CHAPTER FOUR

      JAIME WANTED TO press him. There had to be more to his showing up out of the blue than a simple move to Cincinnati.

      But this Emmett was different from the boy she remembered, and not just in the way he looked. There was a quietness about him that had changed from the exuberant, prankster guy she’d loved all those years ago. And, obviously since her hand still burned from his light touch on the stairway, she was even more attracted to New Emmett than she had been to Old Emmett. She’d kissed him a million times. Held his hand. Made out in the back of Gibson’s old Pontiac hundreds of times and each time it had been simple to stop. Take a moment and keep things under control.

      She pulled her hands to her sides and then shoved them into the pockets of her khakis. Not once in all the time they’d dated before had she felt such a strong jolt of attraction for him.

      “I saw your television show once.” Or maybe a thousand times, she’d stopped counting after having a particularly vivid dream involving Emmett wearing nothing except his construction belt, a giant bed and her without the scars on her torso.

      “I heard you’re working at the vineyard. What happened to becoming a female Indiana Jones?”

      “I didn’t go.”

      “Because of Pittsburgh.” His voice was flat. Emmett and Gibson had been the most vocal of the people encouraging her to pursue archaeology. Well, at least he could name the city. Most people trailed off before saying the name, looking away from—or worse, looking through her.

      She offered him a lopsided smile. “Actually no, although a lot of people think that. Having an interest in old things doesn’t mean I’d make a good dirt digger.”

      “Most people would jump at the chance to be a famous archaeologist.”

      “I’m not most people.” And she didn’t want to talk about herself. She’d decided a long time ago what she wanted, and what she wanted was to live on the island.

      She started down the stairs and Emmett followed.

      “No, you’re not.”

      “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

      He studied her for a long moment and Jaime thought he would say “insult.” Instead he said, “Compliment. And here’s another. You’re just as pretty as you were in high school.”

      Heat rose in her cheeks, but Jaime was determined to keep this meeting at a professional level. She didn’t need empty compliments from Emmett; she needed his help to save the school. “So, your final verdict is that this place can be saved?”

      Emmett stopped at the landing and looked around, as if he saw more than the roof and floorboards.

      Sometimes when Jaime looked into a glass of wine she thought she could taste hints of the individual grapes. What did he see when he looked at old buildings like this?

      “I’d say it can be saved.”

      “In time for the reunion? Because the picnic shelters are all reserved and we’re not stringing up lights along the beach and I refuse to decorate the high school gym one more time.”

      “There’s always the winery,” he said, and there was a twinkle in his blue eyes, as if he already knew Tom had nixed that idea.

      “You and Jason and Homecoming Week.”

      “He’s still pissy about rerouting a few casks?”

      “‘Pissy’ almost covers it.” Jaime smiled as she put her hand on the railing but it wobbled. She pulled back.

      “This big issue I see is the roof.” Emmett twisted his mouth to the side. “Yeah, I’d say you could have the main floor cleaned up and party-ready in time for the reunion, assuming I don’t find more issues in the basement than I’ve seen up here.”

      “More issues?”

      “Cracked foundation. Water. That kind of thing.”

       Back to the project, Jaime.

      “If you’ll give me your evaluation, I’ll take it to the trustees this afternoon.” She started back down the stairs but tripped over one of the bad steps and fell against the rickety railing. It held, but just barely.

      Emmett’s hands were firm as he steadied her. The ten feet between her position on the step and the ground floor seemed to yo-yo in front of her, making her stomach feel weak. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

      “You’re okay.” His voice was soft against her hair, his strong hands reassuring against her upper arms.

      “Forgot about that step,” she said, her voice a hair higher than normal. Jaime cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” She looked into his blue eyes, mere inches from hers, and felt lost. Pulled back to a time when it was normal to leave her hand in his. Breathing ragged, she tried to get a grip because although this was Emmett, he wasn’t the boy she’d known. Maybe the boy she remembered had never existed.

      “Do you remember when we broke in here New Year’s Eve? Maureen and Clancy, Jason and Rebecca. Clancy brought leftovers from the diner. Maureen snatched a bottle of schnapps from her dad’s liquor cabinet.”

      His voice tickled over her nerve endings and Jaime couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face.

      They’d laughed and told stories and danced to the tinny music from Emmett’s iPod speaker. Fallen asleep sometime after midnight, huddled together in sleeping bags until the slamming of a car door had woken them. One of her father’s patrol officers nearly had caught them, but Emmett had distracted him while the rest of them had fled out the back door.

      “You were assigned twenty hours of public service picking up litter at the beach.”

      “God, it was cold that winter. I nearly got frostbite keeping the beach clear.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “We had some good times.” Was that a hint of sadness or just nostalgia?

      And if it was sadness, why? Sad because of the way he’d left? Sad because of what had happened that night? Sad that he’d left and the talk had started with the not-so covert looks?

      She straightened her shoulders and pretended nothing had happened at all.

      “What made you choose Cincinnati?” She would not ask why he left. She didn’t need to know. Wanted to know, yes, but that was different. So focus on the present, not the past.