Evening Stars. Susan Mallery
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now she was in a coma, imagining all this.
“I’m Kyle Eastland. The last time I saw you, I was twelve years old. It was August. A Tuesday. You were so beautiful.”
Kyle Eastland? “I used to babysit for the Eastland family,” she said slowly, as the memories returned. “There was a little girl and a son from a previous marriage—” She stared harder, suddenly remembering that preteen son. The one who had followed her around like a puppy, telling everyone who would listen that he was madly in love with her.
Her mother had said his devotion was sweet and that she should be flattered. Nina remembered being completely humiliated by the attentions of a very determined kid.
“You’re Kyle?”
“I knew you’d remember me.”
“That was years ago.”
“You’re more beautiful than I remember.”
Maybe he was the one who’d hit his head, she thought, aware of her wet hair plastered to her face and the dripping clothes. Or he was insane. A crazy stalker who had, until recently, been locked away.
He flashed her an amused smile. “Don’t be scared. I’m a normal guy.”
“I’m sure all serial killers say that.”
He chuckled. “I have proof.” He pulled out his wallet and showed her his military ID. Kyle was in the Navy and he was an officer. She was pretty sure the Navy would do a mental evaluation.
“Okay, then,” she murmured. “We’re getting soaked. Come inside.”
As he followed her into the house, she had the strangest sensation of déjà vu. In the past couple of weeks, she’d gotten drenched twice and been rescued by two men she hadn’t seen in forever. Was this a horoscope thing? Cosmic humor?
She checked the ceiling as she entered the living room and was pleased to see the dripping had stopped.
“Stay there,” she said, pointing to the small tiled foyer. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave her the kind of slow, sexy grin that had, for centuries, caused women to make very bad choices. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You think statements like that are comforting?” she asked.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Yeah, not good news.”
She hurried to her bedroom where she locked her door before changing for the second time in fewer than thirty minutes. She left her hair wet, which was exactly what had happened with Dylan. Was it the rain? Should she move to Phoenix?
Still perplexed by the bizarreness that was her life, she returned to the living room and found Kyle exactly where she’d left him. Only he’d removed his jacket and hung it on the coatrack. Which meant he was wearing a thin sweater that illustrated the man enjoyed working out.
Even damp he was pretty, she thought, taking in the square jaw, dark blond hair and blue eyes. He was about six feet, maybe six one, lean, but strong. She knew the latter because he’d caught her without gasping for air.
“Why are you here?” she asked pointing to the sofa. “Everything okay with your family?”
He looked up, scanning her face. “I’m not here for help, Nina. I’m here for you.”
“Yeah. Okay, then. Have a seat.”
When they were sitting across from each other, she drew in a breath. First things, first, she thought. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I doubt the fall would have actually killed me, but I would have been hurt.”
“That’s true.”
He was staring at her as if trying to memorize her features. The intensity wasn’t scary, it was just strange.
“So, what brings you to Blackberry Island?” she asked.
“You.”
“You keep saying stuff like that. What does it mean? I haven’t seen you in forever. Kyle, you did get over your crush, didn’t you?”
“If I say yes, will that make you feel better?”
“A little.”
He leaned back against the sofa and stretched his arm along the back cushions. The relaxed, open posture of a man who was supremely confident.
“I got over you, but I never forgot you,” he told her. “I remember everything about you, Nina. You were my dream girl.”
“You were twelve.” He’d also been persistent, she thought, remembering him re-creating the scene from Say Anything, and standing outside of her house with a boom box. Only it had been about six in the morning, on a Sunday. The neighbors hadn’t been amused.
“Making you the older woman.” The grin returned. “You were so hot. You used to wear these really short shorts and when you bent over to pick up my sister—”
She held up her hand. “You were twelve,” she repeated, wondering if anything about this conversation was illegal.
Back then she’d done her best to ignore him, while taking care of his baby sister. Kyle had been a friendly kid. When he wasn’t trying to convince her to run off with him, he’d been busy hanging out in his room or having friends over. Normal stuff.
“How long ago was that? How old are you now?”
“Twenty-six.”
“So, fourteen years ago. I was sixteen. I was saving money for college.”
“I know. I kept telling you to wait for me, but you didn’t listen.”
“Do you blame me?”
“No. Back then the age difference was too big. I figured that out eventually. After we moved away, I really missed you. But then I got to high school and discovered girls my own age.” Humor brightened his eyes.
“Uh-huh. So much for me being ‘the one.’”
“You were, but I thought it best to practice so that I would be—” he coughed “—ready for you.”
“How generous.”
“I’m that kind of guy.”
A player, she thought. Not that it mattered to her. He was still too young. “I know you’re not really here on Blackberry Island because of me. Is your family still in the area?”
“No. We moved years ago, and they’ve never been back. I’m stationed in Everett.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “I’m a fighter pilot.”
She felt her eyes widen. “What?”
That grin was back. “F18s. I’m doing training. Part of a joint task force. I’m good at what I do. I’m on track to join the Blue Angels.”
With five simple sentences, he’d started her head spinning. She knew about the Blue Angels. They were stars at air shows all over the country, maybe around the world. Their precision flying was practically the stuff of legends. “You’re a fighter pilot?”
“Yes. I was offered a couple of different assignments. I picked Everett because of the location. I thought it would be fun to check out the island and see if you were still here.”
She ignored that. “You fly multimillion-dollar planes?”
“That’s me. And if the government is willing to trust me with that kind of equipment, you can trust me, too.”
She chuckled. “Right. Does that line usually work?”
“All the time.”
“I