Catch of the Year (3 page)

Fat chance.

No sooner had she relaxed and started to think she might get some food than she spotted him examining items in a window display as intently as any other dedicated shopper. Her eyes seemed to have a magnetic, radar-like ability to hone in on the guy. Briefly she wondered how he could find an assortment of flags so fascinating. Maybe he was looking them over like he did his office conquests. And here she was, sounding nasty. Just because he was popular with the female staff didn't mean he was an office Lothario. Necessarily.

This was ridiculous. In a small town like Tobermory, losing him might prove impossible and no way was she going to spend the remaining three hours dodging Paul while they waited for the ferry. As Jade, she would have hung back, but Serendipity … ah yes, Serendipity could be forward.

But prudence couldn't be completely tossed to the seagulls. There was one more precaution she could take. Inspired by Eliza Doolittle in
My Fair Lady
and Lady Margaret Thatcher's successful voice training, early in her career Jade had consulted a voice coach. She'd taken lessons and learned to lower her tones in order to sound more serious, more professional. All she had to do when she spoke to Paul was revert to her God-given voice.

• • •

Thinking he'd soon be able to redesign the world's collection of flags, Paul came to a decision. He needed something to eat, and soon. He'd gotten over his annoyance at the biker chick, but he was still keen to catch up with Ms. Elusive. Lack of willingness to help aside, she was a very appealing package.

Hands in the pockets of his shorts, he turned away from the window. A woman in a red top was walking determinedly toward him. Well, what did you know? None other than Ms. Elusive herself.

Sassy as a teenager with attitude, she stalked up, stopped in front of him, and fisted her hands on her hips. “Would you please quit following me?”

The voice clinched it for Paul. Despite the fact that the babe's face, figure, and mannerisms were exactly the same as his boss's, she was not Ms. Jellicoe. No, this was Jade's double. Fine, he could live with that … . In fact, all things considered, he was rather pleased, because it meant he could hit on her. See what developed. Ever since joining the agency ten months ago, he'd kept his attraction for his boss firmly quashed. Not only were office affairs a bad idea, as he'd learned to his own detriment in his previous job, but he didn't want to get involved with someone who was so aloof. So if he played his charming cards right, he might get to explore this prickling fascination he felt.

• • •

Braced for an attack, Jade was surprised to see Paul's smile.

“Did you think I was the big bad wolf?” he asked. “Was that why you decided not to stop for me?”

She licked her lips. How right he was. Many a time she'd imagined cool-dude Paul gobbling her up. She sucked in a breath and remembered to use her higher, untrained tones.

“A woman has to decide which opportunities to take and which to pass up.”

“Ouch. That certainly puts me in my place.” He pulled off his dark glasses and looked down at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “But now we meet in any case. There's no such thing as coincidence, they tell me.”

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Woo-woo stuff. I don't buy into all that.” Bad enough that her mother did. Swallowed every flaky notion that came her way.

Paul's gaze held hers.

“You look hot.” His raised eyebrow indicated he meant the comment as a double entendre. “Do you know, when you took off, I had to wait all of thirty minutes in the blazing sun before I was rescued? I'd say you owe me a drink — something long and cool.”

She chewed her lip, unsure whether to acquiesce or not, and thinking something long and cool was a pretty apt description of Paul. Spending time with him could prove dangerous. On the other hand, what else was she going to do for the next hundred and eighty minutes? Better to take the gamble. Live a little.

“You sure you want to consume something guaranteed to have lots of ice?”

“Meaning after you gave me the cold shoulder when I was stranded?”

Her mouth twitched. “That's it.”

“I'll take my chances. Who knows, I might even be able to warm you up enough … ,” his glance flicked down to her midriff and back up again, “ … to suggest we might eat something together.”

Her heartbeat accelerated, its sound almost as loud as the Harley's motor.

“On second thought,” Paul went on, “maybe it would be wise to head straight for the nearest Dairy Queen.”

“Why?”

“So I can ply you — ”

“They don't sell wine.”

“ — with the milk of human kindness.”

She ignored that. “I gotta admit I'm hungry.”

“Me, too.”

Side by side, they drifted along the paved path along the historic wharf's sidewalk.

“Smells like fish and chips,” Paul commented.

“There's a shack just a little way ahead.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Want some?”

“You bet.”

Ooops. Now she'd gone and done it. Especially as she had the scary-thrilling feeling she might get more than she'd bargained for.

Boxes and pop cans in hand, they found a bench in the shade, just the perfect place to sit and eat lunch and admire the view. Jade picked up a golden chip and bit off the end. Paul's gaze followed her movements; he licked his lips and did likewise.

“You know, the fresh air and being here, far away from my usual surroundings, are having a weird effect. I don't remember fast food ever tasting this good.”

She nodded her understanding. “I know. Gets to me every time.”

It wasn't long before every last chip and morsel of fish had disappeared. Paul hooked an elbow over the back of the bench and took off his sunglasses.

“I'd love to know your name.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Believe me, you wouldn't.”

And wasn't that the truth? As far as Jade was concerned, anyhow.

Picking up the can of pop, she pursed her lips around the straw and sucked.

“Aw, come on,” he coaxed. “We'll trade. Yours can't be worse than mine.”

This was tempting. How many times had she wondered what his middle two initials stood for?

“Okay. How about this?” She took a last sip of her beverage and set the can aside. “Serendipity.” She emphasized the sibilant sound and let the plosives pout her mouth. What she didn't add was that her family called her Dipity. That was far too close to dippy. She waited for his reaction, knowing from experience how her first name stopped people in their tracks.

He looked amused. “Yeah, I agree. It's serendipitous that we met again.”

“No, you don't understand. That's it. My name.”

His ginger cat's eyes opened. His mouth quirked. There was that killer dimple.

“Serendipity?”

He chuckled. She was lost.

Lifting her hands, Jade made come-on gestures with her fingers. “Give.”

He drew in an audible breath. Out came the information.

“Paul Ringo George Johnson.”

Jade gave a crow of delight. She clapped her hands. “I get it … hippie parents. Just like mine.”

“Were they ever.” He shook his head slowly.

“They've both passed on?”

“Not exactly, although you could say that about my dad.”

Paul explained the situation with his father and told her his mother lived out West. She got the impression of a lonely little boy. And picked up the possibility of abandonment issues.

“How about you?” he asked.

“Oh, I have both parents,” she said airily, not wanting him to pick up on any undercurrents. “That's been the only stable thing in my life — that they've stuck together all these years. Otherwise, you might say they were the original anti-establishment dropouts.”

No way was she going to end up drifting vaguely through life, a lost flower child like her mother or always changing jobs like her father. Much better to be bourgeois, own a house, settle down, have regular employment, all those things she believed in.

And she was
this
close to achieving it all.

She gathered up the paper napkins, shoved them into the cardboard box, and rose.

Aware of Paul's gaze on her, she dusted her hands on her shorts and set off again. It seemed he needed a few seconds to realize she'd left … . Or was he merely checking out her back end?

He soon caught up with her.

“This worried you?”

“You bet.” She tossed the garbage into a convenient trashcan. “As a child I was never in one place long enough to make any friends.”

“So you moved around a lot.” He sounded thoughtful. Sympathetic.

“Yeah. Over these last few years, things have changed, though. At least my parents have a reasonably steady income and a reliable roof over their heads.”

Which was to some extent, thanks to Jade. She helped with the mortgage and was now putting money toward a university education for her thirteen-year-old brother. Adrian was extremely bright. She was determined he shouldn't carry the same burden of years of worsening student-loan debt as she had.

Enough about her. Paul was surprisingly easy to confide in. She hadn't meant to tell him anything at all about her home life and background.

Time to turn the tables.

“You'll be staying on Manitoulin?”

“No, I'm headed farther north. I've taken a week off to do some fishing.”

She paused to look at him. “Really? Somehow you don't strike me as the type to take up fishing as a hobby.”

“No? What would I strike you as?”

Words popped into her head, almost as if she'd been unconsciously preparing the answer for weeks.
The type who'd make a woman very happy.
But that phrase couldn't be voiced. She simply couldn't take the chance he'd be a whistle blower.

Jade had been employed on the strict understanding she'd present a professional face to the world at all times. This was because the agency's number one client was extremely conservative. These investment brokers, she'd been told, were so blue chip they were almost black. The agency could not survive without this account. It had been made clear to her that if she showed the slightest whiff of frivolity, she'd be let go. Up until now, this hadn't been a problem. Very soon after she'd gone into business studies, she'd realized being Serendipity presented a handicap. So she'd gone with her second name, adopted a more staid persona, and that had worked well for her. Professionally, anyhow. Socially? Not so much. She knew that trying so hard meant sometimes she appeared overly abrupt.

“Let me think.” Taking her time about answering his question as to what he'd strike her as, she let her gaze wander over every inch of him.

Oh boy, was she in trouble. She'd long suspected there were more-than-respectable muscles hiding under Paul's crisp shirts. Now she knew she'd been right. Truth to tell, she rather thought it a sin to cover up that hunky bod. He should be playing at lifeguard, or fitness instructor. She'd definitely hire him as a personal trainer. A few one-on-one sessions would do just fine … .

Her photographic memory of his personnel file she'd perused more often than was strictly necessary, supplied the answer to his question. She couldn't resist the temptation to impress.

“Hmmm. The type who'd take up running … definitely. Maybe also, basketball?”

His chin lifted briefly in surprise. “Been gazing into a crystal ball lately?”

She shrugged. “I leave that to my mom. Except she gazes at the mist on the lake.”

“And you?” he asked, half-turning toward her. “Do you like — er — fishing?”

No need for him to know she was a hotshot fisherwoman.

“Me? I like to ride,” she said, referring to the Harley.

He cleared his throat, and she caught a flare of awareness in his eyes. “So, you make this trip often?”

“Once a year.”

This was pretty much the truth. Once a summer over the August holiday, she did the ferry thing. Other, shorter, summer weekends she flew up with Fred, who lived just across the lake and had his own float plane. Getting away from it all was the thing that kept her sane and able to stay on top of things in the fast-paced, killer world of corporate competition.

Sometimes, she needed to be Serendipity.

They continued on around the harbor. The tourist stores offered the usual mix — gift shops selling fancy paper napkins and scented candles, holiday clothing with local motifs decorating the fronts of tee shirts and sweaters. Paul seemed to enjoy examining the goods at an upscale place that sold interesting, handcrafted jewelry and glassware. He halted in front of the windows of an art gallery and gazed at the window display.

“You know, looking at these paintings and sculptures makes me think I could do just as well if not better.”

“You paint and sculpt?”

“I did, in the days when I was at art school.”

Jade almost added, “And now you concentrate on ad images,” but caught herself in time.

“In fact, just recently, a fabulously wealthy woman I met in those days called and offered me a commission.”

“You said yes?”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

Paul shrugged. “It would have meant changing my entire life. Plus, I've gotten used to having a monthly pay check.”

That she could relate to.

Time to steer away from the subject of careers.

She checked her watch, almost wishing she could slow its relentless onward tick. She'd already noticed Paul wore only his clunky gold-link bracelet. A naughty image floated into her mind of Paul chained to a bed and she bending over him, having her way with him.
Whoa Jade!
But Serendipity was having waaayy too much fun to listen to Jade's spoilsport, sober voice.