by Karen Foley
It was several hours later as Maggie stood at the kitchen counter, making herself a sandwich, when the sound of a car engine alerted her. Peering through the window, she watched as Jack’s Land Rover drove slowly down the driveway and past the house. She could just make out his silhouette behind the wheel, before he pulled the vehicle to a stop near the cottage.
Unable to prevent herself, Maggie moved to the back door to watch him. It was several minutes before he finally got out of the Land Rover. He wore a pair of workout pants and a T-shirt, and he had a gym bag slung over one shoulder. He carried a paper grocery sack in his arm. She could make out a long loaf of crusty bread poking out of the top of the bag, and he carried a six-pack of beer in his free hand. He crossed the distance to the cottage, balancing the bag on one hip as he unlocked the door, but he never once glanced toward the main house. Even after he vanished inside, Maggie continued to watch until a light came on in the living area.
She couldn’t help wondering what Jack had planned for dinner. A nice steak, probably. The cottage came equipped with a gas grill on the deck, and she could just imagine him kicking back with a cold beer as he fired up the barbecue. With a sigh, she turned back to the counter and eyed her tuna sandwich with distaste. Why hadn’t she thought to do any food shopping while she’d been running errands? She’d just about gone through the few groceries that Eric and Danielle had left in the house.
Taking her plate, she moved into the living room where she wouldn’t be tempted to spy on Jack. She told herself that what he did had nothing to do with her, and she certainly hadn’t sunk so low that she’d invite herself over just because she was hungry—no matter how appetizing he might be. But when the tantalizing aroma of grilled steak wafted in through her open windows, she almost groaned aloud with defeat.
Pulling the photo from her back pocket, she studied it once more. “Well,” she mused aloud, “at least it’s an original excuse to go see him.”
Gathering her courage, she followed the path to the cottage, hearing the soft strains of jazz music coming from inside. Wiping her hands nervously on the seat of her jeans, she raised her hand to knock and then hesitated. Was she being too forward? Had he meant what he said when he’d told her to come by anytime, day or night? Would he think she was completely pathetic because she couldn’t stay away for even a day?
Before she could change her mind, the door opened, and Jack stood there, beer in hand. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled. The grin was so genuine that Maggie felt a wave of relief wash over her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I hope you don’t mind my coming over unannounced.”
“Why would I mind?” he asked, and opened the door wider. “Come on in. I’m grilling up a couple of steaks, so you’re just in time.”
Maggie stepped inside, her embarrassment over barging in subsiding beneath his obvious pleasure. “Thanks, but you don’t need to feed me. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
He closed the door behind her, and gave her a tolerant look. “I want you to have dinner with me, Maggie. In fact, I deliberately put on an extra steak on the off chance that you might stop by.”
“Oh.” She had no response to that, but couldn’t deny the warm rush of satisfaction she felt at his words. “Well, thank you, but there’s actually a reason for my visit.”
“Okay, great,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear it, but in the meantime, let me get you something to drink. Wine, right?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes.”
“Wait here,” he commanded, and ducked into the kitchen. He returned to the living room scant moments later with a glass of wine. She indicated a collection of framed photos he’d arranged on the mantel. Most of them appeared to be of his family, but there were a couple that showed him standing next to his aircraft, in his flight suit.
“Is this your father?” Maggie asked, studying a photo of an older man.
“Yep. That’s my old man, a career air-force pilot.” He handed Maggie the glass of wine and she absently took a sip.
“And is this you as a little boy?” Maggie lifted down a photo to look at it more closely, and she couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice. “You were so blond!”
Jack stood behind Maggie and looked at the photo. She was acutely aware of him, could feel his breath warming her neck and smell the unique scent that she’d come to associate with him. She was tempted to lean back against his solid frame, but held herself stiffly away, instead. All the while, her imagination surged with images of the previous night.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s me when I was about twelve, and those are my grandparents. In fact, this picture was taken not far from here. My grandfather owned a charter boat business and took people out on fishing trips, or to see the orcas when they were migrating.”
“Did you come out every summer?”
“You bet. My parents had just gotten divorced, and my mom worked full-time. I think she worried that I’d get into trouble without adult supervision, but she couldn’t afford to send me to summer camp. So my grandparents paid for my airfare, and I spent the summer with them.”
Maggie knew this was the perfect opening she’d been waiting for to show him the photo she’d taken more than ten years ago. But before she could say anything, he caught her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.
“Come sit out on the deck with me. I need to check on the steaks.”
Maggie followed him out to the deck, where two Adirondack chairs faced the water. He indicated Maggie should sit down, and she watched as he lifted the grill cover and turned the steaks. The aroma made her mouth water, and she realized just how hungry she really was.
“You really did put on two steaks,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “I hope I’m not that predictable.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure you’d come by, but a guy can hope, right?” He gave her a smile that warmed her all the way to her toes, and she took a hasty gulp of wine to hide her reaction.
“So,” she said, setting the glass down on the arm of the chair. “Your grandfather had a charter business. Did you go out on the boat with him?”
“Yep. I spent most of my teenage years on the water.”
“And did you continue to come out here as you got older? After you were in college, I mean?”
Closing the grill cover, Jack sat in the empty chair, his legs sprawled so that his leg was nearly touching hers. “I did. My grandmother passed away while I was at the naval academy, and I lost my grandfather about six years ago.” He gave her a rueful smile. “But at least he got to see me graduate, and he saw me fly.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Maggie said, knowing it was inadequate. “It sounds like you were very close to them.”
“Yeah, there are days when I really miss them.”
They were silent for several minutes. “So how did you end up flying jets? I would think you would have wanted to do something that kept you a little closer to the water, like the Coast Guard.”
Jack laughed softly. “I thought of joining the Coast Guard, but my grandfather brought me to an air show when I was about thirteen years old, and as soon as I saw the jets, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. Besides, there’s nothing quite like landing a jet on an aircraft carrier in the middle of a pitching sea.”
“Do you deploy often?” Maggie wanted to bite the words back as soon as she said them, but it was too late. She only hoped that her tone had been one of casual interest. She told herself it didn’t matter if he deployed twelve months out of the year—she was leaving Whidbey Island in less than three weeks, and Jack Callahan would be nothing more than a pleasant memory.
But when she glanced at him, she saw his attention had sharpened on her, as if he suspected her question was more than just neighborly interest.
“I’ve done four sea deployments,” he said carefully, “and I’l
l probably do at least one more while I’m stationed at Whidbey. Why?”
She shrugged. “No reason. I just wondered. How long are you usually gone?”
“It depends on the mission. A typical deployment lasts anywhere between three and six months. But my squadron isn’t coming up for a sea deployment for at least another few months, and you’ve already said you’re returning to Chicago in a few weeks, so a deployment would have no impact on us.” He leaned forward in his chair to look directly into her eyes. “What’s going on, Maggie?”
Maggie felt herself flush. “Nothing. I was just making conversation. Shouldn’t you check on the steaks?”
Setting his beer down, Jack rose to his feet in one fluid movement and opened the grill. “Good call,” he said. “We’re ready to eat.” He gave her a look that clearly said he wasn’t finished with their conversation, before transferring the steaks to a plate and carrying them into the kitchen.
Maggie followed him inside and watched as he quickly set the table. “What can I do?”
Jack indicated the loaf of bread that she had seen him carrying earlier. “You can slice the bread, and I made a salad. It’s in the fridge if you want to grab it.”
Maggie did as he asked, struck by the cozy intimacy of the scene. As she placed the salad on the table, Jack snagged a cherry tomato from the bowl and popped it into his mouth, smiling at her from around it. She felt herself smiling back, even as self-doubt began to creep in. He hadn’t once referred to the previous night, or given her any indication that he expected—or even wanted—a repeat performance.
They sat down, and Jack raised his glass to hers. She liked the deep indents that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. Hell, she liked the way his eyes crinkled, and the way they seemed to dance with inner amusement. He’d lit a fat candle in the center of the table, and she realized his eyes were hazel, more gold than brown right now, with a dark ring around the iris. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
“To many more evenings just like this,” he said, touching the rim of his beer glass against her wine goblet.
Maggie smiled uncertainly back at him. “Well, at least while I’m here.”
“You bet,” he responded, and grinned at her before taking a hefty swallow of his beer. He seemed unconcerned by her words and the implication that she would eventually leave Whidbey Island. Maybe he was relieved that their relationship wouldn’t extend beyond three weeks. Maybe he was one of those guys who had a woman in every port, and he didn’t want a long-term commitment.
She watched as he ate, enthusiasm evident in the way he savored every bite. “Is it good?”
“You tell me.” He looked meaningfully at her untouched plate.
Maggie sliced off a tender bit of steak and put it in her mouth, and her eyes closed in pleasure. “Oh, my God,” she said, chewing, “this is absolutely fabulous.”
Jack grinned, pleased. “I may not be a culinary whiz, but I do know how to grill. You said earlier that there was a reason for your visit. Please say you didn’t stop by just to tell me you’ve arranged for a plumber, or some such nonsense. I told you that I can take care of that, Mags.”
Maggie liked the way he shortened her name, suggesting a familiarity that she wasn’t completely comfortable with, but enjoyed all the same.
“No,” she said, putting down her utensils. “It’s nothing like that. It’s actually a pretty unbelievable story—a coincidence, if you will.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t much believe in coincidences, but let’s hear it.”
Reaching into her back pocket, Maggie pulled out the photo, holding it so that he couldn’t immediately see the image.
“I was in my darkroom today, developing the pictures of the orca whale that we saw that first night at Deception Pass.” He nodded and continued to watch her expectantly. “So, I haven’t used the darkroom in over ten years, and I was going through some of the drawers where I store old photos. I came across this one photo that I took as a teenager. I think I was about fifteen years old.”
Drawing a deep breath, Maggie handed him the picture, aware that her hand trembled. He watched her intently for a long moment, before dropping his attention to the photo. Maggie watched as he studied the image, his brows drawing together, before his eyes widened in surprised recognition. He snapped his gaze back to hers.
“Is this what I think it is? Jesus, where did you say you got this?”
“I took it a long time ago, at Cornet Bay. Eric and I had ridden our bikes out there and were just hanging out on the pier. I watched this boat come into the harbor, and there was this guy standing on the bow. He nodded to me, so I snapped a couple of pictures.” She bit her lip. “Do you remember that day?”
Jack looked at the photo again and nodded. “I do, actually. That was the last time I went out on that boat. I left two days later to go back to school and didn’t return to Whidbey Island for a couple of years. In the meantime, my grandfather sold the charter business and retired. So yeah, I remember that day really well.”
Do you remember me?
For one horrified second, Maggie feared she’d uttered the words aloud. She had to bite her lip to keep from asking him, telling herself that, of course, he wouldn’t remember some kid sitting on a dock, nearly thirteen years earlier. Why would he? She hadn’t even remembered him until she’d found the photo.
“How old were you?” she asked, instead.
“I’d just turned twenty. I was entering my third year at the academy, and I remember how hard it was leaving the island that summer. It was almost like I knew that would be the last time Gramps and I went out together. I was right.” He smoothed a finger over the picture. “Do you mind if I keep this? It would mean a lot to me.”
“No, of course I don’t mind. I wasn’t even sure it was you,” she fibbed. “I mean, the photo isn’t the greatest quality.”
“Oh, that’s me all right. And I can just see my grandfather inside the cabin. The boat was called the Prince of Whales, and Gramps had an almost perfect record of sighting an orca every time he went out. And if he didn’t see an orca, he either gave folks their money back or offered to go out again another day at no additional charge.”
“Ah, so that’s how you know so much about orcas,” Maggie said. “I wondered. Some coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I already told you, Mags. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
9
JACK TOOK ANOTHER bite of his steak as he watched Maggie squirm. He still couldn’t believe she’d taken a photo of him all those years ago, or that she’d kept it. He’d told her the truth when he’d said he didn’t believe in coincidences. Call him crazy, but he’d say it was destiny.
While he remembered the day that photo had been taken, he had no memory of Maggie. She’d said she’d been on the pier, but he couldn’t recall seeing a teen-aged girl on the docks that day. She’d said she was only fifteen at the time, so it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed her. At twenty, he’d considered himself a man. He wouldn’t have had any interest in a high school girl, although he wished he could remember seeing her. He would have liked to know what she looked like as a long-limbed, gawky kid with wide eyes and all that wild hair.
Now she played with her salad, stirring her fork through the greens. “So what are you saying?” she finally asked. “That because our paths crossed once, that we’re destined for each other?”
“They crossed three times, Maggie. Once when you took that photo, once when we met on the beach and again when I rented this cottage. That’s more than just coincidence.”
Maggie stared at him dubiously. “It’s an island, Jack. I’ve probably crossed paths several times with a dozen different people, but that doesn’t make any of them my soul mate. I think it’s cool that I took that photo of you, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe,” he said smoothl
y. “But I’m pretty sure you didn’t have an immediate attraction to any of those other people, or have incredibly hot sex with them, either. I’m just guessing.” Smiling at her shocked expression, he took another bite of steak.
At least she didn’t claim that the sex hadn’t meant anything, as he’d half expected her to. He wouldn’t have believed her, since he was absolutely certain she was incapable of having meaningless sex, even if she tried to convince herself otherwise. He watched in satisfaction as color seeped into her neck and slowly traveled to her face. After a moment, she dropped her gaze and concentrated on her food. Jack didn’t feel any remorse for having embarrassed her. Hell, he wanted her thinking about incredibly hot sex, with him. Only with him. Even now, he wanted her.
She’d worn her hair loose over her shoulders, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he’d said he preferred it that way. It fell in long, loopy ringlets around her face, and for once she didn’t try to push it back behind her ears. She wore a pair of jeans and a sleeveless, button-down blouse that showed off her toned arms. She looked good enough to eat, and Jack had to force himself to concentrate on his meal, and not let her see how much her presence affected him.
He still couldn’t believe she’d shown up at his door tonight. He’d figured she’d stay away from him for at least two or three days while she mentally beat herself up over having slept with him. He hid his smile behind his beer glass. Now that she was here, there was no way he was letting her leave, at least not before he’d had a chance to make love to her again.
“So, um, what do you do when you’re not actually flying jets?” she asked.
The obvious answer was that he had sex with her, and he had to bite the words back. But his response must have been evident in his expression, because her eyes widened and she took a hasty swallow of her wine. “I mean, of course, when you’re on duty,” she added.
