Page 3 of Summer Love

"Somehow, I doubt that." The other problem was that she was gorgeous and enticing, and if I thought so, my crew would too. She was a distraction I didn't need or want.

"And I was never a beauty queen. You should know that." She gathered her notebook and her bag, moving toward the door.

I frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"The year we graduated, you were homecoming king, along with your girlfriend. What was her name?" She waved a hand.

"Sasha Owen."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yes, Sasha Owen. How could I forget?"

I followed her out of the office, curious about her reaction. "I'll walk you out."

"That's not necessary." Her tone was clipped.

Was she embarrassed that she'd mentioned who I'd dated in high school? Why had she cared? "My parents taught me manners."

She raised a brow, as if to ask if I was sure about that, but I didn't rise to the bait. This woman was going to test my patience, and I needed my wits about me.

I pushed open the door for her, waiting for her to precede me outside. She brushed past my chest, her tropical scent teasing my nostrils. I walked with her to her car.

At the driver's side door of a small red sports car, she turned to face me. "I expect you'll respond to my email."

"My father wants me to handle this." I'd always stepped up and taken care of things when necessary. I was the oldest, the most responsible. Marshall, the second oldest, had joined the military after college. That left the twins, Shep and Coop, who were more interested in having a good time than taking anything seriously, and I couldn't leave it to Dalton and Brady. They weren't as interested in a central role in the business. Then there was Luna, who used to work in the front office, but had since left to start an interior design business.

She raised one delicate brow. "You always do what your father wants you to do?"

My brow furrowed, not sure what she was getting at. "He's my boss."

"Interesting."

I had to be careful talking to a journalist, reporter, whatever she was. Wouldn't everything I say end up in print? "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled serenely. "I'm getting to know you, Mr. Kingston."

I threw a hand over my shoulder as she opened the door. "You acted like you knew me back there."

She raised a brow, a smile playing on her lips. "You really don't remember me?"

I scrutinized her face, her blue eyes, blond hair, and enticing body. "No."

She shook her head. "The Kingston boys are so full of themselves; they never saw anyone outside their circle."

"That wasn't true." In school, I was involved in sports and focused on getting good grades to make my father proud. The responsibilities rested on my shoulders. Not my brothers'. "We went to school off-island. It wasn't like I knew everyone."

"But I grew up on the island."

The point was, I should know who she was. It was a small island. Everyone knew everyone. "Is this going to affect the article you're going to write?"

She sighed as she turned on her heel. "I want to get to know who you are. It doesn't matter if you know me."

But I wanted to know why she remembered me so clearly. Who were her friends? Did she date one of my brothers?

Before I could ask any of the questions swirling in my head, she opened her car door and said, "Respond to my email, Mr. Kingston."

I held the frame of her door so she couldn't close it. "It's Hudson."

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, and the intensity in them stole my breath. "Good night, Hudson."

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