Chapter Six

KATE THOUGHT HE WAS CRAZY.

He probably was.

Sitting on a swing, eating tacos, while he had a film to make was probably not the best idea. Kate made it clear that she disapproved, but he desperately needed to get out of that tiny office. The more time they had spent together that morning—her flaming hair dancing in the corner of his eye, her irritated sighs echoing in his ears—the less he could concentrate. He had started that morning planning the film, but by the time he made his escape, he was planning ways to make Kate laugh. She was magnetic, drawing his attention until he couldn’t focus on anything except the rhythm of her breathing and the deepening scowl on her forehead.

She definitely thought he was nuts.

The empty corkboard he spent the morning staring at would eventually be a storyboard. The whiteboards would keep track of the filming schedule, locations, and the post-production elements. He was plotting the scenes in his head, crafting the documentary on paper before he put it on film. It was his usual process. He never wanted to waste time on set by trying to figure out the next shot while the cast and crew were waiting around. He prided himself on his careful planning and scheduling, but the closer Kate was, the more that process flew right out of his mind. He’d needed to get out of the office just to catch his breath. The tacos were a happy bonus.

She swayed slightly on the swing beside him, sipping her soda as she stared at the water. He might be wrong, but he was pretty sure she needed to catch her breath, too. Ben’s warnings rose to the surface of his thoughts. He sensed a fragility in her, a tenderness beneath the severe suits and piercing looks that came from tragedy. If she was a character in one of his films, he would know every detail of her life, every secret, every shattered dream, every twist and turn that led her to this place. But this wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t working from a script. He didn’t know her backstory or what caused her to be so serious. Lily had shared stories of their college days, and he couldn’t imagine the straight-laced woman next to him was the same woman who convinced Lily to sneak into the Hollywood Bowl with her and sing boy band songs from the darkened stage until the security guard chased them out. Somewhere between the Hollywood Bowl and Boston, Kate’s story had changed.

The question was why. If he was directing the movie of her life, what would cause such a drastic turn? He twisted the swing so he could face her, dragging his feet through the sand, as a thousand stories leapt to life in his imagination. Who was Kate Sullivan?

She turned her head, her eyebrows raised in question. “What?” she asked. “Is there salsa on my face?” She didn’t wait for him to answer but started patting her mouth with a napkin.

“No,” he said. “I was just thinking about who I would cast you to play in a movie.”

Her hand froze, and she blinked at him. Confusion danced in those big, green eyes, and he was secretly pleased to have thrown her off her game. Maybe she needed a few more curveballs in her life. Maybe he could be the one to throw them.

“Me?” she sputtered. “In a movie?”

“Well, I’m not saying you should give up your day job. In fact,” he added quickly, “please don’t. I think I’m going to need a good lawyer. But let’s say you walked into an audition—who would I see you playing?”

“And?” she asked, her voice losing that clipped, professional tone he was used to. She sounded more relaxed, more at ease, and he was thrilled with the change. Maybe this was the woman he had been longing to know, the laughing girl buried beneath the suits and sarcasm. “What did you decide?”

He lifted his soda to his lips and took a long drink as he pretended to consider her, enjoying the way she stared back at him with undisguised expectation. The wind caught her hair and pulled the long waves over her shoulder. There was no stress, none of the tension that usually kept her so distant. He’d interrupted her work-first mentality and introduced something completely new. He liked being the one to disrupt her train of thought and shake her out of her routine. He tilted his head as he continued to look at her, drawing out the question, enjoying, perhaps a little too much, her undivided attention. “Maybe an international spy,” he said. “The sharp suits and briefcase are a cover for your real work tracking down rogue agents bent on starting World War III.”

She wrinkled her nose, and he longed to reach across the short distance that separated them and touch her cheek. “I’m not sure I’m super spy material. I’m not great at following orders.”

He nodded, filing that information away. “Then how about a tenacious journalist who uncovers a government conspiracy and has to run for her life?”

She pointed at her fancy high heel shoes on the sand. “I’m not much of a runner.”

“That does complicate the whole running-for-your-life plot.” He wadded up the last of the taco wrappers and tossed it in the takeaway box. He set the box by his feet, nestling it in the sand so it wouldn’t blow away.

Across the beach, a family was building a sand castle. Beyond them, a couple lounged in folding chairs. The man was asleep, while a woman—Chris assumed it was his wife—read a book next to him. When the wind picked up and tossed the edge of his beach towel over his legs, his wife reached over and smoothed it back down. The man didn’t even stir.

Inches away, Kate waited. Impatient, busy Kate. She watched him with an intensity he’d become so familiar with, as if every moment was important to her. She didn’t want to waste a second and had very little tolerance for those who did. His mind spun as images sped past. Kate was strong and capable, but underneath it all, she had a soft heart. She might not want to show it, but he’d seen the way she protected Lily and the way she stood up for Hannah. Kate would never fade into the background. There was nothing subtle or subdued about her. She was color and movement, like a Van Gogh in a room of black and white photographs. People noticed her, and she knew how to use that to her advantage.

He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said. “You’re a warrior queen, who leads her people to freedom.”

She laughed, and the sound set a flurry of butterflies winging through his stomach. He’d heard her laugh before, but he’d never been the one to make her laugh. It was as if he’d won an award, and her laugh was the prize.

“I like that one,” she said and sat up straighter in the swing, trying on her newly acquired royal title. “‘Queen Kate’ definitely has a nice ring to it.”

Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and he wondered what had happened to make the joy in her life so rare. He wouldn’t ask; it wasn’t his business. Not yet. As she turned away, the lightness of her smile changed, replaced by the haunted and distant expression he was used to seeing, as if she suddenly realized she wasn’t supposed to be laughing. It was like something precious had been stolen, a gift he had barely glimpsed suddenly snatched away. She looked out at the sand and sea, the beach towels and people, like she was looking at foreign land.

“Do you miss all this?” he asked. “I know it’s not snow and baked beans, but it’s got some perks.”

She pushed her feet against the sand and rocked the swing back and forth. She was quiet for so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. “Sometimes.” The word was hushed, as if it escaped before she could stop it, a whisper of longing she couldn’t control. He held his breath, hoping she would continue but afraid the smallest movement might frighten her back into her professional armor. “I left because I needed a change, but I have to admit, I forgot how special this place can be. It’s . . . ” She paused, then turned her face to his. “You were right; this place is a character. It has a heartbeat all its own.”

Down by the water’s edge, a seagull hopped across the wet sand, and a little girl chased it. Her mom followed close behind as the girl toddled after the bird, her hands reaching out and her laughter louder than the waves that rolled along the sand. Palm trees waved in the gentle breeze, and music drifted from behind them. Chris had been all over the world, and he’d never found another place like this. Even with the traffic and smog and earthquakes, special was the right word for this city.

Kate turned to look at him. “My sister and I used to love the beach. When I got my driver’s license, we’d go almost every weekend. I even talked her into skipping school a few times so we could go to Zuma or Malibu. My dad would have killed us if he ever found out.” She shook her head as Chris soaked up every word. “I was always the one causing trouble, dragging her into my adventures and schemes. Megan—” The word cracked under the weight of her memories. “Megan went along with it because she loved me.”

“Megan sounds like a good sister. My little sister liked to tattle on me.” He laughed. “I’d love to meet Megan someday.”

Kate turned away and looked back across the waves. “Megan died six years ago.”

He sucked in a breath. In the distance, white caps danced on the waves, leisurely rolling to the shore. He tried to imagine losing his own sister, the hole that would leave in his life. Even with her living so far away and busy with her own life, he would feel that loss every day. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I didn’t know.”

She shrugged. “I don’t talk about it much. It’s hard, knowing she’s gone and I’m . . . not.” She straightened her shoulders, pulling the armor back on, shielding herself once again. “I actually haven’t been to the beach since she died. It’s weird being here without her, like I’m doing something wrong.”

Chris set his soda next to the box of crumpled wrappers on the sand and reached for her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He met her gaze, searching for hesitation, waiting for her to pull away, but she didn’t move. His fingers held hers loosely, giving her the freedom to move, the chance to withdraw. Her skin was soft against his, like silk sweeping against this palm. He wanted to pull her closer, to hold her tighter, to sit under the winter sun with her until the sadness in her eyes vanished.

The shrill ring of her cell phone intruded, a warning bell that rang too late. If he hadn’t hesitated, if he’d moved quicker, maybe neither of them would have even heard the phone. Kate blinked like she had stepped out of a fog. Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets as she pulled her purse from the sand and dug inside it. The phone was still ringing when she looked at the caller ID. She pressed her lips together as the number flashed across the screen. With a decisive tap, she sent it to voicemail.

She dropped the phone in her lap and rubbed her eyes. Chris was about to ask if she was all right when her phone beeped again. She sighed and looked at the text message, her back stiff and her shoulders tensed for a fight.

He stepped away to give her some privacy. The sudden change in her demeanor hit him like a rogue wave. It only took a second for the vulnerable girl on the beach to disappear. She was distant and wary once again. He would have given anything to chase the worry from her face, to ease whatever burden she was carrying.

She stood and reached for her shoes. “Sorry to cut our lunch break short, but I need to go.” Curt and to the point, her crisp, business tone was as cold as the winter waves. She brushed the wrinkles from her suit and pulled on the sleeves to straighten them.

Chris nodded and bent to pick up the box of trash. “Is everything all right?”

She shrugged as if there wasn’t an easy answer to that question. “It’s my dad. He asked me to come over as soon as possible. He said it’s important.”

If he remembered correctly, Kate had grown up in the San Fernando Valley, a land of suburbs and bedroom communities up north that were far from the smog and congestion of Los Angeles but close enough to commute to work.

“No problem,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They walked back across the sand to the sidewalk. Kate stopped and set her shoes on the ground. “If you drop me at the mission, I’ll grab my car and let you get back to work. I can catch up with you and your staring at the walls tomorrow.”

He held her elbow to keep her from falling as she bent over to brush the sand from the soles of her feet. “That’s a terrible idea.” She glanced up at him as she slipped her shoes on, a protest already forming on her lips, but he kept talking before she could launch into her argument. “That’s forty-five minutes of back tracking to the mission, and you’d still have another hour drive after that to get up north. It makes more sense for me to drive you.”

She straightened, three inches taller in her fancy shoes, and pulled her arm from his grasp. “You don’t have to do that. You’ve got work waiting for you. Besides, I don’t know what my dad has in mind, and you don’t want to end up stuck at my dad’s house all day, do you?”

Actually, he did. He wanted to sit in traffic with her, and he wanted to sit in Detective Sullivan’s house while they talked. He wanted to see where she grew up and look at the school pictures that he was willing to bet were hung on the walls of the house. He wanted to know who she was, where she came from, and what had driven her to leave.

She turned and briskly headed back to his car. He tossed the taco box in the trash and jogged to catch up with her. Kate had left him behind on the beach as soon as she looked at that text message. No discussion, no room for a change in her plans. Her mind was made up, and she was moving ahead with it. At the pace she was setting, he had about five minutes of walking to the car to convince her to change her mind.

“It’s not a problem. Plus . . . ” He searched for a reason that would sway her. He needed logic and efficiency—that was a language she understood. “I need to talk to your dad, anyway. He’s got the leads from the club. It’ll give me a place to start researching, and it might even give me some ideas for how to structure the film.”

Kate stopped abruptly, and he stumbled to avoid crashing into her. The crowd moved past them, parting and passing like a river that never stopped flowing as the two of them were rooted like rocks in its path. Chris stood in front of her, waiting for her decision. Her green eyes darted from side to side, and he imagined her thoughts were bouncing around just as quickly. She was adding up the pros and cons, calculating the cost, debating both sides in her head. He was certain she wouldn’t appreciate it if he told her she looked adorable when she argued with herself, so he kept quiet.

“All right,” she said with unwavering finality, as if the jury had reached its verdict and all that was left was the sentencing. She lifted her chin, her gaze meeting his, and his heart did a little leap in his chest. “If you don’t mind the drive, that would be a big help. Thank you.”

Chris grinned. It was a small victory, but he’d take it. “I don’t mind at all.”

He walked beside her as they went back to his car. His step was easy and casual, not at all like the euphoria of a man who had just managed to convince the woman of his dreams to spend the rest of the day with him. He should have won an Academy Award for that performance.