Authors: Sheila Claydon
The silence that followed was unexpectedly broken by a bark
of laughter. “Touché!
Well in that case
why don’t you tell me what biographies I ought to read and then I’ll tell you
that I’ve already read them!”
“If you like,” Claire glanced at Daniel.
He was smiling.
Mr Marchant pushed his chair back from the table and stood
up.
His wife immediately rushed to his
side, ready to lead him into the sitting room where she was going to serve
coffee. He brushed her aside.
“Daniel’s young lady can take me.
It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
Daniel watched Claire lead his father across the room with
something close to amazement.
He had
long ago given up hope of anyone getting through to him and yet somehow she had
managed it.
He wasn’t sure whether he
should be pleased or not because if anyone could turn Claire against having
anything to do with the Marchant family, it was his father. Then he heard what
Claire was saying as she and his father disappeared into the sitting room and
acknowledged afresh that his father’s rude and erratic behaviour was the least
of his challenges.
“And for the record, I’m not Daniel’s young lady, Mr
Marchant.
My name is Claire Harris and
I’m just one of his employees,” she said.
Chapter Twelve
Daniel was thoughtful as he arrived back at his own
waterfront property.
Built on stilts in
the ubiquitous clapboard style, it was much smaller than his parent’s house and
without the high ceilings and wood beams. Instead it was open plan, and
sparsely furnished with wooden tables and chairs, a well-worn saggy couch, and
sailcloth cushions and drapes.
Whitewashed walls, rush matting and a scattering of interesting pieces
of wood and unusual shells gave it character, while a wall full of rough-hewn
shelves crammed with books, reports and piles of paper reflected his busy life.
A half built boat took up most of the open space under the house, and in front
of it, tied to a small wooden dock, was another boat and a yellow inflatable.
Climbing out of the golf cart he walked to the water’s
edge.
The full moon was so bright it
cast a silver path across the bay. At his feet the waves whispered and sighed
where they met the sand. For the first time in a long time it all failed to
soothe him.
Instead of absorbing the view he found himself reliving an
evening where he had watched in growing admiration as Claire pitted her wits
against his father and won.
Sure that
she wouldn’t have heard of half the authors he enjoyed, the old curmudgeon had
deliberately quoted name after name, only to discover she knew them all.
“I cheated,” she had told Daniel as he drove her back to her
apartment block.
“I didn’t tell him I
studied American Literature at university.”
He roared with laughter. “Serves him right!”
Then, more seriously, he had tried to thank her.
“You were great! I didn’t mean for the visit
to take up all your time though. Can you forgive me for hijacking your entire
evening?”
She shrugged as she gave him that steady gray gaze, the one
that put a considerable strain on his blood pressure.
“It’s not a problem.”
Then she paused in the act of stepping down from the golf
cart and turned back with a half smile.
“I hope it did what it was intended to do and took your mind off your
worries about your mother for an hour or so.”
Already out of the cart, he moved swiftly to her side.
“It did, and thank you.”
She nodded, but before she could turn away he grabbed her
hand.
“There aren’t any words, Claire,
to explain how good it was to see my parents interacting normally for once.”
“Then I guess we’re quits,” she said. “Because we can’t
exactly pretend that my parents were a walk in the park either can we?”
They had stared at one another as they both remembered their
weekend together and then they were laughing, and Claire’s was the same
laughter that had so intoxicated him when they first met.
Full-throated peals punctuated with helpless
giggles. Unable to stop himself he pulled her close.
“Quits indeed,” he murmured and then he kissed her.
* * *
Now, remembering that kiss, remembering the softness of her
lips, the scent of her shampoo, the slenderness of her fingers entwined with
his, Daniel’s body reacted anew. With a pang he remembered how empty he had
felt when she pulled away from him, still laughing, and ran across the moonlit
grass to the walkway leading to her apartment.
Thank goodness she had though. If she hadn’t then he
wouldn’t have stopped at one chaste kiss, a kiss that could just about be
mistaken for gratitude instead of desire; a kiss that had come out of nowhere,
and which he wanted to repeat as soon as possible.
With a sigh he turned back to the house to begin the weary
task of packing. It was far too soon to reveal how he felt about her. She
needed time to settle into Dolphin Key, into her job. If he confessed he’d
offered her a job so they could get to know one another better, if he told her
he hoped that she could learn to love him, then she would probably run a
mile.
She might even think he was some
sort of stalker and take the next flight back home. Besides, there would be no
time to think of her at all in the forthcoming days as he tried to sort out the
increasing problems of the family business.
For the immediate future he had to push all thoughts of romance to the
back of his mind. He had absolutely no choice given the recent fire in Mexico
and the finance meetings already set up in New York and London. It was a
decision that made a very poor bedfellow as he tossed and turned and watched
his alarm clock tick away the hours until it was time to get up, shower, and
leave Claire and Dolphin Key behind him.
* * *
Claire, meanwhile, was having her own problems. Pushing open
the double doors to her balcony she stood outside for a long time, letting the
soft evening breeze cool her flushed cheeks as she relived the whisper soft
touch of Daniel’s mouth on hers. Why had he done that? Why had he spoiled a
perfectly good evening by kissing her?
There was no way she would be able to survive her six-month contract if
he insisted on introducing casual affection into their working relationship.
She had coped with it this time by twisting her head away from him and
laughing, when what she had actually wanted to do was something far more
intimate. Next time she might not be able to do that. Next time she might
interpret a grateful goodnight kiss between friends as something more than he
had intended and embarrass them both. Irritated by her reaction to something
she knew meant nothing to Daniel, she eventually slammed the screen doors shut
behind her and went to bed.
* * *
Fortunately the next few days did a lot to take her mind off
how she felt about Daniel, and it wasn’t just because he wasn’t around to
remind her, it was because her new job kept her so busy that she didn’t have
time to think about anything else but work. Not that it really seemed like
work, or at least not like the nine to five slog she had endured for the past
six years.
Her crowded bus journey had been replaced by a stroll down
Main Street via a stop off at the pier, a stroll that soon had her on first
name terms with the early morning fisherman, and on nodding terms with most of
the shop and office workers she met en route. Thanks to Scott, it wasn’t long
before she was also welcomed by name in most of the inns and bars that
overlooked the bay as well.
“Everyone is just so friendly,” she told him the morning she
arrived at work clutching a carefully wrapped fresh fish; a present from one of
her newfound friends.
He laughed at her.
“It doesn’t take much to win you over does it?”
She smiled at him; not expecting him to understand the
effect living in Dolphin Key was having on her.
After years of commuting daily across a city where fellow travellers
rarely spoke, where shop assistants were impersonal, and where few people knew
even their nearest neighbours, the casual friendliness and generosity of the
town’s inhabitants was seductive.
She
found herself smiling at everyone she met; calling out greetings from her
balcony; even accepting that a ten minute chat about the contents of the
sandwich she was ordering was an entirely reasonable use of her time.
And working with Scott continued to enthrall.
His knowledge was as inexhaustible as his
energy and enthusiasm; and although he was high on ideas he was also entirely
open to criticism in a way that made any debate enjoyable, and which invariably
brought out the best in both of them.
Often they would discover they had worked straight through
their lunch break and that it was mid afternoon before hunger pangs got the
better of them.
Then, still talking,
they would make for the nearest bar and order up a salad and a plate of fries
before taking a golf cart out to the surrounding countryside to look at a
nesting site. Or they might jump into Scott’s boat and visit the nature
reserve.
Often they didn’t return until
long after Beth had closed the office and gone home, and even then there would
be something else Scott wanted to show her, or a report they needed to
discuss.
Nor was there any discernable
down time. Scott seemed to spend every waking hour working, which drove Claire
to do the same.
Eventually Beth put her foot down. “This is getting
ridiculous. Shut down your computer and clear your desk. You’re coming home to
supper with me before this man takes over your life,” she told Claire at the
end of her second seven-day week.
Aware that she hadn’t followed up Beth’s invitation to visit
the print shop so that she could meet Carl, Claire looked guilty.
Reading her mind, Beth grinned.
“You can’t avoid him forever you know.
Besides, if I don’t get you out of here while
Scott is on the phone, he’ll keep you late again.
You’re going to have to put your foot
down.
He’s a real slave driver given
half a chance.”
“I heard that!” Scott reappeared from the inner office with
a contrite grin.
“I know she’s right
too.
I’m sorry, but I don’t do clock
watching Claire.
I don’t even do weekends
but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Besides, you’ve already proved you’re not
afraid of hard work, that you’ll put in the hours, so if you want to go
somewhere, take a day off, come in late, leave early, just do it.”
“In that case she can start now.
Supper is at six-thirty Claire.
You can’t miss us because we live over the
print shop, which is the last building on Main Street.” Beth gathered up her
belongings and made for the exit.
When
she reached the doorway she paused, and then turned and glared at Scott.
“I suppose you’d better come too, but only if you promise
not to talk about work!”
Scott waved at her retreating back.
“Deal!” he shouted.
Then he turned to Claire. “Carl is a fantastic cook, so
never, ever, turn down an invitation to eat with him and Beth.”
“I haven’t met him yet,” Claire told him.
“I keep meaning to call into the print shop
to be introduced but somehow I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“Carl’s a nice guy. He’s a bit quirky but good fun. Beth
too, but you already know that.”
Claire nodded, her eyes drifting back to the report she was
studying, so she wasn’t looking at Scott as he added a final snippet of
information.
“Beats me why he and Daniel are such good buddies though,
considering Daniel and Beth were an item until Carl came onto the scene.”
Her head snapped up. “You mean she and Daniel were engaged?”
“As good as, but things changed pretty quickly when Carl
came back to Dolphin Key.”
Suddenly everything became clear to Claire. Daniel didn’t
want to date anyone because he was still recovering from being thrown over by
his girlfriend…fiancée…Beth! And Carl was feeling so guilty about it that he
was doing everything possible to find someone else for his brother.
Her heart sank as she realized her chances of
ever attracting Daniel had rapidly sunk to zero because there wasn’t a chance
he would get over his feelings for Beth unless he stopped working with her, and
that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
She forced a casual reply. “What was Carl doing while he was
away?”
Scott suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry Claire, I’ve been talking out of
turn. Forget I said anything.
If Beth
wants you to know their story she’ll tell you.”
Claire stared at him. Then she shrugged and returned to her
report.
As far as Scott was concerned
she had lost interest in their conversation and was now completely absorbed in
reading about the feeding habits of the dolphins populating the bay. Not by a
muscle did she show how much his words had affected her.
Five minutes later she turned off her computer, piled all
her paperwork onto one corner of her desk and stood up.
She had control of herself now.