He glanced at her. "Like being a civilian, don't you?"
"It has its advantages."
He acknowledged her words with a small nod. His nose, she noted, was red, too, but she still had that sensation that he belonged out here, on the Atlantic, Montana or no Montana. He had the hard-bitten look of a man who'd spent his life at sea.
"Teddy Shelton could have an innocuous reason for being here, you know," she said.
"He's not your problem, Zoe. I got into it with him. I'll play it out."
She tilted her head back and eyed Special Agent
J. B. McGrath, decided he was very serious for someone on vacation. "You're supposed to be relaxing and having fun."
He smiled. "I am relaxing and having fun."
His smile eased the tension between them and seemed to go straight through her, penetrating her natural reserve when it came to men. The way it brought a sexy gleam to his blue eyes, the way it tilted up one corner of his mouth and not the other-she found herself licking dry lips.
Without thinking, without even knowing she was doing it, she put one hand on his hard shoulder and kissed him lightly on the mouth.
He could have stopped her. He was a trained FBI agent.
She could have stopped herself, except she hadn't stopped herself from doing anything insane in a year.
He tasted like salt, and she wanted more.
Then she realized what she'd done and jumped back, swearing under her breath. "Oh, damn. I must be going nuts."
"I don't know." His voice was that studied calm, laced with amusement. "Nuts can be good."
She bolted. She called on all her mental and physical training, her ten years of experience in law enforcement, and got the hell out of there, pushing herself hard and not even feeling the wind now.
When she reached the house, she was gasping for air and had a sharp stitch in her side. She staggered up the driveway, thinking she might throw up her blueberry pancakes.
That'd be just great. Kiss an FBI agent, then throw up.
Everyone in Goose Harbor would know by noon. She'd never hear the end of it. She'd have to move back to Connecticut and stay there for good.
She could feel the exertion in her calf muscles and had to slow down when she hit the stairs to the second floor. Not in as good a shape as a year ago. Definitely. She'd tried to keep her body fat below twenty-two percent.
When she reached her bedroom, she shut the door and thought about barricading herself in, but that seemed a little over the top. She'd reacted to the moment. She was entitled. No one would blame her for being just a tad out of control her first days home.
Except maybe the man she'd kissed out of the blue.
His footsteps sounded on the stairs. "I'm going for a boat ride," he said calmly, as if nothing had happened. By his standards, maybe nothing had. "Wind's dying down. Need help getting out your kayak?"
"No. Thanks." She sounded relatively calm and normal herself.
"Water's fifty-eight degrees in the harbor."
"Chilly."
"Yeah. You might think about rolling on purpose. Cool you right off."
The bastard. The bastard. Zoe almost burst through the door and told him what an unfeeling, obnoxious man he was, making fun of her at a moment of peak embarrassment.
But she was smiling, too, although she doubted that was a good sign.
"Don't worry," he said. "Next time you won't catch me off guard."
Next time?
He trotted down the stairs. Even through her door, she could hear the kick in his step. He might think she was completely insane, but he hadn't minded being kissed.
"Well," she muttered, digging in her still-unpacked boxes and bags for suitable kayaking attire, "doesn't that just make my day?"
Thirteen
Zoe waited until it was a rising tide before she got out on the water in her lime-green sit-on-top kayak. She dragged it down the bluff from the garage and launched from a small, protected area among the rocks. She had her life vest and safety whistle, but didn't bother with a dry bag of emergency supplies, since she didn't plan to go far and would stay within yelling distance of shore. She didn't know what had happened to her wet suit and instead had put on exercise tights, an exercise shirt and a fleece vest.
At first the paddle felt awkward and even the slightest wave or breeze put her on edge, but within a few minutes, she had her kayaking rhythm back.
Kyle and his documentary and Teddy Shelton and whatever he was up to-J.B. and his questions, even his steady calm-had all zapped her energy and frazzled her nerves. Kayaking should help.
She should have stayed with her sister after breakfast and fixed her door.
Not kissed McGrath.
Maybe her blueberry-pancake sugar high had crashed, explaining her impulsiveness.
She breathed out and dipped one end of her paddle into the water. It was just her and the gulls. The lobster boats were in deep water. Most of the pleasure boats were south or north of the harbor or docked. She noticed the Castellane yacht hadn't moved.
The wind was in her face, but it'd be at her back on her return trip, when she'd really be feeling the effects of her first time in a kayak in a year. As she crossed the harbor, she avoided the shipping channels so she wouldn't run into the path of a bigger boat, which wouldn't easily see a small kayak, even a lime-green one. Bruce liked to threaten to run her over with his lobster boat. He thought most kayakers were irresponsible and out of their minds.
She kept her weight centered in her boat and used her shoulders to dip the paddle, first on one side, then the other. Her kayak was stable and easy to maneuver, but not meant for long treks.
The sounds of the gulls and the ocean soothed her raw nerves. Normally she'd have headed northeast to the quiet waters among the small islands along the shore of the nature preserve. There were spots with tricky currents, strong tides, shallow, narrow passages and underwater ledges that could be treacherous for both kayakers and power boaters, but Zoe knew where they were. She loved the islands, but the reminders of a year ago would be everywhere and she didn't want that, not today.
She rested a moment, letting her kayak bob in the water, her shoulders aching but not unpleasantly so. Her father and Olivia used to sit on her aunt's front porch and watch Zoe and Christina kayak along the shore as teenagers. Christina didn't go out as often once she started college, but Zoe stayed with it, kayaking a great way for her to relieve stress. She wondered if her sister would take it up again-Kyle Castellane had an expensive kayak capable of handling long treks and virtually any condition. He'd never taken a lesson.
Too busy trying to get into Olivia's attic, Zoe thought, suddenly put out with him for bringing up his request when she was still getting her feet under her now that she was back in Goose Harbor, when she was trying to figure out what was going on with the two break-ins.
Then again, she supposed she should give Kyle credit for not walking in through the front door the way McGrath had.
She stiffened, going very still in her boat. Christina had locks on her café doors and her house doors- forced entry wasn't necessary at Olivia's house. Just go through the damn porch door.
Could whoever had broken in to her sister's house and café have gone through Olivia's as well? Were she and Christina the targets, or just Christina, or were the break-ins random and had nothing to do with either of them?
Zoe shook her head, nearly throwing herself off balance and turning over her boat. But she quickly centered herself and continued paddling, moving closer to shore now that she'd passed the town docks.
No one had broken into her aunt's house. The only uninvited guest she'd had was her FBI agent.
Staying close to shore, she paddled past a rockbound point and out of the harbor, the water less choppy now, no wind. Bruce's lobster pound was up ahead, quiet at midday. She headed toward the protected salt marsh and figured she'd turn around in the cove there.