Chapter 4 – Books

Looking up at him, Kate could feel the heat rising up her neck and tried desperately to form a coherent sentence. Unfortunately the sight of Richard Castle grinning down at her, chest showing through his unbuttoned shirt, hair falling over his brow, blue eyes sparkling had her tongue-tied. All she could think was its Richard Frikking Castle! over and over.

Suddenly realising she was acting like a star-struck teen … or worse still, a clueless idiot, she tried frantically to come up with a coherent reply. A series of them flashed through her mind, each sounding worse than the previous … and then he was almost rushing down the wooden steps, standing in front of her, invading her space …. and she was still looking up at him, at warm, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, at that hopeful expression on his face, at those lips which were just inches away from hers, …. and then something about 'having breakfast alone' finally percolated through to her, so he's on his own is he? she thought to herself and he was looking at her with a little boy pout, bottom lip pushed out, eyes wide in imploration and she couldn't help her lips twitching, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling and …

All of a sudden, she got the distinct impression he was about to lean forwards and kiss her and though a part of her wanted to do the same, she instinctively raised her hand to fend him off, taking a small step back …. only he was unexpectedly looking sheepish and slightly embarrassed and mumbling something that sounded like sorry and she decided maybe he wasn't as cocky as she'd thought.

He still looked a little sheepish as he held his hand out and said, "Maybe I should start again. Hi, I'm Rick". There was some surprise, quite a bit of amusement and plenty of curiosity in her as she held out her own hand. What had just happened to the suave playboy? Her curiosity was piqued. She felt her hand engulfed in his large one and wondered inconsequently if those stories of large hands were urban legends or not … then almost smacked herself for letting her thoughts go there. "Hi, I'm Kate" she managed.

He released her hand and waved up the steps asking "Can I tempt you to some freshly made coffee and maybe some fruit, or toast … or a barbequed rib eye steak?" and she had to hold back the giggle at the ridiculousness of his suggestion as she walked up the steps ahead of him and threw "Coffee's fine for the moment, thanks!" over her shoulder. She almost face-palmed herself a second time as she realised what she'd said … well, ok, she had nothing to do for the rest of the day other than keep away from the love shack, but there was no need for the writer to know that. Becoming aware of his eyes on her ass, she added a little sway as she climbed the last few steps, biting her lip in amusement as she heard his intake of breath, then he was up beside her, pulling out a chair and offering it to her.

He poured her a coffee, added some milk and placed it before her before pouring his own and taking the seat next to hers. "Well Kate, welcome to my humble abode … and I hope you'll excuse my somewhat bumbling efforts just now, I wasn't expecting to find such an attractive woman walking past at this time of day" he said raising his cup to her and she didn't miss his eyes suddenly dropping to her hand as she held her cup up. Was that a touch of relief on his face?

"So, what brings you to this beautiful island?" he asked her.

"My friend Maddie has a client who owns a bungalow down the beach a bit," waving her arm in the general direction of the headland, "He offered it to her if she ever wanted to stay … and, well, she asked me along."

"And how come you seem to spend time walking the beach alone, doesn't she like walking?"

Damn! Trust him to pick up on that! "Who says I walk the beach alone?" she quibbled.

"Well, don't get me wrong, I've been here less than twenty-four hours, but I've seen you twice, last night and this morning, and there was no Maddie tagging along … unless she's invisible?" he added hopefully.

She rolled her eyes and didn't miss his grin of appreciation. There was no way she was going to tell him why she was walking the beaches alone, he didn't need to know that. "I like walking, don't get much of a chance normally."

"Oh? What do you do … normally?" the latter added with a wicked grin and she decided not to go there. She hesitated, usually she got three types of reaction to her work; ghoulish curiosity, leery suggestions about uniforms and cuffs or hasty departures. Her bet here was on the second option, and she didn't really want to deal with that. "Is it that bad?" and she realised she was taking too long to give him an answer.

With a shake of her head she said, "I don't think so," looking up from her cup at him and added, "I'm a cop."

Of the reactions she'd been expecting, his awed "Wow!" was not one of them and it made her look even more sharply at him as she tried to get a read on the writer. He was staring at her, eyes wide in surprise, mouth slightly agape, and then her eyebrows crawled up her forehead as his expression went from surprise to admiration. Ok, wait for it she thought.

Instead of the expected innuendo, his reverent "That is sooo cool!" caught her by surprise and she had to do a double take. "It wouldn't happen to be NYPD would it?"

If his reaction to her job was unexpected, his choice of police department stunned her. "How … how did you know?"

"Your accent, its New York … well, tri-state at least … not bridge and tunnel, no trace of the boroughs, probably Manhattan?"

She didn't know whether to be freaked out or not; either he was incredibly creepy or incredibly intuitive and looking at him she opted for the latter, not wanting her favourite author to turn out to be a creep.

"Yeah, I'm NYPD … homicide." She narrowed her eyes as she stared at him, waiting for his reaction and again she was surprised … no, not surprised … almost shocked by his enthusiastic response.

"Oh boy! I can't believe my luck!" Then obviously reading her face correctly he raised two hands in semi-apology, "Sorry, it's just that I think that is so cool! I …. I'm a writer … and, and I just … I was hoping you'd maybe let me pick your brains," then realisation swept across his face, followed by disappointment, "Oh … sorry, I suppose you being on holiday and all, you probably don't want to talk about it?" hope tagged onto the end of the question.

Kate was by now totally confused. She'd been expecting some leery comments, maybe a polite 'ok, you've had your coffee, now you can go', or at worst, the typical 'what's the most gruesome body you've come across'. Instead the writer seemed to be impressed, almost awed by her job. Not what she'd been expecting at all. She bit her lip as she considered him, he'd said he was a writer and there was no way she was going to let him know how much of a fan she was. The added fact that he seemed to be more intrigued with her job than was usual made her hesitate over her instinctive refusal. Maybe she could have a bit of fun while she decided what to answer.

"You're a writer are you?" and tried to hide her mischievous grin, "What sort of writer, travel books?"

His face was almost comical as he sat back, almost sputtering, then suddenly his eyes narrowed and he sat forward to stare at her, invading her space and making her sit back. Maybe she hadn't been quite as successful at hiding her amusement as she'd thought. Had he guessed she knew who he was? He couldn't have!

"No, I write mystery books," he said, watching her narrowly.

She put on her best cop's face, unimpressed, uninterested. "Oh? Anything I might have read?"

"Storm's Last Stand? Driving Storm? Storm Rising …"

"Are you sure they're mystery novels? Sound more like weather forecasts!" and had great difficulty in not laughing out loud at the almost growl that left his throat.

"Ok, how about In a Hail of Bullets … no? Death of a Prom Queen? Flowers For Your Grave?"

Kate was really struggling to keep a straight face and decided it was maybe time to give him a carrot so she interrupted him with "Oh! That one sounds familiar, though I can't remember much about it."

"Ok, well seeing as my books don't appear to have impressed you, can I at least offer you another coffee?"