“I promise we’ll leave no stone unturned to find those dresses. After we sail. Deal, partner?”

It seemed childish to refuse him. And really, he did look the tiniest bit flushed.

Maybe I should watch him for a little while longer.

“Oh, all right. Since I’m here. Now what?”

“You sit in the bow.” He cast her a side glance. “Remember the bow is the front and the stern is the back, where I steer.”

“Of course I know the bow from the stern,” she insisted indignantly. I just can’t ever remember which side is starboard and which is port.

Hoping she wouldn’t need to know, she studied the tiny spot he indicated in the point of the bow. “I can’t fit one thigh in there!”

His gaze lingered on both her thighs. “Sure you can. Let me help you.” He held her hand and maneuvered her around the wooden centerboard to settle in her spot with a little room to spare. She felt warm and loosened the top button of her blouse.

Overhead, the small white sail stretched to catch the wind.

She became aware of the soothing, quiet noise of water sloshing against the bow and of the sunlight turning Drew’s fair hair every color from citron to amber.

The sound of the water and the breeze gently playing across her bare skin made her drowsy. The tight, warm tension in her chest eased, and she took a deep breath of fresh, green-scented late-spring air.

“I can’t take the boat directly into the wind,” Drew called out to her. “We’ll tack to port. Tack to starboard. Keep an even keel to get where we want to go. Relax and we’ll do this together.”

It all came back to her, helping him race his small sailboat along the beach at the Clayworth Compound. She shifted to one side and then the other for balance, to help make the boat go faster. She tried to move carefully, but every single part of this boat seemed to be sharp, jutting, or just plain hard. I’m definitely out of practice. She couldn’t escape getting bumped and bruised. She did all she could to dodge the bits of the boat as they came at her.

After a while the rhythm came back to her. Like in the old days when the world distilled down to the power of the boat beneath her racing the waves and the awe of watching Drew capture the wind and make it do what he wanted.

Here, for one bright, shining moment like in Camelot, the world became crystal clear. Like it had been when they were kids.

Flying spray against her warm cheek broke the spell. For a few precious minutes she had let go of duty, regret, and sorrow. But they weren’t kids anymore, setting sail for endless horizons. All their choices, plus her dad, were in this boat with them. Despite all their baggage, she couldn’t deny the little flutters of excitement at being here with Drew again.

She watched him jump to shore and pull the boat higher onto the bank. She climbed out before he could help her and peered up at him. “Now can we get back to sleuthing?”

He nodded. “It felt good, though, didn’t it?”

His gaze made her feel like the sun concentrated all its beams directly on her, and its powerful heat made it hard to breathe. She raised her hand to push back her hair, heavy and hot on her neck, and his gaze fell on the inside of her right wrist.

“Christ, you got that sailing with me.” He lifted her arm where a small bright purple bruise had formed, gently sliding his fingers over the aching spot.

Shivers, like the waves against the bank at her feet, washed over her hot, tingly skin.

“Sorry about this.” Abruptly, he dropped her arm.

Relieved, she stepped back. She shouldn’t have worried. He appeared totally fine. Totally coherent. Totally in control, like all Clayworths.

He stepped back further. “Thanks for coming. I’ll be in touch.”

The real reason she’d come, the reason she’d never before admitted to herself, settled like an anchor in a region near her heart.

I came because I need closure with you. And I didn’t know it until I inhaled truth serum. Now what should I do to fix it?

By Monday, Athena needed to fix her body. Every muscle felt stiff from stretching, or sitting on that hard, two-inch piece of wood, or whatever she’d done to herself while sailing. Bruises in colors ranging from dirty orange to bright purple were arranged in clusters like the constellations on one shoulder and thigh.

Obviously, she’d become so rusty at sailing it might be right up there with singing on the list of her un-accomplishments.

To stop thinking about sailing with him, and to deal with her disappointment about her stop at Hinshaw’s Auction House, which came up with zero, and to keep herself busy while waiting for her appointments with four other dealers, Athena roamed around the large collection-storage room optimistically choosing more pieces for the Founding Families Exhibit, which might never happen.

Makayla walked in and immediately spied the bruise on Athena’s wrist. “What happened to you?”

“I went sailing with Drew Clayworth. This is nothing. This is the really big one. I think it looks like Orion, don’t you?” she asked Makayla, who peered at her shoulder.

A frown curved Makayla’s pale lips, and the tiny diamond piercing her right eyebrow seemed to wink at Athena in alarm.

Not wanting to worry her, Athena laughed and pulled her blouse back up on her shoulder. “I’m fine. I actually had fun. I’d forgotten how much I love the feel of racing the wind. Drew does it really well.”

“I’ve never heard you sound so, kind of, breathless.” Makayla did a mock swoon. “Here I thought all the Clayworth men were, like, a necessary evil. Like money bags for the museum.”

“Makayla, we never refer to our biggest donors, the Clayworths, as money bags,” Athena gently reminded her.

“I watched Talk of the Town at the group home. That shot of you and Mr. Clayworth standing with Junior between you had like an awesome vibe. The other girls at the house asked if the two of you were like a really hot item.”

Stunned by the question, Athena looked up from removing a Charles James dress from its double casket to find Makayla staring at her, a rapt expression on her face.

“Absolutely not.” Technically, she wasn’t lying. When Drew stroked her arm, she’d felt more alive than she had in years, but she couldn’t read anything deeper on his charming exterior.

“You knew him before, right? Like your families were friends?”

“A long time ago.” Athena nodded, trying to figure out how to be as truthful as possible with Makayla.

“You guys were never into each other, huh?”

Athena looked away, refusing to let the memories of their last night on the Clayworth terrace back in. “Something like that.”

Makayla groaned. “Bummer! You were and he wasn’t, right?”

Athena stared up into Makayla’s intent face and put on her older-sister hat. “You might say we weren’t on the same page at the same time. It happens that way sometimes, and then you get over it and move on,” she said in what she hoped sounded like a positive, mature tone.

“Sometimes. Like on Rebecca’s show and again in the lab that night I saw something sad on your face. Like maybe you’re not over it? Would you tell me if I’m right?”

Am I having another bout of truthfulness from Bertha’s stays?

No, she simply couldn’t lie to this young girl, so alone in the world, who trusted her.

“He was my best friend, and I blew it,” Athena admitted for the first time in her life.

“He was your BFF and he dumped you! Did you make him pay?” Makayla asked, indignation firing in her eyes. “You should have done it even if he’s always been this rich, powerful dude. There’s still time. We could make him fall in love with you, and then you could dump him this time.”

Confronted by Makayla’s teenage vengeance, Athena felt as ancient as Greek mythology. “It was a long time ago. He was only nineteen. He’d just lost his parents in a horrible sailboat accident. I couldn’t do anything to hurt him.”