by Sandra Field
“I need a siesta,” Shaine moaned, “it’s a custom I could get used to,” and gave Jake a comical grimace as Daniel hauled her to her feet.
Playa del Ingles was crowded and noisy. Jake rented a windsurfer for Daniel, then plunged into the waves with Shaine. She’d bought herself a minimalist bikini at their hotel in Tenerife, because the swimsuit she’d brought from home had seemed far too staid. She still felt shy wearing the scraps of turquoise fabric; and knew she’d never have the nerve to go topless like some of the young women sauntering along the beach. Daniel, she could tell, was doing his embarrassed best to ignore them. Jake, with the impeccable good manners that were beginning to grate on her, had never mentioned them.
She’d been the one to insist this would be a platonic holiday. So why was she complaining that for the last two days Jake could have been one of her brothers?
She lay down on her towel so she could watch Daniel struggling with his sail. Jake glanced over at her. Sun glazed the salt water on her skin, her spine was a long, luscious curve, and her cleavage in her brief bikini top was calculated to drive him haywire. He said pleasantly, “I’ll go rent a board and stay with Daniel for a while—will you be all right on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said brightly, and watched him walk away from her, a tall, narrow-hipped man whose muscles rippled under his tanned skin. She buried her face in her towel with a muffled groan. She wasn’t going to let a case of out-of-control lust ruin a marvelous holiday.
When she looked up, Jake had joined Daniel in the waves. As Jake lifted the sail on his own board, obviously demonstrating something to his son, Shaine saw how closely Daniel was paying attention. Then the two of them waded further into the water. It hurt something deep inside her to see them together. But why should it hurt? She should be happy.
After this amazing holiday, how was she ever going to settle down in Cranberry Cove?
The next morning, back on Tenerife, Jake realized a family had moved into the bungalow next to theirs: father, mother and a son about the same age as Daniel. The bungalows, whitewashed with tile roofs, were separated by palm trees and tall trellises draped with bougainvillea; but a pathway to one of the outdoor restaurants linked them. On their way to breakfast, the other parents smiled at Shaine, Jake and Daniel; the two boys eyed each other warily. “We just arrived last night,” the man said. “Where would you recommend we have breakfast? I’m Ben Latimer, by the way. My wife, Andrea, and my son, Jasper.”
“Jake Reilly, Shaine and Daniel,” Jake responded, neatly avoiding any mention of the word wife. “Why don’t you come along with us? The pavilion overlooking the ocean pool serves incredible fruit and omelettes.”
Andrea smiled at Shaine; she was a pretty brunette. “Have you been here long?”
“This is our third day. I love it here.”
“Your first time on the Canaries?”
Her first time anywhere, Shaine thought wryly, and began talking about their visit to Gran Canaria. Jake and Ben had moved ahead on the path; behind her, Shaine heard Jasper say, “Can you windsurf at the beach?”
“Yep. It’s not too windy, not like at Playa de Médano. I just started a couple days ago.”
“Let’s go after breakfast. I had three lessons before we came.”
“Sure thing.”
A companionship sprang up very naturally as they all ate locally grown papaya, bananas and figs, along with delicious pastries. Ben and Andrea seemed to take it for granted that Shaine and Jake were husband and wife; Jake did nothing to disabuse this notion, shrinking from the inevitable explanations. But it gave him an odd feeling when Ben said casually, “Would you and your wife join us at the beach in half an hour? That way the boys can windsurf.”
“Sounds good,” Jake said. What would it be like if Shaine was his wife?
Shaine in his bed every night…
With the help of Ben and Jake, the two boys progressed from waist-deep in the water to upright on their boards with the sails catching the wind; after the first capsize, any barriers between them were gone. Shaine said to Andrea, “I’m glad Daniel and Jasper are getting along so well. Daniel’s having a great time.”
As they began filling in each other’s backgrounds, Shaine managed to imply that Jake spent at least half his time in Newfoundland, traveling from there to look after his business interests. Andrea had taken a course in stained glass, so her questions were both genuinely interested and intelligent; she herself was a teacher.
The day drifted by, with a trip into Los Cristianos and a stroll along the crowded promenade that afternoon. The next day all six of them drove through forests of laurel and pine toward Pico del Teide, the high, cloud-draped volcanic peak in the center of the island. Shaine was entranced by the enormous craters of the Cañadas, yellow, red and gray, and by a landscape that was a desert of iridescent black lava. After she’d taken innumerable pictures and made a series of rapid sketches in her book, she said, “I can’t wait to get back in my studio! Jake, this is so exciting.”
Most of the women he’d dated had affected an air of having seen everything that was worth seeing and of not being overly impressed by any of it. But Shaine was different; Shaine felt passionately about life in all its rich and varied hues. Briefly he rested his palm on her cheek. “You’re sweet,” he said, “I like you,” and found he didn’t give a damn if Ben, Andrea, Jasper and Daniel heard every word he was saying.
Her eyes huge, her cheeks delicately flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the heat, she whispered, “This trip—I’ve never had a gift like it.”
Would she grow accustomed to his wealth, he wondered, take it for granted in the way those other women had? Somehow he didn’t think so. Shaine was too rooted in Cranberry Cove for that to happen. “To see you so happy,” he said, “it makes me feel…I don’t even know how it makes me feel.”
“Come on, Jake, say it—you’re happy, too.”
He was. Standing in a bleak moonscape in the brutal heat, he wouldn’t have traded places with anyone in the world.
Her smile brilliant, she added, “We’d better catch up with the others.”
“The Latimers are taking some of the pressure off, aren’t they?” he said slowly. “Daniel isn’t thrown so much on my company in a way that might not have worked. And they’re three more reasons for me to keep my hands off you.”
Daniel and Jasper were seeing who could throw rocks the furthest into the giant crater, watched indulgently by Ben and Andrea, who were holding hands. “I already have three brothers,” Shaine said roundly. “I don’t need a fourth.”
“What do you need, Shaine?”
Under the broad brim of her straw hat, her cheeks were now the scarlet of poinsettias. “That would be telling,” she said, pivoted and hurried across the uneven ground toward the others.
Grinning to himself, Jake followed. In the next few days they swam, lazed on the beach, ate fish fresh from the Atlantic, visited a vineyard and wandered around some of the picturesque little towns of the north coast. Goats, orange trees, ornately carved wooden verandas, white candleberry blooming against the walls of square-towered churches: Shaine admired and photographed them all. They had a farewell dinner with the Latimers on their last night. Shaine drank rather a lot of wine and danced with Jake in a way that wasn’t entirely discreet; her son, he was pleased to note as he tried to ease away from her body, was absorbed in a game of chess with Jasper.
Before the month was out, he was going to take Shaine to bed.
But not tonight.
This resolve was sorely tested when the three of them went back to the bungalow. On the balcony, which was laced with vines and filled with the soft murmur of the sea, Shaine threw her arms around his neck. “I’ve had so much fun the last few days!”
Daniel was looking at them both askance. Jake stepped back and said with real sincerity, “I’m glad.” Then he kissed her with brotherly propriety on the cheek and said good night.
They left Aeropuerto de G
ando early the next morning. All three of them slept through the transatlantic crossing; a limo met them at Kennedy International Airport, inching through the traffic toward Jake’s condo, which overlooked the trees and pathways of Central Park. His spacious, high-ceilinged rooms, with their priceless carpets and few, well-chosen artworks weren’t Shaine’s idea of low-key, an opinion she kept to herself.
Pizza and a movie that night, visits to all the standard tourist attractions the next day, and then it was their final day in the city. Daniel and Jake left midmorning for his hockey practice; Shaine stayed behind, wanting to do some shopping. She had two things in mind. The first was easy, involving picking up a package that she’d arranged for the day before. But the second took some serious thought. The first three shops she went into had prices that were through the roof; she got out, fast. But the fourth, a smaller boutique, was just within her range. The saleswoman was middle-aged and intimidatingly elegant. “Can I help you, madam?”
Go for it, thought Shaine. After all, you’ll never see the woman again. She said clearly, “I want a nightgown that will make a man who’s treating me like I’m his sister do otherwise.”
The woman glanced from Shaine’s vibrant cap of hair to her lightly tanned features in which her eyes were set like gems. Then they skimmed her slender figure with professional expertise. “That man’s a dolt and let me see what I can do,” she said pleasantly.
“I wish I could say the sky’s the limit as far as price is concerned—but I can’t,” Shaine gulped, blurting out a sum she couldn’t exceed; even that meant she’d be eating frugally for a month. “And he’s not really a dolt…it’s complicated.”
“It always is,” the woman said dryly, and selected four nightgowns from the rack. “Why don’t you try these while I look for more?”
Nightgowns that bared, that revealed, that hinted, that clung: Shaine tried them all. In the end she decided on an ecru satin gown that skimmed her hips and breasts, softly shadowing her cleavage. The power of suggestion, she’d always thought, was more powerful than outright nakedness; and if this didn’t make Jake forget he was behaving like Devlin, nothing would.
She wanted, just once, to break her self-imposed celibacy. She’d visited Doc a while ago, so she was protected against another pregnancy; and maybe going to bed with Jake would break the hold he had over her. Set her free in a way she hadn’t been for thirteen long years. It was worth a try.
The saleswoman wrapped the gown exquisitely in tissue and a beribboned bag. Shaine thanked her warmly, hurried back to the condo and hid the bag before the others got back. But the other package she put on the bookshelf.
When Daniel walked in the door, he was soaked in sweat and incandescent with excitement. “Mum, you shoulda seen the coach, he was so cool. He taught me a whole new way to feint in front of the net, and the other guys on the team were neat, too—we practiced passing for over half an hour. The coach said if I was down this way again, I could go to another practice, he said I was a good player. A real good player is what he said.” Daniel gave his mother a dazzled smile. “Is there any Pepsi in the refrigerator?” Then he looked down at himself, dumping his bag on the polished parquet floor. “Man, do I need a shower.”
Jake said easily, “One Pepsi so you don’t spoil your lunch. We’ll eat in half an hour, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Daniel looked right at Jake, his blue eyes still vivid with excitement. “Thanks,” he said, “that was awesome.”
“Any time,” Jake said, his throat tight. It would be the icing on the cake were Daniel to call him Dad. But maybe one day he would. It didn’t, at the moment, seem impossible.
Daniel swilled the Pepsi and ran toward the bathroom, slicing at the floor with an imaginary hockey stick. The door slammed shut behind him. Shaine winced. “Does an adolescent male ever walk anywhere?”
“You’ve brought up four of ’em—you should know.”
“It was a rhetorical question.” Then she got up and picked up the package on the bookshelf. “I have something for you,” she said awkwardly. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, Jake. But I thought this might make a start.”
Jake took the small, flat package, which she’d wrapped in bright red foil, and turned it over in his hands. When had a woman last given him a gift? Ever since he’d made his first million, he’d been the one expected to do the giving. He said, “You don’t know how often this last week I thought of buying you something. Now I wish I had. But I didn’t want to make you feel indebted.”
“You’ve given us both so much,” Shaine said with a sweet smile. “More than we can ever repay.”
He was a man known for thinking fast on his feet and outwitting world-renowned financial experts; but right now he was fumbling for words. “I’ve had fun this week. Simple, ordinary fun, the kind you can’t buy. That’s one of the things I’ve been in danger of losing the last few years. So it’s not all one way, Shaine.”
“What else have you lost?”
My heart, he thought crazily. To you. “That’s a conversation for a leisurely dinner with lots of wine,” he said with a crooked smile. “Should I open my present?”
She nodded, watching as he unpeeled the foil. Inside the box, in a simple pewter frame, was a photograph she’d taken on the beach below their bungalow at Costa Adeje: Jake and Daniel side by side in the waves, laughing at each other, their boards floating alongside. Jake was staring at the photo as though he’d been poleaxed. She said anxiously, “Don’t you like it?”
“You couldn’t have given me anything better,” he said huskily. “How did you get it all together?”
“I had the photos developed while we were at the resort, and the framing done here.”
She’d taken time and trouble, in other words. His chest congested with an emotion he couldn’t have named, he took her face in his hands and kissed her as if she was the only woman in the world. Her response was immediate and generous. Then he heard the bathroom door open and Daniel start down the hall toward them, his bare feet squeaking on the parquet. With a reluctance he didn’t bother hiding, Jake released Shaine. “Has Daniel seen this?”
She shook her head. As the boy came into the living room, Jake said, “Your mother had this photo framed for me. I’ll treasure it, Daniel.”
Daniel looked at the photograph, then up at the man holding it. “We go back home tomorrow,” he said in an unreadable voice.
“I hope you’ll come to New York again, though. Perhaps over Christmas.”
“I got a hockey tournament.”
“If we want to see each other,” Jake said carefully, “we can always figure something out.”
Daniel blurted, “I got you a present in Tenerife. And one for Mum.”
He took off down the hall, his hair still wet from the shower. When he came back, he thrust one paper bag at Shaine, the other at Jake. Shaine’s gift was a beautiful white cotton placemat edged with handmade Vilaflor lace. “I could only afford one,” Daniel said. “I thought it would look nice on the table by the TV.”
Touched, she said, “It’s beautiful, Daniel…lace-making is another old craft that hasn’t died out, rather like stained glass.”
When Jake opened his bag, he saw a small wooden carving of a windsurfer, the man’s back braced, the sail a smooth curve. He couldn’t choke up twice in ten minutes, he thought. “Perfect,” he said, and took the risk he’d been wanting to take all week: he put his arms around his son and gave him a quick, hard hug. Before Daniel could react either way, Jake stepped back. Picking up the carving, he put it on the bookshelf beside a priceless Donatello bronze; and knew which one he valued more highly.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Natural history museum this afternoon, dinner at a bistro down the street, then we’ll go to the hockey game.”
His condo was going to be distressingly empty when they were gone. And knew, the next evening, that his forecast had been all too accurate. He’d put Shaine and Daniel on his jet bound for Deer Lake, g
one to meetings all day, and now he was sitting in a leather chair by his bookshelf, looking at a photo and a simple wood carving and knowing he was in deep trouble.
CHAPTER TEN
AT MIDNIGHT the following Sunday, Shaine was washing dishes in her kitchen. Her brothers had just left. In company with Daniel, she’d shown them most of the photos she’d taken on their holiday. A few she’d kept back: snapshots of Jake that she’d taken on impulse. When she’d gotten all the photos back from the shop, she’d been shocked to discover just how many such impulses she’d succumbed to.
She didn’t have to show anyone else those photos; some things were meant to be kept private.
Like the nightgown she’d bought in New York. She and Jake had yet to make love; the nightgown was still neatly folded in tissue paper and stored on the top shelf of her closet.
Would she ever get to wear it?
She felt horribly wide awake. Jake had called two days ago, spoken to her briefly and then talked to Daniel for several minutes. She wanted Jake to take his fatherly responsibilities seriously. So why had that phone call left her as restless as the waves on the sea?
Cranberry Cove seemed even more constrictive than usual; and celibacy a cold choice. What was she going to do? Settle back into her life as though that holiday had never happened? Or take charge of change and shape it to suit herself?
On Monday morning Jake was packing for a four-day business trip to Chicago and California when the phone rang. “Jake Reilly,” he barked into the receiver.
“It’s Shaine.”
His voice warmed. “How are you? And how’s Daniel?”
“We’re both fine.”
The pause went on too long. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he said sharply.
