Catch Me a Catch (3 page)

After a couple
of minute’s rapid-fire chat they turned and caught him staring.
Busted
.
He untangled himself from the tiny car and plastered on a smile. Roxie was
always telling him if he didn’t, strangers were terrified of him.

“Mum, this is
Jack.”

Annie’s
chestnut gaze focused on his neck, avoiding his eyes. She flushed red. The girl
was useless at hiding her emotions.

“Jack Miller.”
He proffered his hand.

“I’m Maeve,”
Annie’s mother clutched it in an iron grip, and shook. “Welcome to our home,
Jack. Come in.” He followed her into the house’s cool interior. “So, have you
traveled up from Dublin?”

“No, I sailed
in.”

Her mouth
stretched into a smile and her eyes sparkled. “Sailed? That’s a new one. Were
you traveling long?”

“I’ve been at
sea for three weeks.”

Annie looked
astonished.

“I’m
apologizing in advance. The shower broke in the boat and I’m not as fragrant as
I could be!”

“I’ll show you
straight up to your room. You have your own bathroom with plenty of hot water,
so that’ll be soon sorted. Are you hungry? Can I fix you something to eat?”

“No thanks. I
was fantasizing about steak, so I tracked one down the minute I got in.”

Maeve grabbed
fluffy towels from the airing cupboard, and eased open the door to a bedroom. A
large double bed filled one wall, covered in a soft yellow quilt. It was clean
and airy, with a fantastic view of the garden.

“This looks
great.” The smell of cut grass wafted in from the open window. In the distance,
a blue swathe of sea sparkled in the sunlight.

“Your
bathroom’s over there.”

Maeve glanced
at the rucksack slung over his shoulder, and pulled open the wardrobe door.
“And there’s plenty of room to hang your things. I think you’ll find everything
you need, but if you don’t just holler,” she added before disappearing down the
corridor.

Annie was
quiet.

The hair stood
up on the back of his neck. She was staring at him. He just knew it.

“You didn’t
tell me you were at sea for three weeks.”

“You didn’t
ask.” He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed and reached for the
towels. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Jack smothered a smile as she bristled,
turned on her heels and disappeared after her mother.

In the
bathroom, he grinned at the unfamiliar face in the mirror.
No wonder Annie
thought I’d have to work hard to attract a mate!

He pushed
matted strands of hair back from his face, grimacing in pain as his scalp
protested. Not his usual look, by any means. In fact, he was pretty sure none
of his business colleagues would recognize this shabby stranger as the
millionaire owner of Miller Advertising. None of their shoulders would be aching
as his did either. The last struggle with the yacht in the storm was a lot more
taxing than his weekly squash game. A long hot bath should help.

Steam billowed
from the hot stream cascading into the deep enamel bath. A large glass bottle,
stoppered with a cork, sat on the shelf, next to a cracked bar of soap. The
thick liquid inside was a transparent gold, probably not lavender or rose then,
he didn’t want to smell like anyone’s granny. Jack forced open the tight
closure with finger and thumb to take a tentative sniff. Vanilla. Perfect.
Subtle and not too sweet. A thin golden stream poured into the steaming torrent
created a foaming mass of bubbles.

He stripped
off his clothes, and climbed in.

The scent of
vanilla filled the air as he rubbed bubbles over his chest and closed his eyes.
He stretched his legs out in the hot water, edging down to see how much of
himself he could fully submerge. It was the longest bathtub he’d ever been in,
and his chest welled with satisfaction as the silky water covered him.

Annie Devine.
She really was divine. She probably didn’t even know how attractive she looked
perched on the chair with the big book open in front of her. She wasn’t his
usual type. In fact, she was the complete antithesis of what Roxie called ‘the
blonde army’ of his previous girlfriends.

“They’re all
the same, Jack. Tall, blonde, successful and confident. When are you going to
give a real woman a chance?” Roxie had ranted more than once. The one thing
about the blonde army was they understood the rules. His relationships followed
carefully set guidelines. They were fun, they were exclusive, and they weren’t
permanent. Jack didn’t need anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to need him.
Those types of complications only led to heartache. And he wasn’t going there
again.

Annie was a real
woman. She was attracted to him, too. Even though she’d avoided holding his
gaze too long, her small pink tongue had flicked out to moisten her lips when
they met and she’d nervously fiddled with the ragged corner of the book.

She’d stood
out like a beacon in the mustiness of the bar. Her long sleeved blue cotton
shirt perfectly showcased her breasts. When she’d walked out of the pub in
front of him he’d got a great view of long legs and a small but curvy behind
inside tight jeans. He skimmed a hand through the acres of bubbles and sank
under the water.

The Chandler,
Sean Devine said it would take days to get the boat ready to sail to Dun
Laoghaire. He would be stuck here for a week at least, right in Annie’s house.
Maybe playing lovesick bachelor would be an amusing diversion.

He squeezed
out a nut of shampoo and massaged it into his hair.
She was so insistent I
give her a try I had to surrender.
Deceit niggled, but he shrugged it off.
If he got in too deep, he’d let her know what he was really doing in Ireland.
Although frankly, that wasn’t anybody’s business but his.

****

The bathroom
door creaked so loudly they heard it in the kitchen.

“He’s a fine
one.” Maeve was digging for information, as usual.

“He’s a
client, Mum. Not a potential boyfriend.” He was a fine one, there wasn’t any
denying it, but Annie’d rather walk over flaming coals than admit it. With both
parents so skilled at the art of squeezing information out of people, changing
the subject was always the best form of defense.

“How’s Da?”

“Unbearable.
He can’t stand being out of the action.” Maeve poured tea into mugs. “He’s
dozing out in the garden, waiting for you to be finished for the day. Take him
out a cup will you, Love?”

Annie slipped
the heavy matchmaking book under her arm. She grasped two mugs and slipped
sideways through the back door her mother held open. A soft breeze teased her
long strands of hair, lifting them. The air was redolent with the scent of
summer. After a day stuck in the pub, the smell of freshly mown grass was the
perfect antidote to warm beer, sour breath, and unwashed men.

Bull Devine
sat on the rough-hewn chair his father had made under the spreading apple tree.

“I’ve brought
us some tea, Da.” Bull was already looking better. When he took to his bed last
week they were all worried. He hadn’t visited the doctor for years because he
hadn’t needed to, and always refused to go for a check-up. This time he was so
sick he hadn’t even had the strength to complain when the doctor arrived at his
bedside.

“It’s just a
chest infection, Annie.” Maeve confided on the phone after the doctor
prescribed antibiotics and left. “Thank God.”

She passed
over the tea, and settled down next to him.

There was a
movement in the window upstairs. Through the lacy veil of blossoms, there was a
sudden glimpse of naked male torso.

If she were
alone, she would have sat and stared. But she wasn’t, so averted her gaze
quickly. It didn’t help. The mental image of a wet, naked Jack burned into her
retina. Her temperature raised by a couple of degrees, and she fanned her face
with her hand, to cool down. She gulped a mouthful of tea, moistening her
suddenly dry mouth.

“Hi, Annie.
Tough day?” Bull’s words brought her back down to earth with a bump.

“The worst.
God only knows how you manage it, year after year. I’m wrecked.”

She stretched
out her legs and slipped her shoes off, wriggling her toes in the damp grass.
“I didn’t do very well, I’m afraid.” The breeze whipped her hair into her eyes.
“I had trouble with some of the local guys. The older ones were quiet and
embarrassed. And the younger ones that I was in school with, flirted
relentlessly. I’ve spent years dodging the attentions of many of them, and
there I was, asking them what they were looking for in a woman.”

Annie
grimaced. The day had been like a bad reality show with her as one of the
hapless contestants. Maybe if she treated information gathering as a series of
challenges to be overcome it would be easier.

“When Liam
Mackey told me I was exactly what he was looking for, I nearly slapped him.”
Why on earth Liam Mackey thought for a moment she’d be interested when he’d
stuffed frogs in the pocket of her painting smock when they were seven, and
splashed her riding his bike through a puddle when they were nine…

“They’re nervous,
Annie.” Bull’s puppy dog eyes dissolved her irritation. The man was really good
at what he did. Master manipulators made the best matchmakers. “Men want love
in their lives, but they’re frightened of rejection, I’ve told you that.”

He had.
Repeatedly. In fact, it was Bull’s favorite lecture.
The vulnerability of
the mate- seeking male.

“I can’t help
thinking if I was married, or at least involved with someone it’d be
different.” Annie frowned. When she was with Steve, she hadn’t had this
problem. But then again, she hadn’t been asking the locals what they were
looking for in a woman. “As it is, they seem to think I’m interviewing for a
boyfriend.”

“They all know
you’re single. And I guess there’s always the possibility you might indeed be
looking for a boyfriend.” He held his hands up in surrender as her mouth opened
to protest. “I know you’re not, but they don’t. Even if they’re not applying
for the position, the opportunity to practice chat up lines on a captive female
is probably too good to resist.”

Bull’s face
screwed up like a tissue. “Sorry, Love. I haven’t much to suggest. I don’t have
the same problem when I’m matchmaking.” His shoulders lifted and fell in
defeat.

“You should
have made me a match, Da. I’ve asked you often enough,” Annie teased.

“I’ve never
met the one for you, Annie. I’ll let you know when I do though.”

“Yes, and the
next time you warn me off someone I’ll listen. It was such a fiasco.” She
picked an apple blossom off the tree above them, twirling the flower around
between her fingers. Her one foray into love had been an unmitigated disaster.
Who
needs it?
She threw the bloom to the grass, discarding unpleasant memories
with the flower.

“Will I open
it up and tell you what I’ve got?” He’d been sneaking glances at the book, as
if dying to see if there was anyone new, who might be the ideal match for one
of his clients. Matchmaking wasn’t just something her clever father did during
the annual festival. His thoughts turned to love twenty-four hours a day, seven
days a week.

For years,
Annie avoided bringing home a boyfriend, or a male friend of any type. Living
up to his nickname, Bull went for the direct approach. When she was eighteen,
Mick Ryan had taken her to the prom. Upstairs, getting ready, she’d heard Bull
grill him on the doorstep, before reluctantly admitting him. Reeling from the
third degree, Mick had relaxed when he met her mother.
Bad mistake
. Her
expert interrogation gleaned a hell of a lot more than his name, rank and
serial number.

After Mick,
she’d introduced them to her fiancé, Steve. They hadn’t liked him, even before
her disastrous wedding day. As she slid into her wedding dress, Steve got into
the ten o’clock train to Dublin with Elaine Sweeney. The news spread like
wildfire before the train even pulled out from the station. He hadn’t even had
the decency to leave a note. With one fell swoop she’d gone from bride to
jilted. Her parents went into complete and utter shock. The bridesmaid was no
help, she hadn’t turned up that morning, too busy getting ready for her train
journey. Without a sibling to take over, she’d had no option but to stifle her
mortification and stalk into the church in full wedding dress, to tell the
congregation the wedding was off. Afterward, she regretted not wearing the
veil.

Thank
goodness I now have my own home
. Her small flat in Dublin was miles away
from the scene of the crime. A bolthole where she could be herself. Could live
her own life.

Annie’s heart
ached at the remembered betrayal. Elaine had been her friend since they were
kids, and Steve… She forced the feeling down and opened the book.

****

Jack stripped
the packaging from the mobile broadband stick bought in Durna’s only technology
shop, and plugged it into his laptop. He connected his headphones and mike, and
dialed
New York.

“Roxie?
It’s Jack.”

“Jack!” Roxie
started in to a lengthy, breathless questionfest. Not stopping to hear his
answers. His eyes rolled at her excited flow of words. It was amazing how much
his secretary talked. Even more amazing was the fact Jack found her constant
chatter soothing. His mother had talked mile-a-minute too. There was a
technique to talking with Roxie. Let her get it all out, and when she runs out
of things to say,
strike
. She finally paused to draw breath.

“The yacht got
struck by lightning.”

She squeaked
something girly. The words escaped him, but the tone was one of concern.

“I’m fine. I
pulled in at a small village in the west of Ireland. I have to make some
repairs to the boat before I continue to Dun Laoghaire.”