“He was supposed to fix the pump. I told him we’d—” He broke off as he saw Emily. “I’ll call you back, Pet
e. Go check it out. Don’t delegate this one. If necessary I’ll dig out the tools and do it myself.” He hung up the phone and smiled.
That assured smile was the final straw. “I need to talk to you.”
“Just when I thought a bad day wasn’t going to turn good, you walk in.” He lifted his eyebrows as she slammed the door shut. “Is this about sex in public places? Because—”
“You lied to me.” The anger was like a burning coal inside her. Later there would be other emotions, but right now fury overrode everything else. Fury and a deep sense of betrayal.
Ryan removed his feet from the desk. “Calm down.”
“I’m calm. Just angry.”
“I’m not sure it’s possible to be calm and angry.”
She paced across his office and stood in front of him. “I won’t ask why you didn’t tell me, because that part is obvious, but I will ask what your intentions are. I have a right to know that.” She needed to know whether she was going to have to leave the island. The thought made her stomach churn because she had no idea where she’d go.
“My intentions?”
“You lied to me. You sat there and talked to me about how the press wouldn’t be interested. You reassured me. You sat in my kitchen and acted as if you were my friend. As if you were someone I could trust. You bought Lizzy a hat, for God’s sake, to hide her from prying eyes and all the time you’re—you’re—”
“Wait a minute. Slow down. We’re talking about Lizzy? I thought you were talking about this thing we have.” The look he gave her could have singed the edges of her hair. “The chemistry. I thought it unsettled you. That’s why I backed off. I was giving you space.”
Her gaze met his, and for a moment she was knocked off balance. “I’m talking about the fact you’re a journalist, Ryan. When were you going to tell me? After a piece on Lizzy came out with your byline?”
He stilled. “How did you find out?”
“I’d like to say I looked you up on the internet because anyone in my position with a shred of common sense would have done that, but I didn’t.” After they’d had waffles on the deck that first morning she’d looked up the Ocean Club and spent half an hour on their slick website. She’d read his bio and been impressed. She hadn’t thought to put his name alone into a search engine. “Agnes was sorting through a file of all the stories you’ve written. She’s proud of you. She didn’t seem to know you’d conveniently kept that part of your life from me.”
His gaze didn’t shift from hers. “Did you look at the stories?”
“No. I wasn’t in the mood to mull over your career success. I was too busy wondering why you’d chosen to keep it from me. And the answer is pretty obvious.”
“Emily, listen—”
“I listened when you suggested Lizzy and I join you for lunch. I listened when you said I could trust you. I told you everything. And you’re such a good listener, aren’t you, Ryan? So good at parting people from their secrets. For a while I thought you had a gift with people, but now I realize it’s one of the tools of your trade. You even won a prize for it. Tell me, is sex another part of your superior technique to get people to tell you everything?”
His face was blank of expression. “You know it isn’t.”
“I don’t know anything.” She felt an ache deep in her gut because even now part of her wanted to believe that what had happened between them was real. “All I know is that you lied.”
“I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right moment.”
“And when was that going to be? When you’d told everyone the whereabouts of Juliet Elizabeth Fox?” She saw the brief flare of anger in his eyes.
“Do you really think I would do that?” He stood up so suddenly the chair scraped on the floor. “Hell, Emily. I’ve been doing everything I can to make the two of you feel safe here.”
“For what purpose? So that you can tip off a journalist as to exactly where Lana Fox’s child is living and get the credit? Is this what you journalists call an exclusive? You deliberately withheld information about yourself. If your past had no impact on the present, then why didn’t you tell me the truth? You told me about your childhood, about your brothers and sisters, your parents, Agnes—but not once did you mention that you used to be a journalist.”
He swore under his breath and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Listen—” He broke off and scowled as the door to his office opened, and Kirsti put her head around. “Not now—”
“Sorry, boss.” Kirsti slunk away, closing the door behind her again, and Emily turned and walked toward it.
“You didn’t need to send her away. I’ve said all I have to say.”
“Good. So now it’s my turn. Sit down.”
“There is nothing you have to say that I can possibly want to hear.” She reached the door at the same time he did, and he stretched past her and pushed it shut with the flat of his hand.