She took a sip from her water glass, then picked up her menu. “I’ve never even thought about leaving. Can you believe it? I didn’t even leave to go away to college.”
So she went to the all-girl Heathrow College at the edge of town.
“I’m eighth generation,” she said as if that explained it. “In Massachusetts you aren’t considered a native unless you have at least eight generations buried in the local cemetery.”
A local girl. Just his luck.
“Your ancestors must have been fishermen,” he guessed, opening his own menu, although he wasn’t in the least bit hungry.
“Seventh generation,” she said. “Dad died at sea when I was a sophomore in college.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded and peered at him over her menu, her wide blue eyes magnetic. “Commercial fishing,” she said, then dropped her gaze again behind the menu.
He nodded to himself, more than aware that the sea had always taken men from small fishing villages like Moriah’s Landing and would continue to as long as men went to sea. And men would always be drawn to the sea. Some forces in nature pulled at you with a witchery that Jonah understood better than most.
“What about your mother?” he asked, hoping his question was general enough.
“My mother—” he heard the catch in her throat, the hesitation in her voice “—died when I was three. I can’t remember her.” She closed her menu, clearly closing the subject.
“I’m sorry. I hope that isn’t all the family you have here,” he said, doing a little fishing of his own.
“There’s my half sister, Emily. She’s seventeen and a real handful, but I love her. She’s all the family I have left and she graduates from high school next week. Tell me more about you.”
More about him. He studied his menu wondering about the man she was supposed to be having dinner with tonight. He could only guess that they met online, considering her comment about getting her e-mail, and that they obviously hadn’t met face-to-face—until tonight. He knew nothing about online dating. But it was pretty clear that she didn’t know her date very well—nor he her. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Your father wasn’t a fisherman, I’ll bet.”
Far from it. He shook his head and smiled as he lowered his menu. Fortunately, the waiter saved him. “I have to have lobster,” Jonah told her. “How about you?”
“I don’t eat seafood.” She shook her head. “Not because of any moral stand or because of my father. I’ve just never liked it. I’ll take the chicken,” she said to the waiter.
“Kat,” Jonah said, trying out the name. He liked it. It fit her. “You must know practically everyone in town.” Cause for concern.
“Everyone,” she said, and laughed.
She would know his family. The thought left him cold.
“It’s one of the problems of living in a small town,” she said. “Everyone knows everything about you. And you them.” She shrugged. “But it’s home, you know?”
He didn’t know. He glanced out the window toward the wharf. The neon from the bars at the end of Waterfront gave the fog an eerie glow.
“You can’t even see the lighthouse tonight the fog is so thick,” Kat said, following his gaze to the night, sounding worried about fishermen who might be trying to get to safe harbor.
Jonah looked out past Raven’s Cove, where he knew the lighthouse loomed up from a jagged island outcropping of rock, then back at her as the waiter brought their salads. He couldn’t stop thinking about Arabella’s warning. Or his own uneasiness. He told himself it was just the fog. Just being back here.
“So tell me about your work,” Kat said.
He watched her take a bite of her salad, captivated by her mouth. “My work?”
“Computers. What is it exactly that you do?”
He let out a laugh. So he was supposed to be a computer nerd? Great. “It’s too boring for words. I’m sure your job is much more interesting.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You aren’t one of those people who thinks the private-eye business is like on TV?” She had a great smile. He felt heat as his gaze locked with hers.
“You mean it’s not?” he asked, trying to sound disappointed as he looked deep into all that blue. It was like looking down into the sea. Bottomless and full of mysteries.
She licked her lips, her cheeks flushing again, and dropped her gaze to her salad, her fork poised above a piece of endive. “It actually consists of tedious, time-consuming hours spent digging up facts. But I started the business because I wanted to help people, so I don’t mind.” She shrugged and let her gaze lift to his again.
He didn’t know if the jolt he felt came from her look—or the realization that she was the P.I. of Ridgemont Detective Agency. Bad news. But although he was more than a little attracted to her, he wouldn’t be seeing her again after tonight. In fact, he planned to be out of Moriah’s Landing as quickly as possible. As soon as he finished what he’d come here to do.
He managed to steer the conversation away from himself throughout the rest of their dinner date, careful not to give anything away—or let on that he wasn’t her real date. He even got her to relax a little.
“I had a nice time,” she said shyly outside the restaurant after dinner, sounding surprised. Why did he get the feeling that she didn’t date much?
“I had a nice time, too,” he said, realizing it was true. He hadn’t meant for the date to last this long. He could no longer pretend he was just buying time. And yet he felt off balance again out here in the fog, being with this woman who should have been with someone else. “Can I walk you home?”
She shook her head. “I just live a block or so from here.” She tugged her jacket around her and shifted her feet. Her gaze came up to meet his. Oh, those eyes. And that mouth.
Stirred by a yearning stronger than the force of the moon on the sea, he bent to kiss her good-night. Goodbye.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her lips parted. A hairbreadth from her wonderful mouth Jonah felt something brush the back of his neck, something cold as the kiss of death.
He jerked around, only to see wisps of fog streaming past as if blown up from the sea by a gust of wind. Except there was no wind, just as there was no one right behind him. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a presence out there in the mist watching them. “Let me walk you home.”
She opened her eyes in surprise, licked her lips and turned her face away, unsure. Again. “I am more than capable of walking myself home.” Obviously upset with him for not kissing her, she took a couple of steps backward.
“I had a great time,” he said, not wanting to let her go. Suddenly afraid to let her go.
She
