But those times of treasuring had created a man who took for granted the devotion of his family, Kate thought now. And once her mother had passed on, the responsibility of taking care of Duncan had fallen to her, the eldest child. She'd cooked and cleaned and mothered her sisters and tried to make sure her father's life always ran smoothly. She'd supported his every decision, including the one that had taken them to sea for three long years, always believing in her heart that Daddy knew best.
As a grown woman, she realized that Daddy hadn't known best for a very long time, and somewhere along the way their roles had reversed. Duncan had become the child, and she had become the parent. It was not the role she craved. And she couldn't help but wish for the impossible, that he would wake up one day and be the father she craved, the kind of man who would listen and advise, who would laugh with her and come to her bookstore and tell her he was proud of her. But he had never been that kind of father. Proud of her, yes, but only when it came to sailing. The rest of her life—her interests, her emotions, her ambitions—had never been of concern to him. If it didn't touch his life, he just didn't care that much.
Sometimes she hated him for not caring. But most of the time she loved him. He was her father, and she could still hear her mother's voice in her head: Your father is the most special man in the world. You are a very lucky little girl.
Maybe she just hadn't figured out the special part yet. She sighed as she took the blanket into the laundry room and tossed it in the pile to be washed. As for lucky, well, she could use a little luck right now, because she had a feeling her father was the least of her problems. No doubt that reporter would be waiting for her when she got to the bookstore. And she needed to figure out how to handle him.
As she returned to the kitchen, her eye caught on the laptop computer on the counter. She hadn't had a chance to look last night, but maybe she should make the time now.
Taking the computer over to the kitchen table, she got it started, then poured herself a cup of coffee. When she was logged on to the Internet, she quickly did a search on the name Tyler Jamison. If he was a reporter, he'd no doubt published some stories somewhere, and she was more than a little curious as to where.
The answer wasn't long in coming, but it was long in detail. The results jumped out at her.
Tyler Jamison reporting from Somalia for Time magazine...
An in-depth look at India's Kashmir region by Tyler Jamison...
Japan's new royalty, Tyler Jamison, U.S. News and World Report...
Kate's jaw dropped farther with each entry. It couldn't be the same man. A foreign correspondent, a man who covered war, whose words had been printed in every national magazine—that kind of reporter didn't write about sailboat races in Puget Sound. Something was definitely wrong.
Either Tyler Jamison wasn't really Tyler Jamison, or he'd come to Castleton for another reason.
Maybe there was a photograph of him somewhere, she thought, hastily clicking on each of the entries and scanning the articles for a picture. She had barely started when the doorbell rang. Her nerves tensed as she went to answer it, suspecting the worst, and her instincts were right on the money.
Tyler Jamison wore jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt. His eyes didn't look nearly as tired as they had the day before, and he'd obviously showered only a short time earlier, as his dark hair was still damp and there was a glow to his cleanly shaven face. Or maybe it was just the glow that came from his eyes. He really had incredible eyes, a much darker blue than her own. They reminded her of the deep waters of the ocean. She just hoped he wouldn't prove as dangerous or as deadly as the sea.
"Good morning. Can I interest you in some bagels?" He held out the white paper bag in his hand. "I don't know about you, but I always think better on a full stomach."
"Were you hoping to bribe me with food?"
"Did it work?"
"Come in," she said, waving him in. "How did you find me?"
"The island isn't that big, Kate, and everyone knows you. You don't mind if I call you Kate, do you?”
"Would it matter?"
He smiled in reply. "Are you ready for your interview? You did tell me we could talk today."
"I said you should come by the store, not my house."
"We'll have more privacy here." Tyler walked into the living room and glanced around.
She knew what he saw—a comfortable, warm room, with pastel colors, puffy white couches, throw rugs that warmed up the hardwood floor, and small lamps on every table. This was her haven, her home, and she'd make no apologies for the decor. Her years on a sailboat had left her with a distinct longing for a place of her own that didn't rock with the waves or blow in the wind, a house she could make a home, with a garden and trees, with roots that went deep into the ground.
"Landscapes," Tyler mused, surprising her with his words.
Kate followed his glance to the pictures of hillsides and meadows, flowers and trees on the walls. "You don't like landscapes?"
"They're okay. But where's the sea, the lighthouses, the boats?”
"Just a few miles down the road."
"No reason to put them on the wall?"
"None whatsoever." She met his gaze head-on. "Do you find that surprising?"
Tyler nodded. "Among other things. Are you going to talk to me, Kate?"
"I might." She still didn't know what to do about him. She'd dreamed about him last night, the first time in a long time a man's face that wasn't Jeremy's had appeared in her dreams. But she didn't want this man in her dreams, or in her house for that matter.
Tyler walked over to the mantle and studied the portrait hanging over the fireplace. It was Kate's favorite picture of the McKenna women, her mother and her sisters and herself. They'd had the portrait painted for her father's birthday when Kate was fourteen years old, Ashley twelve and Caroline ten. She could still see her father unwrapping the portrait, the love, joy, and pride lighting up his eyes when he saw it. He'd jumped to his feet, grabbed her mother in a huge bear hug, and swung her around until she was dizzy. Next he'd picked up Kate and spun her, then done the same with each of her sisters. There had been so much laughter that day, so much love.
"Your mother?" Tyler asked, drawing her attention back to him.
"Yes."
"You look like her."
"I've always thought Ashley looked the most like her.”
"I haven't met Ashley yet."
And it was going to stay that way, if Kate had her wish.
"What happened to your mother?" Tyler asked.
"She died of cancer when I was seventeen years old."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
"Was she a sailor?"
"Yes, but she didn't like sailing far from home. A spin around the islands was enough for her. She was an artist, a dreamer. She used to design sails, not for money, just for friends. She was more of an armchair adventurer than anything else." Kate let out a small sigh, feeling a wave of longing and nostalgia that never seemed to go away completely. It had been years since her mother's death, but she still missed her. "I wish she could have seen my bookstore. I think she would have liked it." She stopped abruptly, remembering whom she was talking to.
"Don't stop now. You're on a roll." Tyler sent her a curious look. "We don't have to be adversaries. I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling that you don't want me here. In fact, I believe you'd like to send me away as quickly as possible. I just don't know why."
"What are you really after?" she asked, deciding it was time to turn the tables. "You don't write stories about ocean racers, not even world-class ones. You write about wars and international economies. You've had bylines in every national magazine. And I think somewhere along the way you've won a journalistic award or two.”
His eyes narrowed with a glint of admiration. "You did some checking."
"Is that a problem? Do you have something to hide?"
"Not at all. I'm just not used to being on the other side of the research."
>
"So, tell me, Mr. Jamison, why would a man comfortable in the hottest spots of the world want to recreate an old story that wasn't that exciting to begin with?"
"Again, I think you underestimate the level of interest in your experience. But, to answer your question, I wanted a change of pace. It's been an intense few years for me. After a while there's only so much blood and carnage you can absorb without going a little crazy."
"I can imagine," she murmured.
"No, you can't."
The grimness on his face bespoke of things she probably couldn't imagine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound--"
"Why don't we talk about you?" He moved closer, invading her personal space, making her feel very aware of herself as a woman. She hadn't spent much time on men or relationships in the past few years, keeping herself busy with family, friends, her home, and her business. It seemed to be enough most days. But not today, not with this man standing so close, his warm breath brushing her cheek, his lips within kissing distance.
Kate cleared her throat, feeling distinctly warm and foolish as she took a step backwards. Tyler Jamison wasn't interested in her. He was after a story, and he wasn't above using his appeal to get it. She'd have to be careful. She sat down on the edge of the couch and waved her hand toward a nearby chair.
"What do you want to know about me?" she asked as he took a seat.
"When did your family decide to race around the world?"
"It wasn't a family decision. My father decided for us. After my mom died, we were at loose ends. My dad wasn't good at homework and carpools, so he decided to take us to sea. He'd always been a sailor. He was in the navy in his early years, raced as a younger man, then settled down to running charters around Puget Sound once he married my mother. He always felt more comfortable on water than on land. He had itchy feet. My mother was the only person who could keep him in one place. Once she was gone, he couldn't settle down."
"Sounds like he loved her."
"He did. Very much. He was different with her. She understood him in a way that I've certainly never been able to."
"So you took to the sea. What happened next?"
"At first we just sailed. That lasted about six months. Then a short race came up, and we joined in. After our first win, my dad wanted another and another. It became a fever. He filled up our future with big dreams of big races. We were somewhat limited, because our boat wasn't as sleek or powerful as the boats used by the racing syndicates. But my dad was determined to win an around-the-world race. The Winston came up in one of the off years between the Whitbread and America's Cup. It was a different kind of race, one for both amateurs and professionals; the class level of the boats made sure of that. The crews were limited to no more than six. There was more time built into the race and into the layovers."
"But there were only four of you. Why not fill out the crew with a couple of hefty guys?"
She smiled at the familiar criticism. So many people had suggested that they take on additional crew members. The initial reports of the race had all predicted that the McKennas would finish last, if they finished at all.
"We were good at what we did," she said. "I think we proved we were quite capable of winning without two hefty guys."
"Good point. What happened to the boat after you came home? It's my understanding that it's now owned by someone else."
"Yes. We sold it when we returned home."
"Why?"
Kate thought for a moment, wondering how she could answer that without drawing additional questions. "That part of our life was over," she said finally. "We needed the money for other things."
"What other things?"
"Just things."
Tyler tapped his foot against the floor. "Okay. Tell me this, how will you feel when you see your boat come sailing back into the harbor on Monday?"
"How do you know about that?" she asked sharply, then remembered he'd had dinner with her sister. "That's right. You were out with Caroline last night."
"Yes."
"Why did you ask her out?"
"I thought she'd be more forthcoming than you.”
"And was she?"
"You know she wasn't. She was as evasive as you are, although a bit more colorful in her language."
Kate could believe that. Caroline had always loved a good swear word. "What else do you want to know?" she asked, checking her watch. "I have to get to the bookstore."
"Did you ever want to quit the race?"
"Yes. But my father was determined, obsessed with getting to the finish line. Once we began, nothing and no one could stop him."
"I guess that's how you win races."
"I guess." She hadn't let herself think about the race in a very long time. There were too many emotions wrapped up in that part of her life: incredible joy, horrific pain. Standing up abruptly, she said, "We're done."
"We're just beginning," Tyler said as he also stood up.
"If you want more information, go to the library."
"I thought we were getting along, breaking the ice." His soft smile was meant to take the edge off her mood, but it wasn't enough. She'd started to feel the pain again. She couldn't go back there. She wouldn't go back there.
Tyler reached out and touched the side of her face with his hand. The heat burned through her skin, the intimate gesture startling her.
"What put that look of enormous hurt into your eyes?" he asked softly, his gaze intent on hers.
"Nothing. You're imagining things." She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn't seem to break the connection between them. "You're staring at me."
"You're staring at me," he murmured.
And she was, dammit. Why now? Why did her sleeping libido have to suddenly wake up now?
"Was it a man?" Tyler asked.
"What?" Caught up in her physical reaction to him, she'd completely lost the thread of their conversation.
"Was it a man who hurt you?"
"No," she said quickly.
"Did something happen to one of your sisters while you were racing?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're their protector. And anything that hurts them hurts you. Am I right?"
She was relieved that the conversation had turned to her sisters. "I'm the oldest," she replied. "I do what I have to do."
"I can understand that."
"Good. Don't go after my sisters, Tyler. That would be a big mistake."
Tyler sent her a long, measuring look. "I believe it would be."
"Then we understand each other." She turned to escort him out of the room, but he caught her by the arm.
"Not so fast."
It wasn't fear that drove the shiver down her spine but an undeniable attraction, and Kate couldn't afford an attraction to this man. She couldn't let herself like him or trust him. She had family to protect, not to mention her heart.
"We're not done," he added.
"Yes, we are. I don't trust you. I don't believe you're here for a simple story."
"And I don't believe nothing happened during your race. I think you're hiding something."
"Believe what you want. I don't have anything to gain by talking to you."
"You may have nothing to gain, but I suspect that you have something to lose."
He had no idea how much. And she desperately hoped he would never find out. Before she could reply, the doorbell rang once again. Her house had never been this busy, but she was grateful for the distraction. She pulled her arm away from his hand. "I need to get that." Opening the door, she found Ashley on the doorstep.
Ashley's eyes were wild, her long hair tangled and falling around her face and shoulders. "I can't do it, Kate. I can't get on the damn boat. The wind has died down, but I still feel a breeze, and it's too much." Ashley's words tumbled out in a rush as she stepped into the hallway. "If I don't photograph all the crews, Mr. Conway will give the assignment to someone else, and I really need the money. But I can't get on the damn boat. What's wro
ng with me? Why do I have to be so afraid all the time?" She waved her hand in frustration, the action sending her purse flying to the ground, the contents spilling on the floor. "Dammit. I can't do anything right."
"Oh, Ash," Kate said, putting a calming hand on her sister's arm. "It's going to be fine."
"No, it's not." Ashley stopped abruptly as Tyler squatted down to collect the things that had spilled from her purse. "Who are you?"
"Tyler Jamison," he said as he stood up and handed Ashley her purse back. "You must be Ashley."
"The reporter?" Ashley looked from Tyler to Kate in confusion. "You're talking to the reporter, but you said—"
Kate cut Ashley off with a warning glance. "I said that he was very persistent, and he is."
"Right. I'm sorry I interrupted you."
"Oh, this must have come out of your purse, too," Tyler said, handing Ashley a small bottle of pills.
"Thank you," Ashley said hastily, sticking the pills in her purse. "I should go."
"You don't have to go. Mr. Jamison was just leaving." Kate sent Tyler a pointed look, willing him to just leave. She needed to deal with Ashley in private.
"All right. I'll go," Tyler said. "It was nice to meet you, Ashley. I'll talk to you later, Kate."
"Sure, whatever." Kate shut the door behind him and turned to her sister. "Now then, tell me again why you're so upset."
"One of the boat crews is insisting that I photograph them from the deck of the boat. I've made up two excuses already, and I'm going to lose the assignment if I don't take their picture the way they want it." She shook her head in frustration. "It gets harder every day, Kate. I lived on a boat for three years, and now I can't get on one for twenty seconds. It's stupid. I thought the fear would have gone away by now, but it's worse than it was eight years ago. It's as if every day the fear pushes me back another step. I used to be able to go out on the Sound, remember? When we first got back, I went on some day trips. I was nervous, but I made it. But each time I went out got shorter and shorter. Now I can't even get on a damn boat."
Kate saw the frustration and pain in Ashley's eyes and wanted so badly to make it all right again, but Ashley's fears ran deep, probably deeper than Kate even realized. She'd told herself in recent months that Ashley was doing better, that she was fine. It was easier to believe they were all okay now, to pretend that the past no longer had the power to hurt. But it was clear that Ashley wasn't better, and pretending otherwise would only make it worse. "Do you want me to go with you?" Kate asked. "Maybe it would help."
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 6
