CHAPTER 11

“Remind me how I let you talk me into this, again?” Avery whispered to her sister as she sat in the back row of the chairs set up in the Star Harbor Library for the lecture series. It seemed as if all of Star Harbor had come out for the latest Tuesday-night session of Evening with an Author. Aunt Kate was sitting next to her, and she recognized many faces in the crowd, including Julie Kensington, Lexie Meyers, and Buster Quigley. Her friends from the chamber music group were all there, too—Karen with her husband, Max; John and Andy; Royce, front and center with his wife, and Luke. There were also a number of people she didn’t recognize, including a whole group of elderly men who’d come dressed to the nines in full pirate garb.

Emma looked around, clearly pleased with the turnout. “I didn’t have to talk you into this, remember,” she whispered back. “I asked and you said yes.”

“Right,” Avery muttered. “But that was before I got the call from Yvonne.”

“This is the perfect thing to get your mind off of your work,” Emma retorted. “Okay, I’m up. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Avery said as Emma walked to the front of the room. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of black hair, and with a start, she realized that Theo Grayson was standing just off to the side, near some tall bookshelves. The last time he’d kissed her—make that the last time she’d kissed him—it had been a toe-curling experience. Would she have ended up naked on the parlor floor if that stupid clock hadn’t rung and he hadn’t pulled away?

She didn’t have to think hard to know the answer was yes.

She couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Not to herself. But if anyone asked, she was closed for business, trying to get her affairs in order. Weird, it seemed like everyone—Kate, Emma, even Luke—had their own agenda for how she should run her life. Well, she needed to manage things the way she thought best. And at present, getting involved with Theo would derail her plans. Anytime they were around each other, she had trouble controlling herself. She needed to stay away from him. The only problem was that while she was working at the Inn there was no way to avoid him. She felt guilty asking Kate to work more, but maybe it was time. Yvonne’s phone call had been a strong signal that she should get her head back in the game.

Emma stood before the crowd, just in front of a comfortable-looking armchair. Next to the chair was a small table with a reading lamp. A single hardcover book was lying on the table, and an easel with a veiled poster stood off to the right.

Theo was still standing. For a split second, Avery wondered why he hadn’t taken a seat, just before a dawning awareness came over her. He was the speaker! Before she could rise to leave, Emma started talking, making escape impossible—she couldn’t just cut out while her own sister was speaking.

“Good evening, and welcome to the latest Evening with an Author lecture sponsored by the Star Harbor Library. I’m so pleased you were able to join us tonight.”

Emma picked up the book and held it in front of her. “The Pirate’s Sextant, a swashbuckling tale set in the eighteenth century, reads like one of the great historical naval classics. Yet unlike C. S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower or Patrick O’Brian’s Jack Aubrey, Captain Alexander Crowley, the hero of The Pirate’s Sextant, is not a brave officer of the Queen, but a privateer, a for-hire mercenary. Still, he is morally upright, and his code of ethics cannot be cracked.”

Emma looked around the room and smiled. “The Pirate’s Sextant is an example of American literature at its finest. Tonight we are fortunate to have one of Star Harbor’s own come read from his latest bestseller. T. R. Grayson is here, though you might know him as Theo.”

Theo gave Avery a stunning smile, which she didn’t return. Emma went on.

“Born and raised in Star Harbor, T. R. Grayson received his undergraduate degree in history, summa cum laude, from the University of California at Berkeley. He went on to get a master’s degree in American history, also from Berkeley. For the past decade he’s made his home in San Francisco, but we’re pleased that instead of being on set for the miniseries that PBS is making of the first two Captain Crowley novels, he’s back in Star Harbor doing research for his next book. Please give him a warm welcome.”

As the crowd politely applauded, Theo stepped forward and gave Emma a hug. She hugged him back, then pulled the cover off the poster, revealing a picture of the book cover. Dark handwriting was scrawled across the bottom—his autograph, Avery presumed. More applause sounded as Emma handed him the book and moved away.

“Thank you for having me here tonight,” Theo said, a broad smile on his face. “I’m glad to see so many history buffs.” He nodded at the pirates. “I thought I’d read the first chapter and then answer any questions afterward. I look forward to hearing your comments and,” he paused dramatically, “to finding out if I got any of the history wrong.” There was gentle laughter from the group. Theo settled into the chair and, slipping on his glasses, he leaned forward and began to read.

Emma slid into the seat next to Avery’s. Giving her sister a dirty look, Avery whispered, “I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“Did what?” Emma whispered back, her eyes wide.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Theo was famous?”

“I just assumed you knew,” she said coolly, blinking a little too fast.

“I didn’t, and you knew it!”

“Oh, really? How about that.” Refusing to make eye contact, Emma stared straight ahead.

Avery suspected she had only herself to blame, but she couldn’t let Emma off the hook so easily. “Just wait until—”

“Girls!” Kate whispered.

“Shhh.” An elderly woman sitting in front of Avery turned around, an angry look on her face.

“Sorry,” Avery mouthed. The woman turned back with a sniff. Avery tried to recapture her sister’s attention, but Emma was resolutely staring at Theo. Now that the reading had begun, it would be impossible for her to leave without making a scene. Sighing, Avery resigned herself to the fact that she was trapped. So she did the only thing she could; she leaned back in her seat and carefully studied the man in the chair.

He didn’t have to look so good, wearing a light-blue French-cuff shirt and slim-cut black slacks, a lock of black hair artfully falling across his forehead. His large body filled the sizeable chair and he looked at ease, graceful even, as he read. And extremely intelligent, wearing those glasses. Could he be any more handsome? Then he looked up, just for an instant, and his gaze met hers. When he lowered his eyes, she saw it—the hint of a smile on his lips. Was it her imagination, or was he teasing her? At the next pause, he did it again. Ire growing by the moment, she vowed to ignore him, a difficult prospect given the fact that she was, in essence, a captive audience.

But as she began to listen to him, really listen, her attitude shifted. His deep voice filled the room and perfectly fit the words he was reading. His sentences were spare, evocative, and utterly masculine. It was a work of men’s fiction, steeped in history, lore, and morality, and she found herself drawn in by the story. Funny, her tastes ran more toward nonfiction psychology tomes, but the way he masterfully wove the truth with fiction was thrilling. She could see how Theo—make that T. R. Grayson—had gotten his reputation as an expert storyteller.

By the time he’d finished reading the first chapter, she was sitting at the edge of her seat, spellbound. Then the applause started. Theo raised his head and gave her an infuriatingly devilish grin, basking in the glory.

When the question-and-answer session started, Avery slipped out as quickly and as quietly as she could. Her mind was already on overload. No need for her body to be, too.

“I think we have time for one more question,” Theo said, sitting in front of the still-considerable crowd. He pointed at a man in a Napoleonic bicorne hat in the front row. “You, sir.”

The man stood and cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. Grayson, I was just wondering what we can expect from you in the future. We’re all eagerly awaiting your next offering in the Pirate Chronicles.” He sat down amidst rumblings from the rest of his crew seated nearby.

Theo would venture to say that the dozen or so “pirates” who were in attendance tonight had asked about 70 percent of the questions. Still, they were devoted fans. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “A week ago I wouldn’t have been able to give you an answer, but I’m happy to say that the setting of my next Crowley novel will be closer to home. Much, much closer.” He gave them a secretive smile. “I can’t reveal all the details—my editor would kill me—but what I’ll say is that you can expect a lot of history, a swashbuckling story, and a shipwreck worth a fortune.” He stood up. “Thank you all for coming out this evening. You’ve given me a very warm reception.”

There was thunderous applause from the crowd.

Emma waited until the clapping died down before walking to the front of the room. “Mr. Grayson would be delighted to sign your copies of The Pirate’s Sextant or any of his other books over at the table in the reading room. Please give us a minute to get settled.” She extended her hand to indicate that Theo should follow her, and he took her cue. A few hardcover copies of The Pirate’s Sextant were stacked on the table next to paperback copies of his older books. A steaming cup of coffee and a plate of cookies were also waiting for him. “There’s no food allowed in the library, but for you we made an exception,” she said with a smile. “Max and Karen sent over the books for purchase from The Wright Read in case anyone wanted them.”

“Good thinking.” He picked up a double-chocolate cookie and bit into it. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the food. “Lexie’s handiwork?”

Emma smiled. “Of course.”

“Delicious. Where’s Avery?”

“I’m, um, not really sure,” Emma admitted, blinking fast. “She stayed for the entire reading, but left as soon as the questions were getting started.”

He was disappointed, but he had no intention of letting her avoid him permanently. He looked up and saw that the crowd was just starting to trickle in. “Duty calls. Thanks for the setup and the cookies. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Emma said, back to her usual businesslike self.

For the next hour and a half he signed books, chatted with his fans, and talked history with Branford. This was what being a writer was about. To be well satisfied with his own work, and to have it appreciated by people he respected. By eight o’clock, every book the Wrights had sent over had been sold and the crowd had dissipated. Theo had even eaten all the cookies. By the time Emma saw him out, he felt like he’d run a marathon. Readings and signings always did that to him. In some respects, the marketing and networking aspects of his job were more exhausting than the actual writing. Writing was a mental exercise, but this? This was an onslaught.

He yawned and braced himself against the chill wind. He’d done a good day’s work—more research completed, the opening scene firmly sketched out in his mind, and a plan of attack for the rest of the week. The ache in his bones was strong and he’d sleep well that night. Very, very well.

As he undressed for bed and slid between the covers, this time ignoring the hollow, banging noise that echoed through the Inn, he couldn’t help but think about a certain guarded beauty with hair the color of the setting sun and a flame of passion so hot it could melt even the hardest of hearts. Including, he hoped, her own.