Three Weeks Last Spring (9 page)

"Debbie, I'm not interested in
Mr.
Walker or any man. You of all people should know that.
Not afte
r Michael."

"What is
it
with you and Michael?" Debbie asked.
"You trot out the same excuse every time a man comes close enough for you to smell his cologne.
I know he was a first class rat and treated you dreadfully.
He lied, and in your book that's a cardinal sin, but I've got news for you most men lie at some point about something.
It's genetic!
It's something you have to accept, like the fact that their socks stink and they snore.
Michael was over a year ago, it's time to move on."

"Yes, Michael lied.
But that was only part of it.
I've never told anyone, not even you, the rest of the sordid affair."
Skye turned her face to the window lest Debbie see her pain.

"Then tell me now," Debbie said.
"Make me understand why you are so averse to having another relationship."

Skye continued to stare out of the window at the lights flickering in the
ma
r
ina
.
She was already trapped by all her memories of Michael.
The last thing she needed was Debbie raking over old ground as well.

"I can't, Debbie.
I just can't.
Drop it, please?"

Reali
z
ing
that she had overstepped the mark, Debbie reached across the table and took Skye's icy hand in hers.
She gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry.
Whatever Michael did, it's over.
Forget it.
I've never suggested this before, but perhaps you should talk to a
therapist
.
Get it off your chest once and for all."
When Skye didn't respond Debbie continued, "I think you're right, we should call it a night.
I'm truly sorry if I've upset you and spoilt our last evening together.
You know I'd never intentionally do anything to ruin our friendship, don't you?
After everything you’d told me about your previous encounters with your
Mr.
Walker, I was just having some fun with the two of you, that's all."

Skye's temper finally tumbled over the edge.
Her head whipped round
and
she snapped at her friend.

"Debbie, just stop right there, before you dig yourself an even bigger hole.
For once and for all, he is
not
my
Mr.
Walker."

In spite of Skye's dark looks and the anger in her eyes, Debbie couldn't help the amused look on her face, and playfully held up her hands as if to ward off an imaginary blow.
She had to have the last word.

"If you say so, but what is it, you Brits say?
Oh yeah, ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’"
She suppressed a giggle, picked up
her purse, and left the
restaurant
.

Skye, not trust
ing herself to speak, followed.

Back in the car, the tension was palpable.
Skye concentrated hard on the unfamiliar road.
When they reached the cabin, neither prolonged the evening by talking.
They quickly said goodnight, the door of Skye's
bedroom
closing
with a resounding thud.

Skye found it almost impossible to sleep, the events of the evening spinning in her mind, like laundry in a dryer.
Debbie was right; she couldn't deny it any longer.
She was by no means blind to Walker's rugged good looks, even though he was maddeningly arrogant.
When she looked into his eyes, the
smo
u
ldering
flame she saw there made her body stir with an answering surge of excitement.
Although unexpected, she had to admit, it wasn't totally unwelcome.

As she lay in bed,
sh
e took stock.
Her life was a mess.
Apart from the endless round of work and sleep she had little else to comfort or interest her
,
not even a cat to welcome her home after a busy day at the office.
What little spare time she had was either spent in the garden, reading or listening to music.
And other than John dragging her out for the odd drink after work or entertaining clients, she hardly went anywh
ere other than the supermarket.

It wasn't that she didn't want male company, she did.
And it wasn't as if she didn't meet
men
either, although admittedly they were usually clients. Over the past year, she recalled miserably, she had turned down every date she'd been offered, all in fear of being hurt again.
She knew she couldn't go on like this.
She was tired of feeling lonely and confused.
It was one of the reasons she had decided to make this trip
,
a chance to get her life in order and make a new start.
Torn by conflicting emotions, she tossed yet again, desperately wanting to o
pen her heart and be loved
.
But to do so would mean learning to trust again.
And
she wasn't sure that possible.

Michael had taught her that love brought pain and betrayal.
She had no desire
to experience those emotions again.
Her logical mind argued that an
affair
,
and especially one with an American
,
wasn't the ideal solution.
Why couldn't she be like other women, have fun, and walk away at the end of the affair, with her head held high, no regrets and without so much as a backward glance?
She turned on her side and thumped the pillow in frustration.
Sh
e couldn't answer that question.
When she and Walker weren't arguing, she was acutely conscious of the undercurrents of desire that passed between them.
What would happen, she wondered, if they stopped arguing long enough to find out where it would take them?

Early the next morning, ev
en though Skye had slept little
, she accompanied
Debbie
into Friday Harbor in time to catch the ferry.
Their relationship remained strained from the previous evening, and as a consequence, they had little to say to each other.
By unspoken agreement, neither Walker nor his invitation was mentioned until Debbie boarded the ferry, when her parting words to her friend were to enjoy her afternoon with the most handsome man on the island.
Despite her irritation, Skye couldn't help but laugh.
Debbie always managed to have the last word.

Reluctant to return to the cabin for fear of finding Walker on her doorstep, Skye dallied in town for as long as she could, but there was only so much time she could spend
window-shopping
and so many cups of coffee her body could absorb.
She took her time driving back to the cabin, fervently hoping as every mile passed that Walker would have forg
otten about his invitation.

She
brought the car
to a halt in front of the garage.
She let out a sigh of relief—of Walker there was no sign.
It was only when she
stroll
ed round the deck to where the cabin overlooked the small cove that she saw him gently rocking back and forth in one of the wicker chairs, looking completely at home.
His hands were behind his head and his face was turned skywards as he soaked up the late morning sun.
Skye leaned against the wall, crestfallen.
She
should have
known
she
wasn't going to
be let off the hook that easily
.
She took a deep breath, forced what she hoped was an enthusiastic smile onto her face, and turned to face her adversary.

Walker stood in one smooth movement, reached out and caught Skye's hand before she
realize
d
what he intended.

"Hi, there, I thought you'd forgotten our arrangement."
He grinned mischievously, a
s if
reading her thoughts.

The mere touch of his hand sent a warming shiver through her body.
Her brittle smile softened slightly as she lowered her gaze.
Skye took a deep breath
then raised her eyes to his.

"
I hadn't forgotten.
I just wasn't sure if you really meant it.
After all, Debbie rather pushed us into this, didn't she?"

"Whether she did or she didn't isn't the issue.
I volunteered, and I always mean what I say," Walker said.
The
re
was warmth in
his voice as he continued.
"I thought we might take the boat over to Lopez Island and wander around the village.
You
haven't been there, have you?"

Gently Skye eased her hand
out of
his firm grasp.
Her voice was unsteady when she spoke.
"No, I haven't, but surely we're too late for the ferry?
Perhaps another time?"

Walker nodded towards the dock, his eyes like summer lightning.
"No need for the ferry, I brought the boat around."

Skye turned, sure enough, moored at the end of the dock, and bobbing up and down with the swell, was a sleek,
powerful and expensive cruiser.

"Unless there's anything you need from inside,
” Walker
indicated the cabin with a jerk of his he
ad, "we
should
set off."

Skye could think of a million reasons why she shouldn't accompany him.
But short of committing an act of violence on his person, she didn't think Walker would accept any of them.
He took her small hand in his large one once more, and l
ed her down the path towards his boat
.
All she could do was to follow along.
He effortlessly jumped aboard then turned to help her, taking both
her hands in his.

Skye watched the boat rising and falling on its mooring and tried to time her jump as Walker had done.
Confident that she'd judged the boat's rhythm, she stepped off the dock, but was caught off guard when the cruiser drifted away from its mooring.
She would have fallen if Walker hadn’t stepped forward and caught her in safely his arms, clasping her body tightly to his.
Instinctively, Skye's arms wound round his waist, her head fitting snugly in the hollow
between his shoulder and neck.

Walker inhaled deeply.
Just as he had imagined, her soft curves fitted his lean physique perfectly.
His body responded before his brain could kick in.
It would be so easy to take advantage of the moment, but that wasn't his style.
Struggling for control, he gently pushed Skye away, steadying her as he did so,
his eyes dark and unfathomable.

"Are you all right?"

Filled with a strange inner excitement, Skye
colo
u
red
fiercely, her pulses racing.
Walker's arms around her felt good, almost too good.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to
hold
her.
His breath was warm and moist against her cheek and f
elt just like a lover's caress.

"I think so.
I'm just not used to boats."
She felt slightly bereft as Walker set her loose.

"I'll try and remember that.
The water's cold at this time of year.
Perhaps I should give you a life vest in cas
e you take a tumble overboard."

Skye
laughed
as she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.
"I haven't forgotten your earlier warning.
I'll
watch out for the deck cleats."

She sat down next to the helm, and studied Walker's profile as he cast off and
steered
the boat away from the dock.
Caught up entirely in her own thoughts and emotions, she had to admit that he wasn't quite as intimidating as she had first thought.
In fact, if she allowed her body to rule her mind, then she had to acknowledge she had an overwhelming desire to be kissed by him.
Unbidden, her mind jumped in with a second intriguing thought—what would those kisses be like?
Would they be feather light and teasing or hot and demanding?

Shaking her head at the direction her thoughts were taking, Skye contented herself with admiring the scenery, and looking for signs of the Orcas.
When she thought Walker wasn't looking, she made a quick appraisal of his features and
felt her pulse quicken
.
His face was strong, and there were laughter lines around his eyes and mouth, hinting at a softer side to his character.
His body was lean, and yet she could see the outline of his muscles under the thick sweater he wore, suggesting that he spent a great deal of time outdoors or working out in the gym.
The warmth of his body had been intoxicating, and the degree to which she had responded, completely unexpected.
She tried to
rationali
z
e
her feelings by putting them down to the shock of her fall, but failed.
There was no doubt
that what she
felt
was the flush of sexual desire.

The water in the channel was choppy, but it was nothing Walker or the boat couldn't handle.
As he steered the boat into the San Juan Channel, the wind lifted Skye's hair. Without thinking he reached out and lightly fingered a stray tendril, tucking it behind her ear.
As his fingers brushed her cheek, a shiver of wanting shot through him.
Good move, Walker, he silently chided himself, as his body stirred with need.
He wanted her, pure and simple, and if she kept on looking at him with eyes full of unfulfilled passion, then he'd throw his rulebook overboard and start kissing her until she begged him to stop.

He brushed a hand through his hair, and attempted to play the part of the tour guide in an effort to get his mind off his crotch, but failed miserably.
He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until
neither had the breath to talk.

Dragging his mind back to his geography lesson, he explained that depending on the tides, the islands could number anywhere from just over four hundred to over seven hundred, but only four were actually named.
When his mind started to wander again,
he
clamped his mouth shut and put all his concentration into keeping the boat on a steady course.

When Skye subconsciously moistened her lips, tasting salt carried in the wind, Walker held his breath as her tongue gently pass
ed
over her bottom lip.
Although
she
was unaware, he
ha
d watched her earlier open appraisal of him and had seen the longing in her eyes.
Hell, if she kept looking at him with those blue eyes and making those sexy gestures with the tip of her tongue, he’d have to start reciting the periodic table—backwards, anything to stop him from following through on his thoughts.

Walker knew that the
Coastguard
cutter had completed its survey the previous day and was now
returning
to Seattle with the results.
It would be another thirty-six hours before they were available and in the meantime he planned on pumping his tenant for all the infor
mation she was willing to give.

"How long will it take us to get to Lopez Island?" Skye asked.

"Not long.
The channel is fairly narrow at this point.
It depends on how many tankers or cargo vessels we have to dodge.
Not feeling sea
sick, are you?"

“Being on a boat doesn't usually bother me too much, unless it's heaving up and down and rocking from side to side, at the same time."
She smiled and recounted her
previous
trip in a small boat.
"Last year I took a trip to the Small Isles—off the West Coast of Scotland—on an old World War II launch."
Skye's voice was rich with laughter as she continued.
"By the time we reached halfway the wind had risen to Force five.
That launch was being tossed in every direction.
As
the only female on board, I was determined not to let my gender down by being
sea
sick.
I resolutely kept my eyes fixed on the horizon.
When someone started
grill
ing bacon for breakfast, I turned a delicate shade of green, but I managed to hold on to my dignity.
I was relieved to set foot on
solid ground, I can tell you."

Walker’s mouth quirked with
humor
, there was something warm and enchanting in hearing her laugh.
As the wind kicked at her hair, blowing it every which way, she'd put her hand up to push it out of her
face
.
She looked so alive, her cheeks were tinged with pink, her blue eyes sparkled and he could have sworn th
ey had changed to a deeper hue.

The pain and wariness that he'd previously
noticed
had vanished, leaving her looking relaxed, smiling and radiant, as if she didn't have a care in the world.
Her features had softened now that her guard was down.
Walker caught a spark of some indefinable emotion in her eyes.
Her face was delicately carved, her mouth full and asking to be kissed.
Something intense flared deep within him.
Without knowing it, she had the ability to arouse him like no other woman ever had, and despite his determination not to become involved, his body had its own agenda.

As the boat
spe
d over a rough stretch of w
ater, their eyes briefly locked and t
hey shared a moment of intense physical awareness.
The air between them crackled with excitement.
Walker
stood so
close
to
Skye
that he
could feel the heat from
her
body.
H
e cl
osed h
is
eyes, breaking contact
.
Clearing his throat, he pretended to be unaffected by what had passed between them.