Summer Secrets (4 page)

“It’s too dark,” she told the man on the boat. “We’ll have to reschedule. I’m sorry, but I know you wouldn’t be happy with the photos in this kind of light. I’ll come by tomorrow. We’ll do it then.”

“Hey, wait a second,” the man called after her, but Ashley had already begun walking down the dock, and she didn’t stop until she reached solid ground.

She didn’t realize Sean had followed her until she stopped abruptly and he barreled into the back of her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. It’s still with you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked away from his probing gaze.

“I’m talking about the fear on your face when you considered getting on that boat. I saw it before, when you first got back from the race. I wish you’d tell me what happened to make you so afraid.”

“Nothing happened. I just got tired of living on a boat. So tired I can’t stand the thought of getting on another one.”

“Even after all this time?” he asked, a skeptical note in his voice. “It’s been eight years.”

“I know how long it’s been,” she snapped as she looked back at him. “I have to go. I have to talk to Caroline. I’m worried about her.”

“What’s going on with your baby sister?”

Ashley hesitated, not one to share family business, but talking about Caroline was preferable to talking about herself or her irrational fears. “It seems that Caroline is dating Mike Stanaway.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “He’s at least ten years older than her. Maybe fifteen. Not to mention … Well, let’s just say he has some problems.”

“That’s why I need to talk to her. Not that she’ll listen, but I have to try.”

“I could go with you,” Sean offered.

“No,” she said abruptly. “You know how defensive Caroline can be when she feels she’s being ambushed. I’ll see you around.”

Ashley walked away, wondering if he’d call her back, but he didn’t. As she headed toward Caroline’s salon, her thoughts weren’t on her sister but on the man she’d left behind. She wondered why it never got any easier to walk away from him. Lord knew she’d had enough practice. For a brief second, she was tempted to look back, to see if he was still standing there, still watching her, still wanting her -- the way she still wanted him.

“Phone for you, Caroline,” the receptionist at Noel’s Hair Salon said. “Line one.”

“Just a second.” Caroline squeezed the last bit of color out of the plastic bottle and looked at her client in the mirror. “We’ll let this sit for a while. Can I get you a magazine?”

“I brought a book,” Peggy Marsh replied. “And take your time. This is the first bit of peace and quiet I’ve had all week. The kids have been driving me crazy. Take my advice, Caroline, do not rush into the marriage and children thing. Enjoy this time of your life.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Caroline certainly wasn’t pushing for marriage or kids. She was twenty-four years old and had plenty of time to do both. Someday when she was ready. Right now she had her job as stylist at Noel’s Salon and a small apartment in a building just a few blocks away. She was happy. Most of the time. Sort of.

It was probably the wind that was making her restless. She was like her father in that regard. A good stiff breeze always got her itchy to go somewhere. But she couldn’t go anywhere. She had another haircut in ten minutes.

She walked over to the reception desk and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“It’s me, Kate.”

“What’s up?” Caroline couldn’t help tensing at the sound of her older sister’s voice. She had things she needed to talk to Kate about, but now wasn’t the time or the place. Not that she knew when that time or place would be.

“It’s Dad,” Kate said with a weary note in her voice.

“Where is he?”

“Sleeping on my couch. I was lucky to get him this far. He really tied one on today. Will called me to come and pick him up.”

“It’s hard for him with all the boats coming to town. It makes him want to be out there with the other racers. He misses the life he used to have.”

“And that’s an excuse for drinking himself into oblivion? How can you defend him?”

“Someone has to,” Caroline snapped. Kate had always been hard on their father. She didn’t understand him. She never had.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Look, Caroline, that’s not really why I’m calling. Although it’s a lot easier to defend Dad when you aren’t the one constantly called to come and pick him up from some bar. I’m sorry if I’m a little out of patience, but I’m just sick of it.”

“Hey, they can call me anytime. But everyone knows you’re in charge.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh, please, Kate. You’ve always been in charge.”

“Fine. Whatever. We have another problem.”

“What? I have a haircut to do.” Caroline looked up as the front door to the salon opened and a man walked in. He must be her seven-o’clock appointment.

“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 work 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.”