As Timeless as the Sea

by Serenity Woods

  “Sorry. Too much information?”

  “Not at all.” She speared a shrimp and ate it, her blue eyes studying him. “Are you religious?”

  “No. My mother is, though. She used to tell me bedtime stories about the Bible.” He stopped short as an unexpected wave of nostalgia hit him like a fist in the solar plexus. Fuck. Where had that come from? He hadn’t spoken about his family in years. Not talking about them, not thinking about them, was the only way he’d managed to cope all this time. He was shocked at how much of an emotional impact that one memory had had on him.

  Sandi was looking at him curiously, so he knew that something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face. Carefully smoothing out his expression, he ate a square of watermelon, waiting for her to quiz him.

  She sipped her glass of wine and then nibbled at one of the Caprese skewers. “I can imagine you as a boy,” she said. “I bet you had cute curly hair and annoyed everyone by throwing a rugby ball around indoors and smashing vases.”

  Realizing she wasn’t going to quiz him, he let the smile return to his lips. “There’s not an ounce of curl in my hair.”

  “I’m right about the rugby ball, though,” she said.

  “Maybe. By the way, did you realize it’s our anniversary next week?”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

  “We met almost exactly six months ago. On the winter solstice, at the food festival.”

  She gave him a wry look, but raised her wine glass. “Happy anniversary for next week. What celebration is six months? Paper? China?”

  “Shrimp,” he said, and offered her one.

  She laughed and popped it into her mouth, then turned to her left to talk to Sam for a while. Jace let her, knowing she was trying to prove to him that she had no interest in talking only to him for the entire meal, still intrigued as to why she was so keen to stay distant.

  “How are you two getting on?” It was Fred who asked him, leaning forward conspiratorially and speaking in a stage whisper to be heard above the folksy blues music playing in the background and the chatter of the guests.

  “Like a house on fire,” he whispered back.

  “Good. She really likes you,” Fred said.

  Jace gave her an amused look. “Are you trying to play Cupid?”

  “Sorry, is my bow and arrow showing?”

  He laughed. “No need to apologize. I think I need all the help I can get.”

  He didn’t miss the look that passed across Fred’s face as she glanced at her sister—was it pity? Sadness? “She’s had a tough time,” Fred pointed out. “Back in the U.K. She needs someone who’s... you know. Patient.”

  “I’m not sure that’s high on my list of virtues, but if you think I stand a chance, I’m happy to persist.”

  “Oh, you do. You definitely do. She called you ‘prime crumpet’.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Crumpet?”

  “It’s English for a pikelet. Like a fat pancake, I suppose.”

  “She was saying I’m fat?”

  “It’s a compliment, Jace. Crumpets are wonderful. She was saying you’re tasty, if not scrumptious.” Her eyes danced as she sipped her wine.

  He thought about it and decided it wasn’t an insult. “Shall I tell her she’s welcome to cover me in melted butter and lick it off?”

  “Only if you want your teeth knocked down your throat. Patience, remember? She doesn’t realize she’s ready to date again. You’ll have to talk her into it.”

  Mac said something to her then, and she turned away to talk to him.

  Jace thought about her words. She doesn’t realize she’s ready to date again. The use of ‘again’ suggested that Sandi’s reluctance to go out with him was something to do with being hurt in the past. Maybe back in the U.K. she’d had her heart broken. But she and her sisters had been in New Zealand for almost a year now. It must have been a rough breakup to have affected her so badly.

  “What were you two talking about?” Sandi asked. Sam’s attention had been taken by his wife, and Sandi had obviously spotted Jace whispering to her sister.

  “Calamari,” he said, picking up a bread-crumbed ring with his fork. “Did you know most squid only live for a year?”

  “I did not know that, no.” She gave him a look that told him she knew perfectly well he hadn’t been talking about squid.

  “They have eight arms and two testicles,” he said. “Or was it tentacles?”

  She couldn’t stop her lips curving up at that. “Don’t change the subject. I know you and Fred were talking about me. Take no notice of her. She’s trying to set me up, and I don’t want to be set up.”

  “Let me tell you a story,” he said, pushing away his plate. “Once there was a fox, who lived near a river. On the opposite bank, a warren of luscious rabbits hopped around every day in the sun.”

  Sandi leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine, amused.

  “The fox knew the rabbits would taste amazing,” he continued, “but unlike the rest of its foxy family, this one wasn’t brave enough to swim across the river, so it pretended not to like rabbits. Especially the one bunny who sat right at the water’s edge looking so tempting.”

  “Am I the rabbit in this story?” she asked.

  “No, you’re the fox—I’m the luscious bunny. Isn’t it obvious? One day, one of the fox’s sisters finally convinced her to swim across the river, and when she got there, she realized how gorgeous the luscious rabbit was, and—”

  “She ate him all up?”

  “I was going to say they got married and lived happily ever after, but your ending is good, too.”

  She laughed, and a little bit of the frostiness thawed from her eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” she scolded.

  “It’s an old parable,” he protested. “It’s either in the Bible or Aesop’s Fables.”

  She leaned back to let the waiter take her plate away, then straightened her cutlery, a light rose color appearing on her cheekbones.

  “Jace,” she said quietly, “you’re very nice, and if I were on the market for a date, I assure you, you’d be the first on my list. But I’m not. And I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on by laughing at your jokes and being friendly. I’m not interested in dating anyone, and I don’t see that changing anytime in the future.”

  His heart sank, but he reminded himself of the way Fred had implied she’d had her heart broken before. “Maybe if you got to know me better, you might change your mind,” he suggested.

  “I have no intention of getting to know you better,” she stated. “You need to take the hint and stop flirting with me.”

  “I’m not flirting. This is just me.”

  “So you’re like this with every girl?”

  He tipped his head from side to side. “No...” He smiled and decided to take a leap and be honest. “I like you, Sandi. I can see you’ve been hurt before, and that it’s made you cautious about dating again. But I’m not saying we have to get married tomorrow. Why not just come on a date with me? Take it slowly? Have some fun? Maybe if you take that first step, it won’t feel as scary?”

  A look of impatience crossed her face. “In that fable of yours, you talked about the fox not being brave enough to cross the river. That’s the second time today I’ve been called a coward. I’m not scared, Jace. I just don’t want a relationship, that’s all. I don’t want to open my heart to anyone ever again. I don’t see why it’s so difficult for everyone to understand.”

  Chapter Four

  A LONG SILENCE FOLLOWED. Sandi glared at him, resentment and fury bubbling away inside her.

  Gradually, however, regret stole in there too. She shouldn’t have snapped at him. It couldn’t be easy for guys to ask girls out, and it was unfair to knock his confidence when he’d been brave enough to take the step. But she’d given him her answer—he shouldn’t have kept on at her.

  Wasn’t he going to say anything? His expression was carefully blank again, although his eyes were
thoughtful, so she could see he was thinking about what to say. She prepared herself for some sharp words, something about being a prick tease, or a criticism of her rudeness as he stood and asked Mac to change places back.

  Instead, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I knew you’d have a temper,” he said.

  She huffed a breath, then stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled and leaned forward on the table, bringing their arms into contact.

  “I have an idea,” he murmured. “I understand that you’ve decided you don’t want to date anymore. But I like flirting with you. How about we carry on as we are, with the understanding that it’s not going to lead to anything?”

  She frowned, baffled. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s fun.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Because you’re sexy. And I can’t think of anything nicer than flirting with a gorgeous woman on a summer afternoon.”

  Her body heated at the desire in his eyes, but she glanced around the room, acting nonchalant. “There are plenty of beautiful single girls here. Why would you waste time with me when you could be getting lucky with one of them?”

  “Because you’re the one I want.” He shrugged. “And if I can’t have you, flirting is the next best thing.”

  Sandi didn’t know what to say. Her instinct told her he wasn’t giving up—he thought he still had a chance. That irritated her, but equally she was flattered, too, by his persistence, and his words.

  “And it doesn’t bother you that I don’t feel the same way?” she asked.

  Now he looked amused. “Fred said you called me a buttered muffin.” His eyes gleamed.

  Fred! Jeez. “I called you prime crumpet,” she corrected hastily. “A buttered muffin is something very different.”

  “Oh? What do you mean?” He leaned back to let the waiter place the main course before him, and gave her an innocent look.

  She flashed a smile at the waiter as she accepted her own plate, then narrowed her eyes at Jace. There was no way he wasn’t teasing her. “You know perfectly well.”

  “I honestly have no idea. I’m not that into bread products. I’ll ask Sam.” He opened his mouth to call across to the groom, but Sandi shushed him hurriedly.

  “God, Jace, honestly.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t start yelling about buttered muffins at a wedding breakfast. They’ll frog-march you out of the door.”

  That made him laugh. “Now you’re going to have to explain it to me, or I’ll make a faux pas and it’ll be all your fault.”

  “Stop teasing me. You know what it is.”

  “I swear, sweetheart, I don’t, and now I’m intrigued so you really need to explain it before I ask everyone in this room what it is.”

  She straightened her serviette. A beautiful baby rack of lamb sat on the plate, smelling of fresh herbs and spices, along with a pile of new potatoes. The waiters brought dishes of steamed vegetables and salad, and several jugs of a red wine sauce. She took one and poured it liberally all over the lamb.

  Jace Hart clearly had a naughty streak in him. They both knew that he was aware what a buttered muffin was—he just wanted to see if he could make her describe it. She risked a sidelong glance at him as he shifted in his seat, taking off his morning coat. His shirt sleeves stretched across his biceps, the muscles in his shoulders and back toned and impressive through the white cotton. He was a glorious specimen of the male gender. His wicked sense of humor told her he would be magnificent in bed.

  “Well?” he said, turning to look into her eyes.

  He was playing chicken. No way was she going to flinch first. She’d told him she wasn’t interested and he’d been the one to persist in flirting with her. She’d make him pay for that.

  She placed a hand on his upper arm and leaned toward him, her lips close to his ear.

  “A buttered muffin,” she whispered, “is when a man takes a woman from behind and then, when he’s about to come, he pulls out and ejaculates over her bottom, and rubs it into her skin.”

  She hesitated a moment, her lips tantalizingly close to the skin behind his ear. Ooh, it was tempting to kiss him there. But she didn’t. She moved away, picked up her knife and fork, and proceeded to slice into a potato.

  Jace stared at his dinner for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and reached for the dish of vegetables.

  Unable to contain herself, Sandi started laughing, and he joined in, shaking his head as he helped himself to the carrots and broccoli.

  “What’s so funny?” Fred asked.

  “Nothing,” they said in unison, and laughed again.

  Sandi met her sister’s gaze and gave her a reproachful look for telling Jace she’d called him prime crumpet. Fred just grinned back and toasted her with her wine. Sandi rolled her eyes and returned to her meal.

  “This food is fabulous,” Fred said to Ginger, helping herself to more of the sauce. “In spite of the fact that you didn’t make it.”

  “I half expected to find her in the kitchen at midnight,” Sam said, “cooking fifty portions of lamb and potatoes to make sure it was done just the way she wanted.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a perfectionist,” Ginger said haughtily as the others laughed. She poked her husband with her fork. “Are you criticizing me on our wedding day?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, my precious.” He grabbed her and gave her a peck that turned into a long smooch.

  “Jeez.” Sandi cut into her rack of lamb. “We should ban PDAs in the restaurant. It’s enough to put you off your dinner.”

  “You’re only jealous,” Ginger said, tossing back her veil.

  “I’m really not,” Sandi replied.

  There was an awkward moment, where Ginger and Sandi exchanged a look, and the others shifted uncomfortably. Jace just watched her, then passed her a dish.

  “Butter?” he asked, gesturing at her new potatoes.

  She gave him a wry look and took the dish.

  “So,” Mac said easily, “nearly Christmas. Everyone bought all their presents?”

  “Nope,” Jace said. “You know guys only shop on Christmas Eve.”

  “And then get grumpy because the shops are packed and everything’s out of stock,” Sam added.

  “Not me,” Mac said. “Got my prezzie all bought and wrapped.” He winked at Fred.

  She raised an eyebrow. “If it’s a new bottle labeler, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “Oh crap.” He pulled a face.

  Sandi chuckled. “He’s teasing you, Fred. I’m sure it’s not equipment.”

  “Not for the vineyard, anyway.” Mac met his wife’s gaze, laughed, and reached for his wine. Fred turned scarlet, and Jace and Sam sniggered.

  “Christ,” Fred said. “Can we please talk about something else?”

  “It’s our wedding night,” Sam complained. “I’m quite happy with the topic of conversation, thank you very much.”

  “It must have been so weird in the old days.” Ginger finished her last mouthful of lamb and put her cutlery on her plate. “When you didn’t sleep with someone until you were married. Can you imagine it? You’d have no way of knowing if you were compatible in bed.”

  “I’m not sure being compatible was considered important.” Jace topped up his glass with the bottle of red, offered it to Sandi, and when she nodded topped up hers, too. “I don’t get the feeling expectations were very high.”

  “That’s right,” Sam said. “Gone are the days when all we guys had to do was climb on board. You girls have become very demanding.”

  Mac whistled slowly, and Jace laughed. Sandi snorted and sipped her wine. Fred just rolled her eyes. They knew Sam well enough to know he was winding Ginger up.

  “Because we like the occasional orgasm?” Ginger said, taking the bait. “Yeah, we’re so selfish.”

  “Actually,” Fred confided, leaning forward so as not to announce it to the whole restaurant, “I read an article in one of the women’s magazines last week that said five
to ten percent of women have never had an orgasm.”

  “Seriously?” Ginger frowned. “That seems high.”

  “Actually,” Sandi said, “I read that article too—that number is mainly women below the age of thirty who haven’t had one yet. Apparently, it’s rare to never have one, although some women find it more difficult for one issue or another.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” Jace said.

  “I thought patience wasn’t high on your list of virtues,” Fred teased.

  “I’m happy to take my time when the moment calls for it.”

  Sandi hid a smile as the others changed the subject and started talking about the wedding cake, but Jace glanced over his shoulder at two older women who had obviously overheard their conversation. One of them was looking at her plate and blushing—the other sent them a disapproving glance.

  Jace looked back at Sandi and pulled an eek face. “I suppose it is an odd topic of conversation for a wedding reception,” he murmured.

  Sandi shrugged. “I think it’s good that our generation is so open about sex.” She paused as waiters removed their plates, then placed a selection of desserts on the table, including salted caramel popcorn shots, baby strawberry and elderflower cheesecakes, and Sam’s gorgeous croquembouche. She helped herself to one of the choux pastry balls. “A lack of education in the past would have made it much more difficult for both men and women in the bedroom. How can you tell your partner what you like in bed when you’re both embarrassed or it’s seen to be inappropriate?”

  “I’m glad you’re so open-minded about it,” he said. “It makes my job a lot easier.”

  “Jace...”

  “By you, I mean women in general, obviously. Not you specifically. Because that would be wrong.” He said it with a straight face, and dug a spoon into his choux pastry.

  She gave a wry smile as she sampled the creamy center. “It would be good if a couple could discuss things in a relationship. I’m sure it would help to avoid all kinds of problems.”

  Jace sucked his spoon, eyeing her thoughtfully. Then he dug back into the choux. “What problem did he have?”

  “Who?”