by Anne Mather
Turning, he spread a hand to encompass the whole craft.
Then he said, ‘Well, this is it. My home away from home. What do you think?’
‘It’s not as big as I expected,’ admitted Grace, taking her cue from him.
‘It’s big enough for me,’ Jack returned, relaxing a little. He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his shorts.
‘There’s a main cabin. A master suite. A guest cabin, and the galley, of course. Although I have to say, I don’t do much cooking on board.’
Grace smiled and he thought how incredibly attractive she was. ‘Do you cook?’ she asked half mischievously, and Jack pulled a face.
‘I do a mean omelette,’ he told her drily. ‘And I have been known to produce an edible Bolognese, on occasion.’
Grace glanced about her. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Which is a first,’ he murmured, and she gave him a sardonic look.
‘I’m not so difficult to please,’ she assured him, wrapping her arms about herself as the breeze off the marina swirled about them. ‘Can we go below?’
‘Of course.’
Belatedly Jack took her lack of clothes into consideration. She must be cold. Okay, he admitted, taking her below decks was playing with fire, but what was new?
Expelling a breath he’d hardly been aware he was holding, he gestured towards the companionway. ‘Along here,’ he said, ignoring the rush of blood that invaded his groin. ‘Watch your step.’
A flight of stairs led down to a lower hallway. Jack switched on concealed wall lights as he descended the steps.
Following, Grace sucked in a breath of admiration. Like Lindisfarne House, the yacht was exquisitely designed.
A wide doorway was at the foot of the stairs. Jack had already gone into the main cabin, and Grace hesitated when she reached the entrance.
Comfortable banquettes, bright with cushions in a variety of colours, lined the walls. Bleached oak woodwork matched the sofas and a thick beige shag carpet covered the floor.
‘Come on in.’
Jack was standing between the seating areas. Amazingly, despite his half-disreputable appearance, Grace thought he didn’t look out of place. Even the growth of stubble on his jawline only added to his dangerous appeal.
And, in the close confines of the cabin, she could smell his heat, the stark masculine scent of his body.
Forcing herself to concentrate on her surroundings, she crossed the threshold and saw that the galley opened off the other end of the cabin. A breakfast bar provided a useful separation between the two areas, tall chrome-legged stools offering a casual seating arrangement.
She shook her head. ‘It’s amazing!’
‘It’s practical,’ Jack replied without conceit. But she could tell he was pleased with her reaction. ‘Does your father own a boat?’
‘No.’
Grace wondered what he would say if she told him her father was having a struggle to make ends meet. After the running expenses of the pub, having to pay a mortgage every month was no joke.
‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you like sailing?’
‘I used to think I would,’ she confessed ruefully. ‘But my dad took me out on one of the fishing boats when I was quite young.’ She grimaced. ‘After spending most of the trip throwing up, it sort of squashed my enthusiasm.’
‘I guess it would.’ Jack chuckled, realising how much he enjoyed talking to her. He glanced towards the galley. ‘Would you like something to drink?’
She watched as he stepped around the breakfast bar, the baggy shorts hanging precariously from his lean hips. He bent to open the door of what she now saw was a fully equipped fridge and freezer, his tee shirt separating from his shorts, treating her to an appealing wedge of smooth brown skin.
‘I’ve got orange juice or cola,’ he said, straightening. ‘Or beer.’
And that’s not all, thought Grace, taking a breath, and admitting to herself how little her agreement to help Sean had to do with her being here.
‘Um—nothing, thanks,’ she managed after a moment.
Despite the fact that her throat was dry, she doubted if she could swallow anything right now. She sighed, and then, realising she shouldn’t delay any longer, she added, ‘I have to tell you, Sean phoned before I came out.’
‘Did he?’
Jack closed the fridge door with a definite thud. He wished she’d mentioned that before he’d invited her onto the boat. He didn’t want to talk about Sean Nesbitt here.
Turning, he regarded her consideringly. ‘So you were planning on meeting me?’
‘No.’ But Grace couldn’t deny she’d been hoping to see him, anyway. ‘That is—not exactly.’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘As a matter of fact, he said he’d heard from some financial advisor of yours.’ She offered a nervous smile. ‘He’s worried because the website’s taking longer to set up than he originally thought.’
Ain’t that the truth?
Jack swallowed his annoyance. There was no use blaming Grace for the way Sean had behaved. What irritated him most was that she seemed unaware of his duplicity.
Perhaps she was. He wanted to tell her what her boyfriend was really like, to explode that bubble she seemed to be living in. But he couldn’t do it. Not knowing his own motives were anything but impartial.
Jack scowled, turning away again so that she couldn’t see his face. But what the hell was he supposed to say? That it didn’t matter? That Sean needn’t worry? But was he tempted to be generous because he had an ulterior motive?
It seemed he’d got himself into another dangerous situation so far as Grace was concerned.
It certainly put what he’d learned about Lisa into perspective. The feelings he felt when he was with Grace left no room for any other woman—dead or alive—in his life.
‘I don’t think you have to worry about Sean,’ he said now. Then, unable to stop himself, ‘Did he say when he was coming up again?’
Jack was regarding her inquiringly and Grace wrapped her arms about herself once more. ‘Um—no,’ she admitted awkwardly. ‘Did you want to see him?’
‘Not particularly.’ Jack couldn’t prevent that answer. Then, keeping a healthy space between them, ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
Grace licked her lips and he wondered if she had any idea how provocative that was. ‘I should go,’ she murmured uneasily. ‘I haven’t finished my run.’
‘Okay.’
With a determination born of self-preservation, Jack moved across the cabin towards the door. If she wanted to go, he wasn’t going to stop her. In fact, it was probably the most sensible thing he’d done tonight.
She turned as he would have passed her, and he sensed she was as uneasy as he was. Green eyes met his with undisguised emotion in their depths. And when her lips parted to allow her tongue to escape again, he knew he’d had every reason to be apprehensive.
And let’s face it, he thought, she was temptation personified and he’d created this situation himself.
‘Dammit, Grace,’ he muttered, reaching for her, and she stumbled forward into his arms. ‘This was so not meant to happen. It is not why I invited you on board.’
‘Isn’t it?’
Grace was having her own little crisis of conscience. Not least because she knew she had initiated this, not him.
But for Jack, feeling her lips yielding beneath his was the purest kind of torment. The knot in his belly tightened and a groan vibrated in his chest. God, how much more of this could he take? he wondered. He felt as if he were on the verge of losing his mind.
He couldn’t prevent his tongue from seeking the moist cavern of her mouth. Was thrilled when he felt her tongue twine with his tongue and the hungry urgency of her body against his.
She might have been cold before, but she wa
s burning up now.
His leg was wedged between her legs, and he could feel the tremor in her thighs. And knew the urge to lower her onto the soft carpet and strip what few clothes she was wearing from her body.
But some small corner of his brain was still functioning, reminding him that getting involved with her again would be a mistake.
He didn’t want to let her go, but he had to. Even if a certain part of his body wasn’t with the programme. He had to use his brain, not his sex. He only hoped she wouldn’t look down and see the bulge that swelled his shorts.
Grace, meanwhile, had wanted Jack to kiss her. Had wanted more than that, if she was honest. But when Jack drew back and his narrow-eyed gaze raked her face, she knew he was having second thoughts.
‘I think we’d better cool it,’ he said, a shade harshly. ‘Much as I want you, I’m not a complete bastard, whatever you think.’
‘Jack...’
‘You said you were leaving,’ he said, turning aside from her. ‘If you want to finish your run, it’s getting late. I wouldn’t like to think of you out there after dark.’
‘Do you care?’
‘Of course I care,’ he muttered. Then, brushing past her, ‘Let’s go.’
Grace tucked her hands beneath her arms, aware that her heart was racing. ‘Thank you for showing me your boat,’ she said, earning a sardonic look from him.
‘My pleasure,’ he said drily, stepping back to allow her to precede him out of the cabin.
But when he emerged into the small hallway beyond, he almost ran into her. He’d expected her to start up the companionway, but Grace was studying a door at the end of the hall.
‘Is—er—is that the loo? I mean—the head?’
Jack looked along the hall and made a negative gesture. ‘You need the bathroom?’
Grace’s colour deepened. ‘My hands are sticky. I’d like to wash them.’
‘Hey, you don’t have to give me a reason,’ said Jack drily. Even if this was the last thing he’d wanted to do.
He eased past her and led the way along the hall. Beyond the door, a double cabin, its wide bed covered with a bronze silk spread, looked far too inviting.
‘The head’s through there,’ he said, pointing to a door across the cabin. ‘Take your time.’
When the bathroom door closed behind her, Jack backed out of the cabin. He could have waited, but he decided she could find her own way up onto the deck.
Mounting the stairs himself, he went to check the mooring lines. He’d already checked them once, but what the hell? he thought. You could never be too careful.
In more ways than one.
However, when a good five minutes had passed and there was no sign of Grace joining him, Jack went to the top of the companionway and looked down.
Where was she?
Then he thought he heard a faint cry.
Without stopping to identify it, Jack ran quickly down the stairs again. He glanced into the main cabin, but there was no one there. After only a moment’s hesitation, he strode towards the forward stateroom.
‘Jack!’
He could hear Grace’s voice now. Clearly. She was evidently still in the head and he wondered, not without some apprehension, why she would be calling him.
‘Yeah?’ he said, pausing only briefly before circling the bed to the bathroom door. ‘You okay?’
‘Would I be shouting for you if I was?’ countered Grace from inside, and it was obvious she was seriously miffed. ‘I can’t get the door open.’
Jack suppressed a laugh. ‘Have you tried lifting the lock?’
‘What lock?’ Grace sounded confused. ‘I didn’t lock the door when I came in.’
‘No, but I guess the lock dropped, anyway,’ said Jack patiently. ‘It does that sometimes. If you lift that small circular latch and slide the door along—’
The door opened before he’d finished speaking. Grace stood there, her face flushed with embarrassment, and Jack did the unforgivable. He started to laugh.
Grace didn’t laugh.
She stared at him with hurt, angry eyes and then attempted to push past him to get out of the cabin.
‘Hey...’ Jack sobered. ‘I’m sorry. But nobody’s locked themselves in my head before.’
‘And that’s hilarious, isn’t it?’ Grace exclaimed, frustrated by his refusal to get out of her way. ‘Did anyone ever tell you how juvenile that kind of humour is?’
Jack sighed. ‘Okay, okay. Maybe I was a bit thoughtless—’
‘A bit!’
‘All right, a lot thoughtless.’ Jack gazed down into her humiliated face and knew an emotion that he’d never felt before. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart—’
‘I’m not your sweetheart,’ she exclaimed, lifting her hands to push at his chest.
But Jack lifted his hands also, capturing hers in his and bringing the knuckle of first one hand, then the other, to his lips.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said softly, his breath, warm and slightly scented with coffee, fanning her hot temple. ‘Come on, Grace. You know I was only teasing.’
‘Do I?’
Her eyes were still mutinous, but Jack knew she was softening towards him.
‘Sure you do,’ he said huskily. And then, because he was seduced by her indignation of all things, he pulled her closer.
‘Jack!’
But her use of his name, whether encouragement or protest, was lost beneath the urgent pressure of his mouth.
Once again, Grace’s lips parted, almost without her volition. Jack’s mouth was warm and sensuous, his kiss hard and purposeful. In seconds, she was swept with a feeling of heat and need, numbing her to any thought of resistance.
Hot and weak with longing, she felt his tongue press urgently into the moist hollow of her mouth. It was both a driving assault and an intimate exploration, causing a flood of wetness to make itself felt between her legs.
Her whole body felt consumed by their mutual hunger and a delicious tremor of anticipation caused her to slip her hands about his waist.
Between his tee and the low waistband of his shorts, firm, slightly moist skin spread smoothly beneath her palms. She wanted to push her hands inside his shorts and cup his buttocks, but she wasn’t quite that sure of his response.
Nevertheless, when Jack gripped the backs of her thighs, lifting her against the powerful thrust of his erection, she parted her legs eagerly.
She wanted him closer, much closer. Male flesh disappearing into female flesh; brown on white; skin on skin.
She wanted him, she thought without remorse. She’d only felt this alive on one other occasion in her life: that morning, on the beach at Culworth.
But what did that make her?
Whatever, she couldn’t pretend any longer that she was doing this for Sean.
It was what she wanted, heaven help her! And like an addict, she couldn’t get enough of the drug of Jack’s lovemaking.
With her nails digging into his hips, she arched against him, telling him without words how vulnerable she was. When his stubble grazed her cheek, she gloried in the sensation, enveloped in a cocoon of sensuality that left her weak and totally lost.
He pushed the sports bra up above her breasts and she shivered in anticipation when his mouth closed on one swollen peak. He nipped at her with his teeth and she trembled violently.
She felt more excited than she’d ever been before.
‘Jack,’ she choked, clutching at the waistband of his shorts as her legs turned to jelly beneath her. ‘God, Jack—please!’
And then the boat rocked as someone came on board.
Grace froze, but Jack apparently retained his mobility. He pulled her sports bra down over her breasts, the nipples still wet and throbbing from his tongue.
> ‘Stay here,’ he said in an undertone, leaving her to stride across the cabin.
She heard him walking swiftly along the corridor and then the sound of his feet climbing the stairs.
Envying him his control, Grace took a moment to check her appearance in the mirror in the bathroom. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail she’d secured before leaving the pub and red-gold strands tumbled about her shoulders. Her mouth looked swollen and bare of any gloss.
But she’d been running, she defended herself. No one seeing her now would necessarily suspect what had been going on.
She pulled a face. Who was she kidding? She looked as if she’d just got out of bed.
She wished.
She ran delicate fingers over her mouth as she moved across the cabin. It did feel bruised and tender. She could only hope no one would notice.
She wondered who would come on board without asking permission. It could be anyone. She didn’t know any of Jack’s friends.
And then she heard her father’s voice and froze again.
‘Mr Connolly,’ he said politely, and she heard Jack make a similar response.
Then Jack added, ‘Can I help you?’
There was a moment’s silence while the two men seemed to be taking each other’s measure.
‘Perhaps.’ Tom Spencer sounded less confident now. ‘I wonder—have you seen my daughter?’
‘Grace?’
As if she had a sister, thought Grace ruefully. But then her father didn’t know how much Jack knew about her.
‘Yes, Grace.’ There was a trace of impatience in her father’s voice now, and Grace wondered why he would think Jack might know where she was. ‘Jim Wales, the harbour master, said he saw you talking to her earlier.’
‘Ah, yes...’
Grace didn’t know what Jack might have said then. Whether he would have condemned himself further by telling an outright lie, which she couldn’t allow.
With a feeling of resignation, she left the cabin and ran along the corridor, mounting the stairs two at a time until she was facing the two men.
‘I’m here, Dad,’ she said flatly, before Jack could answer him. ‘What do you want?’