Catch Me a Catch (12 page)

“I know,
Bull.”

“Yes, you do.”
Bull patted his hand with his large paw. “That’s what makes you a good
matchmaker, Son. You recognize the need in others.”

At a loss for
words, Jack fell back on his standard response when things got too intense.
Retreat. “I’ll take the plates through. Would you like some coffee?” He
gathered up their plates and pushed the door open. Gales of female laughter wafted
through from the kitchen.

“And pie, but
watch yourself in there,” Bull warned. “The ladies can be dangerous.”

“Evening,
ladies.”

A hush fell
over the room. Glasses of Baileys Cream Liqueur and thick slabs of fruitcake
balanced mid-way from table to mouth froze in the air as Jack was subjected to
a thorough inspection.

“Jack. Pull a
chair up and come sit,” Maeve invited. The smell of warm apple pie filled the
room, his mouth watered.

“I said I’d
bring Bull some coffee, and some apple pie.” He realized too late he’d walked
himself into a situation it would be nigh on impossible to escape from.

“I’ll get him
some. You come and sit down here.” Maeve patted the chair next to her. “My
friends are dying to meet you.”

A couple of
drinks later, introductions made, Jack wondered what on earth Bull and Annie
had warned him about. He was having more fun than he’d had in years.

“I must admit,
Jack,” Eileen confided. “You’re not what I expected at all.”

“No, you’re
not what I expected either.” Mags helped herself liberally from the sherry
bottle in the center of the table.

“I heard you
were sort of rough and hairy—no offense.” Eileen’s eyes darted to his. “And a
bit, sort of, y’know, well…”

“Manky, was
the word I heard,” Mags announced. She covered her mouth with her hand, as if
realizing she’d gone a bit far. Even for her. “Not you, you understand, but
your clothes.” She patted Jack’s arm.

“I had a
makeover.” Jack batted his eyelashes at them. A wave of giggles filled the
room.

“For Annie?”
Mags batted hers back, her voice laced with innuendo.

“For
business,” he replied. “I’ve a meeting on Monday in Dublin. To be honest, after
spending weeks at sea I needed it.”

“I’m glad.”
Eileen blushed. “I didn’t see you before, but I think you’re only gorgeous
now.”

Jack leaned
over and kissed Eileen on the cheek. “Unfortunately, I’m taken.” He grinned.
The older woman blushed right to her white roots.

“Oh, you’re a
charmer, you are,” she said. “I’d say you could talk the birds right down out
of the trees.”

“Just got to
do the best I can with what I’ve got.” The table erupted in laughter, and Jack
helped himself to a slice of cake
. If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em.

“So, how long
are you in the country for?” Eileen asked. The sudden silence was so profound
you could hear a pin drop. Jack chewed and swallowed. He shifted uncomfortably
on the hard wooden chair. The open, curious faces focusing his direction pinned
him to the spot.

“Well, I’ve
some business…”

“In Dublin. On
Monday,” Eileen added.

“And someone
I’ve got to find.” They waited. “My grandmother.” It was his most closely
guarded secret, and they’d effortlessly winkled it out of him, like a snail
from a shell.

“I didn’t know
you had a grandmother here,” said Maeve. “Whereabouts in the country is she?”

“She lives in
Greystones, on the coast, outside Dublin. I’m meeting her tomorrow for the
first time.”

Their friendly
smiles transformed to concerned stares.

“I’ve never
met her. I grew up in care.”

The words
wouldn’t stop coming. For the first time in his life, warmth and support
dissolved his barriers.

“She’s one of
the reasons I came to Ireland. I haven’t talked about her before.”

Maeve placed a
glass of Baileys in front of him soundlessly, and he sipped it gratefully. The
smooth chocolate cream warmed him with a welcome kick of whiskey. The silence
was oppressive, stifling. Eileen walked around the table and put both her small
hands on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.

“Thanks for
telling us, Jack.” The others murmured their agreement. “You’re a good man;
she’ll love you.” She patted his back before making her way back to her chair.
In the silence of the room, a mobile phone rang.

Jack pulled
the phone from his pocket. He glanced at the display before flicking it open.
“Excuse me, ladies.” He stood quickly and pushed the back door open. Alone in
the darkness, he strode to the chair under the apple blossom.

“Did you say
ladies?” Annie sounded incredulous. “You didn’t go in there?”

“I went in
there,” he admitted, “and ended up telling them my whole godamned life story.”

“Well, I
warned you.” He could hear a smile. She must be smiling. “Anything I should
know about?”

“I think you
were wrong, at least two of them are my type.”

“Oh, funny.
I’ve lost you then, have I?”

“No.” It wasn’t
possible to joke with her anymore. Not when he ached to have her here, next to
him. If she were he could wrap his arms around her and tell her how much she
meant to him. Let her warmth and humor bolster him for tomorrow’s showdown.

“So, did they
prise any secrets out of you?”

“Yes.” he
stated flatly. “Something I haven’t told anyone, not even you.”

“What is it?
What’s wrong?”

His heart
pounded in the silent darkness. “I came to Ireland to find my grandmother. I
hired a private detective to trace her.”

“Oh.” The
sound was tinged with shock.

“My parents
died when I was eight. I remember it as if it were yesterday. There was a car
crash and the car flipped over. After the paramedics cut me out, I sat on the
back step of the ambulance. Watching them fight to save them.”

The burning in
his chest rose up into his throat, choking off the words. Tears prickled behind
his eyes. It was the first time he’d talked of his parent’s deaths. The first
time he’d revealed his devastating grief since the day in the ambulance. Since
that day he hadn’t cried. There wasn’t anyone to cry with.

“I knew when they
stopped their frantic attempts my parents were dead. My life was shattered into
pieces. Things would never be the same.”

“Were there
relatives, or friends?” Her voice trailed off in the darkness.

“My father
worked on building sites. We moved every six months so they had no friends who
could help. There wasn’t anyone. At least, I didn’t think so. Until I reached
eighteen I didn’t know there was anyone in the world with my DNA.”

“That must
have been terrible for you.” Her empathy reached out to him through the long
miles separating them. Her caring words a balm on his bruised soul. He hadn’t
revealed his torment to anyone in the long years since their deaths. Somehow
talking to Annie changed everything. It still ached, but he didn’t feel so
alone.

There was a
crack in his armor, an echo of the child he’d once been. The child who’d stared
at unfamiliar ceilings wondering why there was no one who cared what happened
to him. He shook it off, desperate to return to normality before he lost it
altogether.

“Why didn’t
you come to find her before?”

“Long story.”
Not something to talk about over the phone. He needed to see and hold her.
Explain how his grandmother refused to take in her grandchild. With no options,
the authorities consigned him to the care system. He rubbed his hand over his
knees, and changed the subject. ”Have you made your chocolates?”

“Yes.”

He breathed
out in relief to be back on solid ground rather than the shifting sands of his
childhood.

“After a lot
of hard work I finally got them done.” She described the intricate process
she’d gone through during the day. How she’d made twenty-five chocolates, and
ended up with only ten good enough. “To match a boxful, with the flowers all
looking perfect…” She sounded tired. “Well, let’s just say it was a lot more
work than I’d expected.”

“Did you leave
some for me for tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Nope. Ate
them all,” she said.

“Well in that case,
I’ll have to think of something else we can have for dessert.” At his
provocative words, he heard a swift intake of breath. A wave of lust swept over
him. She was feeling the attraction between them too.

“Well, I do
have some chocolate left over. I guess I could blend it with some cream, so if
you brought a paintbrush…”

“Body paint?”
His heart stuttered and almost stopped.

“Are you any
good at painting?” Her deep warm tones aroused him instantly.

“I’ve never
tried, but I’m willing to take lessons.” Painting it on and then licking it
off. It was a process that could take hours. Long, delicious hours.

“Where are
you?” Her voice was so clear in the darkness for a moment he could almost
imagine she was sitting next to him.

“Sitting in
the dark in the back garden. You?”

“In bed.” Her
voice dropped an octave. “Feeling lonely.”

Jack moaned.
His rampant imagination pictured her sitting up in bed. With mussed hair
flowing over the soft skin of her shoulders. “You heard me, right? You understand
I’m sitting in your parents back garden, on LADIES NIGHT, with the kitchen full
of drunk women with x-ray vision.” His voice dropped to match hers.

“With your
voice whispering in my ear, and my whole body rioting at the thought of lying
there next to you.”

“I wish you
were upstairs.” Her voice was husky, aroused. “I’d like to tell you about what
I’m wearing.”

“Stop.” He
strode to the gate, unable to bear this particular brand of torture any longer.
He needed to cool things down. “I’ve got an image to maintain here.” He aimed
for teasing, but missed it by a mile. “I’m supposed to be Jack Miller, the
calm, reliable boyfriend of Annie Devine. Responsible matchmaker of this
parish. I can’t possibly be found wandering in the dark, muttering
obscenities.”

“For the sake
of propriety I’d better say goodnight, then.”

“When I see
you tomorrow will you stay with me in my hotel? After dinner?”

“Try stopping
me.” Her husky whisper fanned the flames into blazing life again.

“Till tomorrow
then.” He returned to the chair under the tree. Breathed in the scent of Apple
Blossom, heady and intensified by the night. Aroused, like never before, by the
lingering echo of her voice.

I’ve got it
bad
. It was going to take a while sitting out here to cool his fevered body
from the effect five minutes listening to Annie’s husky voice had wrought.

Tires crunched
to a stop on the gravel. A door slammed. The dark form of a lumbering giant
carrying a large box struggled to open the gate. He stood up.

“Can I help?”

“Jaysus! What
the hell are you doing in the dark?” The box slipped from the shrieking
stranger’s grasp and he stumbled.

Jack grabbed
the box just in time. “Sorry, Mate, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me
carry this in for you.” He pushed the door open. His eyes scanned the room for
a convenient place to stow the heavy box. Maeve swept a pile of newspapers off
a table. He gratefully put it down.

“Michael! I
see you’ve met Jack.” Maeve nodded his direction.

“Not really,”
Michael said.

“Jack Miller.”
Jack reached for the outstretched hand and instantly regretted it. The man
didn’t know his own strength. Jack was pretty sure he heard the small bones in
his hand cracking as they were painfully crushed.

“Ah! So you’re
Jack Miller, the boyfriend.” Eyebrows raised theatrically. “Well, you’re the
man I’m looking for, so.”

Jack eyed
Michael cautiously. This didn’t sound good.

“I’m Michael
Devine, Sean’s son,” he explained. “He sent me down with the things for the
boat.”

Jack sighed
out a breath. Relief flooded over him. He’d feared Michael might be one of
Annie’s disgruntled suitors on the warpath. He grinned. “That’s great.” He
peered into the box.

“He got everything
you were looking for.” Michael pulled out a list. “And he said to tell you
he’ll come down next week and help you fit everything.”

“That’s very
kind of him, but…”

“Ah now,
there’s no need for but,” Michael said sternly. “Since you arrived my father
has spent his time staring out of his window at your boat. He’s dying to get on
board and poke around. He’s always wanted a ‘Bateau Rouge.’ He keeps muttering:
‘It’s what dreams are made of.’”

“I like it.”
The one thing missing from his presentation was the perfect tagline. Out of the
blue, Sean Devine had provided it for him.

“I’m away for
a couple of days, but when I’m back I’ll call in to him. I could do with a
hand.”

“Right, I’ll
tell him.”

“Michael,
Bull’s in the sitting room. Why don’t you go in for a visit?”

“Sounds good
to me, Maeve.” Michael snagged a bottle of whiskey and two glasses off the
center of the table and made for the door. “Are you coming, Jack?”

“Sure.”

Maeve handed
him a glass from the cupboard.

“Nice meeting
you, ladies.” He slipped through the door into the sitting room, in hot pursuit
of the other men of the house.

Jack was 6
foot 4, so it was rare to find a taller man, but Michael topped him by a good
two inches, and had shoulders that barely made it through the door. In
deference to his size, Jack let him settle on the only armchair, and squeezed
onto the sofa next to Bull, picking up the matchmaking book and balancing it on
his knee.

“So, how’s the
matchmaking going?” Michael’s bulk filled every inch of the chair, he stretched
his legs out in an attempt at comfort.

“Grand. Jack’s
been helping, because Annie had to go to Dublin to make chocolates,” Bull
answered through a mouthful of pie. “She’s got through to the finals.”