Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) (11 page)

She was acting like an idiot, rushing across the cluttered deck of this boat to escape a few seconds alone with Jake. He must wonder what was getting into her. She took deep, slow breaths and turned around, facing him.

He was right behind her, one hand above his head, grasping one of the many pipes that ran over their heads. She said breathlessly, “I had no idea there was so much— were so many strange pieces of metal on a fishing boat.”

The music was coming through the closed door, but Jake and Jenny were alone out here. She could hear the sounds of the sea along with George’s song.

Jake said huskily, “You’re really very beautiful,” and she realized in sudden panic that he meant to kiss her.

“I’m not,” she whispered, staring wide-eyed as his lips approached hers.

It was the softest kiss, a whisper of his skin against hers, a warm movement that left her trembling, unable to move away as her eyes were pulled into a long, deep contact with his.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” she lied, her eyes pulling away. She shivered, hugging herself. “It’s cold, isn’t it? Shall we go in?”

“We may as well,” he said wryly, calling out, “Permission to board!”

A heavily-accented Scots voice from inside replied, “Come ahead, Jake!”

The inside of this fishing boat was crammed with people. The big voice belonged to a red-headed man in the corner.

“There you are! Come in! Come in! You’re Jennifer? We’ve been worried about you and George these last few days – thought George was a man, in fact!” The blue eyes glinted with humor. “Glad to see you here safe. This is Glenda, my wife!” He gestured to a heavy-set woman squeezed in at his side. “Come in, girl! Come to the fire! Glenda, get a drink for them.”

Glenda wasn’t a Scot. If anything, her voice had an American accent. “You’ll have your usual, Jake? What about you, Jennifer? Coffee? Tea? Beer? We’re having dinner in a few minutes – it’s just about done.” She gestured to an oil stove on the far side of the cabin, near where George and a teenage boy were bent over George’s guitar. “That’s my son, Gerry. He’s in seventh heaven, learning to play guitar. What will you have to drink, Jennifer?”

“Call me Jenny, please. I’ll have whatever George had.”

That was beer. Jenny sipped it as she listened to Jake and David MacDougal catching up on each other’s lives. She learned that fishing had been good for David this year, and that another good year would assure their son’s university education.

When Glenda moved into the galley, Jenny stepped around the men to join her, helping to hand out steaming bowls of clam chowder and fresh biscuits.

There wasn’t room for them all at the small table. They ate sitting around the oil stove, holding their bowls in their hands, talking about fishing and music and the Queen Charlotte mining town that had just been bulldozed into the ground.

The boy, Gerry, said he hoped he’d get a guitar for Christmas.

“He’s already spoiled,” said David with a grin. “He’s our only child, and I think he gets everything he wants too easily.”

George smiled at Gerry. “You won’t get too much support for that notion from us. Jenny and I are both only children.”

So was Jake, although he didn’t say so. He was leaning back in the corner of the settee, watching them all as if he were composing a shot for his camera.

She didn’t think he was listening until he asked, “Were you spoiled, Jennifer?”

“Of course,” she agreed.

George was back at her guitar, but her fingers fell silent and she said, quietly and directly to Jake, “Don’t let her fool you. Jenny never saw enough of her parents to get spoiled. My aunt and uncle spent their lives working their way around the world. They left Jenny behind.”

Jake’s eyes moved from George to Jenny, probing. Jenny got up, taking his bowl out of his hand and moving over to the galley, her voice cold as she denied, “George is exaggerating. Glenda, can I help with those dishes?”

Glenda reached for a dishtowel. “I’d be a fool to refuse that offer. If we get them out of the way, we’ll have more room.”

Someone from another boat heard the music and came along with an accordion, making even more music – and dancing. Jenny wouldn’t have thought there was room on board
Julie II
for anything more than quiet conversation, but one couple managed to dance on the wheelhouse floor, though they did have to be careful.

The moon came out. The rain stopped. The musicians moved outside with the dancers. Jenny found herself outside on the wharf, swinging on David MacDougal’s arm to a polka.

Then there was Jake, taking her in his arms and moving her smoothly over the planks to the strains of a haunting waltz.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked as he swept her gently across the wharf.

“Yes,” she admitted, tipping her head back to look at his face in the moonlight. “But I’m exhausted! I thought David would spin us into the water with that polka.”

“Relax,” he told her. “I’ll do the work. Close your eyes.”

She shook her head, still smiling but half-serious as she said, “I don’t dare. If I close my eyes, where will you take me?”

“Trust me,” he suggested, and in the midst of the darkness and the music, it almost seemed that she could.

It was so easy to sway in his arms, her eyes closed, letting him guide their steps. When his hands slid to her wrists, she let him guide her arms, slipping them both around his neck and giving herself up to the night.

The music stopped momentarily as George and the man with the accordion consulted on their next number. Jenny opened her eyes and looked back at George sitting on the gunwale of the fishing boat.

The music began again, disjointed at first, then coming together into a popular Western tune. Jake kept his arms around her waist.

Jenny twisted around and asked, “Won’t somebody complain about the noise?”

“Not likely. I think they’re all here.” The party had grown as the evening went on, people joining them in ones and twos. The MacDougals’ teenage son was still firmly attached to George. Jenny closed her eyes again as Jake gathered her close to move with the music. She drifted on a tide of fantasy until Jake said, “I see George is wearing a wedding ring. Where’s Mr. George?”

George was having fun tonight, but Jenny knew the sadness would still be there if she looked deep into her cousin’s eyes. “He died.”

“Recently?” asked Jake.

“Two years ago.”

He swept her in a sudden turn, avoiding a collision with David and Glenda.

“Having a good time?” shouted David. Jenny nodded.

Above her head, Jake’s voice asked “Was his name Lance?”

Startled, she said, “Scott. His name was Scott. Lance was—” She broke off, tried desperately to think of a change of subject that would divert him.

They bumped into another couple. Jake steered her away from the light and the music. She pulled back out of his arms, feeling the cool night air through her blouse.

He said, “I was just trying to figure something out.”

“Jumping to conclusions again, Jake?” she accused him, forcing the anger, hoping to divert his inquiry into her past. “What is it now? You’ve got me having an affair with George’s husband?”

“Take it easy,” he said, drawing her back towards him, his voice low and persuasive. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I—”

“
You did!
” She shook his hands away, but they wouldn’t leave her arms.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to figure you out and—” He stopped, strangely at a loss for words.

“Why?” she asked with a tinge of desperation in her voice. “Why do you have to figure me out?”

He shook his head, his hands moving along her arms, palms brushing against her skin. “I don’t know,” he admitted, drawing her closer, kissing her with a sudden, rough gentleness, not giving her time to respond or push away before his hands dropped and she was standing alone, staring at him, finding herself aching for his touch.

“Jake,” she whispered, the music drowning her words. “Please don’t—”

He was waiting for her to finish, but she shrugged and turned away. “Good night, Jake. I’m tired.”

He didn’t try to stop her, but his deep voice followed her. “Jennifer Winslow, you intrigue the hell out of me!“

Chapter 6

Jenny shifted in her bunk, trying to recapture the images of a dream she wasn’t ready to leave. Sounds, low but insistent, had been working their way into her consciousness for some time.

The drone of an engine, suddenly louder, then receding. The roar of a truck, a horn honking: signs of daytime, of civilization.

And closer, the steady intrusion of George’s voice. And Jake’s.

“It’s risky,” Jake was saying to George, then other words she couldn’t hear. Eyes closed, ears open, she caught something about spring tides… sure to wait… even the pilot advises local knowledge.

“…a great idea!” That was George’s voice.

Jake and George plotting— what? If Jake convinced George that Jenny was better off back at work, her cousin was capable of waging an irresistible campaign. Jenny tried and failed to remember even once when she had managed to hold out against a determined George.

Or a determined Jake. She’d succeeded in quitting, leaving Vancouver against his wishes. But he was here, now, still fighting that battle.

“What are you two plotting?” she demanded a moment later as she came out of her cabin.

Jake was sitting across the table from George. Was he staying with David and Glenda aboard the
Julie II
? If so, the fishing boat must be equipped with a shower. His hair was still damp, just beginning to wave over his forehead. He pushed it back as he looked up from the book in front of him. He smiled, seeing Jenny, but she saw the swift glance he exchanged with George.

“We’re plotting your safe passage.” He was smiling, but his eyes were telling her this was no joke. “Since you insist on having this fling, I’m trying to do what I can to keep you two maniacs from being shipwrecked on an unfriendly rock.”

“Fling?” She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, thinking hard. He was talking sailing, but he had some plan to get her back in his studio, back to being Jenny-in-the-back-room, watching him with Monica. She met his eyes deliberately, held them as she walked across to the table.

She didn’t sit down. Standing, she had the advantage of height over him. Her heart was pounding, but she managed to make her voice hard and cold as she said, “I think it’s time we got something straight.”

His eyes sparkled dangerously, challenging her. She put her cup down, pushed her hands into her jeans’ pockets and hunched her shoulders. She was losing her cool and her voice showed it as she said aggressively, “This nice, social visit isn’t fooling anybody, Jake! You didn’t come to give advice, or to have a morning cup of coffee with us. You came to bring me back to Vancouver.”

Her words rang through the little boat, but he didn’t answer. He was waiting.

“Isn’t that right?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice refusing to give anything away.

“Jake, I’m not on my holidays. If you’re thinking that I’ll be back to finish the Madison series, or any other work,
you’re wrong
! This isn’t just a fling. I’ve quit! I won’t be back! I’m not your affair any more.”

Affair.

The word hung between them. There had never been an affair, but for just a moment his eyes were heated with intimate knowledge of her. She felt her face growing hot. She followed his glance, down over the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips. As if he could see through the light summer fabric.

 
She picked her cup up, turning it in her hands, meeting George’s eyes and finding no help there, only a warm curiosity.

The heat drained out of Jake’s eyes. His voice was casual, as if she were a chance acquaintance. “George says you’re planning to go down the west coast of Graham Island. Do you know that most of the inlets out there are uncharted?”

He hadn’t listened to a word she had said!

“Yes,” said Jenny, her voice taking on a flat aggressive tone that he’d never heard before. “We don’t go into any bays unless we have good charts. We’re not totally inexperienced.”

Their eyes met again, sparks flaring between them as Jake asked, “And you’re planning to visit Queen Charlotte City?”

“
Yes!
” She glared at him.

George was frowning. “I don’t know, Jenny. Jake just read the Pacific Pilot book to me – I didn’t realize that the narrows west of Queen Charlotte were that hazardous. I did want to go in, but maybe we should reconsider.”

Jake pushed the book across to her, his finger jabbing at the paragraph on Skidegate Narrows. “Read it, Jennifer.”

It wasn’t cheerful reading. The passage was shallow, tortuous, and subject to treacherous currents.

“You’re saying we shouldn’t go through?” Jenny pushed the Pilot Book back to him. Just what was he up to?

“Not without a guide,” he said, his eyes moving swiftly to George and back again.

Jenny reached over and slammed the book shut. “You two have already worked this out!”

George said quickly, trying to pacify Jenny, “Jake volunteered to guide us.”