Homeport

place even when Andrew began to sob like a baby.
    It took the best part of an hour to pour Andrew into bed. When he came downstairs Ryan noted that the shattered glass from the bottle had been swept up, and the splash of whiskey that had hit walls and floors on the fall had been scrubbed.
    When he couldn’t find Miranda in the house, he grabbed a jacket and headed outside.
    She was on the cliffs. He studied the silhouette she made there, alone, tall, slender, against the night sky, with her hair blowing free and her face turned to the sea.
    Not just alone, he thought. Lonely. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone lonelier.
    He climbed up to her, draped the jacket over her shoulders.
    She’d managed to steady herself. Somehow the restless tossing of the sea could always calm her. “I’m terribly sorry you were dragged into that.”
    Her voice was cool, he noted. Automatic defense. Her body was stiff, and still turned away from him. “I wasn’t dragged in. I was here.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, but she stepped away.
    “That’s the second time you’ve had to deal with an embarrassingly drunk Jones.”

    “One night’s foolishness is a long distance from what your brother’s doing to himself, Miranda.”
    “However true that is, it doesn’t change the facts. We behaved badly, and you cleaned up the mess. I don’t know if I could have handled Andrew tonight by myself. But I would have preferred it.”
    “That’s too bad.” Annoyed, he spun her around to face him. “Because I was here, and I’m going to be here for a while.”
    “Until we find the bronzes.”
    “That’s right. And if I’m not done with you by then . . .” He cupped her face, lowered his head and took her mouth in an angry and possessive kiss. “You’ll have to deal with it.”
    “I don’t know how to deal with it.” Her voice rose over the crash of waves. “I’m not equipped for this, for you. Every relationship I’ve ever had has ended badly. I don’t know how to handle that kind of emotional tangle, no one in my family does, so they just untangle at the first possible opportunity.”
    “You’ve never tangled with me before.” It was said with such blatant arrogance she might have laughed. Instead she turned away, stared at the steady circling beam from the lighthouse.
    He would be the one to run when it was done, she thought. And this time, with him, she was desperately afraid she would suffer. It didn’t matter that she understood why he was there, what his primary purpose was. She would suffer when he left her.
    “Everything that’s happened since I met you is foreign to me. I don’t function well without guidelines.”
    “You’ve been winging it pretty well so far.”
    “Two men are dead, Ryan. My reputation’s in ruins, my family is more divided than ever. I’ve broken the law, I’ve ignored ethics, and I’m having an affair with a criminal.”
    “But you haven’t been bored, have you?”
    She let out a weak laugh. “No. I don’t know what to do next.”
    “I can help you with that.” He took her hand and began to walk. “Tomorrow’s soon enough to take the next steps. Soon enough to talk about what they should be.”
    “I need to put everything in order.” She glanced back toward the house. “I should check on Andrew first, then organize.”
    “Andrew’s asleep, and he’s not going to surface until tomorrow. Organizing takes a clear, focused mind. You’ve got too much on yours to be clear or focused.”
    “Excuse me, but organization is my life. I can organize three different projects, outline a lecture, and teach a class at the same time.”
    “You’re a frightening woman, Dr. Jones. Then let’s say I’m not clear or focused. And I’ve never been inside a lighthouse.” He studied it as they approached, enjoying the way its beam cut through the dark and lay shimmering on the surface of the sea. “How old is it?”
    She let out a breath. If it was avoidance, so be it. “It was built in 1853. The structure is original, though my grandfather had the interior revamped in the forties with the idea of using it as his art studio. The fact is, according to my grandmother, he used it for illicit sexual affairs because it amused him to have them within sight of the house and in such an obviously phallic symbol.”
    “Good old Grandpa.”
    “He was only one of the insufferable emotionally stunted Joneses. His father—again according to my grandmother, who was the only