by Sandra Field
All of which had sounded fine as he’d sat in his private jet winging across the country from Vancouver to Deer Lake. Now, when the first houses were emerging from the mist, Jake wasn’t so sure. He pulled over and rested his forearms on the wheel. He was as scared of a twelve-year-old boy as he’d been of the president of that first corporation he’d approached. Hell, who was he fooling? He’d never felt like this in his whole life.
If only he hadn’t had that dream. He’d spent the night in Toronto at a hotel airport, trying to absorb some jet lag before flying further east. He’d dreamed about Shaine on Ghost Island in her blue dress…or had it been a dream? Had it, simply, been memory rising from his subconscious before he was fully awake?
He and Shaine had moored the dory to the old jetty, using a rusty ring sunk into the wood. Then they’d climbed to the meadow on the far side of the island, where the automatic lighthouse stood sentinel by the reef, and wildflowers raised petals like colored stars in the grass. It was there that they’d seen the humpback whales.
Shaine said, “I brought a picnic.”
Her blue dress had a flared skirt that dipped to mid-calf, and could by no means be called overtly sexy. But everything she wore was sexy to Jake. He was obsessed with her, day and night; and had never laid as much as a finger on her for just that reason. She’d only turned eighteen the month before, whereas he was twenty-two. He’d lived for over four years away from the confines of the cove; it was up to him to keep her safe.
“Chicken sandwiches?” he said hopefully. He’d been working in the woods since he’d come back for his father’s funeral, hard physical labor that left him with a prodigious appetite.
“Of course. They’re your favorite, aren’t they?”
She seemed edgy, he thought, not her usual self, although he had no idea why. He spread the blanket on the grass, sitting on one corner as far from her as he could get, and started to eat. She said, “I don’t have a communicable disease, Jake.”
He raised one brow. “This way I can look at you.”
“That’s all you ever do!”
His hand stilled. “What do you mean?”
She put down her sandwich, uneaten, and ripped the ribbon from her hair so that it blew free in the wind like a curtain of fire. “I want you to make love to me.”
“What?”
“Here. Today.”
Her eyes were defiant rather than loving. Faint blue shadows were pooled below her collarbones, while her lips were soft pink curves, so voluptuous he had to look away. “I’m leaving here in a couple of days,” he said. “You know that. You’re coming with me. Don’t you think we should wait until we’re more sure of—”
“No, I don’t.” She leaned forward, her breasts moving suggestively under the thin cotton of her dress. “We love each other. Why wait? Why not seize what the day has to offer?”
“I don’t have any protection,” he said.
“I’m in the safest part of my cycle, we’ll be all right.” She tossed her head. “Unless you don’t want to make love with me.”
“I want to make love to you so badly I can’t sleep at night,” he said roughly. “Every day in the woods all I can think about is you. I love you, Shaine, I’ll love you forever.”
She smiled, the smile of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. “Come here,” she said softly.
Take it easy, he told himself. This is her first time, you’ve got to make it perfect for her. But when he found her mouth with his, he groaned deep in his throat, so heated was her response, so recklessly alive and openly hungry. “I don’t want to rush you,” he muttered.
“I want you,” she whispered, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails digging into his shoulders. Then he felt the first dart of her tongue, and lost all his good resolutions as heat throbbed through his veins. Shaine had never been someone to do things by half measures; and now was no exception. Her own ardor, touchingly inexperienced, inflamed his senses. He kissed her deeply, savoring the sweetness of her mouth, aware through every nerve of the softness of her breasts against his chest, of the instinctive and infinitely seductive movements of her hips beneath his.
He found the swell of one breast, cupping it, playing with the nipple through her dress; then, fiercely impatient, he unbuttoned the bodice. Her bra was blue, too. She said with endearing shyness, because Shaine was rarely shy, “I ordered it through the catalog. Just for you.”
“I’ve been staying away from you for weeks because I was afraid this would happen. You don’t know how often I’ve wanted to kiss you, touch you, hold on to you.”
She gave an exultant laugh, slipping her fingers under his T-shirt to caress the rough, dark hair that funneled to his navel. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Her irises darkened as he played with her nipple, her breath coming in small gasps of pleasure. “I want to be naked,” she whispered. “I want to feel you all the way down my body.”
He sat up, hauling his shirt over his head and tossing it to one side. Then, more gently, he tugged her dress upward so that momentarily the vivid brightness of her hair was eclipsed. Swiftly he unclasped her bra, then slid her blue panties down her hips. For a moment that was outside of time, all he could do was gaze at her, all his love and longing exposed for her to read. She said huskily, “Jake, Jake…when you look at me like that, I melt inside.”
He ran his hand from her shoulder to her flank, as though memorizing every curve. “You’re so beautiful…your skin’s white as foam.”
“Your eyes are like the sea,” she said, and reached for his belt. Within moments his clothes were tossed aside and his bare thighs had pinned her to the blanket, his big body hovering over her before, once more, he plunged for the honey of her mouth. His hands roamed her body, her fevered moans of hunger ravishing his senses.
She smelled sweetly of flowers, she even tasted of flowers, while her skin was smooth as rose petals. She was his heart’s desire, his only love…and open to him as the rose opens to the sun. He found the gap between her thighs, where she was moist and ready, and rhythmically rubbed all his hardness against her until she was panting and writhing. Then she cried his name, once, twice, and he felt the inner throbbing as she climaxed.
Briefly she collapsed beneath him. “I couldn’t wait,” she gasped. “But, Jake—”
“Hush,” he said, and subduing his own needs, began laving her nipple with his tongue. Then he moved lower, stroking the dip of her belly and the tautness of rib, cupping her buttocks and lifting her to meet his hungry tongue. She threw back her head, enraptured, and within moments her small, broken sobs of fulfillment filled his ears again, like the most elemental music in the world.
But he wasn’t done with her. Rolling over, so that she lay across him, he said, “Straddle me, Shaine. Touch me.”
Her eyes glittering a pagan green, she reared up, sun and shadow playing with her breasts. Exquisitely shaped breasts, Jake thought, his mouth dry. He couldn’t last much longer. But greater than his own passionate ache to be inside her, was the sheer heaven of watching her discover her own sensuality. She said, smiling down at him, “Now it’s my turn.”
“I love you, Shaine,” he said harshly.
She bent forward, her rippled hair drifting over his chest and face, scented and silky. Her breasts brushed his nipples with hypnotic smoothness until he wondered if he could die from sheer pleasure. And all the while her hands were exploring his body, her palms fitting to the hard arc of his shoulders, her fingers playing with his body hair. Then, very gently, she lowered herself onto him, her warmth encompassing him until he could scarcely breathe. He watched the fleeting expressions on her face, each one so precious to him. She was wet and open; but even so there was that moment of resistance, a flash of pain crossing her features.
As carefully as he could, he pushed into her. Then, suddenly, her whole weight was resting on him. Wonderment suffusing her face, she leaned forward to kiss him. He thrust, harder and harder, seeing the storm gather in her eyes even as
his own inner tumult became almost unbearable.
They broke at the same time, their hoarse cries entangled like the screams of gulls against the heavens. Then she was lying on top of him, her heart hammering against his ribs, his own heart pounding like surf on the beach…
A transport truck emerged through the fog, startling Jake from his reverie. So who was he coming back to see? His son, Daniel? Or Shaine? Who, when he’d mentioned only minutes after that passionate lovemaking that they’d be leaving the cove and Newfoundland in the next two days, had told him that she couldn’t leave. That she’d changed her mind.
At first she wouldn’t tell him why. But when he’d persisted, she’d destroyed all his hopes, all his faith in her, by saying she didn’t love him enough to go away with him.
Devastated, he’d left without her that very day.
He’d been licking his wounds ever since. His affairs had been enjoyable enough, but bloodless. He hadn’t even come close to falling in love. And all because of a red-haired woman whose heart had captured his, and whose body had bewitched him.
Whose body had borne him a son.
He’d come back here to meet Daniel. That was all.
Slowly Jake drove the narrow streets of the village. It was late afternoon, the light opaque and mysterious. He passed the turnoff to Shaine’s house and didn’t stop. He should at least have formulated a plan, he thought caustically. Hadn’t he, for the last thirteen years, lived by nothing but plans?
And then his heart thudded in his chest. A young boy was walking along the sidewalk, a hockey bag slung across one shoulder. Jake would have recognized him anywhere.
Knowing that his action was momentous, he drew up level with the boy. “Going to the rink? Want a drive?”
Daniel’s blue eyes widened; for a moment he stood stock-still. Then he said, in a voice deeper than Jake had expected, “Sure, thanks.”
He climbed in on the passenger side after tossing his gear in the back seat. “I saw you at the rink ten days ago,” he said.
Jake hadn’t expected such a direct approach. “That’s right. I’m Jake Reilly. I used to live here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You do?”
“Down at the high school, they’ve got pictures from the year your team won the trophy. That day at the rink I recognized you right away.”
“Oh,” said Jake with a notable lack of intelligence.
“Why’d you come back?”
“I left the village for good thirteen years ago,” Jake said carefully. “I figured it was time I saw the place where I was born.” He turned into the rink and parked an equally careful distance from the door.
“No, I mean why’d you come back here today—for the second time?”
“I—I had some unfinished business.”
“After I saw your picture at the school, I looked you up on the Internet,” Daniel said with an edge of aggressiveness.
His jaw tight with tension, Jake asked, “Why did you do that?”
The boy shrugged. “Dunno. I just did. Found out you went away to university and came home when your father died. Then my mum had this financial magazine, and you were in that, too. They had a lot of pictures of you in places like Singapore, and then dancing with a woman they said was your companion in a club in New York.”
Her name had been Marilee, Jake recalled. Although he was damned if he could remember one more thing about her. “I left the cove because I needed wider horizons,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with Cranberry Cove!”
“No, there isn’t. I didn’t fit here, that’s all.”
“I played hockey in Maine last year—but I was glad to get home,” Daniel said defiantly. “Where d’you play now?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t?”
The boy looked as horrified as if Jake had confessed to murder. “I’ve been too busy,” Jake said. “But ever since watching you play, I’ve been thinking I should get back to it.”
“Someone told me you and Mum used to be friends.”
“That’s right,” Jake said steadily. “She’s a fine woman, your mother. Daniel, I need to talk to you about something. Can we meet after your game?”
The boy tensed. “What’s wrong with now? I’m early. Figured I’d practice shots on goal while I was waiting.”
It was now or never, Jake thought fatalistically, looking straight into the blue eyes that were so like his own; although they were, right now, clouded with apprehension. “I came back the second time because there’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “Thirteen years ago your mother and I were, very briefly, lovers. When I came back here a couple of weeks ago, I found out that she’d had a son a few months after I left.” He paused, his heartbeat crowding into his throat. “You’re my son, Daniel.”
The boy let out his breath in a small whoosh. “Ever since I saw your picture at the school, I kinda wondered,” he said. “Seeing as how O’Sullivans don’t have dark hair or blue eyes.”
“How long ago did you see the picture?” Jake demanded.
“Three or four years.”
“So that’s why you looked me up on the Internet?”
“Guess so.” Daniel was gazing out into the fog. He’d outgrown his jacket; his wrists stuck out of the sleeves, Jake noticed with the only part of his brain that seemed to be working. It touched him unbearably. Wanting to enfold the boy in his arms, he sat still and waited.
Daniel said hoarsely, “How come it took you thirteen years to come and see me?”
“I didn’t know you existed until ten days ago!”
“If you were friends with my mum, why didn’t you keep in touch with her?”
It was the most difficult question Daniel could have asked. Yet he deserved a truthful answer. “I was in love with your mother. But she wouldn’t come away with me even though we’d planned that. So I left and didn’t look back. My father had drowned here, my mother had emigrated to Australia, I had no ties with the place.”
“You were too busy making money and dating other women,” Daniel said in a hostile voice.
“The first part of that statement’s true enough. The second isn’t. I haven’t married, or wanted to.”
“Mum never got a cent of your money. Or a moment of your time. She had to do it all on her own.”
Refusing to back down, Jake said, “That’s right. I regret more than I can say that I didn’t get in touch with her. That I’ve missed all these years of knowing you.”
“I haven’t missed you. I’ve done just fine without you.”
Daniel was, unconsciously, paraphrasing what his mother had said. “Yes, you have,” Jake said. He allowed a smile to break through. “I hate to admit it, but I reckon that in a couple of years you’ll be a better hockey player than I was.”
Daniel’s lashes, long as a girl’s, dropped to hide his eyes. He was going to be a handsome young man, Jake thought. Put that together with his hockey skills, and the girls would be after him in droves. “Daniel,” he said urgently, “I just want to hang around with you a bit. Get to know you.”
With something of his mother’s quicksilver intelligence, Daniel pounced. “Hang around a bit,” he repeated cynically. “That says it all. Hang around as long as it suits you, then go back to your real life.”
“I want you to be part of my real life.”
“What about my mum? What about her?”
“She’s as angry as you are that I didn’t keep in touch.”
“You going to marry her?”
It was his own mother’s question. “I don’t think she’d marry me if her life depended on it,” Jake said truthfully.
With deliberate crudity Daniel said, “You don’t care that I get called names at school?”
Jake flinched. “Does that happen often?”
“It used to. Until Uncle Padric taught me how to fight.”
Padric. Not the boy’s father. With a sick lump in his gut, Jake said, “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m
really sorry I stayed away for so long.”
The boy gave a dismissive shrug. “You got more important things to do than stick around here—you’re a big shot.” He reached for the door handle. “I don’t need you any more than my mum does. Why should I?”
Jake took the boy by the sleeve. “I’m not going to go away like I did thirteen years ago. Not twice. So you’d better get used to seeing me around.”
Daniel shook free and scrambled out of the car. “I’m gonna be late,” he mumbled, grabbed his bag from the back seat and slammed both doors so loudly they sounded like twin gunshots. Then he ran for the door of the rink.
Jake knew better than to follow. He sat still, his emotions in a turmoil. If he’d cherished any fantasies of his son falling into his arms, he’d better abandon them fast. Daniel was as antagonistic toward him as Shaine.
With as much reason?
Regret, so Jake was discovering, was much harder to deal with than grief. He’d felt huge grief when his father had died, drowned by the sea that had sustained him most of his life. But that sadness had been natural, and in time had eased, leaving Jake with many good memories of the big, gentle man who’d loved him from the day he was born. But regret? What could he do about that? He couldn’t undo the past and rewrite it the way he now wanted it to be. The past was just that: past. Both Shaine and Daniel had suffered because he himself had allowed pride, hurt and ambition to barricade him from the village where he’d grown up.
Daniel had never known the deep security of a father’s love as he, Jake, had; the boy had been robbed of something that should be every child’s heritage.
Jake’s brow knit. Had it all been his fault? Or did Shaine bear some of the responsibility?
Years ago, he’d nearly driven himself crazy wondering why Shaine hadn’t loved him enough to go away with him. Now, after a stormy reunion with her and a painful meeting with his son, he found himself chewing once again on that old bone. She wasn’t someone to change her mind easily; and whatever she felt, she felt wholeheartedly. Had something happened to make her alter her plans so drastically?
