“All right, we’ll go with WGX. I went deep-sea fishing once with the head of the news department and he seems like a stand-up guy.”
“Perfect.” She rose from her chair. Of course he’d go with some old sailor-boy network connection. She couldn’t wait to get back to her own world where at least she had some connections of her own. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to go chisel out some more treasure.”
* * *
Jack felt like a jerk. Vicki was hurt. And why wouldn’t she be? She’d finally let down her guard and fallen into his beckoning arms only to have him push her away.
After he’d enjoyed some downright legendary good times with her.
If only she hadn’t said that stuff about always loving him. His chest clenched just thinking about it.
Luckily he didn’t have much time to dwell on his own shortcomings because the crew from WGX had already descended and was trailing wires around his living room and setting up white-hot lights everywhere. Vicki had sequestered herself in the workshop. Even though she’d insisted that she shouldn’t appear on camera, he took note of her rather glamorous outfit and carefully made-up face and suspected she would be hurt if he didn’t shove her in front of the reporters.
So he certainly didn’t intend to fail in that regard. Damn, she looked gorgeous. Her white blouse was translucent enough to make a man sweat. Dark jeans hugged her sinfully long legs, emphasized by high-heeled sandals. The more primitive parts of his brain—or maybe it wasn’t his brain at all—urged him to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her scented black tresses.
“Hey, Jack, is it okay if they shoot some footage of your boat?” The door had opened and an eager female reporter peered in.
“Uh, sure.” He tried to snap his attention back to the chaos unfolding in his personal sanctuary. Two more young women entered the room and stared at the boxes of artifacts.
“Is this the stuff from the ship?” The one with long red hair lifted one of the plastic lids.
“Yes.” Vicki hurried over and closed the lid. “And it can’t be exposed to air because of oxidization.” She gave the girl a stern look.
Jack wanted to chuckle. Vicki as schoolmarm—now he’d seen everything. He bet she’d be a strict mother who made sure her kids had impeccable manners, then she’d let them stay up and scare themselves watching a late-night movie.
“Jack, why don’t you explain oxidization to these young ladies?”
His gaze snapped to them and he realized with a chill that he’d been thinking about Vicki’s maternal qualities. Obviously he was losing his mind. Vicki had boldly declared that she didn’t want children, and he had no reason whatsoever not to believe her. Not that it mattered. He and Vicki were far too volatile a compound to share space for long, let alone to reproduce.
At least that’s what his brain kept telling him. His gut was singing a different song. “What do you need to know about it?” He looked from one girl to the other. They looked like college students and were probably interns. Maybe Vicki was dangling them in front of him like minnows to see if he’d take a nibble.
“How does water prevent oxidization from occurring?”
“It forms a seal around the objects as long as they’re immersed.”
“But water is part oxygen,” the earnest blonde with the ponytail protested.
“I know, but that doesn’t seem to matter.” He shrugged. “I’m not a chemist, just a treasure hunter. Whatever works, I do it, and I don’t worry too much about the hows and whys.” He smiled.
They nodded and one of them lifted another lid. “So we can look at these objects as long as we don’t lift them out of the water?”
Vicki shot Jack a stern look. “Only if it’s okay with Vicki.”
“I think it would be better if we selected a few objects and concretions for you to videotape.” Vicki sounded businesslike, which was quite a contrast with her rock-star attire. “This container here has the visible remains of an old cannon ball embedded in the coral, and several pieces of a glass bottle. Why don’t you help me carry it into the other room?”
He watched her leave with the two girls. It had half killed him not to sleep with her last night. And the night before. It seemed such a cruel waste of a beautiful opportunity. He knew he’d never get another chance to share a bed with Vicki St. Cyr.
Not unless he intended to take up a permanent berth there.
Once again the wild and unreasonable prospect of a real relationship with Vicki assaulted his brain like strong drink. No part of the idea made any sense. Yes, they had more chemistry than the Scripps Institute and the sex was transcendental, but beyond that, they had almost nothing in common. She loved the New York social scene, going to parties, making deals, and he liked nothing more than to be out on his boat in the middle of the ocean where no one could find him.
But to be out in the ocean with Vicki...
That was a fantasy come true, and that there was treasure involved, as well? He should pinch himself because he must be dreaming.
The door swung open again. “We’re ready to roll tape.”
“Coming.” He wandered back into the living room. As he’d expected, Vicki had already taken center stage and turned on her familiar blitzkrieg of charm. She laughingly agreed to share the story of the treasure map and show it to them. He found himself watching with pleasure. Vicki was like an old-time movie star—Lauren Bacall, maybe, or Audrey Hepburn. You could stare at her all day and never get bored. At least he could.
How would he feel when she was gone for good?
* * *
As the crew dragged cameras and lights into Jack’s bedroom, Vicki found herself regretting her rash promise to show them the map.
“So, uh, how did you come to see the map in the first place?” The smiling female reporter gestured to the ceiling above the bed. Her lacquered cap of blond hair didn’t move when she tilted her head.
Vicki cleared her throat. “Jack explained that his ancestor Lazaro Drummond had painted the map there to hide it from anyone but his intimate companions.”
“Are we to infer that you and Jack are intimate companions?” She was joking—sort of—but Vicki felt her cheeks heat.
“Jack and I are old friends. Very old friends, but that’s all.” The lie reeled effortlessly off her tongue. Was it perjury to lie on the local evening news? It must be some kind of crime. She hoped Leo Parker wouldn’t see this. It rather undermined her other lie about being engaged to Jack. She could feel Jack’s gaze on her from the far side of the room, and she wondered what he was thinking. He was probably relieved. He obviously regretted their “intimacy” or he wouldn’t be sleeping alone in a different bedroom.
“Jack, could you join us over here?” The reporter looked up from the clip-on mic she was adjusting and turned to where he leaned against the wall on the far side of the room. “I think it would be fun if you both told us the story.”
Vicki stiffened. Being close to Jack made her circuits go haywire. Too much loose electricity buzzing in the air. He ambled across the room, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
The reporter, an elegant woman in her early thirties, simpered at him. “Perfect! All right. I think we’re ready to roll tape.” There was some bustling around and a director appeared. No one actually said “action,” but suddenly it was happening. “Jack and Vicki, you discovered the mural together?”
“Vicki gets all the credit.” Jack’s voice sounded gruffer and deeper than usual. He was so close that the hairs on her arm stood on end, as if reaching out to touch his arm. “She was lying in bed and she noticed pits in the fresco that were a different color.”
Vicki swallowed. Did he have to mention that she was lying in bed? Why not say she was dressed only in skimpy lingerie, too? She decided to step in. “I was actually checking messages on my cell phone, and the light from the screen hit the fresco at an angle and highlighted the uneven surface.”
The reporter gazed up at the ceiling. One cameraman
was angled up toward the painting, and another kid was holding some kind of portable light.
“You must have sharp eyes. We have a lot of lights on right now, but it would be pretty dark under here otherwise.”
“Well, once I noticed the unevenness, I asked Jack for a flashlight.”
“Oh, so he was in here with you at the time?” The reporter flashed her perky gaze on him, a smile twitching at her painted lips.
“Uh...” Jack hesitated and glanced at Vicki.
“Of course. I’m hardly going to go rooting through his house looking for clues without his being present.”
She watched Jack’s chest fall in relief, which made sadness drift through her. He really didn’t want people to think they were an item. Maybe he was already formulating dinner plans for him and Miss Microphone.
“So you came here to the house specifically to look at the map?” The reporter squinted slightly.
The lights and her intense scrutiny made Vicki blink. “Sort of. I was staying with some relatives of Jack’s and they got me interested in the family history.”
The reporter’s eyes brightened and she leaned in. “I’ve heard some fascinating things about the Drummond family. There’s a reward being offered for finding pieces of an old family relic. Is that what you were searching for?”
There was no way out. “Yes.” Vicki sagged inwardly. This would only beat more treasure hunters out of the bushes. Although at this point that didn’t really matter. She needed to get out of here, reward or no reward. “A chalice, which three brothers brought with them from Scotland. If the three interlocking pieces of the old cup can be reunited, it will bring luck to the family.”
“What a romantic story.” The reporter smiled at Jack. “Do you believe the cup exists?”
“I don’t doubt it. Whether we can find it is a whole other story.” He looked relaxed again. “But we’re sure having fun looking for it. And Vicki’s happy discovery of the treasure map led us to the wreck of my ancestor Macassar Drummond’s boat. We’ve managed to salvage a lot of interesting material from the remains of his ship and have barely scratched the surface. I’d say we have years of rewarding work ahead of us.”
“So the lost cup is already bringing you good luck?” Vicki saw the reporter’s eyes dart momentarily to his muscled forearm. Of course she thought Jack was hot. Who wouldn’t? The poor woman was only human after all.
“That’s an interesting way of looking at it. I guess you could say it is bringing us luck.” He smiled at Vicki. “And I have my old and dear friend to thank for it.”
Vicki cringed inwardly. She didn’t much like being described as “old” and “dear.” Sounded like she might need a blue rinse or some new knitting patterns. “It’s been fascinating for me, too. I’m an art dealer by trade, and interested in historical pieces.” She managed a bright smile. Might as well get some decent publicity for herself out of this whole fiasco.
“Really?” Miss Microphone turned her glowing smile on Vicki. “Have you found anything yet that could be described as treasure?”
“We have. I put some pieces aside for you to see.”
The reporter made a funny hand gesture that ground everything to a halt. Vicki sagged with relief now that the cameras weren’t rolling anymore, and the crew started heaving and trailing their equipment into the other room. Neither she nor Jack moved, so after about two minutes they were left alone in the room, standing right next to the bed.
“This was probably a mistake.” He spoke softly and with a hint of humor.
“But an unavoidable one.” She had far too much experience with unavoidable mistakes. Climbing into Jack’s bed might be her biggest one yet.
“We won’t get any peace now.”
“Just life in the modern world.” She tried to look cooler than she felt.
“This is the first time the modern world has been allowed to intrude into the Drummonds’ hideout. Usually it’s where I come to get away from all that.”
“Then I guess now you know how the rest of us feel. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.” She shrugged and attempted a casual smile. It failed.
“There’s always the open sea.” Humor twinkled in his eyes.
“I’m sure your pirate ancestors said the same thing.” A smile sneaked to her mouth. It was hard to stay too serious around Jack. Maybe that was part of the problem. Why couldn’t she just ask him why he’d gone cold on her? That might make him think their fling actually meant something to her.
And she didn’t want him to think that even if it was true.
Better to be glib and casual. “I suppose it’s too early in the day for a vodka gimlet.” She winced at a loud scraping sound from the other side of the door.
“Not if you’re bold enough to drink one on camera.”
She blew out. “I’m not as bold as I used to be. Five years ago I wouldn’t have thought twice. Maybe I am getting old and wise.”
“You want to watch that. It might get boring.”
“Maybe I’m already boring.” Again she burned to ask what made him suddenly go off her. The sex had been amazing and Jack wasn’t the type to fake an orgasm, even if it was possible for a man to do that.
“You’ll never be boring, Vicki St. Cyr.”
Then why won’t you sleep with me?
The door flung open. “We’re ready to start rolling again. We’d love you both to come talk about the stuff you found.”
“Sure.” She stretched. “I guess the gimlet can wait. God knows I’ve done crazier things than this stone-cold sober.”
Jack laughed, which didn’t entirely hide the odd expression in his eyes. If she didn’t know better she’d swear he was looking at her with something akin to...tenderness.
But that was impossible. Pirates weren’t tender and Jack Drummond was anything but sentimental. “Let’s go manhandle the treasure.”
* * *
It was well after dark by the time the crew finally left, which meant a lengthy and complex process of hauling their equipment back onto their rented boat in the dark. Jack seemed a little on edge, which she wouldn’t have believed if she couldn’t see it with her own eyes. His shoulders looked tense and a groove had appeared beneath his sun-lightened brows.
The crew had left her careful organization of the boxes and equipment in disarray, and she didn’t have the energy to put them back. “When will the story air?” They’d traded her imaginary vodka gimlet for a glass of chablis, and sipped it while standing in one of the French doors, looking out over the moonlit ocean. Peace had been restored, as long as you were looking outside the windows and not in.
“Tonight, I guess. I don’t even know what time the news is on here.”
“Don’t want to let the outside world intrude on your sanctuary?”
“Not really. I don’t watch TV much. I bet you don’t, either.” He moved close behind her, but not close enough to touch her. “I’m not sure either of us is good at sitting still for long enough to watch a TV show.”
Her skin tingled at the feel of him so near...and yet so far. Why couldn’t he just touch her, dammit? The wine wasn’t helping. It heightened the sensual languor in the warm evening air and filed the edges of her well-honed inhibitions.
Made her long for a long, slow, seductive kiss.
She hugged herself because no one else was going to.
“Cold?”
“No. I guess we should check the TV and see what kind of spin they put on the whole thing.” At least if it aired today they wouldn’t have time to ferret around in her past. And she couldn’t stand still any longer with Jack hovering behind her. Her blood pressure was rising by the second.
“Yeah.” He didn’t move. And his body blocked the way back into the room. She could feel waves of heat rising off him. Or was that just her fevered imagination?
“Vicki.” His voice had an uncharacteristic hesitant tone.
“Yes, I’m Vicki.” She immediately cursed herself for her snarky answer. How could anyone be roman
tic with her when she was such a prickly sea urchin herself?
“You sure are.” He said it softly, then turned and went back into the room, leaving her standing alone on the edge of the darkness. Whatever intimate confession or utterance he’d been about to make would remain forever unspoken.
Fantastic. And she had herself to blame.
She peeled herself away from the door frame, her mind spinning with what Jack might have said. No wonder Leo Parker was the only man in hot pursuit of her right now. A guy would have to be crazy or stupid to chase after someone so difficult. She’d once thought Jack was crazy, but up close he seemed wonderfully sane. Leo was stupid and arrogant—maybe that was the only kind of man who’d ever be interested in her, because everyone else got scared off by her own arrogance and stupidity.
“Are you okay, Vicki? You’re breathing a bit funny.”
Emotions were welling in her chest. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”
“You can go to bed if you want. I’ll tell you what they say on the news.”
She could go off by herself and sleep alone. In Jack Drummond’s bed. The thought made her shoulders sag. She’d let some scenarios play through her mind when she decided to come here and look for the cup. Most of them involved Jack trying to get her into bed. Some of them involved her resisting. She’d never even considered the possibility that he’d keep her at a polite but safe distance. “No, thanks. I’ll stay up for a while.” All night if need be. If the cup was here, she’d find it. If she didn’t, she was out of here anyway.
She had to leave or lose her mind. She’d been holding herself together and putting on a brave face for far too long. The promise of a bright future and her own self-confidence had buoyed her along. But now, here, she’d run right out of steam.
She closed the patio door and followed Jack into the den, where a huge sofa wrapped around three walls, so a group of people could stare together at the enormous flat-screen TV on the wall. Someday Jack would watch a football game with his future son in this room, and his yet-to-be-determined wife would probably bring them grilled shrimp and salsa—Jack wasn’t really a chips-and-dip guy—and smile fondly at their masculine antics.
The Deeper the Passion... Page 12
