details now. Our journey was well documented in the logs we showed to the press at the end of the race."
"I've seen them—a page-turning discussion of the fish world, a little about your struggles with a geometry correspondence class, Ashley's reluctance to put a worm on a fishhook, and Kate's fascination with the brightness of the stars and planets as seen from each of the different hemispheres. Incredibly juicy stuff."
"Hey, I told you we were boring. Even when we were racing, there were a lot of days at sea where nothing happened. You've heard the expression in the doldrums? We got stuck in them for days. Just lying there waiting and praying for a wisp of wind to get us on our way. Sometimes I wanted to scream or pull out a paddle and start rowing. Once Kate and I did that just to be funny. Dad wasn't amused. Thought we were breaking the rule about not using anything other than our sails."
"You and Kate, huh? Are you two the closest?"
"We're sisters."
"That's not what I asked." He paused. "I haven't met Ashley yet. What's she like?"
"Quiet, pretty, sensitive. But I didn't come down here to tell you that."
"Why did you come?"
"Because I said I would. And because I didn't want you to think I was an idiot. I'm not. I was just distracted earlier. Otherwise, I would have seen right through you." Caroline lifted her chin in the air, the gesture filled with bravado.
Tyler nodded approvingly. "I understand, and I like your style." But he thought her words had an edge of desperation to them, as if she wanted to make sure he understood that she was smart and capable. He had a feeling Caroline had been trying to prove herself for some time.
"I don't care if you like me or you don't. That's the end of our discussion. I'm not interested in a story, and my sisters aren't, either."
Tyler considered her words, then leaned forward in his chair. "You know, Miss McKenna, you and your sister are awfully secretive for no apparent reason. Most people who win races love to talk about them.''
"So go talk to them."
"Can't. My curiosity is piqued."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"Hmm, what should I make of that?"
"It's just an expression." She paused as the waiter set down her mineral water. "I really can't stay," she said when they were alone again.
"Why don't you have your drink and give me the opportunity to change your mind?"
"That won't happen. I'm not as gullible as some people seem to think."
"Like Kate," he said, taking a wild guess.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. You're the baby sister. Did Kate try to boss you around when you were at sea?"
Caroline rolled her eyes. "She bosses me wherever we are."
"But on a boat, in close quarters, I would imagine not everyone gets to be chief."
"Daddy was the chief."
"Daddy," he murmured, taking another sip of his beer. "I met him earlier, you know—your father. He was three sheets to the wind."
"His favorite place to be." Caroline picked up her glass, running her finger around the edge. "But he's a good man. He did his best by us. And he did accomplish an amazing feat. People forget that nowadays."
Tyler put his elbows on the table and leaned in, sensing he'd just gotten the opening he needed. "They won't forget if you let me tell the story again, and not just that story, but the one you're living now. Your father could have it all back, the glory days of his life. What's the harm in that?" Caroline didn't reply right away, and he could see the indecision in her eyes. "This could be a good thing for you and your family."
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 4
