"What's the weather like? I bet it's raining and you've been stuck indoors. Maybe you've got a touch of cabin fever. If it's bothering you that much why don't you come down to San Francisco for a few days?"
"It is raining, but that's not the problem, Debbie. You know I enjoy my own company; so being alone here doesn't concern me at all. As for coming to San Francisco—it's a lovely thought, but I'll pass for now, if you don’t mind. I don't feel up to the hustle and bustle of a city. I have that in London. All I want is a little peace and quiet for a week or two. Perhaps later, before I fly back home, okay? But you could come here. There's plenty of room and we could explore the island together. Just think of the fun we could have. Getting here wouldn't be a problem either, there's a charter service from Seattle if you want to fly, or there's the ferry."
"I can't just drop everything and come up to you, you know that. I’ll try and get away for a long weekend later on in your trip. Can you keep yourself occupied for a while longer? I’ll let you know early next week if I can re-organise my schedule. In the meantime, try and relax, take a whale-watching trip, take up knitting or something. And it's just a suggestion, but stay off the trails for a while too. Then maybe that Sasquatch won't bother you. Who knows, perhaps there's a reason why he's hiking the trails around the cabin. He could be an arboriculturist, whatever it is. I'll bet it’s something innocent so stop worrying."
"You're right, I am over reacting. I just didn't expect to be bumping into an obnoxious Neanderthal every time I step out the door. Thanks for letting me have a moan. I really do appreciate you trying to clear your schedule. I know it’s difficult for you to get away at short notice. But it would be fantastic if you could make it. I'll speak to you later."
"Hey, what are friends for, but to support each other? I really have to go now. I have a conference call coming in on my other line. You have a good afternoon and think on what I've said, okay? I'll call you soon."
Skye listened to the static on the line as Debbie disconnected their call. Their conversation had reassured her, but it also made her realize she was behaving like a school kid. She was a grown woman, so why did she feel intimidated by Walker? Could it be that there was an element of attraction between them? The sparks certainly flew whenever they met.
But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? They'd only met twice and on each occasion the conversation wasn’t exactly cordial. Perhaps it would be best to do as Debbie suggested and keep away from the woods and the shore for a day or two.
***
Walker had returned to the island early that morning. He left his jeep in a pullout and walked down through the woods to the shore. He wasn’t in a particularly good mood and his temper was sorely tested when he found himself confronted by his tenant once more. The auburn-haired beauty certainly knew how to rub him the wrong way. By the time he returned to the lodge, he too was soaked to the skin. With the mood he was in, he was relieved to see that the builders had given up for the day. He had no desire to discuss the finer points of the restoration with them.
While he dried off, he placed a call to the realtor. Not because he wanted to see if his tenant had made her threatened call, but because he was curious about her. If he were honest, he was more than a little uneasy about her sudden appearance.
The tourist season didn’t start until the end of May when the weather improved. Although the realty company only provided him with the dates for the lettings and names of the tenants, he rarely, if ever concerned himself with the finer details. But there was something different about this particular tenant and so he demanded to know more.
He was surprised to learn the booking had been made only ten days before. Odd, he thought, most people planning a trip to the San Juan islands did so months in advance, especially if they were coming from overseas. Yet Ms Dunbar, he was told, hadn't. Was it just a coincidence that she rented the cabin at the same time fish around the islands were dying? Or was there a link? Normally, he didn’t pass judgment on anyone he met until he got to know them. But the current situation was anything but normal. Maybe Ms Dunbar was more than just a tourist? Innocent until proven guilty, wasn't that what everyone believed in? Under the circumstances he wasn't taking any chances. It was about time he and Ms Dunbar became better acquainted. All he needed now was a reason to act neighbourly.
He turned on the radio and listened to the weather forecast for the next few days. It wasn't good—storms, heavy rain and high winds, which in turn would bring abnormally high tides and rough seas. Positive that no one would dump anything in those conditions, it gave him ample time to catch up on some long overdue sleep. No doubt Joe would call if there were any new developments. All he could do was sit back, wait for the reports to come in from the lab and hope that his enquiries about Dr. Ridge bore fruit.
The early spring storm came in fast from the northwest. By early evening, the rising wind whistled through the trees. Every now and again there was a loud ‘crack’ like a rifle being fired as a branch snapped and fell heavily to the ground. Walker wasn't particularly worried. He had ridden out worse storms than this and often at sea. Both the lodge and cabin were a safe distance from the nearest pine, so there was no danger of damage to either property from falling timber. A slow smile crossed his face. He hoped his tenant liked storms, because this one was going to get a hell of a lot worse before the night was over.
He also knew there was a strong possibility there would be power outages, and quickly checked his e-mail. But there was no response to his enquires regarding Dr. Ridge. His mailbox was full of the usual unsolicited junk, and a couple of requests for his company to give advice on certain matters. Those he forwarded, with his comments and estimation of cost, to his secretary, instructing her to send out a standard contract.
He shrugged on the heavy waterproof he kept in the kitchen and took a torch off the shelf, then stepped outside. First, he checked on the small boat he kept moored at the end of the dock. Then he walked round the lodge, checking all the windows, closing the shutters on all but a few. Once back inside, he poured a large measure of whisky into a tumbler, and then stretched his weary body out on the sofa to watch some TV.
Around nine-thirty the power lines gave up their valiant struggle against the wind and went down. Walker knew it would be morning before the electricity company got around to restoring the service to this part of the island. There was nothing for it, he mused, and swallowed the last dregs from his glass, before going to bed.
Thanks to the whisky, he slept soundly. There was nothing like a good twelve hours sleep to restore man's equilibrium. Last night's storm was the perfect excuse for him to drop in on his tenant, in a neighbourly fashion, of course. He stretched, and sauntered into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror.
If he hadn't been run ragged by whoever was out to ruin him, he wouldn't be running around looking like he'd just crawled out after twenty days in the wilderness. Perhaps, if he looked less intimidating, he might not antagonize the lady quite so much. Picking up his razor for the first time in two weeks, he set about scraping the half-grown beard from his chin. Showered and smartly dressed in cord trousers and green shirt, he lifted his jacket off the stand and headed out to his jeep.
Chapter Five
Skye woke to hammering in her head. It took her a full two minutes to realize that it wasn't in her head, but someone at the door. Groggily she threw the quilt off her legs, and levered her stiff and aching limbs off the sofa.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming, quit why don't you?" she shouted, as she slid the bolt back from the door. The aroma of coffee assaulted her senses.
"Good morning. Boy, that was some storm wasn't it," said Walker. "I thought you might appreciate some coffee as the power is still out." He held up two steaming beakers and a small paper bag.
Skye recognized the man instantly even without the beard. Too stunned to say anything coherent, she just stood there mumbling, her voice soft and husky with sleep.
"Why? How?"
"How did I get coff
ee when the electricity is out? I've been to town. Power Company always restores electricity to Friday Harbor first. Outlaying property takes longer. I've also got fresh rolls, so why don't you go and get dressed while I get things sorted?"
Walker stepped inside and closed the door. Skye could only stare. Her stomach did a slow back flip. The man standing in her hallway was smartly dressed and smelled faintly of some expensive cologne. Besides, the short beard and casual clothes, the hiker's boots had gone too. My, but didn’t he scrub up well. The harsh lines of his face had eased, and the haunted look in his eyes had vanished, to be replaced with the most devastating smile Skye had ever seen.
Without realising, she let out a long sigh and instantly revised her previous assessment of him. Walker wasn't just handsome; he oozed sex appeal from every pore. She watched him through half closed lids, and wondered why he was being so neighbourly. Her befuddled brain decided to analyze that thought later, after the coffee. Conscious of the fact that she was half naked, for once in her adult life Skye did as she was told and stumbled toward the bedroom, quickly snatching up the quilt off the sofa on her way.
Walker took a deep breath. Skye’s hair was mussed, and the T-shirt she wore barely covered her thighs, very shapely thighs at that. She looked so darned sexy that desire flooded his veins and heat pooled in his groin as his eyes traced the outline of her full breasts through the thin fabric of her T-shirt.
Fortunately, she’d been too sleepy to notice his slow appraisal of her body otherwise the coffee might have ended up in his face. He wondered if she knew how attractive she was. He shook his head. If he continued to think like this, he would be in trouble, big trouble. Great, a hard-on was just what he needed right now.
He shoved all thoughts of her sensuous body out of his mind, and set the beakers and rolls down on the counter. The shower came on, and he knew it was his opportunity to have a quick look around. The fact that Skye had slept on the sofa, hadn't escaped his notice. She looked tired, the unfamiliar surroundings and the noise of the storm, had obviously kept her awake.
Silently he crossed the room. A copy of the latest P.D.James thriller lay on the floor next to the sofa, but apart from a few CDs on a nearby table, the room was pretty much as it had been before his tenant had arrived—tidy. All her personal belongings were in the bedroom and there was no way she was going to let him in there. Walker hoped to find something to incriminate her and give him a clue as to who was out to ruin him, but his mysterious tenant was cautious.
The shower stopped. He swore heartily, retraced his steps to the kitchen and busied himself putting the rolls on plates and finding the necessary flatware.
Skye showered and dressed in record time. Her suspicious mind didn't want to leave Walker alone any longer than necessary. She twisted her damp hair into a knot and deftly pinned it up. Questions began to form in her mind, albeit slowly. She never did function well on less than seven hours sleep. What her system needed was a kick-start and nothing provided that better than hot strong coffee.
She stood quietly in the doorway watching Walker as he laid out the coffee and rolls. He looked perfectly at ease in the kitchen, too at ease, she noted. It seemed as if he knew where everything was stored.
Walker felt her presence, before he saw her. He'd been right about her figure. He didn't like his women too thin, and dressed as she was in figure hugging jeans and T-shirt, she had curves in all the right places. Her thick hair was twisted up, revealing a long expanse of creamy neck. His gaze lowered to the pulse at the base of her throat and idly he wondered if she would shiver with passion if he were to kiss her there.
Mildly annoyed for allowing his crotch to rule his mind yet again, he took another steadying breath. If he kept this up, he'd be taking cold showers for the rest of the month—no, amend that—the rest of the year. He wondered whether his libido would stand the strain of being so close to this desirable woman for any longer than purpose dictated, but it would be interesting to find out.
He saw the puzzlement on her face, and thought fast.
"This place is fantastic, isn't it? I was lucky enough to stay here last year. When I enquired about renting a few weeks ago, I was told that it was booked. I had to take another property close by." He hated lying, but somehow he thought the truth wouldn't be as palatable. Besides, if he didn't keep his aces in his sleeve, she wouldn’t tell him anything about herself or the reason for her prolonged lease of the cabin. She didn't strike him as being your average vacationer. After all, why would such an attractive woman hide herself away on a small island? The cabin didn't come cheap even out of season, so she had to have a healthy bank balance to afford the rental.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot, " he continued. "I was out of line in the way I spoke to you. I'd had a bad day at work. I'm sure you know how that goes, and had no right to unleash my temper on you. Could we put that behind us and try to be more neighbourly?" He held out a beaker of coffee and gave her his most disarming smile. "I'm Walker."
Careful not to let her fingers touch his, Skye took the cup of steaming amber liquid from him. The rich aroma of the coffee hit her senses. It tasted wonderful and was a much-needed jolt to her sleep-deprived mind.
"Skye, Skye Dunbar. And thanks for this." She raised her cup to his. At least she could try to be polite since he was going to all this trouble in an attempt to be friendly.
Walker kept the conversation neutral. "Skye. That's an unusual name. And Dunbar, that's Scottish isn't it?"
"I’m from London. That is, I work in London. I was born in Cumbria, but the family originated from Scotland, or so I’m told. My parents loved the Isle of Skye, almost as much as they loved each other, so it seemed natural to them to name me after the place where they first fell in love."
The strong coffee began to lift the fog from her brain. Skye’s razor sharp mind was back in gear, formulating questions of its own.
"Do you come here often, Mr. Walker?" She took a bite of the roll.
"Its just Walker. I come when other commitments allow which isn't as often as I'd like. How about you? Is this your first time on the islands?"
His voice was velvet edged and strong and under different circumstances, Skye knew would be very seductive. She watched Walker over the rim of her coffee cup, and carefully considered her reply. Why was he taking an interest in her? She certainly hadn't given him any encouragement, quite the opposite. If the truth were told, she'd been just as rude to him as he’d been to her. And, while there was no doubt in her mind he was a very attractive man, she wasn't interested. Even if Walker was offering, she wasn't buying. She bruised far too easily and took too long to heal to become involved with another man. Michael had seen to that.
"This is my first visit, although I have been to Seattle before. Is there much damage from the storm?" She deftly changed the subject to something less personal and penetrating.
Walker's eyes held hers as he studied her carefully. He could almost see the questions forming in her mind. Whatever game she was playing, he would play too.
"Yeah, a few trees are down. None around the cabin, but if you go into town be careful on the roads, it will take the authorities a day or so to get things cleared up. I hope the storm didn't bother you too much. They can take a bit of getting used to, especially if they come down from the north as this one did."
He placed his empty beaker on the counter, deciding he'd outstayed his welcome.
"I'd best be on my way, and let you get on with your day. The weather forecast for the next few days is for rain, but at least the main storm front has passed through. It's fixed to clear by the end of the week." He gave Skye his most devastating grin and opened the door. "I'll see you around. Have a good vacation, Ms Dunbar." And with that he climbed into to his jeep and promptly drove off.
Skye shut the door and sat down on the sofa. She was totally confounded by the complete turnaround in Walker's behavior and the effect he had on her. Perhaps Debbie was right after all. Maybe he was just another visi
tor to the islands, here to relax, fish, and generally enjoy the scenery. But, something tugged at the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite put the pieces together.
With the exception of John, she didn't trust men in general, and she certainly didn't trust Walker, that was for sure. But if asked why, she couldn't explain. Some would call it womanly intuition. Skye, however, was more logical, and put her lack of trust down as the direct result of Michael's betrayal.
Michael—the one person she had trusted with her heart and soul, and yet he had almost destroyed her. She thought back to the first idyllic ten days of her visit and remembered how things began to change on the eleventh. They’d spent as much time in each other's company as the Navy would allow. Towards the end of her second week, over dinner, Michael asked her to extend her stay. The ship would be in dry dock longer than first anticipated, probably for another couple of months. He'd understand if she couldn't stay that long, but would she at least consider trying?
At first Skye had said no. She had commitments and her business partner to consider. But Michael persuaded her to stay and although it hadn't been an easy decision, Skye had changed her mind and said yes to please him. She remembered how guilty she felt when she called John to inform him of her change of plans. They had a blazing row. John was adamant that she should return, claiming the business needed her and it was unfair of her to expect him to do all the work. Skye had responded by saying that John was complaining because, for once, he was working the long hours instead of her, and it was his social life that had been put on hold for a change. It was the first time they had exchanged harsh words about their business and personal lives, and the whole experience had left Skye ashen, drained, and exhausted.
Three Weeks Last Spring Page 5
