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
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
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