He’d intended to do so himself, but he saw now that his instincts to tell her about it had been true. She was facing him now, and though the sun flashed off her sunglasses, he could see from the angle of her head that he had her full attention.

“He wouldn’t want anything from me.”

“You’re not giving him enough credit. Maybe you’re not giving yourself enough either.”

He trimmed the sails, caught the wind, and saw the instant she recognized the curve of trees along the shore. She got unsteadily to her feet. “Phillip, however you may feel about me right now, it can’t help the situation for you to push me at Seth again so soon.”

“I’m not taking you home.” He scanned the yard as they passed. “Seth’s at the boatyard with Cam and Ethan, in any case. You need a distraction, Sybill, not a confrontation. And for the record, I don’t know how I feel about you at the moment.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve given me the facts. You haven’t told me how you feel, how those facts affect you personally, emotionally.”

“It isn’t the issue.”

“I’m making it an issue. We’re tangled up here, Sybill, whether we like it or not. Seth’s your nephew, and he’s mine. My father and your mother had an affair. And we’re about to.”

“No,” she said definitely, “we’re not.”

He turned his head long enough to shoot her a glittering look. “You know better than that. You’re in my system, and I know when a woman’s got me in hers.”

“And we’re both old enough to control our more basic urges.”

He stared at her another moment, then laughed. “Hell we are. And it’s not the sex that worries you. It’s the intimacy.”

He was hitting all the targets. It didn’t anger her nearly as much as it frightened her. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m beginning to,” he said quietly. “And I’m someone else who finishes what I start. I’m coming about.” His voice was mild now. “Watch the boom.”

She stepped out of the way, sat. She recognized the little cove where they had shared wine and paté. Only a week ago, she thought dully. Now so much had changed. Everything had changed.

She couldn’t be here with him, couldn’t risk it. The idea of handling him now was absurd. Still, she could do nothing but try.

Coolly, she eyed him. Casually, she smoothed her hand over the sophisticated twist the wind had disordered. Caustically, she smiled. “What, no wine this time? No music, no neat gourmet lunch?”

He dropped the sails, secured the boat. “You’re scared.”

“You’re arrogant. And you don’t worry me.”

“Now you’re lying.” While the boat swayed gently underfoot, he stepped forward and took the sunglasses from her. “I worry you, quite a bit. You keep thinking you have me pegged, then I don’t follow the script. I imagine most of the men you’ve let hover around your life have been fairly predictable. Easier for you.”