Treasures Lost, Treasures Found

didn’t want to, Kate remembered that the last time he’d walked away, they’d stood in almost the same spot.
    Picking up her cases, she headed for the hotel, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Chapter 2
    S he knew where to find him. If the island had been double in size, she’d still have known where to find him. Kate acknowledged that Ky hadn’t changed. That meant if he wasn’t out on his boat, he would be at home, in the small, slightly dilapidated cottage he owned near the beach. Because she felt it would be a strategic error to go after him too soon, she dawdled over her unpacking.
    But there were memories even here, where she’d spent one giddy, whirlwind night of love with Ky. It had been the only time they were able to sleep together through the night, embracing each other in the crisp hotel sheets until the first light of dawn crept around the edges of the window shades. She remembered how reckless she’d felt during those few stolen hours, and how dull the morning had seemed because it brought them to an end.
    Now she could look out the same window she had stood by then, staring out in the same direction she’d stared out then when she watched Ky walk away. She remembered the sky had been streaked with a rose color before it had brightened to a pure, pale blue.
    Then, with her skin still warm from her lover’s touch and her mind glazed with lack of sleep and passion, Kate had believed such things could go on forever. But of course they couldn’t. She had seen that only weeks later. Passion and reckless nights of loving had to give way to responsibilities, obligations.
    Staring out the same window, in the same direction, Kate could feel the sense of loss she’d felt that long ago dawn without the underlying hope that they’d be together again. And again.
    They wouldn’t be together again, and there’d been no one else since that one heady summer. She had her career, her vocation, her books. She had had her taste of passion.
    Turning away, she busied herself by rearranging everything she’d just arranged in her drawers and closet. When she decided she’d stalled in her hotel room long enough, Kate started out. She didn’t take her car. She walked, just as she always walked to Ky’s home.
    She told herself she was over the shock of seeing him again. It was only natural that there be some strain, some discomfort. She was honest enough to admit that it would have been easier if there’d been only strain and discomfort, and not that one sharp quiver of pleasure. Kate acknowledged it, now that it had passed.
    No, Ky Silver hadn’t changed, she reminded herself. He was still arrogant, self-absorbed and cocky. Those traits might have appealed to her once, but she’d been very young. If she were wise, she could use those same traits to persuade Ky to help her. Yes, those traits, she thought, and the tempting offer of a treasure hunt. Even at her most pessimistic, she couldn’t believe Ky would refuse. It was his nature to take chances.
    This time she’d be in charge. Kate drew in a deep breath of warm air that tasted of sea. Somehow she felt it would steady her. Ky was going to find she was no longer naive, or susceptible to a few careless words of affection.
    With her briefcase in hand, Kate walked through the village. This too was the same, she thought. She was glad of it. The simplicity and solitude still appealed to her. She enjoyed the dozens of little shops, the restaurants and small inns tucked here and there, all somehow using the harbor as a central point, the lighthouse as a landmark. The villagers still made the most of their notorious onetime resident and permanent ghost, Blackbeard. His name or face was lavishly displayed on store signs.
    She passed the harbor, unconsciously scanning for Ky’s boat. It was there, in the same slip he’d always used—clean lines, scrubbed deck, shining hardware. The flying bridge gleamed in the afternoon light and looked the same as she remembered. Reckless, challenging. The paint was fresh and there was no film of salt spray on the bridge windows. However careless Ky had been about his own appearance or his home, he’d always pampered his boat.
    The Vortex . Kate studied the flamboyant lettering on the stern. He could pamper, she thought again, but he also expected a lot in return. She knew the speed he could urge out of the second-hand cabin cruiser he’d lovingly reconstructed himself. Nothing could block the image of the days she’d stood beside