The Deeper the Passion.... Jennifer Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t know.” He stared out at the horizon, squinting out at the deep, blue unknown, sun blazing on his hard features. He was taunting her. He turned to look at her and her stomach lurched. “Did you think about my proposal?”

      “I suppose it does make sense to spend time under the map together. To study it.” Anywhere other than here on this lurching deck. She grabbed a handrail, trying to look casual. It was surprising how little movement it took to throw your inner ear off kilter. And what an unhappy effect that had on the stomach.

      “It’ll be like old times.” His voice held more than a hint of suggestion.

      Without waiting for an invitation, she clambered over the side of the boat—with some difficulty, which she attempted to conceal—and back onto the hard and very still dock. “Not really.” This time she’d be in control of what happened, and when it ended.

      “Leaving so soon? I was going to show you the sonar.”

      “I’ll see it in action tomorrow.” She marched up the dock toward the house, hoping she could make it back there and collapse somewhere fast. She didn’t intend for Jack to see her in a moment of weakness. Like the predator he was, he’d have to pounce and play with her, and she wasn’t quite strong enough for that.

      Once she had the reward, though, she’d feel strong. Ten thousand dollars might not sound like much to her old friends, but it would be enough to sow the seeds of her new life. A life where she wouldn’t have to depend on anybody but herself.

      She heard the thud of Jack’s feet hitting the deck. He was coming after her. A satisfied smile crossed her mouth. She made sure to add an extra ounce of swagger to her walk, knowing—or was it hoping?—that his eyes were tracking her hips like a laser beam.

      He thought he’d achieved a victory by getting her to agree to sleep with him. Little did he know it had been her plan all along. She’d enjoy it, too. She hadn’t chanced a sensual affair in almost a year. She’d been too busy dodging creditors and trying to hide her precarious financial situation. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be in an intimate situation where she might have to open up to someone.

      She wouldn’t have to open up to Jack. His personal walls were as thick as the battlements on his ancestral home, and he never let them down. They could make love all night long and keep their hearts under lock and key. Hers had chains on it that weren’t likely to break anytime soon, especially not for Jack Drummond.

      His footsteps were gaining on her, and she fought the urge to walk faster. Instead, she slowed to let him catch up. “Is there any hope of dinner out here on your desert island?”

      “I caught a big swordfish yesterday. We can grill it.”

      “I thought we weren’t supposed to eat swordfish anymore now that we’ve poisoned the oceans. A friend of mine is pregnant and she said the doctor told her the toxins can affect your genes and damage your future children.”

      “My children might enjoy having three eyes.” His grin cut a white slash across his dark face. “Are you worried about your own offspring?”

      “I won’t ever have children.” She said it brightly. “So I can eat all the swordfish I want.”

      His smile vanished. “You can’t have kids?”

      She startled at the sudden change in his demeanor. Why did he care if she could have children or not? “Not can’t, won’t. I’m not cut out for motherhood. Too much wiping butts and drying tears for my taste.”

      He laughed. “Did your mom do those things?”

      “No, she hired a nanny for that.” She walked faster. This conversation was getting too personal.

      “You could do the same.” She felt his dark, penetrating gaze on her cheek.

      “No, thanks. I’m doing my best not to turn out like my parents.”

      “Me, too. Unlike my dad, I intend to be alive at fifty.” Something in his voice made her turn to look at him. His eyes were shadowed.

      “I heard about his death. I’m sorry. It was a small-plane accident, wasn’t it?”

      “It was no accident.” He marched steadily, eyes now straight ahead. The house loomed through the trees. “He’d been trying to kill himself for years.”

      The Drummond curse. Vicki remembered Katherine Drummond begging her to help her find the lost cup pieces and lift the curse that had dogged the family for centuries. At first Vicki had laughed it off, but the Drummonds certainly didn’t seem to have much luck in life. They could make money all day long, but when it came to marriage or family harmony, or even simple contentment, they were a disaster zone.

      “The awkward silence descends.” Jack spoke softly, slightly mocking. “So, the swordfish it is. Let our children learn to play with the dark hand they’re dealt.”

      “I’m sure it will be delicious.” She regretted her quip about the fish. “I eat it all the time and love it.”

      “I remember it being your favorite.” He opened a side door of the house, pushing at the big, tarnished brass handle. Something in the tone of his voice made her breath catch at the bottom of her lungs. What else did he remember? How she’d called him in the middle of the night just to hear the sound of his voice? The way she sighed when he kissed her neck?

      The time she’d made the bitter mistake of telling him she loved him.

      That last one wasn’t a question. He probably would remember that, unless he’d repressed it somehow. That little slip of the tongue had sent him running.

      She followed him into the cool, shaded interior. Things would be a lot easier if she could find this cup without his help. Just her luck, it had wound up on the bottom of the sea. Even if they could find the ship, it would be a miracle if the cup piece hadn’t washed away, and then again, if it were recognizable enough for her to find it. This could well be a wild goose chase, and she couldn’t afford to waste too much time on it. She should probably set a strict deadline for herself, with plans to jump ship if they hadn’t found it within two weeks.

      “You’re quieter than you used to be.” His words startled her from her thoughts.

      “More going on in my brain, less coming out of my mouth.” She smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter.

      “How enigmatic.” He pulled a bottle of wine from a large rack against one wall. “Pinot grigio?”

      “Sure.” She watched his hands as he peeled away the foil over the cork. His fingers were precise and careful, no doubt good with fine detail and careful with precious relics. He plunged the corkscrew in with gusto—the kind of thrust with which he approached most aspects of life—and turned it aggressively. The muscles in his forearms torqued beneath the skin, revealing their power and stirring something primal inside her.

      It had to be primal because it had nothing to do with modern-day common sense. Men didn’t need strength to be successful in today’s world. A good head for numbers and a dubious set of morals was a much more effective get-rich-quick kit.

      Still, she admired the bulge of his biceps against the soft sleeve of his T-shirt as he pulled the cork from the bottle in a swift and brutal movement. СКАЧАТЬ