Falling For Jack (5 page)

“Are you okay?” He sounded puzzled and his eyes reflected his concern.

“I’m fine. Thank you for looking after me.” She breathed a sigh of relief as she found her voice at last. “I’ll go down to the beach now.”

“I thought you might so you’d better take this. I’ve shaken and aired it to make sure there aren’t any bugs.” He held out a green sleeping bag.

“It’s too warm for a sleeping bag,” she replied, moving back. Relief filled her as she placed some distance between them.

He shrugged. “You’ll be surprised. A cool wind is getting up and in the middle of the night, the temperatures can drop quite dramatically.”

“But, isn’t this yours?”

“I’ve got another one. Also, I’m going to light a fire on the beach, which will keep us warm and also cook our supper.”

“That sounds good,” she said, her voice soft with unknown emotion. Turning, she hurried out of the wobbly front door and made her way to her makeshift camp.

She ran to the beach, landing with a thump next to her belongings. What had she got herself into, for heaven’s sake? Her heart gradually returned to its normal rate as she changed from her swimsuit into warm slacks and top. Jack was right. The air was cooler now, and she shivered as she settled into her homemade bed, wrapping the sleeping bag around her and wondering how she was going to make it through the night.

It was an hour later that she saw him bent over a fire he’d set up on the beach a short distance from her. He had soon coaxed it into life, the red flames accentuating the darkness around her.

“Why don’t you bring your sleeping gear over here?” he called. “You’ll be much warmer and I’m just going to start supper.”

Disheveled and sandy, she made her way to the fire, carrying her bag with her and trying to appear nonchalant. He had brought an icebox from the house with various cooking utensils and crockery items in it and laid them out on a large towel as she sat opposite him.

“I’ve caught a couple of whiting. They’ll taste a treat with some new potatoes,” he continued, his tone inviting conversation as he balanced a frying pan over the fire and rested it on an iron rung.

“Where did you get the potatoes?”

“They’re canned. I’ve one large larder in the cottage full of everything you can think of so while there is fish in the sea and cans of food in that larder, we won’t starve.”

“Don’t you ever have fresh produce besides fish?” She grimaced then nearly gagged as Jack placed the fish on a chopping board and sliced off their heads with one swift movement of his long, sharp knife. He then began to skillfully fillet them.

When he glanced up, he must have noted the disdainful expression on her face and made a great show of removing the fish innards and tossing them to the waiting seagulls. “Sure. But I didn’t exactly plan to stop at the island this time around, or in such regal company.”

Her head shot up. “What do you mean? Regal?” Her voice was sharp with suspicion.

“Well, you seem pretty high and mighty,” he said, placing the fish pieces in the frying pan with a splash of cooking oil and giving a nod as they began to sizzle.

“Are you saying I’m a snob?” She drew the sleeping bag around her shoulders as she studied the strong planes and angles of his face vividly reflected in the flickering lights of the fire. He set a small pan of potatoes near the fish and sat back on his heels as if to admire his handy-work. His eyes lifted to meet hers and Lara felt her temperature rise. Whether it was from the heat of the fire or because of his analytical, yet teasing expression, she wasn’t sure.

“Yes, you probably are a snob,” he said at last.

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it. You arrive at the quayside dressed to kill with five designer suitcases in tow. You see me, a poor working fisherman, and start to order me around as if I’m a lowly servant.”

She bit her lip at his blunt words. How dreadful that he should consider her in this way. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’d come from the race day in Port Margaret, that’s why I was dressed like that.”

Flipping the fish over in the pan, he continued his verbal attack. “Ah, so that explains your glamorous gear. You had been mixing with the snobby and rich racing set.”

“They weren’t snobby.”

“Many of them are.”

“Some of them, I suppose, and some of them are wealthy. You obviously have a problem with people who make a success of their lives.” She shrugged, not liking the way this strange conversation was progressing.

“You must admit you acted pretty oddly. Why couldn’t you have caught the tour boat to Seagull Island tomorrow like any other normal visitor? Are you running away from someone?”

She was grateful that he gave her precious thinking time as he expertly flicked some of the fish pieces onto a plate and spooned some potatoes to join them. He handed the plate to her along with a knife and fork. Balancing it precariously on her knees, she sniffed the wholesome aroma of the freshly cooked meal, her mouth watering in anticipation.

After serving himself, he settled next to her, stretching his long legs in their cutoff jeans toward the fire. He raised one eyebrow.

“Yes, there was someone I wished to avoid,” she replied cautiously. Cutting a piece of the moist fish, she savored the flavor as she placed it in her mouth. “Oh, this is fantastic.” She sighed, closing her eyes in bliss.

Laughing, Jack proceeded to eat his meal. “I guess we are both hungry,” he said between mouthfuls.

“I had no idea fish could taste this good.” A few minutes later, she put her plate to one side and watched him as he finished his meal.

“Do you want a drink? I’ve some mineral water cooling in the fridge.”

She nodded and together they cleared the supper things and carried them to the house. They rinsed the crockery, placing it on the draining board to dry. Lara pulled out two small bottles of water from the refrigerator, which, although antiquated, was doing a great job of cooling things down.

Wiping her hands on the tea towel, she stood awkwardly as Jack took a long swallow from his water bottle. She hoped he wouldn’t pursue their previous conversation because she wasn’t sure what to say and he was definitely probing into why she was going to Seagull Island on her own.

“I guess it’s late. I’ll settle down to sleep now.” She hesitated as a trickle of water ran down his chin and she suppressed the urge to kiss it away. He wiped it with the back of his hand.

“I’ll build up the fire so you won’t get cold. Here, this may help you to sleep better.” He handed her a soft, feather pillow. “It’s clean,” he added, the corner of his eyes crinkling attractively.

She returned his smile. “Thank you, Jack. You’ve been very kind.” “Unable to resist it, she repeated her apology, “I’m sorry you think I’m a snob.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t worry me. You just need to chill out a bit.”

Nodding to save another disagreement, she made her way to the beach and arranged her pillow and sleeping bag for the night. It was much cooler now and she was glad to snuggle into its warmth. He loaded some logs onto the fire and checked they were secured then settled into his sleeping bag a few yards away from her.

A gradual delicious drowsiness enveloped her. The fire crackled and burned and with these comforting sounds in her ears, she drifted into sleep.

Three

Jack woke as dawn was breaking and the first pink rays of the sun appeared over the horizon. He stood and stretched his long body, his gaze going to Lara. She lay inside her sleeping bag but with her arms thrown above her head in a gesture of abandonment. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in a pale golden cloud.

He moved closer and crouching beside her, studied the beauty of her face. She looked serene, her mouth pursed emphasizing the perfect shape of her lips. Her cheeks were flushed and as he watched, her eyelids flickered showing she was in a dream phase of her sleep. He glanced down and could see the swell of her breasts beneath the top she was wearing.
God, she is so beautiful.

Resisting the temptation to smooth his fingers along her velvet cheek, he stood and made his way toward the house. As he filled the kettle and placed it on the sturdy stove, he mulled over his mystery guest. And she
was
mysterious, he decided, laying a couple of places at the table for breakfast. She was well bred with every inch of her screaming class from her elegant clothes to her pure voice with its fascinating accent.

He grinned as he shoveled spoonfuls of coffee into two mugs. She was used to getting her own way, and he would bet it was a brave person who said no to her. He could tell she had to practice unusual control in trying to put him in his place and she didn’t like it. No, she didn’t like it one bit. He was tempted to have a wild fling with her and put to rest this sexual tension that crackled between them brewing like a tropical storm. But, he could also sense her resistance. She was worried about something, or somebody, and he doubted she would tell him about it.

“You should have woken me.” A soft voice reproached him and he turned to see her, silhouetted against the sun’s rays, standing at the open door. She looked ethereal in a white flared beach skirt and matching top, her slender legs and body outlined through the thin material. On her feet she wore his chunky black socks, which should have looked incongruous and yet on her were as sexy as hell.

He grabbed the coffee mug as it was about to fall from his fingers. Jeez. He was acting like a lovesick teenager but she knocked him out. He wanted her.

“You were too sound asleep for me to dare to disturb you,” he joked, turning to take the kettle from the stove to give him time to recover his equilibrium.

“Can I help?”

“Yep. Get a can opener and open these peaches, will you?”

“Are you going to work on Jezebel after breakfast?”

He nodded. “But you needn’t come. I’ll have to strip the engine down and see what the problem is. You can stay here and relax.” He poured two coffees and placed them on the table. “And don’t go swimming on your own,” he warned with a frown.

“I need a shower.” Lara wiped two dusty fruit bowls with the tea towel and then served the peaches, pouring some of the sweet juice over the top of them.

He sat at the table, his chair scraping on the wooden floor. “I’ll be out of the way soon so you can have your shower in peace without bothering to hide your blushes.”

She laughed as she sat next to him and lifted a spoonful of peach nectar to her mouth, running her tongue over her lips as she swallowed. He watched as her tongue caught and held a tiny droplet of juice. His heart slammed in his chest like a thousand drums beating out a tune. Was she teasing him? He didn’t think so. There was too much of an air of innocence about her, although she appeared a lot more relaxed this morning. Perhaps she’d got the message that he wouldn’t harm her.

Finishing his fruit, he stood and pushing back his chair, took a great gulp of scalding coffee. “I’d better get started,” he said gruffly. “It could take me a while.”

“Perhaps you should try and fix the radio first then we could send for a rescue boat.” Her green eyes were wide and beguiling as she looked up at him.

“That’s what I intend to do,” he snapped. “But I’m no electrician and if I get it going, it will be a bloody miracle.”

“Won’t your wife and family be worried about you?”

He hesitated, placing his half-drunk mug of coffee on the table. “I don’t have a family. I’m divorced.”

“Oh.”