Born to be Wild

Carlo’s face darkened with anger. “Haven’t you already done enough to damage our family name?” he demanded. “First you get involved with that fisherman’s daughter in Harwichport—”

“There’s nothing wrong with Celia,” Reese said hotly, “except that she doesn’t come with a pedigree.”

“It’s not the lack of family connections,” his mother said. “I would hope you know us better than that. It’s just that… Oh, Reese, she’s so young. And she comes from a world that’s very different from yours—”

“Being of Portuguese descent doesn’t make her different.”

But his mother ignored the rebuke. “How could you ever expect to have anything in common?”

“Besides the obvious,” put in his father. “Which, might I point out, you appear to have in common with other women, as well.”

“I already told you,” Reese said tightly, “I can’t be the father of Eliza’s baby. I—”

“Enough!” Carlo made an angry gesture. “I will not tolerate lying. Miss Mayhew is the daughter of a family friend as well as a classmate of your sister’s. How could you be so careless?”

“Has she had a paternity test done?” Reese demanded. “Maybe you’d better think about who’s being careless.” He could feel his temper slipping the tight leash he’d held, and the words spilled out. Even the pain in his father’s eyes couldn’t halt his tongue. “Taking someone else’s word without giving me a chance to defend myself? Fine.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t need this, Dad. I’m not marrying Lying Eliza and you can’t make me.” He strode toward the door to the hallway.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m speaking to you!” Reese had come by his temper honestly. Carlo stepped forward and reached for his son’s arm, but Reese shoved him away in a red haze of anger.

“You ever put your hands on me again and I swear you’ll be sorry,” he snarled at his father. He barreled down the hall to the heavy front door, oblivious to his mother’s frantic cries. As he slammed through the door and the thunderous sound of its closing echoed behind him, he swore one thing to himself: he would never set foot in the same room with his father again until he’d received an apology from the old man.

His chest was tight with pain and he blinked rapidly. No way, he told himself, no way was he ever going into that house again until his father apologized. He couldn’t be the father of that baby—he’d never even slept with Eliza! But he hadn’t been allowed the chance to explain. Hell, his father hadn’t even given him the courtesy of pretending he might be innocent.

He was getting as fast and far away from Massachusetts as he could on the first flight out. To hell with finishing school. Who needed a degree from Harvard, anyway? He was good with the stock market, had already managed to significantly increase the million he’d inherited on his last birthday.

But…if he quit school, what would he do?

The answer came to him as easily as if the idea had only been waiting for the question to be asked. He’d dreamed of sailing around the world since he’d been old enough to steer a boat.

Around the world! Oh, yeah, he was outta here.

As he jumped into his car and roared away from his childhood home for the last time, he decided he’d ask Celia daSilva to join him. Images of her naked body glowing in the golden sunlight filled his head. God, he loved her. They could even get married!

Then cold sanity kicked in. Celia wouldn’t be eighteen for over another month. Wouldn’t his father just love the chance to catch him with a minor! And he knew Celia’s father wasn’t exactly thrilled that she had been glued to Reese’s side all summer.

Five more weeks…

He couldn’t stick around that long. Anger continued to race through him. He could barely wait to get out of town. Today. Besides, he knew Celia too well. If he went to her now, she would try to talk him into waiting until he was calmer, into talking with his father. And if that failed, she’d pester him to take her along. The hell of it was, he wasn’t sure he had the willpower to resist her. Even if it landed him in jail if they were caught.

He’d write to her. Write her and tell her what his father had done, explain to her why he’d had to leave so abruptly. She would understand. That was the one thing he could count on. Celia always understood him. Yeah, he’d write. Ask her to come with him after her birthday…ask her to marry him.

His hands tightened on the wheel as he punched the accelerator of his sleek sports car against the floorboard. To hell with his old man. He didn’t need anyone else as long as he had Celia.

One

Thirteen years later

“Hey, Celia! Guess what I heard?”

With an abstracted smile Celia Papaleo glanced up from the paperwork on permanent moorings. Thank God it was finally October. They’d reached that time of year when Harwichport residents could begin to breathe again after the tourists overran Cape Cod for the summer, flinging money and flouting rules and generally making the South Harwich harbormaster and everyone else who worked for her crazy.

“Roma.” She raised her head and smiled at the petite woman in the bright red sweater who’d entered her office, sitting back in her chair. “What did you hear?”

Roma had been Celia’s best friend since their elementary school days. She held a tiny girl in one arm and a toddler by the hand.

Celia rose and automatically reached for the infant, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that pierced her heart as she cuddled baby Irene close. How she’d loved holding Leo this way when he was a baby. Leo… He would have been five next week—

“Ceel?” Roma snapped her fingers, waving one hand in front of Celia’s face.

Celia focused on her friend’s concerned blue eyes, knowing Roma would worry. Pushing aside the grief that inevitably welled up, she made an effort to smile again.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking how glad I am summer’s over.”

“Amen to that.” Roma’s voice held feeling although she still studied Celia too closely. “Adios, tourists.”

“Those tourists put food on our tables,” Celia felt compelled to point out.

“Yeah, but they’re still a huge pain in the—”

“All right. I get your point.” Celia chuckled. She gestured to Irene and little William, who was busy pushing a truck around the seat of one office chair with pudgy fingers. “So what’s so important that you had to drag these two down here instead of just picking up the phone?”

“Oh!” Roma perked up. “Almost forgot. You’d better sit down,” she warned darkly.

Celia’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“Reese Barone docked over at Saquatucket Marina last night.”

Reese Barone…Reese Barone…Reese Barone… The name echoed through her head, a blast from the past she surely could have lived the rest of her life without hearing. Her muscles tensed, her heart skipped a beat. For a single crystalline instant, the world froze. Then she forced herself to react.

“Wow.” Her voice would be calm if it killed her. “It’s been years since he was here, hasn’t it?”

Roma snorted. “You know darn well how long it’s been. He hasn’t been back since he dumped you for the pregnant deb.”

“Technically, he didn’t dump me for anyone. The last I heard, he refused to marry her and took off for good.” She handed Irene back to Roma and picked up the papers on her desk, aligning all the corners with unnecessary care. “I doubt we’ll see him here. Saquatucket caters more to the yacht crowd than we do.”

“He might look you up.”

Celia forced herself to laugh. “Roma, he probably doesn’t even remember me. We were kids.”

“Kids? I think not.” Roma cocked her head and studied Celia until she blushed.

“Okay, we weren’t kids. But we were really young. My life has changed completely since those days and I’m sure his has, too.”

“Maybe.” Roma didn’t sound as if she believed it. But then she shrugged. “I’m off to the grocery store. I just have time for a quick run before I pick Blaine up from kindergarten.”

Celia nodded, although another arrow of pain shot into her to nestle beside the first. Leo had been seven months younger than Blaine, but because of his October birthday he would have been a year behind in school. This would have been his last year at home with her. Don’t go there, Celia. You’re not an at-home mom anymore. You’re not a mom, period. Or a wife. You’re just the harbormaster now.

“See you.” Roma corralled her younger son and blew a kiss at Celia before she swept out the door.