Catch Me a Catch (14 page)

“I thought we
could eat in the hotel.” The big car wove deftly through the traffic. He
flicked the indicator and pulled into an underground car park.

Jack walked
around to open her door, and slid his arm possessively through hers. They
climbed into the lift, sexual tension sparking the inches between their bodies as
the numbers counted upward. Her nostrils flared with the familiar scent of his
cologne. She felt his body heat as he stood silently next to her, and itched to
be closer. She wanted to reach for his hand, to make physical contact, but if
she did she’d be in his arms tearing his clothes off frantically in mere
moments. Half naked and sweaty wouldn’t be the way to arrive in the lobby. She
clenched her hands at her sides, to avoid acting on her impulses.

The door slid
slowly open into a plush corridor with rooms leading from it. Presumably, they
were going to the room to drop off her overnight case before dinner. She
followed him down the corridor, heels sinking in the thick carpet. He opened a
door into an elegant suite.

Sumptuous
pelmeted curtains of a rich dark gold softened long glass windows facing
Dublin’s inner city park, St Stephen’s Green. A glittering chandelier hung from
the ceiling. Below it was a large dining table, set for two with silver cutlery
and crystal glasses.

“It seemed a
shame not to use the dining table.” He unfastened the broach at the front of
her dress, and removed her shawl with gentle fingers. “I didn’t want to be in a
room full of people tonight.”

“We’re eating
here?” Her heart fluttered like a captive bird longing to break free and fly
out of the cage of her ribs. She glanced at him, and bit her lip. For the first
time, her stomach clenched as she registered the changes in him. Last night,
after their hot flirtation on the phone, she’d dreamed of them together. His
hair was long, and she’d peeled his worn tee-shirt over his head to stroke over
his hard chest as he stripped her of her negligee and ran his scorching lips
all over her body. Now, she was alone in the hotel room of a man she barely
recognized. It wasn’t just the shorter hair. The strong line of his jaw made
him different somehow. Harder. She glanced down at his grey suit, insecurity
gnawing at her. It was a very expensive grey suit. To match his very expensive
car.

“Yes. We’re
eating here.” Oblivious to the emotions warring within her, he strode to the
telephone and called room service. “They’ll be up with dinner in a few
minutes.” He plucked a bottle of champagne from a waiting ice bucket and filled
two glasses. “Here, have something to drink.”

“This must have
cost a lot of money. What did you do, rob a bank?” she joked to cover her
unease. She felt awkward, unsure. This polished stranger offering her a glass
of champagne didn’t seem like the same man she’d known in Durna.

“What’s the
matter?” He stepped closer, and she stepped back, away from him.

Betrayal and
confusion warred within her. The old, easygoing, longhaired Jack was gone. The
Jack she’d been falling in love with. Echoes of his ghost lingered, but her
heart plummeted. When Steve left her at the altar she’d found out she was
useless at judging someone’s character. His actions had brutally proved that.
Had she made the same mistake again? The distance between them was more than
just physical. It was mental.

“I thought I
knew you, but now I’m here,” she flung her arm around the sumptuous suite, “in
a suite which must cost more than two month’s rent of my flat, I don’t know
that I do.”

She swept him
foot to toe with a glance. “It’s not just the hair, the clothes, and the car.
You’re different.” Her chest constricted. She reached out and laid the palm of
her hand flat on his chest, unable to stop herself from touching him. “I guess
I’m confused. Because I feel like there’s so much about you I thought I knew,
but now realize I don’t.” She pulled her hand back. Her emotions tangled into a
knot, so open and vulnerable it almost hurt.

“I’m still
me.” He ran a hand over her hair. “I’m still the man you decided to spend the
night with.” Tension grew between them like the moment before the curtain pulls
back on opening night. He was going to kiss her. Her tongue quickly darted over
tingling lips and her eyes drifted close. She heard a swift intake of breath.
The hand caressing her disappeared. She opened her eyes in confusion.

“We’ll eat,
and talk, and get to know each other better.” He stepped away.

“I’ve had a
hell of a day.” He ran his hand through his hair. The shorter strands stood up
in a familiar way. Reassuringly like the old Jack.

****

A discreet
knock heralded the arrival of their dinner. Jack opened the door and a waiter
quickly wheeled a trolley inside. “I’ve set the appetizers out, Sir.” He left
the remainder under domed silver covers.

“Thank you.”
Jack slipped him a bill, and walked him to the door. “We’ll leave the trolley
outside when we’re finished.”

“Certainly,
Sir.”

They were
alone again. The difference in his appearance and the evidence of his wealth
had shocked Annie. For some reason she was pulling away from him. It wasn’t a
situation he was prepared to tolerate. He burned to kiss her, and to peel the
dress off her enticing body, but battled down his urges. Everything about their
first night together had to be perfect. It was worth taking the time to
reassure her that although the wrapping was different, he was the same as he’d
ever been.

“I ordered for
us, I hope you like crab?” Jack pulled out a chair for her.

“I love it.”
She eyed the cocktail of crabmeat, lettuce, watercress and glossy mayonnaise
greedily. “I’m starving!”

“I had an
eventful day. Today I did something I’d dreamed of for years.”

“Drove a
kick-ass car?” Good. She was joking again. He rubbed the back of his neck.
After the emotional overload of meeting Mary he didn’t know how much more
emotion he could take.

“No, I drive a
kick-ass car at home. This car is definitely a step down from my Aston Martin.”
He smiled at her expression. She really looked cute with her mouth slightly
open, even though she probably wouldn’t think so.

“You met your
grandmother.”

“Yes.” He
poked at the crabmeat, loaded a forkful and chewed. “After my parents died I
grew up in a succession of foster homes.” He clenched his fist on the tabletop.
She reached across and placed her smaller hand on his. “It wasn’t a happy
experience. That’s why I envy you your family. For years, I hoped some relative
would come and claim me. I wanted a home like my school friends had. You know,
a mother, father, maybe even some siblings. Yearned for it actually.”

The crab salad
was delicious, but he was too jaded to care. He forked another mouthful in, and
chewed slowly. “But it wasn’t to be. When my parents were alive they never
talked about the past. I found out after they died, that they’d eloped from
Ireland. When I got my advertising agency off the ground, and could afford it,
I employed a private investigator to trace my ancestry. That’s when I found
Mary Byrne, my mother’s mother.”

“She never
came for you?” Annie whispered.

“No. I thought
about it constantly. I wondered what sort of a woman would leave her own blood
to fend for himself, alone and orphaned, in another country. Today I found
out.”

He could tell
she wanted to say something. The air was charged with her unasked questions and
her gaze never wavered from his. She squeezed his hand briefly and waited.

“I drove past
the house my mother grew up in. You can see the sea from there. For a moment, I
imagined myself there as a child looking out at the sea across a garden full of
flowers.” His mouth tightened into a narrow line. “I’m long over it now, but my
childhood was hard. I was always getting into fights. I can’t remember the
amount of times I sneaked inside the house with a bloody lip.” As a small child
he’d been vulnerable, growing up in the foster home. An easy target.

“So today when
I went to meet my grandmother I was ready to hate her. I wanted to hurt her. I
needed to prove her neglect and abandonment hadn’t broken me.” He poured them
both another glass of champagne and swallowed his in one gulp. “Then I saw her,
and she looked so like my mother…”

He swallowed.
Like
my mother might look if she’d lived to get old. Not the way she looks in my
memory. Warm, smiling with love for me, young.

“What did she
say?” Annie asked gently.

“She has
Alzheimer’s.” A nerve in the corner of his jaw twitched. He pulled in a ragged
breath. “She had no idea I even existed. She’s never known. She had a mental
illness, and her doctors never told her.”

“Oh!” Annie
covered her mouth with her hand, visibly distressed.

“My mother
eloped when she was a pregnant teenager with a boy from the village. He asked
my grandparents for her hand in marriage, but they refused. They said their
daughter was too young. She was only seventeen.”

“But the
baby…”

“They kept the
pregnancy a secret, and ran away. Mary told me her husband was waiting for his
daughter to return and apologize. She thinks he’s alive, most of the time. Her
doctor told me my grandfather died shortly after my parent’s ashes came back
from the States. Mary’s mental illness meant she was never told about the sole
survivor.”

“You,” Annie
said softly.

“Me.” Jack
nodded.

She slipped
her hand into his, gripping it tightly. “What a day.”

“She has my
mother’s pictures everywhere. If she could have given me a home she would have.
I’m sure of it.”

“Did you tell
her you were her grandson?”

“No. Her
doctor felt it would be too confusing. She wouldn’t be able to understand. We
talked for an hour before she fell asleep.”

“What are you
going to do?” Her soft hair fell forwards as she leaned in closer, lying in a
shining coil against her clavicle.

“I’ll visit
her again before I go. Perhaps I can move her to America. Find a nursing home
close by.”

The pain of
recounting the story faded with Annie’s slow smile, and the tension holding his
body in thrall released him.

“Are you ready
for the main course?”

Annie nodded.
He stood, and quickly swapped the plates from the trolley.

“Any more
secrets?” she asked later when they’d finished their meal.

“Well, I’m
rich.”

“You sort of
let that one out of the bag,” she teased.

 “And I’m not
really a sailor.”

“No kidding.”

“I own my
company. I’ve built it into one of the top advertising agencies in New York. I
sailed to Ireland to put the yacht through its paces. I’m giving a presentation
to the manufacturers, Bateau Rouge, tomorrow. My company is bidding for their
global advertising campaign. In order to sell something successfully I need to
have a real feel for its strengths and weaknesses. My approach is to live with
the product and learn to love it. I know the yacht inside out. Apart from blue
water, it was all I had to concentrate on for the weeks I spent at sea.”

“So, that’s
why you sailed across the Atlantic?” Her fingers played with the napkin.

“I wanted to
be alone to think about meeting my grandmother, too.” Drained by the emotional
baggage he’d managed to offload, Jack strove to lighten the mood. “Enough about
me. I want to hear about you.” He poured the coffee in a thin stream, and
carried it to the table in front of the heavily upholstered old gold sofa.

She sank into
its soft upholstery. Her dress slid up revealing more of her silky legs. “Gosh,
this sofa’s eating me whole.”

He swallowed
as a vivid image flashed unfettered through his mind. Annie and him. Nude.

“When will you
hear about the Chocolate Oscar Competition?” They needed to talk. There would
be time for touching later.

“Tonight’s the
judging. Tomorrow morning they’ll make their final decision. I’ve given them my
mobile number, so my future continues the moment the phone rings.”

Jack stared.
Surely
the competition couldn’t mean so much to her?

“I’m pretty
sure your future’s going to continue whether the phone rings or not.”

He sat next to
her, running a finger down her lightly tanned arm. A shiver of goosebumps
signaled her response.

“Well, I mean,
my future’s going to continue the way I want it to. The way I’ve planned.” She
talked quickly the way she always did when she was trying to explain something.
“If I win the competition I’ll have my own premises. A fantastic chocolate
shop, right in the center of Dublin. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Heaviness
settled in Jack’s chest. She had her future mapped out. A future that didn’t
include him. He’d planned on suggesting she join him in New York. Took a little
holiday to explore their relationship further. He wanted them to be together;
hadn’t reckoned on her having alternative plans.

“Why do you
have to be here?”

She looked at
him in astonishment.

“Not you too.
You sound like my father.”

“We spent a
lot of the past twenty-four hours talking,” he said. “Although, surprisingly,
not all about you.”

She pouted.
“Huh,” she tossed back her hair. “I’ve spent my life trying to escape the west
of Ireland, and Dublin’s my inspiration. The shop in Dublin is part of the
prize, it’s a wonderful opportunity. Even if I don’t win, a big city is the
ideal place for a chocolate shop; there wouldn’t be the business in Durna to
sustain it. As for Dublin? It’s difficult to explain. I need to show you. What
time is your presentation tomorrow?” She tilted her head sideways, gazing at
him through half closed lids.

“Twelve-thirty.”

“Plenty of time.”
She smiled enigmatically. “Now, Jack Miller, I think you promised me double
helpings of dessert.”