Kyla’s eyes widened. Why did he want to open up and unveil the most secrets parts of his soul when he was with Kyla? He hardly ever talked more than it was necessary, and he’d never told much about himself to his college friends, or to the two girls he’d dated. His mouth had a mind of its own when Kyla was around.
“I know it makes me sound like a loser, but the first girl I dated wanted to wait until we were sure we were right for each other. I got back to Boston a day early, after going home for Thanksgiving, only to find her in my roommate’s bed.”
“Ouch.”
He nodded. “Yeah. So I held off dating for a while and concentrated on my studies. Then in my junior year I met a girl I really liked. She was a fan of romantic movies and was all about the perfect moment and the perfect place. After a few months of dating, I planned a romantic night, and got the call from the hospital telling me my father had been taken to the ER. I booked the first plane out and wasn’t back for a month.” He shrugged. “As you can guess, the romantic night never happened. I packed up my stuff and we promised we’d try long-distance. I wanted it to work and tried really hard, but eventually we realized it was impossible. And then, since I’ve been back, between looking after my father and the fact people still believe in the curse, I haven’t had many occasions for socializing.”
He’d said it all without looking at her, afraid of what he’d see in her eyes. She took his hand and squeezed it.
“That doesn’t make you a loser. You’ve had a tough few years, and living in this narrow-minded town didn’t exactly help.” Her voice was soft as she leaned closer to his face, her lips only a couple of inches away from his. “Sleeping with lots of women just for the sake of it doesn’t make men look cooler, at least in my eyes.”
She smiled and closed the gap, pressing her lips to his. He pulled her closer, and she melted against him. He lost track of time, as well as his self-control, as things heated up. When Kyla broke the passionate kiss and stood up, he nearly let out a disappointed groan, but he held it in as his eyes registered her pulling her sleeveless pink shirt over her head and discarding it to the ground. His jaw dropped but he recovered as soon as he met Kyla’s wavering stare. It was clear this was new to her, and he was sure she was wondering whether she was out of line. He stood up and took a step toward her, took her hands in his and pulled her to him. Unable to put two words together, he just brought her hands around his neck, then traced his fingers along her sides, until they settled on her hips. She shivered at his touch, and he smiled, just before his lips claimed hers in a breathtaking kiss. Lost in the moment, he didn’t think too much of the barks coming from Bear and Sugarpuff, not when Kyla’s hands went under his T-shirt and roamed up his chest. She had a dangerous effect on him, some kind of feeling he was too afraid of naming.
“What the… Hey!”
Before Caleb’s could process the words coming from behind him, he was shoved away from Kyla. He staggered and leaned his hand against the back of the chair to keep upright.
“Conor!” Kyla’s shriek cleared the haze a bit, but the punch that hit him square in the jaw a second later caused another fog to take over. Damn. He wasn’t expecting that.
“You keep your hands off my sister, Morgan. Do you hear me?” Conor pointed a finger at him and narrowed his blue eyes—the same as his sister’s, only less friendly.
“Oh my God, Conor, what do you think you’re doing? Are you crazy?” Kyla gave her brother a shove that barely moved him from the spot where he was standing.
“I’m saving you from a guy who only wants to take advantage of you. And for heaven’s sake, put something on!”
Conor looked away from her and scowled at Caleb. He scowled back. He was tired of people making assumptions about him. He’d suffered in silence all his life, simply because he’d never found anything worth fighting for. He wouldn’t let Conor stand between Kyla and him. He had someone he was going to fight for now, and he wasn’t going to put up with stupid behavior any longer.
Kyla reached for her top on the ground and put it on, before turning toward her brother again. “I don’t come and stick my nose into your relationship with Giorgia, so don’t come and stick yours into mine.”
Conor’s eyebrows went up, just as Caleb’s did. A relationship? Did she really think of them as a couple? His heart swelled at the thought that maybe she wasn’t just going to scratch an itch or bring a high-school fantasy to life, just to see what it would have been like if one of them had made a move back then.
“Seriously, Kyla. Can’t you see he’s just using you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb said, staring straight at Conor with a scowl still in place and feeling the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a step forward.
Kyla moved her gaze from her brother to Caleb, and her eyes widened when they settled on his mouth.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding!” She rushed to him and took his face in her hands, inspecting his bottom lip, where he was sure she’d find a cut where it was starting to swell. “I’ll go grab a towel. No, actually, you should come in with me and we can put some ice on it.” Her voice was soft and her eyes were apologetic as they met his, as if she was the one who’d punched him. “And you”—she looked over her shoulder at her brother—“go home and don’t you dare come back. We’ll talk about this later, when I don’t feel the urge to strangle you.”
Caleb pursed his lips to avoid letting a laugh escape, then winced at the pain. Conor narrowed his eyes in an intimidating stare, and Caleb was expecting him to do that ‘I’m watching you’ thing with his fingers, just like in a movie—but he didn’t.
Kyla spun and took Caleb’s hand, and as soon as her eyes were no longer on her brother, Conor lifted his fingers and gave him exactly the warning Caleb had been expecting, complete with a mouthed, “I’m watching you, Morgan.” Caleb wanted to laugh, but just shook his head and followed Kyla into his house, hoping he wouldn’t have to worry about Conor showing up at his place in the middle of the night to finish what he’d started and make sure Caleb would no longer be able to hang out with his sister.
“I’m so sorry for what my brother did.”
Kyla placed the towel with the ice cubes on Caleb’s mouth and winced when he did too. She couldn’t believe her brother would do something so stupid, and so embarrassing, just because he believed in that idiotic curse and all the gossip. He couldn’t have picked a better time to go play Big Brother to the rescue. She didn’t know whether she was more mortified or more pissed. Not only had he acted like a caveman, he’d also ruined what would have been a perfect afternoon—and a perfect first time. If he hadn’t shown up, at this moment she and Caleb would probably be lying on the grass, entangled in each other’s arms. Or maybe they’d be in his bed. Definitely not in his kitchen tending to his wound.
Caleb smiled and put his hand on hers over the towel. “It’s okay. I’m sure he only wanted to protect you from the evil pirate’s heir, who sails from harbor to harbor to steal treasures and young maidens’ virginity.”
Kyla chuckled. Yes, her brother tended to be a little overprotective at times, and she’d always liked that trait of his—but not this time. “Well, you sort of brought this on yourself, though. If you hadn’t started talking about getting naked, we wouldn’t have ended up in that predicament and Conor wouldn’t have punched you.”
His eyes widened. “Hang on, I never said I wanted to paint a portrait of you naked. You’re the one who came up with the Titanic analogy and started talking about stripping.”
“That’s because you were looking at me with a naughty expression when you said that, so I thought you were thinking of that particular kind of portrait.”
He laughed. “I meant a portrait like the Mona Lisa or The Girl With The Pearl Earring. You’re the one with a dirty mind.”
Okay, that was embarrassing. Had her mind been too clouded by the attraction she felt for him that she’d m
isread the signs? Maybe she really had a dirty mind. It wasn’t like he’d pushed her away or asked her to stop, though. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the feel of his skin under her fingertips, of his hands sliding up her sides and across her back.
“Although, I’ll admit that if your brother hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have been able to act like a gentleman and stop. It’s probably better he interrupted us just in time.”
Kyla’s hand was shaking a little now, as she pressed the towel to his lip again. She couldn’t stop fantasizing what it would’ve been like to be in his arms.
“You know, I never got punched because of a woman before.” He interrupted her fantasy, and she blinked, focusing on the here and now again.
“Well, then I’m glad I can be your first. I used to wish I’d be your first kiss and you’d be mine, but that never happened, unfortunately.” Okay, why had she said that?
He smiled. “You already are my first, in a way. The first girl I fell in love with.” His eyebrows shot up. “Um, I mean, I had a crush on.”
The towel fell out of her hand onto the table, and her heart thumped wildly at those words. He’d fallen in love with her back then? Did he still love her now? Or had it just been a slip of the tongue and he only had a simple crush on her?
He reached for the towel and fumbled with it, looking away. He was adorable and even sexier when he acted shy. She smiled and sat on his lap. He looked up, and when their eyes met, she kissed the corner of his lips, making sure to avoid hurting the bruised side.
“You’re so sweet.” She leaned into him, and his arms enveloped her like a cocoon. It was clear the passionate moment was lost, but it didn’t matter. The sweetness and warmth in his embrace were all she needed at that moment. And right then, with her head on his shoulder and his arms around her, she knew she’d just lost another piece of her heart to him.
Chapter 6
While things with Caleb were going great, her professional life was a bit more at risk with each passing day. She still hadn’t found a way to start The Talk—the one in which she would have to find a way to change his mind about the paintings. If she didn’t manage to convince him, she’d never get her promotion. She wouldn’t put it past Rodney to give her a hard time for suggesting something she’d then failed to accomplish. If she couldn’t even convince a friend to sell his paintings, how could she hope Rodney would consider her suitable for a more important position at the gallery? This was her test. If she failed it, she’d be stuck in her assistant position for the rest of her career—if Rodney didn’t decide to fire her or the gallery closed down first.
When her phone rang on her way to meet Caleb at the amusement park, and Rodney’s name flashed on the screen, she swallowed the bile that had crawled up her throat.
She’d been evasive during their last call and in the messages they’d exchanged, but she was sure he wouldn’t take this for much longer. And she’d never been a good liar—Rodney knew that fact about her too.
She contemplated letting it go to voicemail. Taking a deep breath, she put a fake smile on her face and picked up—then regretted it as soon as Rodney’s brusque voice greeted her with, “When can I expect that contract, Kyla?”
Shivers ran down her spine, but she was determined not to let him know how much this call was affecting her. So she squeezed her eyes closed and counted backward from three before she spoke.
“Rodney, I told you I’m doing my best. You just have to be patient.”
Her boss snorted. “Investors don’t know the meaning of patience, Kyla. We need something new, something amazing, or they’re going to close us down. The big boss doesn’t care about anything else but making money out of his galleries. We can’t attract buyers, we’re out of jobs—it’s as simple as that.”
Dread filled her. She was already scraping by as it was; if she lost her job she’d have to leave New York and her dreams of glory behind, and accept what her mother told her the day she received the letter of acceptance at NYU’s Department of Art History: “Dreams won’t put a roof over your head or food on your table.” Her parents had never believed art could be a profession—they’d never approved of her career choice. Now that she had a good job, a nice—albeit very small—apartment, and the prospect of a promotion and subsequent raise, they seemed to have accepted that she didn’t have any intentions of following her brother’s career path and start a business in their hometown. Conor had been the only one who’d accepted and supported her decisions. He’d been the only who’d congratulated her when she received the letter from NYU. The only one who’d gone to visit her in New York and never made her feel like all she’d been working hard for was useless.
“I’ll find a way to convince him. Give me a couple of days.” She tried to keep her tone confident, although all she wanted to do was plead.
“This could be a game changer, Kyla. Don’t screw up. Both our careers are on the line, but I won’t have trouble finding another job quickly.”
But she would. The unspoken words were loud and clear. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of it; knowing someone else thought it too stung even deeper, though.
“Yes, I know. I’m seeing him later and I’ll try to make him see what a great opportunity the exhibit will be for him. I’ll change his mind somehow and you’ll have your signed contract by the end of the week. Trust me with this, Rodney. I won’t disappoint you.”
The mumbled, “Yeah,” at the other end of the line didn’t exactly scream his confidence in her. She couldn’t afford to let him down, and she really thought Caleb’s paintings deserved to be shared with the world.
She spun around with the phone still to her ear, and her jaw dropped when her gaze landed on Caleb, standing only a few feet away from her, a bunch of flowers on the ground and a hurt expression on his handsome face.
The bunch of daisies, he’d bought on the way to the amusement park, fell to the ground, and Caleb’s heart followed soon afterward, at the realization of what an idiot he’d been. Even though he’d known all along that if he got too close to the flame, he’d get burned, he’d also started toying with the idea of visiting New York and maybe staying a little longer than a week. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the quiet of Fortune’s Bay, but he would be coming back often enough to check on his father. Perhaps at some point Kyla would consider coming back with him. His imagination had been running wild, apparently—because the only reason Kyla had been hanging out with him was so that she could bring his paintings back with her to New York and get a promotion.
Her blue eyes were wide as saucers as she faced him, her phone still glued to her ear.
“I can explain,” she said, once she’d recovered from the visible shock.
“I’ve heard enough.” His tone was curt, anger seeping through every word as it built inside him. “You’d better call your boss and tell him he’s going to need someone else’s paintings for his event. Because I told you over and over, they’re private.”
He shook his head, trying to rein in his emotions. As angry as he was, he didn’t want to take it all out on her. Besides, Conor Callaghan didn’t like him—and he would even less if he hurt his sister.
Nobody would care that he was the one who’d been hurt, though.
“Please, hear me out. It’s not what it seems.” Kyla took a step closer to him, but he moved back. She stopped and stared up at him with big, round eyes that brimmed with tears. No, he wouldn’t let those tears fool him. He’d already let her fool him enough. How stupid of him to believe she could be interested in him, the town’s outcast.
“I don’t know when you started lying about your motives for hanging out with me, but I’m starting to believe that it was all a well-orchestrated plan from the beginning. Maybe you even pretended to drown just to have an excuse to get closer to me.”
Her jaw fell, and he looked away, feeling awful. He would not accept any more of her lies, and if acting like a cold, cruel bastard was the only way to protect his heart from getting even more squ
ashed, then he’d put on a mask and play the part. After all, he’d been playing a part all of his life, trying to be invisible and be the mysterious, creepy pirate’s heir everyone thought he was.
“Caleb, please—”
“Save your breath. Nothing you’ll say will work at this point.”
Even though his heart wanted to give her a chance to explain, in hopes she’d give him a plausible reason for what she’d done, his rational part—and the scarred kid who’d been left aside all his life—told him to spin around and go. He knew that, if he let her speak, she’d wrap him around her little finger, and he’d be lost.
She took another step toward him, and again he stepped back. He shook his head, determined not to let those teary eyes weaken his resolve, and turned around before he could change his mind and beg her to swear she hadn’t lied about her feelings, that her kisses were real, that the warmth he’d felt in her touch hadn’t been just a sly way to lure him into selling his paintings. As he darted away, he thought he heard sobs coming from behind him, but he refused to turn around and find out if they were coming from Kyla. He knew he would run back to her and forget the sting of deceit, just to have her in his arms one last time.
Chapter 7
Kyla dropped the phone into her bag and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She’d sent him at least twenty messages and had called him twice as much. His phone had been unreachable since he’d walked away the day before and left that bunch of daisies, her favorite flowers, on the pavement—right next to her heart. She’d even shown up at his place earlier, but he’d either been locked inside and refused to open or he’d left town.
She could understand why he was mad at her, but he hadn’t even given her the chance to explain, to tell him the truth. To tell him that, in a way, she’d been stalling and avoiding the subject because she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before she had to go back to New York. Maybe because she had started to understand why he didn’t want to share his paintings with anyone.
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