“You love it out here, don’t you?” she said eventually, breaking the silence.
“Sure I do. What’s not to love?”
“I mean really love it,” she said, not certain how to explain. “I’ll bet you were a pirate in another life.”
“You don’t actually believe in all that reincarnation stuff, do you?”
“Watching you at the helm of this boat, I do. There’s something different about you.”
“Wait till you see me with a fishing pole in my hand. You’ll think I grew up on the Mississippi with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.”
“That reminds me, exactly what did you get for bait?”
“Blood worms.”
She choked back bile. “I was afraid of that.”
He grinned. “I’ll bait your hook for you if you’re squeamish.”
She gritted her teeth. “I can do it. I may not like it, but I can do it.”
And she did, too. More than once, as it turned out, since Kevin seemed determined to stay on the water until they had enough fish for twenty meals.
When the subject of the house hadn’t come up by midday, Gracie brought it up herself.
“I can’t concentrate on business out here,” Kevin claimed. “Besides, why spoil all this peace and serenity? Wait till we get in out of the hot sun.”
Gracie frowned at the delay. “When will that be?”
“You tired or just impatient?”
“I’m just trying to avoid feeling as if I’ve been lured here under false pretenses,” she retorted.
“Quite, Gracie. You’ll scare the fish.”
She sighed and tossed her line into the water again. After a few more catches, Kevin concluded they had enough fish for the day.
“I’m starved. How about you? We can eat at Dockside, when we bring the boat in. Okay with you?”
“And we’ll talk about the house?”
“Absolutely.”
The subject still hadn’t come up by dessert, which was an incredibly decadent combination of Oreos and cheesecake that Kevin insisted they deserved after their hard morning on the water.
“Okay,” she said, when she’d licked the last bite off the fork. “About the house…”
“You want some coffee?”
“No. Stop avoiding the subject.”
“I’m not avoiding anything. Talking business right after a meal is bad for the digestion,” he declared. “Let’s go for a walk. A nice lazy stroll will clear out the cobwebs.”
“My head’s clear as a bell now,” Gracie protested.
“Then indulge me. You don’t have anything pressing you need to get home to, do you?”
She thought of the recipes she had yet to master and sighed heavily, but she went for the walk. The only thing pressing on her agenda these days was getting her hands on that blasted house. Learning a dozen recipes wouldn’t matter if she didn’t have a kitchen to cook them in or guests to cook them for. Sooner or later, Kevin was going to have to talk about it. He’d promised, hadn’t he? And wasn’t every southern gentleman supposed to be a man of his word?
On the leisurely walk through Colonial Beach, Kevin pointed out several landmarks, spun a few tales about the oyster wars that had been fought in these waters, then showed her the Victorian house where Alexander Graham Bell had spent his summers. It was almost as lovely as the one Gracie wanted to buy.
But even though the Bell house had been spiffed up and its grounds were impeccable, it wasn’t the house she wanted.
“Kevin—”
“I know. You want to talk about the house.”
“You did promise.”
“Okay, let’s go take a look at it.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “Do you mean it?”
“Why not? Unless, of course, you saw all you wanted to see when you slipped inside the other day.”
“I didn’t see anything, really,” she swore. “I just checked to see if there was any evidence of an intruder.”
“Then I’ll give you the twenty-five-cent tour.”
“Why?” she wondered, unable to keep a suspicious note out of her voice.
“You sound as if you’re afraid I’ll lock you in the attic and leave you there.”
“Not that, but you have been pretty adamant about keeping me away from the place. Why the turnaround?”
“Because you’ve been very patient and you kept me from murdering Bobby Ray today.” He grinned. “Don’t let this little concession go to your head, though. It doesn’t mean I’ll sell the place to you.”
Gracie didn’t care. For the moment, poking around inside and imagining how she could convert the house into a bed-and-breakfast would be enough.
The rooms were dusty and mostly empty. What furniture remained was shrouded in sheets.
“I wonder if there’s a ghost?” she asked in a whisper.
Kevin hesitated, then shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever heard about.”
“Too bad,” she said with genuine regret. “A ghost would be a great selling point.”
Kevin regarded her with tolerant amusement, then led the way upstairs. There were half a dozen bedrooms, including one that opened onto a widow’s walk. Gracie stepped outside and stared out at the wide river, imagining a time when someone had stood in this very spot and watched for a ship to make its way up from the Chesapeake Bay. The scent of lilacs wafted up from the overgrown bushes below.
“This is wonderful,” she said dreamily. “I could stay out here all day long.” She could feel the heat of Kevin’s gaze on her and turned. “Or turn it into a honeymoon suite. Then again maybe I should keep it for myself. Turn it into an office.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you. The whole point of this was to show you how impractical it would be to try to turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Impractical? Why?”
“The rooms are too small, the floors are a mess, and wait until you see the kitchen. I doubt there’s anything in there less than thirty years old.”
“The rooms are fine, the floors are oak and could be polished and buffed in no time. As for the kitchen, a little renovation work doesn’t scare
