‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘This day’s for Scott, too.’
‘Not just for him,’ Jake protested, but he went and, after putting the lunch basket in the shade, Torey hopped down over the rocks to join them.
‘Here.’ Jake caught her hand and pulled her down next to where he squatted on his haunches beside a tide pool. ‘Stick your finger in here.’
Scott giggled. ‘Oh, Dad!’
‘Oh no, no you don’t!’ Torey protested, backing away after one look at the sea anemone Jake pointed at. ‘Look, don’t touch—that’s my motto.’
‘Not mine,’ Jake said and slipped a cold wet hand around the nape of her neck.
‘Jake!’
‘You’re searin’ the starfishes, Dad,’ Scott complained. ‘See the starfish, Torey?’
Shivering from the droplets of icy water coursing down beneath her shirt, Torey tried to pretend an interest in the starfish. All she really wanted was to wrap her hands around Jake’s neck. He laughed, jumping back out of reach and flicking more water at her as he retreated towards their blanket.
‘Chicken,’ she called after him.
He shook his head. ‘No, just a hard working man.’ He grinned at her, then bent to pick up his box of paints and sketching materials. ‘Don’t move,’ he called to her over the sound of the waves. ‘You look just like a dragon emerging from the sea.’
‘Humph,’ Torey snorted, pretending injury. She turned back to Scott, her heart beating with the fury of waves in a storm. Paul’s teasing only made her laugh or smile. It never caused her to shiver with a fire and excitement all out of proportion to what was said. She knelt down next to Scott and feigned interest in the contents of the tidepool. But soon his enthusiasm was so contagious that she was really interested. There were a few species of marine life she could identify, more that she could not.
‘We’ll go to the library and look them up,’ she promised. She nudged a hermit crab back into the pool and stood up, glancing over towards the blanket where Jake leaned against a rock, sketching something on the pad in his lap. His dark hair flopped across his forehead and his head was bent over the paper, then he looked up staring straight at her, and she grew warm under her gaze.
‘C’mere,’ he said, his voice soft and rough as he patted the blanket next to him.
Torey stared at him undecided, her gaze shifting from Jake to his son, still engrossed in the starfish, now prodding it with his finger.
‘Come on,’ Jake urged. ‘He’s fine by himself.’
Scott seemed oblivious. He was as caught up in marine biology as she was in a pair of marine blue eyes. Shrugging, she made her way across the slippery rocks to the narrow shelf of sand where Jake sat.
‘Want to see a dragon?’ Jake asked, a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth.
Torey gave a jerky, little self-conscious shrug, knowing the dragon would be herself. But when he tore off the sheet and handed it to her, she took it without thinking. It was nothing like she had imagined. A realistic—or idealistic, she thought—portrait, it was flattering in the extreme. There was no dragon in sight, just Torey with a wistful smile on her face, as if she were watching someone she loved without him being aware of it. Was this really how Jake saw her? she wondered, her throat tightening. Where was the shrew who had shrieked at him only days before or the starry-eyed teenager who had trailed after him worshipfully? This view was almost too good to be true.
‘What?’ she asked, her voice quivering. ‘No fire and smoke? No scales and long green tails twitching?’
‘Not on my dragon.’ Jake took the picture gently from her hand, then caught her wrist and pulled her down on the blanket beside him.
‘My—may I see the others?’ she stammered, all too aware of the length of hair-roughened bare leg stretched out alongside her own.
Jake handed her the sketch pad, watching intently as she looked carefully through it. ‘There were dragons everywhere. Pages and pages of them. Some breathing fire, some cuddling their young, some frolicking in the surf. She found herself smiling and wistful in turn, enchanted by the world of his sketchbook. There was one particular sad-eyed dragon who always seemed to be looking for something on page after page.
‘Is this the one who’s looking for his mother?’ she asked.
‘No. That’s his father.’ Jake’s voice was so low she could scarcely hear him. He drizzled a handful of sand on his knee, then looked up for just a moment, favouring her with a wry, sad sort of smile rather like the one the dragon wore. ‘He’s lonely, too,’ Jake added. His eyes were bluer than the ocean behind them, deeper too, Torey thought, drowning in them. A solitary seagull cawed nearby. Was Jake lonely? Did he miss Christy? Had he loved her so much that he had been devastated when she had left him? Torey wanted to ask, needed to, but couldn’t. They had buried their pasts. Or were trying to.
‘Which is the baby dragon then?’ she wanted to know. And Jake pointed to one frolicking in the water, then on another page to the one nestled next to the dragon with the lost-looking eyes.
‘Think he looks like Scott?’ Jake asked. ‘Scott wants him to.’
‘There is something about the grin.’
‘And the personality,’ Jake added drily. ‘Scott can be a dragon at times.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah. He’s got this thing about mothers.’ It was almost a reluctant admission. Jake didn’t look at her, his eyes were fixed on the small boy crouching next to the tidepool, blond hair flopping in his face. Then he sighed and scratched his jaw. ‘Maybe he does need a mother.’
Christy again. Did everything come back to her? Torey wondered. ‘You aren’t a lousy father, Jake,’ she said guiltily, remembering her earlier accusation. ‘Nor irresponsible. I know you care for him.’
Jake rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m not saying it because of that. It’s just a gut feeling I get at times, like there’s not enough of me.’
‘You do spend time with him,’ Torey tried to reassure him. ‘More than a lot of fathers do.’
‘Of course,’ he said roughly. ‘I have to. I’m his mother and father at this point. But between the illustrating and the lifeguarding, I don’t have all the time I’d like.’
‘You have Addie,’ Torey said. She wanted to add, And me. But she knew he didn’t have her. Maybe it wasn’t even her he wanted.
‘Yeah.’ He rolled over on to his stomach and rested his head on his folded arms. ‘But I won’t have Addie forever. Her being in the hospital made me realise that.’ He shut his eyes and Torey would have thought he was asleep but his jaw was tense. Then he sighed. ‘Sometimes I think he ought to have two parents, even though he scarcely knows what it was like to have them, he might be missing out.’ One blue eye opened momentarily and looked at her, but Torey turned her head because she wanted to see love in it and she feared that she would not.
‘I think I’ll paddle,’ she said, her feelings knotted like a ball of knitting that’s been played with by a cat. ‘Want to come?’ she asked, hoping he would not. She needed some space, some room to put what he was saying in perspective. Was he sounding her out on marriage? Was he voicing his loneliness without Christy? Was there a place for her in the life he led?
She picked her way down the narrow beach towards a rock outcropping, then clambered up until she perched on a narrow promontory that jutted out into the surf. Looking back she saw Scott, still exploring the tidepools, and a wave of maternal feeling welled in her breast. She loved that child almost as much as she loved his father. But he belonged to Jake. And Jake? Who did he belong to? She shut her eyes and wished with all her heart that she knew.
‘You won’t get much paddling done up here,’ a voice behind her chided, and Torey turned to squint up at him, noting the sunlit halo around his dark head.
‘I have a strong imagination,’ she grinned. ‘And it’s safe.’ But not much, she reflected, remembering how much anguish she had provided for herself by imagining things in the past. Could she keep it in check now?
‘Maybe,’
Jake said. ‘But I promised Scott we’d do it for real.’ He held out his hand to her and, taking his rough, charcoal-smudged palm in hers, she allowed him to pull her up. They scrambled back over the rocks to where Scott waited, then took his hands between them and swung him high over the incoming breakers. Scott shrieked, kicking his feet, splattering Torey in the face.
‘Devil!’ she yelled. ‘I’ll get you,’ and deliberately lowered her arm so that Scott got drenched.
‘Come on, Dad! Let’s get her!’ Scott hollered, letting go of her traiterous hand.
He wouldn’t, Torey thought. But the mischief sparkled in Jake’s eyes and he leapt for her, joining his son in pursuit. ‘Jake!’ she protested, half-laughing as she scrambled away, floundering on the seaweed-slick rocks. She slipped and skidded into a tidepool, landing hard on her seat, and Jake dropped down beside her, catching her in his arms.
‘Gotcha!’ he grinned, kissing her hard on the cheek. Then tenderly he brushed damp strands of hair out of her face. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Wonderful,’ Torey said, and reached around, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him underwater, then draped a strand of seaweed round his strong, tanned neck. He jerked his head up, spitting water, still laughing.
‘Wicked woman!’ He scrambled to his feet, offering her a hand up which she ignored.
‘I’m soaked,’ she moaned, glowering at Scott so that he giggled and danced away from her.
‘I know the solution to that.’ Jake’s eyes travelled slowly down her entire body, detouring at every curve, sightseeing along the way.
‘What’s that?’ She wrung out her hair, thanking God the water was cold, otherwise she’d have burst into flames beneath his gaze.
‘Take everything off.’
‘Don’t you wish?’ she growled, her throat dry. But at the rate he was going she wouldn’t need to, the heat from his stare was drying her off.
‘I do indeed.’ And without warning he bent forward and kissed her soundly on the lips.
‘Jake!’ she jumped back, glancing at Scott. But Scott looked anything but disapproving. He looked like he’d masterminded the whole scene. Jake put his arm around her and led her unprotesting to the blanket, pulling her down on it and lying down next to her to share the warmth.
‘Don’tcha want to play some more?’ Scott asked plaintively, following them.
‘Not now,’ Jake told him. ‘We old folks need a rest.’
‘A rest?’ Torey lifted her eyebrows. How did he think they were going to rest lying just inches apart?
Jake grinned unabashed. ‘Well, I could use more than a rest,’ he said, easing himself even closer so his thigh brushed hers. ‘But I think, with the resident chaperon at hand, that may be all I have a right to expect.’ His look was so surprisingly boyish and rueful that she couldn’t help smiling back. As she did so, Jake lifted up on one elbow and turned to face her, reaching out to trace the curve of her lips with one long, sensual finger. Almost under their own volition, her lips parted and her tongue followed the path of his finger. Jake caught his breath. His hand lingered for a moment, rough against the softness of her cheek, then travelled down her neck to her shoulder, then continued lower to stroke the tops of her breasts through the wet T-shirt. His fingers were unsteady, and Torey watched them, mesmerised, powerless to stop them, not even wanting to. Then he bent his head, nuzzling where his fingers had stroked, his dark soft hair tickling her chin. She trembled. Jake’s hand crept down and slid under her shirt, lifting the wet, clinging fabric and slipping across the soft skin of her midriff to tease the underside of her breasts.
‘Take it off,’ he whispered urgently, his mouth against her shirt, nibbling her through the cloth, causing her to shiver in delight.
‘Jake,’ she tried to protest. ‘Scott—’ She grabbed his questing hand, but he shook her off, making a wry face.
‘The joys of fatherhood,’ he muttered, but they weren’t slowing him down much. ‘You don’t really need that bra, do you?’ he asked huskily.
How was she supposed to answer that? Wet, clingy thing, of course she didn’t need it! She only needed Jake’s hands, fingers, mouth. A sigh, almost a moan, escaped her before she could stop it. Jake smiled, her fingers undoing the clasp with a sureness that bespoke experience. Shielding her body with his, he drew up her shirt, slipped off her bra and pulled the shirt back down, his hands settling beneath it possessively after he pulled it into place. ‘There, that’s better,’ he murmured and his skilful fingers roamed and teased until she strained against him.
‘Jake.’ She breathed his name, heat coursing through her veins, raising her body temperature to new heights. Her hands moved to touch him, to feel the rough dark hairs drying on his chest, trailing her fingers over each rib in turn, then stroking his firm stomach so the muscles tautened under her touch.
Jake swallowed hard, barely breathing under her gentle caresses, and Torey smiled, heady at the power she felt. God, she had wanted to touch him for years!
All her earliest longings came back with the force of an express train, the pent-up desire contained so long. Her fingers brushed along the waistband of his cut-off jeans.
‘Torey!’ It wasn’t a warning so much as a plea. His hands on her breasts stilled, hovering, waiting, his eyes glazed now with a desire she had never dared to imagine. Again her hand brushed him, touching the warm flesh of his stomach, the cool rough denim of the jeans. They stopped, lingering at the fastener, toying with it, wanting to pop it open, needing to, but scarcely daring.
Suddenly his arms wrapped around her, dragging her up hard against him. Her T-shirt pressed into his hard chest, her breasts flattening. His thighs strained against hers, hard and wanting. Jake’s hands roamed across her back, weaving a spell with their seductive touch, causing her to mould her body closer to his. Waves roared. Or was it the blood in her ears? She didn’t know. Her fingers slipped beneath his waistband, following the trail of dark hair. Jake’s breathing grew harsh in her ears and his fingers slid inside her shorts, pressing her against his hips.
‘Hey!’ Scott called. ‘Wanta see a jelly fish?’
Torey froze. Jake stopped breathing altogether. Then, slowly, she withdrew her hand, Jake breathed again, and they eased apart, eyes touching now, nothing else.
‘If they sting, do they hurt?’ Scott was asking, his voice carrying across the tidepool to the shelf of sand where they lay.
‘No more than I do right now,’ Jake mumbled, his eyes rueful as he shifted around to ease his discomfort. Torey smiled at him, then leaned across and kissed him on the tip of the nose.
‘I’ll go admire the jelly fish. You take all the time you need.’
‘You’re all heart,’ Jake grumbled.
‘Not all,’ Torey teased him, happiness filling her soul.
‘No.’ He squinted up at her, assessing her. ‘That’s true. You have other attributes as well.’
‘Which we won’t mention,’ she said, ‘or you’ll need even more time than you do right now. And Scott won’t wait forever.’
‘I know. I know. Another reason for having two parents, I guess.’ Jake grinned. ‘A mother to distract him while his father gets decent.’
Torey felt her face flush, and wished that he hadn’t brought her up in the context of family. It was entirely too tempting to think that way. She turned and made her way down the rocks to where Scott waited.
‘See ‘im?’ Scott pointed proudly to the diaphanous blob lolling in the surf just offshore. ‘Isn’t he great?’
‘Terrific,’ Torey agreed. The sun glinted off the water, setting the jellyfish in a diamond display.
‘Think Dad would paint him?’ Scott asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Torey glanced back at Jake who was walking away from them, hands stuffed in the pockets of his damp, clinging cut-offs. She tore her eyes away. ‘When he comes back you can ask him.’
But when he came back, Jake said he thought dragons were more his style, mother dragons especially, and slipped his a
rms around Torey, drawing her back against him and breathing fire down her neck. All the thoughts of Jake and Scott as family that she had been trying to banish came back at the speed of light, and Torey thought she was growing more than fond of sad eyed dragons, too.
The rest of the day did nothing to lay those feelings to rest. Jake smiled at her constantly, his eyes saying things she could barely hope she was interpreting correctly. His fingers crept out to touch her whenever he thought it safe. While she was listening to Scott tell her about his teacher’s trip to Mexico, Jake was sliding his fingers along her spine, tapping her back where her bra should have been and whispering, ‘Thanks for the souvenir,’ so that she blushed hotly and lost the thread of Scott’s story. And almost didn’t care. It was enough to have his father looking at her that way. It was enough to feel desirable to someone whose desire she wanted for a change. She had been guarded and unfeeling so long, that it was almost a miracle to love again. To share the feelings with Jake of all people was almost too good to be true. She watched as he tipped his head back and tossed a strawberry into the air, catching it in his mouth. Then he looked across at her and winked.
‘Show me how, Daddy,’ Scott begged, but Jake shook his head, smiling and getting to his feet, brushing the sand off his jeans.
‘Not today. We have to get home. Torey will be a lobster tomorrow if we don’t. We’ll hear her howling clear over at our place,’ he teased.
Scott looked at her amazed. ‘Really?’
Jake nodded, face straight. ‘And of course I’ll have to go over and comfort her. Rub lotion on her back and ...’
‘You’re forgetting Addie,’ Torey interrupted, the red in her cheeks not only sunburn.
He grimaced. ‘God, a grandmother and a son! Who’s on our side?’ he grumbled. ‘Oh well, our time will come,’ he promised with a leer.
And Torey followed him up the cliff with hope dancing in her heart. Their time—hers and Jake’s! When? she wondered. Tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? It didn’t matter when, she thought happily, it was enough to know that it would come.
‘I’ll just grab a quick shower then,’ Jake was saying as he heaved the wicker basket on to Addie’s back porch. ‘Give me twenty minutes, okay? Then we’ll go out to dinner.’
Lightning Storm Page 12
