Sympathy for the Devil (International Bad Boys Book 4) by Kelly Hunter Page B

heads south there won’t be enough to hold me.”
    “Why would your relationship with Caleb head south?”
    “He doesn’t exactly have a reputation for sticking to the one woman. He likes to move on.”
    “Well, for what it’s worth, it seems to me that he’s found what he’s looking for. I don’t think he’s looking to move on from you at all.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “Confidence, remember? Confidence is key.”
    “Got it. I am as confident as can be.”
    “Still feel like fleeing?”
    “Why would she flee?” said a voice from the stairway and it was Caleb and his eyes were wary.
    “We were just talking about you,” said Zoey.
    “I know.”
    How much had he heard?
    Bree couldn’t stop looking at him. And Caleb made no bones about his focus being completely on her.
    “I’m just going to . . . go,” said Zoey. And with a quick, reassuring squeeze for Bree’s hand she headed for the stairs, slipped past Caleb and was gone.
    The tension in the room thickened.
    “Gemma’s with Cutter,” Caleb said finally. “They’re going to give the kids half-an-hour to play, Cutter’s going to feed them and then they’ll be gone.”
    “They don’t have to do that. Not on my account.”
    “They were only passing through.”
    “Yes, but you didn’t have to cut them short on my account.”
    “I know what I have to do, Breanna, and I’ve done it. One day I’ll introduce you to Gemma and you can get to know her, but not today. Not on our first date. Cutter’s got this.”
    Brothers.
    Or maybe it was just this family.
    “C’mon,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “I want to show you something.”
    He led her to the little door at the other end of the landing at the top of the stairs. The one Bree had been resolutely ignoring ever since she’d got here. The room behind the door was still tiny, and cobwebby and perfect. There were more bells and several more ships wheels. There was a big old brass bed, fully dressed, in the place old deck cushions had once been.
    It was the only thing that wasn’t dusty.
    “This is my bolt hole,” he offered gruffly. “It always has been. I have a place in town but occasionally I sleep here if the trawler gets in at all hours or if I have an early dive. I don’t bring women here, so if that’s what you’re thinking, don’t. There’s only ever been one woman here in this room with me.”
    He stood there in his jeans and T-shirt and he’d never looked more serious or so beautiful. “Will you come in again?”
    Bree felt time shift as she stepped into the room that had dominated her dreams for over ten years. She crossed the threshold and her world tilted sideways, just that little bit out of step with the party below. There was only this room and Caleb and the promise of doing something right this time.
    He headed towards the big brass bed and she stayed back, happy for the moment just to watch the play of sunlight on him through dusty slatted window panes. There was a small table by the bed with a lamp and a clock on it and books piled up beneath. Several books on shipwrecks, a book about the oceans and several on underwater photography. Which reminded her . . .
    “These are for you.” She reached for her shoulder bag and put it on the end of his bed and then reached in and drew out a large envelope and withdrew the stack of photos within.
    She watched him take them warily and begin to shuffle through them. Photos of him and his brothers and his father as they unloaded bins of fish from the trawler. Good pictures, chosen for what they conveyed about family dynamics and relationships. A father’s pride as he watched his sons work. The competitiveness between brothers that got pushed aside effortlessly when one of them needed a hand. Textures and movement and strong hands on the ropes. Weathered smiles and reckless ones.
    And then he got to that one of him alone. Looking at her.
    And didn’t say a word.
    She headed for the slatted glass windows and it was