Heartsong (6 page)

A few minutes later their salads were served. Skye was grateful for the diversion; the atmosphere was quickly becoming intimate.

“I ordered dessert for us,” Jordan announced, his gray eyes briefly meeting hers. “I hope you have no objection to flaming baked Alaska.”

“Baked Alaska.” She swallowed, a smile trembling at the corners of her mouth. “I’m surprised you forgot the violinist.” It was important to maintain this lighthearted banter; only when she could laugh and tease did she feel at ease.

Throwing her a sideways glance, Jordan reached across the table and rang a small bell. Almost immediately two violinists strolled into the room.

Against her will Skye burst into helpless laughter. The palm of her hand covered her mouth to hide the outburst.

A full smile tugged at Jordan’s mouth. “Is any romantic dinner complete without music?” He quirked a brow in question.

“Jordan Kiley, I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you in my entire life,” she managed, shaking her head at him. “You’re hopeless.” But she didn’t question why he’d gone to such lengths to create a romantic atmosphere for her.

The chicken was succulent and tender, and as long as Skye concentrated on the meal the intimacy was held to a minimum.

“Do you know all the volunteers on the children’s ward?” Jordan inquired lazily as the waiter replenished his glass of wine.

“Of course; I’ve been a volunteer for several years,” she replied.

“Who plays the piano and sings?” His dark eyes watched her closely.

Skye was mildly surprised Sally and Billy hadn’t supplied him with the information. She felt strangely reluctant to reveal herself. She hesitated momentarily. She didn’t want the evening to center on her, nor did she wish to answer the inevitable question:
Why don’t you turn professional?

“That’s Jane.” It wasn’t a lie. Jane was her name; she had been dubbed Skye after a growth spurt in the sixth grade had shot her head and shoulders above every boy in class. The name had stuck and now most people knew her by her nickname.

Skye was certain Jordan wished to question her further, but she hurriedly stood, asking to be excused. The ladies’ room offered a quiet moment so she could compose herself. She couldn’t deny her attraction for Jordan, but at the same time she realized how pointless and dangerous the attraction was. He obviously felt he owed her a dinner and had very possibly delayed his return to LA to settle his debt. Now she must be gracious enough to allow him to satisfy his sense of obligation.

When she returned to their table, Jordan had ordered coffee.

“Have you ridden the cable cars yet?” she asked before he could pursue his questions.

Jordan glanced at her a bit suspiciously. “Not yet.”

“You really should,” Skye insisted. “You haven’t truly savored San Francisco’s uniqueness until you ride the cable cars.”

“Oh?” Jordan’s smile was mocking, and, swinging his broken arm outward, he added, “I think I’ve had enough of a taste of San Francisco.”

Skye loved her city and was undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm. “I bet you didn’t know that the cable cars were invented by a horse lover.”

“No, I didn’t.” His gaze lifted from his coffee to study her.

“It’s true. A man by the name of Andrew Hallidie felt sorry for the horses, who sometimes slipped on the steep hills and were badly injured. So Hallidie invented the cable car. By 1890 San Francisco had eight major systems operating within the city limits. The idea caught on elsewhere, too. I bet you didn’t know that Los Angeles also used cable cars for a while.”

“When was that?”

Skye realized she must sound very much like the teacher she was, but his eyes expressed interest. “Back in 1887. Now are you ready to ride a cable car?”

“After a history lesson like that, I dare not refuse.” His returning smile was full and warm and had a crazy effect upon Skye.

Friday evenings were always a busy traffic night for the cable cars, and Jordan and Skye were forced to wait a few minutes before boarding.

“Where are we headed?” Jordan asked indulgently as they stepped aboard.

“Fisherman’s Wharf.” Skye laughed, her smiling features profiled in the moonlight. “You really must see the wharf before you leave.”

“You’ve missed your calling.” Jordan’s eyes also smiled. “You should have been a tour guide.”

The ride was exhilarating. Jordan’s good arm cradled her around the waist and gripped the wooden column behind her. Skye didn’t object to the intimate hold; she felt warm and secure with the strength of his arm around her.

Colorful and amusing, the cable car operator chatted loudly with his customers, calling out the street names and interesting bits of information.

“These boys seem to be a unique breed,” Jordan said with a throaty chuckle, watching the gripman push and pull the long lever that connected to the cable running underground, towing the car.

“We’re unique all right,” the cable man replied. “They only hire people who are half crazy. You have to be loony to take a job like this one.”

All too soon the invigorating ride had ended. Crowds were thick on the wharf’s wide sidewalks, even though it was well into the evening. The permeating aroma of salt water and fish drifted pleasingly to their senses. Hundreds of vessels making up the fishing fleet were docked at the pier.

They strolled hand in hand, not speaking until Skye pointed to the boats. “Over three million pounds of fish are caught every year by our industrious fleet. Sardines account for most of that, with crabs running a close second.”

“Do you enjoy crabmeat?” Jordan asked unexpectedly.

“Far more than I like sardines,” she joked lightly.

Several vendors had set up shop on the sidewalks, and a lovely seashell necklace caught Skye’s attention.

“Look.” She stopped to examine the tiny, delicate shells. They lay gently across the palm of her hand. “It’s my niece’s birthday soon. This would be perfect. Janey’s just the right age to appreciate something this lovely, and she has a seashell collection.”

“I’ll buy it,” Jordan offered immediately.

“Oh, no.” She gently laid a restraining hand against his arm. “You can’t. The gift would be from you then, not me.”

“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “But one thing.”

“Yes?” Her eye sought his.

“Are you going to take off your shoe in order to pay for it?”

A corner of her mouth twitched upward as she fought to suppress a smile. “No, I
think I can manage it.”

They decided to stop for a cup of coffee at a small restaurant beside the bay. Fish, crab, and other delicacies were displayed on a bed of crushed ice outside the restaurant doors. An old seaman, a stained white apron hugging his chest and waist and black rubbers on his feet, smiled up at them before they entered.

“Good evening, folks. Enjoy your dinner. It’s a night for young lovers.” He looked into the clear sky. The stars shone like jewels on a blanket of black velvet.

“It is a beautiful night,” Skye admitted, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, beautiful.” Jordan added his agreement, but he wasn’t looking into the sky.

The coffee was dark and strong. Skye was grateful for its potency. She needed to be reminded, in a down-to-earth manner, that this little excursion was a onetime experience. It would be too easy to allow herself to fall under Jordan’s spell. He was a rare kind of man, both confident and totally masculine, and she didn’t doubt he used his charm to achieve whatever he wanted. She faked a subtle yawn.

“You’re tired?”

Skye had difficulty meeting his look. “It’s been a long week … Maybe it would be best if I did head home.”

Skye would have willingly caught the bus that took her directly to her apartment, but Jordan wouldn’t hear of it and insisted on calling for the car. Her heart hammered frantically when they arrived at her building.

“You weren’t going to invite me in?” He looked into her confused eyes.

“Well, actually … no. I generally don’t.” She spoke bluntly. She knew she sounded very prim and proper, but that couldn’t be helped. His laughing eyes riled her. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny,” she burst out irritably.

He ignored her outburst and took the keys from her trembling hand. “And as a proper gentleman, I consider it my duty to escort you safely to your door.”

Skye was forced to follow him and did so ungraciously. The hallway outside her door was well lit, and Skye offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving that her landlord had recently installed brighter lightbulbs.

“I enjoyed the dinner. Thank you, Jordan,” she said as soon as he had unlocked the door. She extended her hand, ready to accept her keys, her knees suddenly weak at his close proximity. The cold metal felt good against her outstretched hand as he placed the chain there and gently folded her hand closed. With his forefinger tucked beneath her chin, he raised her downcast gaze to meet his. Forced to meet his eyes, Skye felt a flood of warmth sweep over her. His eyes were no longer laughing but warm and sensuous. She wanted to back away from him and break the spell, but the attraction was so strong, she
couldn’t blink.

The pressure of his hand moved from her chin to the back of her neck, his fingers sliding into her hair. Slowly his mouth descended to hers. Skye could have protested, but she didn’t utter a sound. Caught in the powerful pull of her senses, her eyes closed slowly, the curiosity to discover his kiss overpowering.

His mouth was warm and gentle, the pressure light and sweet, as if he understood her need for tenderness. Fighting the clamoring of her nerves that had suddenly burst into life, Skye remained frozen, unable to respond and equally unable to break away.

When the pressure of the kiss ended, Skye remained caught in the sensations, her eyes shut. Only when Jordan’s hand pulled away from her hair did she find the strength to look at him. Moving aside, he turned the knob of her door and pushed it open for her.

“Good night, Skye,” he whispered huskily.

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “Now go inside before I change my mind.”

His threat, indeed promise, quickly broke the spell, and Skye hurried inside, welcoming the safety of home.

Saturday morning the skies were overcast, leaden-gray clouds gloomily foreshadowing a day only a true San Franciscan could love.

Skye woke in good spirits; she had enjoyed herself last night. Unwillingly she admitted that Jordan was good company, but made no attempt to analyze her feelings regarding his kiss. It had been her moment of reckoning; she had wanted that kiss. As for his surprise visit and the dinner, it had just been his way of settling a debt, she supposed. She had bought the pizza, and he was simply returning the gesture. He was probably on his way back to Los Angeles by now, and she could close the door on this short episode, remembering him fondly.

The Saturday-morning housework took almost two hours, and with the last load of wash folded, Skye sat down with a good book. The latest study on child behavior she had purchased had come highly recommended, and she had been looking forward to reading it.

Yet despite how hard she concentrated hardly a word filtered through her thoughts. Somehow the picture of the violinists strolling into the restaurant kept flitting through her mind. Skye couldn’t refrain from laughing all over again. No wonder Jordan had looked so pleased when she had teasingly said all they needed were violinists. She had fallen right into his trap.

The old seaman had thought they were lovers. Jordan Kiley probably had lots of lovers; he was definitely a man of the world. She wondered why he had never married, but suddenly realized that for all she knew he could have a wife conveniently tucked away. Somehow the idea wasn’t feasible. No, he was too straightforward and candid to cheat on his wife. She didn’t doubt he was an experienced lover, but believed that for all his experience he didn’t know love as God intended it to be. Jordan Kiley was like so many others, seeking to fill a void in his life that could only be satisfied by a relationship with God.

Reading was useless; setting aside the book, Skye changed into her jogging clothes. It looked like rain, but that didn’t bother her. She often jogged in the rain; the cool drops splashing against her face were refreshing and invigorating.

She followed her usual route, running around the green at the Marina. The sultry breeze rolling in from the Pacific teased her. The ironic thing was the wind seemed to be
whispering Jordan’s name. As if to free herself, she tossed her head back. Her long hair, driven from her face, flowed gracefully behind her. Yet the action did little to dispel Jordan’s presence from her mind. If she listened carefully, she could almost hear his husky voice calling her.

“This is silly,” she said aloud. To allow this one unnerving man to throw her now was like succumbing to a temporary kind of madness. She had long before accepted God’s plan for her life and didn’t regret being single.

As if to outrun her thoughts, Skye jogged twice as far as normal and was exhausted by the time she stopped to walk the remaining blocks home. Walking the last few blocks home gave her body a chance to cool down after the long run and was as vital as the warm-up exercises she ritually performed before taking to the streets. Yet she didn’t feel herself cooling down. It was as if her body and her mind were working against her at a fever pitch. Memories of Glen bobbed to the surface of her mind, happy ones that she’d long ago locked away. Skye couldn’t help wondering if the short time she’d been with Jordan had done this to her. From past experience she realized she needed to keep herself busy, push the memories away.

After a short shower back at home Skye changed clothes and left almost immediately, although she had no real destination in mind.

“Anyone home?” Skye knocked loudly on the varnished door before letting herself in.

“Skye?” Peggy Garvin came from the kitchen, a large terry-cloth apron tied around her slim waist. Bursting with the news of her pregnancy, Peggy threw her arms around her sister-in-law.

“Brad told you, didn’t he?” she said, hugging Skye close.