To Celia’s surprise, Reese asked if she’d like to go to the arts festival over on Nantucket. When she agreed, he led her down to his slip and they boarded the Amalie.
She couldn’t help wondering about the unusual name. Who was Amalie? Had she been a woman important to Reese in the thirteen years he’d been away?
She wasn’t about to betray how unsettled she felt at the thought. It was ridiculous—and totally naive—to expect that he hadn’t had some serious relationships. Her stomach did a funny little dance. He even could have been married. Reese, married to someone else. True, she’d married someone else, but… She could hardly acknowledge the rush of wicked jealousy she felt at the mere idea of Reese and another woman.
Was it possible that he felt the same way, thinking of Milo? If he did, he certainly hid it well. Even the night she’d told him about her family, he’d been nothing but kind and sympathetic. He’d shown absolutely no trace of the foaming-at-the-mouth fury she could feel if she allowed herself to think about it much more.
And she suddenly felt very deflated. Of course he hadn’t been jealous. Reese had moved on years ago. He’d proven it when he’d left her behind.
“Celia?” Reese took her hand. “Watch your step.” He stopped her just before she would have tripped over someone’s deep-sea fishing equipment spread out all over the dock as they cleaned the decks.
Summoning a smile she said, “Thanks.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, though, and she was thankful for the bright sunlight that had demanded she wear her sunglasses.
Before casting off for Nantucket, Reese gave her a quick tour of his boat, a design less than a year old with every conceivable amenity. The interior was warm, rich mahogany with lighter accents. There was a large-screen television, a computer and a navigation system with all the bells and whistles, and three staterooms, one of which contained an enormous bed covered in a gorgeous ivory comforter.
She went topside fast, not caring if Reese thought she was running away. She was. Being in a room with Reese Barone and a big bed was a bad, bad idea.
They made the short trip across the sound to the old whaling town. Walking away from the wharf, Celia felt as if every resident on the Cape was there, staring at the Widow Papaleo and her new companion. It was all in her head, she was sure, because locals rarely attended these things. They were strictly for the tourists and had supplanted the sea as the mainstay of the whole Cape’s economy, but still, there was no denying she felt odd. Intellectually she knew what it was. People expected certain things of those who were grieving. And even though it had been more than two years, she was afraid they would be critical if they saw her with another man. Why wouldn’t they? She was critical of herself!
She wondered if she would harbor the same guilty-pleasure kind of feeling if her companion was a new acquaintance, someone with whom she hadn’t shared such a complicated—and intimate—past. Maybe that was it. She felt as if everyone walking by knew exactly what she and Reese had been up to on all those boating expeditions years ago.
But Reese didn’t appear to entertain any of the same concerns. He took her to a lobster bar for lunch and they dined on a rooftop deck beneath a sun umbrella. It might be October, but the whole year had been unseasonably warm and dry and it was still pleasant during the day. After lunch they wandered the terraced cobblestone streets and eventually headed down to Old North Wharf where they perused the work of the many local artists who immortalized Nantucket’s charm.
“I like this guy’s work,” Reese said, stopping before one easel. “The view of the town from the harbor is a nice perspective.”
Celia chuckled. “Guess you didn’t see the painting hanging above the sideboard in my dining room. It was done by him.”
But Reese wasn’t listening anymore. His attention was riveted on the window of a small pub that fronted the street.
Celia followed his gaze, trying to discern what had distracted him. All she saw were families and couples enjoying late-afternoon cocktails and snacks. One couple, in particular, looked as if they were enjoying each other a lot more than their drinks, and she winced as the man dragged the woman close and devoured her mouth in a sloppy display of far-too-public lust.
When she glanced back at Reese, his expression mirrored her own.
She couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t care for PDAs?”
“PDAs?” He was still watching the couple.
“Teen slang for Public Display of Affection. Hiring so many kids keeps me up on high-school-speak.”
“Mmm.”
“Reese? Is something wrong?” He was still focused on the couple.
“That man,” he said, “is my cousin Derrick.”
“Your cousin!” She was torn between happiness for him that he might get to talk with a family member and dismay that the man appeared so oblivious to appropriate public behavior. “Maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink. He seems a little…unaware of his surroundings.”
“I doubt it.” Reese’s voice was surprisingly cool. “Derrick will do just about anything for attention.”
“He’s certainly getting it now.” Around the couple, people were casting covert, scandalized glances as hands strayed and mouths wandered. One couple got up, took their young children firmly by the hand and left a nearby table with a scathing comment. Reese’s cousin looked after them and Celia was slightly shocked when he laughed. He had to be close to Reese’s age and yet he was acting like a hormone-driven teenage boy.
Reese was shaking his head. “Derrick’s point of view has always been a little off kilter.”
“Off kilter? Like how, exactly?”
Reese shrugged. “He had what I can only call a mean streak. We all learned not to tell him about things that mattered to us or he’d ruin them and laugh about it. In fact,” he said as he looked again at the couple, “I could almost swear that woman with him is Racine Madison. She was his brother’s girlfriend all through high school. I can see Derrick wanting her just because she was Daniel’s once upon a time.”
“She’s not Racine Madison anymore,” Celia informed him. “Her last name is Harrow now, and she’s married to the junior senator from New York.”
Reese’s eyebrows rose and he whistled. “Derrick hasn’t changed, then. He’s just graduated from coveting other guys’ girlfriends to having affairs with other men’s wives.” His face wore an expression of resignation. “Amazing. I’m gone all these years and I come home to find at least one thing completely unchanged.”
“What do you mean?”
“Derrick has a twin, Daniel, who’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s also good-looking, smart, popular and excellent at sports. Derrick, I think, spent most of his childhood feeling like he ran a poor second. He was always trying to get attention any way he could. The older he got, the more obnoxious he got.” He shook his head. “His brother and his sisters are great people, so it can’t have been his upbringing. He certainly wasn’t lacking for money, he’s decent-looking enough, and he’s got more smarts than most of the rest of us put together. And yet he spent our growing-up years looking for ways to cause trouble.”
“Some people are just like that,” she said. “There may not be a reason, except for one that didn’t really exist outside his own imagination.”
Reese nodded and she saw a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I think he never believed that anyone could accept him for who he was.”
“Would you like to go speak to him?” After all, this was a member of Reese’s family whom he hadn’t seen in years, albeit not his favorite one.
“No,” he said decisively. “This sounds harsh, but Derrick is probably the one person I haven’t missed. Today is our day. Come on.” He reached for her hand and threaded her fingers through his, tugging her along the wharf in the opposite direction.
Celia followed automatically, awash in the sensations and feelings produced by the simple clasp of their hands. He’d held her hand just like this years ago. In fact, they’d rarely walked anywhere that he hadn’t been touching her in some small way. It had made her feel safe and secure, half of a whole. It was only now that she realized how incomplete her life had been after he left. No wonder she’d walked around in a fog. He’d been her anchor, her strength, her reason to get up in the morning.
And then he’d left. For a while she’d been too depressed to care about anything. But gradually she’d realized that life would go on and, if she was going to survive, that she’d better depend on herself rather than soak up some man’s reflected strength.
And she had. Even when she’d married Milo, she’d never let him mean as much to her as Reese once had. Tears stung her eyes as a whole new barrage of guilt assaulted her. She hadn’t been as good a wife as she knew she could have been, because she’d been so determined to protect her heart that she’d never let Milo beyond a certain point. Telling herself that he’d never known anything was wrong was little consolation.
She tugged at the grip of Reese’s hand, trying to slide her fingers free. But Reese only tightened his grip. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want the whole Cape buzzing about me holding a strange man’s hand,” she said. “Could you please let go?”
But he ignored her. “Don’t you like it?”
Well. She couldn’t say no, because she did, far too much. But she couldn’t say yes or he’d be smug for the rest of the day. Besides, admitting it would give him far too much power over her. “That’s beside the point.”
“So you do like it. Good. So do I.” He lifted their joined hands and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I never let myself think about how much I missed you until I saw you again.”
She closed her eyes against the serious intensity of his. It just didn’t seem fair, somehow, that he could desert her for so long, and yet the moment he showed up, her body and her emotions were more than ready to take a flying leap back into the middle of a relationship with him. This was only the third day since he’d returned, and already she felt as if they were a couple again.
He still had her hand enclosed in his, and she suspected that arguing with him about it would only be a waste of time. Reese had an instinct for distracting her and he made her arguments seem silly and inconsequential. She might as well save her energy.
Besides, if she were completely honest, she was enjoying every second of the day.
Better not enjoy it too much. He’ll leave again and you’ll fall flat on your face just like the last time. It was good to remind herself of that. No matter how much she enjoyed his attention and his caresses, he’d be leaving. So whatever she did with him, she had to keep in mind that it was just a temporary thing.
After another hour of strolling the small whaling community, they worked their way to the top of the town, then decided to head back to his boat, docked at Straight Wharf. In a small ice-cream shop on the way, they found Baronessa gelati, the Italian ice cream Reese’s grandfather had established in Boston, famous nationwide now.
“Have you kept track of the family business at all?” Celia asked as they sat on a graceful wood-and-iron bench along Upper Main Street, eating their gelati. The day was cooling but still lovely, the reds and yellows of the autumn foliage enhancing the rosy bricks of so many of the historic buildings.
“No. It was never something that interested me much to start with. My mother used to say I was born to be the wild one.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “I guess she was right. My older brother, Nick, was the one who liked the whole business angle. We all figured he’d become Mr. Baronessa someday, and he did.”
“Yes.” She knew that Nicholas Barone was the CEO of the family company now. “But have you heard anything about the fire or the problems the company has had?”
Reese’s gaze sharpened. “What fire?”
“Several months ago, in the spring, there was a fire at the manufacturing plant. One of the family members was injured—”
“Who?” His concern was evident.
She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name. It was a woman.”
“Colleen? Gina, Rita, Maria—”
“No. Do you have a sister named Amy, or Annie?” Amalie. Maybe that was where the boat’s name came from. “I think it was something like that.”
“Emily?”
“That was it.” Her heart sank. Not Amalie, but Emily.
“She’s not my sister, she’s my cousin. Derrick, the guy we saw today, is her brother. Was she badly hurt?”
“I don’t think so. But the last I heard, the investigators were calling it ‘suspicious in origin.’”
“Meaning arson.”
“Yes.”
“Arson,” he repeated. “Who would want to burn down our plant?”
She wondered if he even realized he still thought of himself as a member of the Barone family. “I can’t imagine. Does Baronessa have rivals?”
He snorted. “Every company has rivals. But there’s a big difference between competition and burning down a rival’s business.”
“What about someone who’s angry at someone in your family? Some kind of grudge, maybe.”
His eyebrows rose, and his eyes were focused on a distant past as he answered her. “Our family has had a sort of feud going on for years now with another Sicilian family who owns a restaurant called Antonio’s. But that feud involved my grandfather, and I can hardly imagine it carrying over into our generation. Besides, it’s impossible to imagine the Contis sanctioning arson.”
They finished their gelati in silence, then walked back to Reese’s boat and headed home to the Cape.
As they skimmed across the choppy sound to the marina, she thought, What a perfect day. It was too darn bad that Reese was still the most impossibly attractive man she’d ever known. And that he still could light her fire with no more than a look from those silvery eyes she’d always loved so much. It would be all too easy to get used to being with Reese again, and that would be a terrible mistake.
Because she knew from bitter experience that he couldn’t be trusted to stay.
When they docked at the marina he could sense that she was eager to be gone. He vaulted over the rail onto the dock before she could scurry off and said, “Let’s get some shrimp for dinner.”
Celia hesitated. “Reese,” she said in a strained voice, “today was very nice. But I don’t think—”
“I do.” He took her hand and started to pull her along the dock before she could refuse him. “We both have to eat. We might as well eat together.”
“I can’t. I already have plans,” she said, and her voice was sincere. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you were going to be in town, I’d have postponed.”
Until you were gone. She didn’t say it aloud but he suspected she was thinking it.
Well, he had news for her. If she thought he was going to disappear from her life again, she was dead wrong.
Whoa! Say what?
He took a deep breath. All right. He might as well admit it. He was falling for Celia all over again and he had no intention of leaving this time. At least, not unless she came along.
“Reese? Come back.” She was waving a hand in front of his face. “I really am sorry. But there’s something I have to do.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s not as if we’re on a tight schedule.” She got a funny look on her face, but before she could pursue his statement, he threaded her fingers through his. “Give me a kiss to keep me going until tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I’m the boss. I’d never live it down if anyone saw us.”
He made an exaggerated crestfallen face.
She chuckled. Then, gazing into his eyes, both hands still entwined with his, she pursed her lips and sent him a single, long-distance kiss across the space between them. She was smiling slightly, and it was the craziest thing— Despite the fact that she hadn’t moved one inch closer, the moment felt more intimate somehow, than if he’d taken her in his arms. Her eyes were tender with unspoken words and they simply stood for what seemed like a long, long time, holding the eye contact.
He nearly asked her what she was thinking, but words would have marred the moment. Finally he offered her a crooked smile. “I guess that was an acceptable compromise.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Good.”
“This time.” He lifted one hand and pressed a final kiss to her knuckles as he had earlier in the day. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” She hesitated a moment, then turned with resolute steps and made her way back to the harbormaster’s shack.
He had a solitary dinner of fried clams in his tiny mess that evening. Ordinarily he might have gone looking for a little bar where the locals traded fish and tourist tales, but if he couldn’t be with Celia, he didn’t want to be with anyone.
Yikes. Thoughtfully, he rolled the single can of beer he’d had with dinner back and forth in his palms. Seemed like every time he allowed himself to think, his brain came up with another idea he hadn’t consciously let himself consider.
But it was true. He didn’t want to be with anyone other than Celia. In the thirteen years they’d been apart, he’d met a lot of women, known some of them intimately. Once he’d even let a girlfriend move in briefly, just long enough to realize it was a colossal mistake. He’d never preferred spending any time outside the bedroom with a woman to hanging with his buddies, and he’d certainly never felt that he couldn’t live without one.
Until now.
After he cleaned up his dinner, he watched the evening news. By then it was almost dark and he took a second beer, grabbed a sweatshirt and headed topside to sit in a deck chair, prop his feet on the rail and look at the stars. It was peaceful. Most of the other yachts weren’t occupied and he practically had the dock to himself.
So what was he going to do about Celia?
“Hey, Reese! How you doing?” A feminine voice broke the silence.
Damn. He really didn’t feel like being social this evening. The voice belonged to Claudette Mason, the woman he’d met the night he’d caught Celia sneaking around. He’d seen Claudette a few times since then, working around her employer’s boat or walking to and from the market, but he’d made it a point to be brief. The woman was as unsubtle as they came and clearly on the prowl.
“Hey, Claudette. I’m great.” He purposely didn’t ask her how she was in return. Maybe she’d get the hint.
“Hello, Mr. Barone. I’m Neil Brevery.” It was a smooth, unfamiliar masculine voice. “We haven’t met but Claudette has mentioned you.”
Ah, hell. He rose to his feet and crossed the deck to the side, where he stepped onto the pier and extended his hand. “My pleasure, Neil. Call me Reese.”
The man standing before him was easily twenty years older than the curvaceous Claudette, at least half a foot shorter than he was, slight and almost comical in baggy Bermuda shorts and a brightly patterned tropical shirt. Reese wondered exactly what Claudette’s job description was; it was difficult to imagine that Brevery had hired her solely for her skills with a boat. “Are you one of the Boston Barones?”
“Actually, I live in Florida.” He’d repeated the words many times in response to that very query and found that they usually discouraged further prying. “Just up here visiting an old friend. And you?”
“I have several homes around the world. Strictly in warm locations.” Brevery gave a dry chuckle. “I like to visit the northern regions but I could never live here when it gets cold.” Then he gestured toward his own boat, docked a number of slips away. “Ernesto Tiello’s coming over for a game of poker. Would you care to join us?”
“Oh, yes, please do.” Claudette was all but purring. So much for the hope that she’d tone down the vamp act in front of her employer.
He really didn’t want to spend the evening gambling, which he loathed. And he wanted to spend it even less with a bunch of strangers. “I’m sorry,” he said, lying through his teeth unapologetically, “but I’ve got plans in just a little while. Perhaps some other time.”
“Most definitely.”
“Yes. We’ll be here for at least another two weeks.” Claudette struck a pose that thrust her considerable assets into prominent view.
“We may,” Brevery corrected her. “Then again, I may take a notion to head for another port.” There was an edge to his voice. “Come, Claudette. Let’s not keep Ernesto waiting.”
“Yes, sir.” Claudette’s eyes lowered. He got the distinct impression she’d received a reprimand, though he couldn’t imagine why.
Brevery extended his hand again. “Nice meeting you, Reese. We’ll have to try to set up a card game for another night.”
“Nice meeting you, also.” I’ll be busy every night I’m here. He had to stifle the urge to speak the words aloud as Brevery moved on, Claudette sauntering along in his wake.
Damn. Now what was he going to do? He was quite sure there would be some surreptitious checking going on to see when and if he left his yacht. So much for his quiet, relaxing evening. Served him right for lying in the first place. But he wasn’t sorry. No way did he want to spend the evening fending off nosy neighbors’ questions and a pushy female’s advances. He vaulted back onto the deck and picked up his empty beer can, taking it into the galley and crushing it in the recycler. There was no help for it. He was going to have to go somewhere.
What the hell. He’d go sit on Celia’s porch. Surely she wouldn’t mind. And it wasn’t as if she’d be home. He’d just stay an hour or so and then come back. By then, he could make excuses about an early night.
With the decision made, he slipped into his dockside shoes and locked the cabin, then left the pier and hiked through the little town of Harwichport. Many of the tourist places were dark, but the residents’ homes had light spilling from windows and he caught the occasional glimpse of a family moving around inside.
Families. If he’d waited for Celia, or if he’d returned when she was older, would they have had a chance? Could they have had children of their own by now, and a home filled with the same cozy scenes as those he passed? He loved Amalie dearly, but he was thirty-four years old and just beginning to realize how much he’d like to have children of his own someday.
He tried to picture his own kids, but all he could come up with was a troop of dark-haired children much like the ones in family snapshots of his siblings and himself when they were small. A few of them had gotten coppery highlights from their mother’s brilliant locks, but for the most part they were dark-haired, wiry kids with wide, gap-toothed smiles and deep tans from their Harwichport summers. Yeah, he’d like to have a few of those.
With Celia. Another revelation. But one he realized he’d subconsciously imagined for years.
He wondered what her son had looked like. There were no pictures on her walls, no photographs lovingly framed and displayed, of either her son or her husband. It was as if she wanted to forget that that period of her life ever existed.
Having glimpsed the anguish she carried in her heart the night she’d broken down and cried herself to sleep in his arms, he felt his throat tighten. He could understand how difficult it would be to live with that loss, much less be reminded of it on a daily basis every time she saw their faces. And who was he to talk? He’d suffered far less and yet there were no pictures of his family around anywhere, either.
Reaching her house, he let himself in through the little garden gate and mounted the single step to the low porch. He took a seat in one of the old captain’s chairs she kept beneath a trellis of roses that probably provided welcome shade in the summer. It was quiet and as peaceful as the night had been earlier. There’d already been the first frost so no crickets or night insects stirred the silence. He slouched back in the chair and exhaled a deep, contented breath, feeling vaguely silly. Celia wasn’t even home and yet he was comforted just by being near her things, sitting in a spot he imagined she sat in frequently through the summer. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back. This was nice.
Then a soft, scraping sound caught his attention. Someone was opening Celia’s front door from the inside. Instantly he was on his feet. Outrage and adrenaline rushed through him. Celia had been through enough in her life; he had no intention of allowing a burglar to destroy the secure little nest she’d made for herself. His muscles tensed as he prepared to launch himself across the porch to take down the black-clad intruder.
And a second later he realized that the “burglar” was Celia.
“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, unaccountably furious at her.
She jumped and squealed in the way only females could do. But she recovered fast. “What do you mean, what am I doing? What are you doing hiding on my front porch?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” he said stiffly. “I thought you weren’t home and the marina was too lively, so I came up here to sit on the porch and enjoy the night.” He looked more closely at her clothing, noting the black turtleneck sweater, jeans and sneakers and the black watch cap that covered her head, and a suspicion took root. “Exactly what kind of meeting are you going to at…eight-twenty in the evening?”
“That,” she said precisely, “is none of your business.”
“It is if you’re up to what I think you’re up to,” he said.
Even in the dark he could see her eyes widen with outrage. “I have a date.” Her voice was haughty. “And you’re making me late.”
“Oh, don’t mind me.” He walked to her side. “I think I’ll just tag along and meet this date.”
“You will not!”
“Because there is no date, is there?” He took her arm and shook her lightly. “You’re going out on the water to do your amateur spy thing again, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was defiant. “And don’t think for a minute you’re going to stop me. I’m not a big fan of caveman behavior.”
“I wasn’t planning to stop you,” he said, forcing a mild tone into his voice, although he longed to tie her up and keep her safe. Caveman, indeed. “But I am coming with you.”
“Reese…no.” She sounded horrified. “What if something happens?”
“I’m going to do my best to see that it doesn’t,” he assured her. Then, touched by the anxiety he heard in her voice, he smoothed an errant lock of hair back beneath the edge of the cap. “Celia, how do you think I’d feel if something happened to you while you were out there alone?” He felt heat creep up his neck. The last thing he wanted to do was to sound pathetic or needy.
“I—I don’t know,” she muttered, dropping her head. “You left me alone before.”
He wanted to shake her. “Yes, I did. Biggest mistake I ever made.”
Her head shot up and she stared fully at him for the first time. “What?”
“I’m never leaving you again,” he said tightly. What the hell, he’d already opened the lid. He might as well spill the rest.
The words froze in the chilly autumn air. Celia’s eyes were wide and dark in the dim light, and her mouth was a round O of surprise.
“Well, hell,” he finally said. “I guess this isn’t the best way to lead into this conversation.”
“I guess not.” But the antagonism was gone and her tone sounded almost amused. “Are you serious about coming with me?”
He sighed. “If you’re serious about going. But I still think it’s a lousy idea. You could get hurt if the wrong people realize what you’re doing. I can’t believe the Feds would ask a civilian to do such a risky thing.”
Celia was silent, her gaze dropping away from his again.
“You little…deceiver,” he said through his teeth. “You haven’t been asked to do this at all, have you?”
“They did ask me to report any suspicious behavior,” she said. “How can I report it unless I see it?”
Reese sighed. “All right. If you insist on going, then I’m coming with you. But this is the last time you do anything like this if I have to tie you to your bed every night.”
Her gaze flicked to his and then away again and he knew he’d stepped over the invisible line she had drawn between them.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why but all I seem to be able to think of when I’m around you is beds.”
As he’d hoped, his wry tone lightened the tense moment and she laughed. “Soon we’re going to have to start a list of all the things you can’t talk about.”
He snorted, turning to lead the way down the steps. “It might be easier to list the topics that aren’t off-limits.”
“I’m sorry.” She stopped and he turned around. She raised her hands to his chest and the feel of her small, warm palms burned a hole straight through his clothes to brand his skin.
He shivered, wanting nothing more than to drag her onto one of the chairs in the deep shadow of the porch and shove aside clothing until he could sheathe himself deep within her.
“I don’t mean to be so difficult,” she whispered.
“I know.” He took her wrists and pressed a kiss to the fragile inner side of each, ignoring his arousal in favor of the sweet moment. “You just can’t help it.”
She chuckled, and he was ridiculously pleased when she didn’t immediately move away. “Something like that.”