chapter Two
She was stunned into silence as she gaped at the ramshackle house before her. Although it was a reasonable size and made of sturdy wooden planks fastened together in a haphazard way, the cottage tilted oddly and appeared about to fall over. A rickety veranda surrounded three sides, and there was even a chimney, also leaning to one side at a precarious angle. It was as if she had walked into the middle of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Did a witch live there? A tiny, overgrown garden lay in the front with the remainder of the house closed in by native shrubs and trees.
“This is my home-away-from-home. I built it with my own hands,” Jack said, a ring of pride in his voice as, lifting Lara’s case, he walked toward the entrance.
She trailed uncertainly behind him and climbed the few uneven steps to the porch as he swung the door open almost causing it to fall from its hinges.
“There you go.” Once again he flung out his arm in a dramatic gesture as she peeped cautiously inside the dimly lit room. The last of the sun’s rays emphasized the layers of dust as it slanted across the fireplace and sparsely furnished living room. At the end of the room was a dining table and chairs and beyond that, a small kitchen with a heavy iron stove and antiquated fridge.
Without stopping, he led the way along a short, narrow passage and into a bedroom containing a double bed and mattress. He placed Lara’s case on the bed. She flinched as a large and very startled spider scurried across the mattress and disappeared.
“You can have this room, seeing you’re the paying guest.” He turned to her with a dazzling smile, his teeth brilliant white in his tanned face. “There’s a smaller bedroom across the passage, which I can use.” With an innocent expression he added, “It’s quite big inside, isn’t it?”
At last, she found her voice. “I can’t stay here. It’s filthy. You’re crazy to suggest it.” She knew her face had to express a look of horror as she placed a finger into the dust on the tiny dressing table.
“Oh, I know it’s not up to the standard of your posh rental and it needs a bit of a clean but that won’t take you long. Just flap a duster around, or whatever you women do, and it’ll look beautiful, I’m sure. While you’re doing that, I’ll start up the generator so we can have some light and use the fridge. Then I’ll catch us a couple of fish for supper.”
He turned away but Lara caught his arm. “Just a minute. Do you really expect me to clean the mess in here?” she asked, aware as she was speaking of the hard, rippling muscles flexing beneath her hand.
He faced her with a polite, but puzzled look. “Well, it’s not usually this messy, but I haven’t been here for a while,” he explained in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “But, it comes up well with a bit of spit and polish.”
She watched as he wiped a loving hand over the dusty headboard. Was this man mad or what? She hesitated realizing she had really got herself into a jam. After her big, brave statement to her mother about wanting time alone without being protected by detectives and companions, the first thing she had done was to trap herself on an island with a mad man, or even worse, a rapist and murderer.
But she wasn’t going to show she was afraid—that was the worst thing she could do. She decided attack was the best form of defense. Lifting her chin, she put on what she considered to be her most haughty and fierce expression.
“Now listen, Jack. I do not intend to clean your dirty house or do any of the other chores you may like to allocate to me. I shall sleep on the beach tonight, and if you as much as come within ten yards of me then I’ll…I’ll kill you.” She held up a bunched fist in the most aggressive pose she could remember from her self-defense classes.
“Does this mean you won’t want any supper?”
She snorted in a very unlady like fashion. This guy was crazy.
“Of course, if I can’t get Jezebel started, we could be here tomorrow night as well, and even the next night, so I could do with your help. Just to cook and clean up, you know, while I work on the boat. Not much to ask really,” he continued.
Lara stiffened as she saw his mouth twitch with amusement. “The people at the resort will be expecting me and when I don’t turn up, they will send out a search party.” Her stance was even more defiant.
“No. They won’t.”
“What do you mean? Of course they will.”
“When Jezebel broke down, I radioed a mate and he’s going to contact the resort and explain what’s happened.”
“What? But you said the radio had broken.” For the first time a shiver of fear ran through her.
“It has. It broke just after I’d sent the message but it’s okay—they know you’re safe with me.”
~ * ~
He touched her arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture but she jumped back. I’ve taken this joke too far, he thought. Idiot. He decided to move into damage control—quickly.
“You don’t need to be nervous. I won’t hurt you.”
“How do I know that?”
“Look, you stay in the house tonight and I’ll sleep on Jezebel. I promise you will be safe.”
“No. How do I know you won’t get that stupid boat going and drive away leaving me shipwrecked here…forever?”
Jack, once again, contained his amusement. “You sail a boat, not drive,” he automatically corrected her. “And you haven’t been shipwrecked.”
She shoved a fist into his chest and his heart pounded as he controlled the desire to hold and caress that small hand.
“It’s a ship and as far as I can see, it’s a wreck.” Her voice rose. “And I am still sleeping on the beach.”
“It could get cold in the night. You had better take a couple of blankets with you.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out two rugs making the mistake of patting them which caused a cloud of dust to billow and envelop them both.
“Oh,” Lara exploded with exasperation as she made her way to the door, case in hand. “You are impossible.”
“Lara?” He opened another of the drawers. “There’s an old lavatory at the back of the house. If you have to go, you will need this.” He tossed a toilet roll through the air, which she managed to catch with her free hand.
“And if you want a shower, there’s one outside. It’s a bit primitive, I’m afraid.” He tried to sound apologetic. “Only cold water.”
The front door slammed behind her, once again almost falling from its hinges.
“Whoops. My lady is not pleased.” He grinned as he bounced gently on the bed. Then as he thought about the expression on her face as she had rushed out of the door, his grin faded. Enough was enough. He’d had his little joke and it hadn’t worked too well. She was still acting the high and mighty but underneath she was scared, and that wasn’t his scene, to scare young women.
He looked around the bedroom and getting up, walked into the living area studying it analytically in the dim light. Yeah. Who could blame a lovely girl like Lara for being cranky? The place was a dump. He mentally calculated the last time he was here and realized it was over a year ago—a wonderful hot summer, like now, when he had managed to escape from his busy life to come here to his special, lovely place. His island, where he could fish and swim and generally laze around, a world away from his usual frantic work life. And that was all Lara had wanted to do, for whatever reasons she might have, except she had chosen the popular tourist resort of Seagull Island with its up-market holiday homes and expensive souvenir shops.
Jack frowned as he drew his fingers through the dust spelling the word I D I O T. Idiot, that’s what he was. He had acted on an impulse in bringing her here, although Jezebel had quite legitimately broken down, and he couldn’t help that. However, they could have stayed on the boat, even if it was uncomfortable. He had made things worse. He loved this old place—his special island, but how could he expect this classy lady to be at ease?
He had to admit he was physically attracted to Lara with her perfect features and beautiful body. Her demanding attitude had annoyed him at first, but now he found he was enjoying the challenge she presented with her sharp, rapier-like tongue arguing with him at every turn. It was a while since he’d met such a woman. Except, he was here alone and she had decided to give him the cold shoulder completely and sleep on the beach, for Chrisssake.
Still, he could make it up to her and if she insisted on sleeping there, he would make sure she was warm and well fed. That was the least he could do. Tomorrow, he would coax Jezebel into life and take Lara to Seagull Island, which was only thirty minutes away. He would never see her again—no harm done.
He reached for the heavy duty flashlight he always carried in his knapsack and made his way to the rear of the house to start up the generator.
~ * ~
The sunset was the most beautiful Lara had ever seen. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the glorious, changing colors as the sun’s red orb gradually slipped behind the horizon. She rested her chin on her knees as she sat on the soft, warm sand. This is what she craved, the beauty and isolation with no one in the world knowing where she was. Well, except him.
She knew he had been quietly making fun of her since she first insisted he take her on board. She, like a stuck up snob, had fallen hook, line and sinker for every teasing situation he’d set up. She smiled at her own turn of phrase. Very apt considering the tall, dark fisherman.
It had been quite a day. This reminded her that she hadn’t written in her journal today and soon it would be too dark to see. Hastily opening her case, she pulled out her precious diary hugging it closely to her for a few moments. Her secret world lay between these pages, her private thoughts that she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, share with anyone. It had become an obsession to write her innermost thoughts in her journal. She believed it kept her sane in this mad world, particularly when faced with what lay ahead when she returned to her own country.
Unfastening the gold pen from its holder, she turned to the next blank page and began writing in the half-light.
Dear Diary,
You wouldn’t believe where I am. On an island, a beautiful island, but it isn’t what I’d planned. Don’t know what to think of fisherman Jack. I was so dumb to insist he take me to the resort. His boat is called Jezebel and she’s an old junket but I can see he loves her. He’ll get her going tomorrow and my little adventure will be over.
Lara hesitated, her pen poised over the paper as she experienced a lurch of excitement writing about Jack. She continued, gripping the pen hard.
I’m not really afraid being here with him. I don’t think he would hurt me. He’s bossy but funny too. Younger than I first thought, perhaps in his early thirties, and handsome in a swarthy, dirty, fishy sort of way. His eyes are so blue. Hope he showers occasionally. Probably not.
There’s a dreadful shower here with a big bucket that pours water over you when you pull on a piece of rope. There’s no cubicle or shower curtain. It’s open for everyone to see. If Jack thinks I’m going to shower with him perving at me, he’s mistaken. The seawater looks great so I’m going for a swim and get clean that way.
I’m hungry. My stomach just rumbled but I don’t know whether he will give me supper after my tantrums. No matter, I’m not cleaning his dirty house and that’s final.
She tucked her journal carefully away in its secret compartment in her case. Then, after pulling out some of her clothes, arranged them so they formed a blanket to lie on for her bed that night.
Glancing through the trees, she noticed lights reflecting from the funny, fairy tale cottage. Jack must have got the generator going. But if he thinks I’m going to sleep in that messy, filthy place with him, then he can forget it. She rubbed her hands over her legs feeling the grime and very much wishing she could luxuriate in a scented bath. Pulling out her bright green, but modest bikini, she quickly changed and made her way to the water’s edge.
The sun had disappeared and the sea birds were settling for the night. She could see the outlines of hundreds of cormorants and hear their raucous calls as they nestled into the rocky outcrop, which helped to create the sheltered bay. As a full moon rose, a gentle breeze blew in from the sea, ruffling and teased the water into small waves that rushed to break on the shore.
Lara placed a tentative foot in the water. It was cold in contrast to her warm body. She waded to where the water reached her hips and stumbled as sharp rocks beneath the waves cut into her feet. Holding her breath she dived beneath a sudden larger wave and swam for several feet under the water before breaking the surface with a gasp. Exhilarated, she dived again and swam further, stroke after stroke, until she had to stop to catch her breath. Now the water temperature was like a tepid bath, and she lay on her back floating contentedly with the movement of the waves. Gazing at the night sky where trillions of stars had begun to twinkle, she could almost believe she was the last person on earth.
The surprise of two strong arms grabbing her by the waist was such a shock she splashed furiously as she tried to get free. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let go.”
“Not until you promise to go to the shore with me.” Jack still had his arms around her, holding her as he trod water.
Her breasts in their bikini top were crushed against his naked chest and as she struggled, her legs became intertwined with his and his lean hips pressed into her.
“How dare you,” she gasped. “You said I could trust you.”
“And you can, which is why I’m here. Now, stop fighting me and return to the beach or I swear I will tow you back.”
“I am not going anywhere because you say so,” she shouted, trying to push him away and ignoring the angry expression on his face.
“Right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The next moment, Jack flipped her onto her back and with a strong hand around her throat, swam to the shore, pulling Lara behind him. As his feet hit the rocky bottom, he hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and strolled confidently to the shore paying no attention to her yells of protest.
On the beach, he lowered her to her feet and they faced each other. She panted with anger and fright as she stood her ground.
“Okay. If you want to assault me, then you had better get on with it,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I’ll fight you with every last breath in my body.” She placed her hands on her hips in an act of defiance, although she was shivering with fear and cold.
Jack bent over and picked up his large beach towel at his feet and placed it around her shoulders, briskly rubbing her arms.
“Lara, you are such a drama queen. I have no intention of hurting you,” he said, the angry expression replaced by one of concern. “You placed yourself in danger out there. First, you should never swim alone. If you were subject to cramp or something, no one would hear your cries for help and you would drown. Second, you are swimming in the wrong area. On the other side of that rock formation is a sheltered cove with a shallow, sandy bottom. Here, there are jagged rocks. It’s a wonder you didn’t cut your feet to shreds.”
She bit her lip. She could already feel the stinging sensation of several cuts on the balls of her feet.
“Finally, and you can scoff if you like, but we are in shark infested waters. You had swum far enough to be grabbed by one and then wham, no Lara.”
He stopped rubbing her arms and picked up his sneakers. He then turned away and began to walk up the beach toward the house.
“Jack?”
He stopped at the sound of her voice.
“I did cut my feet.”
Spinning around, he crossed the few yards back to her.
“I can’t see in this light. I’ll take you to the house and have a look,” was all he said in his calm, deep voice and then lifted her in his arms.
She tentatively held onto his neck marveling at the silky texture of his skin beneath her hands. The movement of his chest against her body caused the strangest sensations making her skin tingle. Her breasts swelled against him and a burning heat pooled between her thighs. She wriggled with embarrassment but Jack tightened his grip, not even glancing at her as he kicked open the front door.
“Let’s have a look.” He placed her in the old armchair by the fireplace and kneeling in front of her, lifted each foot and gently probed the soles.
She studied him in the brightness of the overhead light. He was exquisitely formed with his upper body tanned and muscular and a smattering of dark hair on his chest disappearing into the belted shorts he wore. His waist was lean with not an ounce of surplus flesh while his legs were long and also tanned.
She stared at his thick, dark lashes lowered over those oh-so-blue eyes and then at his sensual mouth as he examined her feet. What would he look like without his swarthy beard? He really was beautiful just the way he was. Beautiful.
“There’s nothing too serious but you have got a few cuts. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Jack looked up, and she blushed wondering if he had interpreted her look.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I mean, I’m sorry I accused you of…of those things but a girl can’t be too careful.”
He grinned and she caught her breath, her heart racing as the heat once again rose in her body.
“I don’t blame you. You are in a vulnerable position.” He opened a drawer in the dresser and pulled out a large first aid tin. “But, I said you can trust me and I meant it.” He deftly wiped her feet with disinfectant then applied a soothing cream.
“Are you still going to sleep on the beach?” He moved away but only to reach for a pair of his socks from his duffle bag and roll them on to both her feet.
Lara nodded. She watched as one lean hand gripped her calf, the rough calluses on his palm brushing her tender skin as he maneuvered the second sock into place.
He stood up, flexing his legs as he did so. “There. That should protect your feet for now. Tomorrow, bathe them in the shallows and the salt water will heal those little cuts. And then keep your shoes on.”
She tucked her legs beneath her and wrapped the towel more closely around her shoulders. She couldn’t begin to describe the hot embarrassment of the past few minutes from when Jack had carried her unceremoniously from the beach until he had knelt in front of her, his hands caressing her feet.
“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.