Catch of the Year (9 page)

“Sure.” Her voice came out in a croak.

“Good.” He picked up the cooler. “I'll put my stuff in the car for the time being.”

Jade grabbed an armful of fishing gear and followed him to the convertible. “If we're not going to fish you won't need all this.”

She threw the jacket and waders into the trunk. Paul added the cooler filled with fish and pushed down the lid. It snapped shut with a decisive click.

In the boat, Paul sprawled back in the bow, arms folded so his shoulder and arm muscles bulged. Sexy devil. Behind his dark glasses, his gaze might have been resting on her or, just as easily, on the view. Tonight he looked even dishier, if that were possible. He'd caught the sun and his tan was deeper. It seemed his increasing familiarity, instead of breeding contempt, was making him appear better and better.

Jade was tempted to cut the engine, clamber over the thwart, slather herself over him and indulge herself. But there were better places than the middle of the lake, where they could be clearly seen from the shore. Even if wild Serendipity had taken over from sober Jade, she was not into exhibitionism.

She shifted on the hard seat, cleared her throat, and asked a question. “So what did you do today?”

“I drove into Elliot Lake, to the country fair.”

“Oh yeah? Was it fun?”

“Sure. I enjoyed it. Especially the fiddling. That's why I'm in the mood to play a few tunes tonight.” He took off his sunglasses and caught her gaze. “Then there were the crowds, the festive atmosphere. But I felt kind of lonely. A companion would have made all the difference.”

A tiny pang, a sort of yearning, a wishing that she could have gone with him moved through her.

She looked away, breaking the invisible thread.

“And you?” he asked.

Better not tell him she'd spent the day helping out around the store, bringing the books up to date, checking over invoices and orders. It wouldn't do to give any hint of her business skills.

She leaned sideways and trailed a hand through the water. “Mostly I hung out with Mom and Dad.”

The mention of her parents reminded her of the pretense, that this foray was supposed to be making up the lost time from his fishing trip. Might as well play along.

“Could you check your watch? Surely we've been out here for more than half an hour?”

“I guess so,” Paul agreed. “But do we care about that? Let's stay a while longer. Make the most of this beautiful evening.” He looked up at the sky. “I'm even prepared to play you a couple of tunes … . Or do you have a date for tonight?” His eyes narrowed as he caught her glance.

“No date.”

The air between them vibrated with unspoken promise.

“Okay then.” Paul leaned over and picked up the guitar. “If you're willing.”

This was something she hadn't quite, finally decided.

“Would you like to see a little more of the lake?” she asked.

“Sure.” Idly, Paul strummed a few chords. He began to sing softly in a pleasing baritone, a ballad Jade had never heard. The music enhanced the enchantment, sending her into a fantasy. She and Paul were enclosed in a rainbow bubble, safely removed from the real world. Being with him was a gift the weekend had presented to her. She was going to say a nice thank-you and unwrap the parcel slowly. She'd lift off the sticky tape, then she'd lift away the paper, then … .

She set the boat on course for a secluded cove. When they arrived, there were a couple of things she was determined to do. Firstly, she'd kiss that killer dimple, even if Paul pushed her overboard; and secondly, taking that a few steps further, if he gave her the slightest sign of encouragement (which didn't seem too unlikely, given the welcome she'd gotten), she was going to do something totally out of character and jump his bones.

As they floated across the water, Jade's senses opened to the evening. Like an unfurling bud, she came alive to the feel of the air brushing featherlike on her skin, the shushing of the water against the side of the boat, an accompaniment to the low timbre of a man's voice, gentle in song. How seductive was that? As Paul sang, he kept his attention on his fingers and the strings of the guitar, but every now and then he glanced up and held her gaze for a few seconds.

The sweet notes wove between them. Dexterous fingers plucked and strummed. His hands were strong, the fingers long, artistic. Just as his eyes had caressed her earlier, she imagined his fingers following the same path.

She swallowed. Okay. So she had to try it with Paul. That surely wouldn't be too much of a hardship. All her (admittedly sparse) previous experience told her that her attraction would fizzle in the aftermath of disappointment. Then this increasingly insistent, fiery desire would be quenched.
Finito.
The weekend would be over, they'd both go back to the city, and that would be that. He'd never know who she really was. An inconsequential little interlude, and her life would be back on track.

Soon they were passing close by one of the larger, more remote islands. Jade adjusted the throttle to slow the engine. This was the place she had in mind. But now that they were near, she found herself oddly shy.

Paul sat forward, scanning the shoreline with intense attention. He seemed to be drinking in the scenery, the beauty of the evening, every detail of their surroundings.

“Wait. Can we get in closer?”

Just what she'd been planning.

They slowed even more and drew nearer to the shore. Paul moved, half hanging over the side of the boat in his attempt to get a good look at something. As far as Jade could see, the island presented the usual elements of sand, grass, rock, land, and trees.

A note of suppressed excitement lit his voice. “Great. Yes, that's great. See?” He pointed. “That piece of driftwood, over there. I have to have it.”

There was something she had to have and it surely wasn't a piece of driftwood.

“Why?”

“Because.”

Jade grabbed on to a convenient branch and brought them close in. Paul hopped out, holding the rope. Once he'd made certain the boat wouldn't drift away, Jade followed him along the shore to the piece of wood.

“Oh yeah. This is great.” Paul lifted one end, examining it intently. “Only problem is, it's heavy. And unwieldy. I doubt we can take it back with us now.”

Jade considered the misshapen log. “Why would we want to?”

“Because I can do something with it.”

“You're going to make a fire on the beach and burn it, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Paul traced a twisted knot. “The piece is far too valuable for that.”

Why not please him?

“Let's give it a try.”

Together they wrestled the piece of driftwood, stumbling over tree roots and uneven terrain until they were breathless enough to stop for a rest.

“Are you sure you need this?” Jade panted.

“Absolutely. I see something in it.”

“What? A chipmunk?” she teased. “A humungous spider? You're not a wildlife or insect freak are you?”

He spared a quick glance for her. He seemed annoyed. “I'm not any kind of freak.”

“Uh-oh. Hit a nerve, did I? I'm sorry.”

“No it's me. Oversensitive about the hippie parent thing.” His smile was disarming. “Try going through life with a name like Paul Ringo George Johnson.”

“Yeah. Or see how you get on with Serendipity J — ” She bit her lip. “Ju—just as bad.”

Paul was absorbed in examining their find and didn't seem to notice her slip. “No, I'm going to sculpt it.”

“You are?” It wouldn't do to have him realize how much she knew about him and his artistic creativity. So what would Marigold say in these circumstances?

“Wow!” Then, just for good measure, she added, “Gee whiz.”

“Looks like maple.” He cocked his head and added musingly, “
Not
Norwegian, which is a good thing.”

“Not Norwegian wood? How can Paul Ringo George Johnson be glad about that?”

He sent her a quick grin. “No cheap cracks, Serendipity. Local maple is better.”

“How can you tell what it is?”

“My mother's a tree person,” he said, still examining the log.

She got a mental picture of Tarzan's Jane sitting crouched on a branch in the forest. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, she's into the whole indigenous-tree thing. Advises people what to plant and so on. She's a horticulturist, and that's her specialty.”

That sounded dicey to Jade. “Does it earn her enough to live on?”

“Oh yes. She does very well from it. Thanks to her, I have an ever-growing trust fund. Although, to my own satisfaction, I pay my own way.”

Jade waited while Paul angled his head, considering the possibilities.

“So what exactly
do
you see in it?”

With a gesture of reverence, he laid his hands on the gnarled surface.

“This marvelous old piece of driftwood will become the Spirit of the Lake.” He looked across at Serendipity. “As a matter of fact, I already know the perfect model.”

His low voice, intimate and warm, sent a quiver through her.

“It's you I see hidden in the log,” he went on, “begging to be revealed.”

The words caught at her throat. Blinking away the unbidden tears, Jade clasped the one end, hauling it closer to her.

“Okay.”

With many grunts, lifts, pushes, and heaves, they maneuvered the wood over the edge and into the boat, settling it awkwardly but safely in the center.

Jade dusted off her hands and stepped into the little craft. The twilight was fast deepening to night and she hadn't come prepared to be out on the water after dark, which meant that sadly, the time for jumping Paul's bones had been all used up.

After untying the rope, he clambered in. Soon they were chugging back, making for the lights of the resort.

For a while they were silent, then Jade asked, “What will you use to carve it?”

“This is a bit of a problem. I have my whittling knife with me, but I'll need proper tools — chisels, adzes, and stuff.”

“Do you have those in the city?”

“Yup.”

“Why not get someone to send them to you?”

“Brilliant idea. I'll call my housemate and get him to courier them up.”

“Perfect.”

“Hey, maybe you could help. Steve's a busy man, always under pressure from our boss. Do you think you could organize it for me?”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

“Um … ”

“Surely, if you're at the courier office, it's no big deal?”

“Oh no. Right. Of course not. I'll be happy to fix it for you.”

Jade could imagine how that was going to impact her Tuesday. There'd be more than enough for her to deal with after this long weekend. And now she'd have to dicker around with courier companies. Such were the fruits of mendacity.

“Okay,” she repeated, resigned to the inevitable. “Give me your address here, and all will be well.”

“Sure. I'll give you both addresses. In the city and at the shack.”

“Oh, I already — ” She caught herself before she blurted out that she knew where he lived.

“I mean, I never remember quite how beautiful it is here.” She gave a little shake of her head, indicating her disbelief. “Just breathtaking.”

“The reflection of light on the water. It's romantic, isn't it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Paul went on in a soft voice. “Makes me start dreaming.”

She turned her head and looked at him. “Dreaming what?”

“Oh, of living a different kind of life, I suppose.”

“Different how?”

“I'm not quite sure.” His voice was low. “It's just, sometimes I get the sense of being adrift, that there's something missing, or that something else is waiting for me. But I don't know what it is.”

Jade thought about that. Her own direction in life had been set so long ago, in her teenage years, that she'd never stopped to consider whether or not it was still valid.

But of course it was.

She was still determined to achieve material success, and she was well on her way to financial security. The extra loan she'd taken to cover her MBA was paid off, and she had enough money to put down a deposit on a small house. All she had to do was find a suitable property, then she'd be set; she'd already called a real estate agent with details of what she wanted. Her goal of stability was within reach.

“You're heading back tomorrow?” Paul asked.

“Yeah.” The word came out in a long sigh.

“Gonna take the ferry?”

“Sure.”

“Lucky me, spending the whole week here.”

“If you feel the yen for a bit of fishing, I'm sure Dad or Adrian would be happy to oblige.”

“Thanks.” Paul picked up his guitar again.

Jade switched off the motor, willing to drift now they were almost back in the bay. She felt herself drawn into him, enclosed in the sweet notes that danced and vibrated in the evening air while the approaching night drew a warm mantle of secret longings over them.

• • •

Paul played one, last, lingering chord and put the guitar aside. He reached for her. Serendipity came to him, creeping carefully forward so as not to upset the boat. His arms gathered her in. Her slim shape pressed against him, warm, giving and infinitely feminine. He couldn't resist nuzzling his nose into her neck, breathing in the faint smell of fresh perfume and of suntan cream but, also, of desire. Thank God. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. His body responded as quickly and as strongly as any virile male could have wished. The doc had been right. A little “get away from it all” had already worked wonders. Nevertheless Paul was certain his restored libido had a great deal to do with the woman he held in his arms. He'd sensed a powerful chemistry between them from the day they'd met, maybe even from his first incredulous reaction, when she'd left him standing in the dust. He'd missed out on a ride then, but he was heading in that direction now, at last.