By Candlelight

by Janelle Taylor

  “Tonight?” He gaped. “What about Sandra?”

  “What about her?” Jake demanded.

  “I thought—she gave me the impression you were getting together tonight.”

  “You talked to her today?”

  “She’s involved with the Talbot ads. I talk to her damn near every day,” he added without much enthusiasm.

  “Your choice,” Jake reminded him. He waited a moment, but Phillip seemed in no great hurry to be on his way. It occurred to Jake that his brother may have had a few more drinks than “one.” “Can I drop you somewhere?”

  “I’m just heading over to the Gemini Bar.” He hooked a thumb in the general direction of the street.

  “Catch a cab home,” Jake suggested.

  “Always,” his brother said, lurching away from Jake’s Bronco. He managed to walk fairly steadily in the direction of the bar, but it didn’t mean he was sober. Consequently, thoughts of Phillip had occupied Jake’s mind almost all the way to the beach.

  Okay, that wasn’t entirely correct, he reminded himself with a painful little dig of conscience. Kate had occupied his thoughts, though he would give a hell of a lot not to admit it. His worry over Phillip had actually been underneath those recollections of his long lost love, and of the two subjects, Jake would have much preferred to think about Phillip.

  But what did it matter now? The beach house had welcomed him like an old friend, and Jake had felt a sense of relief and well-being sorely missing in his life these days as soon as he had crossed the threshold. He had tossed his bag on the bed in the master suite, then searched out the liquor cabinet and discovered an unopened bottle of Napoleon brandy—his father’s weakness as well.

  Now he knew he needed to find himself some dinner; he had subsisted on the brandy from the moment he had arrived, and if he didn’t get some food pronto, he was going to crash face-first to the floor. So much for worrying about his older brother’s drinking problems!

  Still, he wasn’t really ready to move yet. It was a quiet pleasure to stand in the dark at the window watching the ceaseless waves. Cracking open a pane, he let a bracing August breeze snatch at his hair. Salt tang tickled his sinuses. He breathed deeply, swallowing, closing his eyes briefly.

  Enough, he warned himself, setting the snifter down a bit unsteadily. It wasn’t like him to indulge like this. Not Jacob Talbot. Not anymore. Circumstances had forged him into a harsh corporate executive with no close friends. He could be accommodating if it suited him, but he could be as unforgiving as a North Sea storm as well.

  He knew it and didn’t care. He didn’t—in fact—care about much of anything. So, why was he having these yearning, nostalgic thoughts about Rate Rose? And why was he worrying about Phillip, who certainly wouldn’t appreciate his little brother offering advice and solutions about his wasted life? And why, oh, why, had he suffered an attack of conscience over Sandra? It wasn’t like she didn’t know the score herself. One of the aspects of his personality she liked best was his hard shell; she had said as much, in so many words.

  Maybe it was a combination of everything: Sandra, Phillip, the multi-million dollar deal with Diamond Corp., the robbery and vandalism at the strip mall. It was certainly enough to keep his plate full till the next millennium. Still…

  It’s all Kate… his conscience warned him. Emitting a frustrated snort of acceptance, Jake faced the truth. It was all fine and good coming up with other excuses, but meeting Kate and her daughter had really put him in this blue funk.

  Because he didn’t want to concentrate on Kate, he shifted his thoughts to her daughter. April Rose really did have what it took to make it in the modeling/acting business. He was no expert, that’s for sure, but some people just came across that way and stuck in your mind long after seeing them the first time. She possessed that quality. He was completely aware of why Phillip had jumped in feet first, promising her way too much considering she had no training and no experience.

  Okay, they hadn’t seen her on film yet, but Jake would bet she would knock ‘em dead anyway.

  And how’s it going to feel seeing her at that audition? Will Kate be with her?

  His gut tightened instinctively. Flipping on the light, he tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and stared into the inky night. His eye caught movement. Below, on the prom, a figure backed away as if burned from the yellow patch of illumination that hit the sidewalk. The figure then tore off toward the beach as if the hounds of hell were snapping at its heels.

  Troubled, Jake frowned. Was someone watching the beach house? Was this somehow connected to the sabotage going on at Talbot Industries? A long shot, he supposed. Or was it…?

  He wasn’t consciously cynical, but from years of seeing the avaricious side of people, Jake had developed a theory that nobody did something for nothing. Vandalism was certainly a common enough crime, but there had been something personal about the way the property had been hacked at, as if robbery wasn’t the prime reason for the crime. Juvenile delinquent be damned; Jake was certain an adult fueled with a certain amount of fury had done the deed.

  “I’d like to catch the bastard who did this,” Gary had muttered when he had called later to report that the clean-up crew had arrived.

  “You and me both.”

  “You know what you said, about someone being mad at us? Well, y’know I’ve had some other things happen on some job sites. Little stuff. Missing tools. Air let out of the tires and such. I didn’t think too much about it ‘cause stuff happens, but now I don’t know. You think it’s coincidence?”

  Jake said succinctly, “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  “Me neither.” Gary was grim. “Maybe someone is after us.”

  “Maybe…”

  “But the tenants aren’t mad. They’re happy. Love the place!”

  “Then it’s someone else. Someone with a bone to pick directly with Talbot. We’re a commercial contracting company,” Jake said slowly, trying on the idea. “We’ve developed our share of land. Maybe we’ve inadvertently stepped on some toes.”

  “Like who?”

  “Other companies we’ve outbid. A neighboring property who doesn’t like what we’ve done. Environmentalists…”

  Gary went defensive. “We’ve gotten every permit. Talked at meetings to every hothead. We’ve been okayed by environmentalist groups, everything! You can’t tell me there’s somebody out there targeting us.”

  Jake had smiled to himself at his foreman’s loyalty and belligerence. “Detective Marsh will probably be forced to give up his pet theory of ‘kids’ and look at the facts. The police will sort it out.”

  Now, as he watched the figure scuttle away to the beach, the whole conversation with Gary flooded back. For a heartbeat he considered; then he clambered down the stairs, taking them two at a time, racing outside in hot pursuit of the skulking figure.

  There was no sign of the intruder when Jake hit the prom. He kept right on, straight for the beach, a host of dark thoughts attacking him as he considered what he might do if he actually caught this culprit. Jake wasn’t afraid, but his mood was tense and unsettled enough that he knew he had better be careful or he might compound the problem.

  He silently cursed his sneakers which had filled up with sand the instant he tore onto the beach. He would never find the perpetrator! The beach was miles long, dark, and surrounded by grassy sand hills which gave perfect shelter for anyone wishing to hide. His steps slowed automatically, and he was more than a little miffed at himself for letting imagination carry him away. It was probably just some idle tourist. Good grief, he was chasing shadows!

  At the edge of the sand hill lay a collapsed figure.

  “Hey!” he called, moving toward it cautiously. Maybe it was someone other than the person standing outside his house.

  Muffled sobs ceased at the sound of his voice. Pure silence followed except for the soft rustle of the breeze against the stiff, waist-high beach grass.

  “Are you okay?”

&nbs
p; No answer.

  “Did you fall?”

  When once again there was no reply, Jake leaned over the person who he guessed was a woman by the long hair that caught the wind and whipped like a curtain around her. He touched her shoulder, and she recoiled as if bitten.

  “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you need help? I could call someone.”

  “I’m fine. Go away,” a muffled voice ordered.

  Jake normally would have taken that advice with relief, but there was something so helpless about her that he couldn’t in all conscience just up and leave her alone.

  “Are you crying?” he asked softly.

  “No. I’m just…breathing hard.”

  Since this was patently untrue, Jake grinned to himself. Maybe it was the brandy. Maybe it was being outside and enjoying the coolness of an August night on the beach. Maybe it was, oh, hell who cared! He sank down onto the sand beside her and said, “When you feel like sitting up, I’m ready to listen.”

  It was better than thinking about his own problems.

  Chapter Nine

  Unbelievable! Kate wanted to weep with frustration; but she was already weeping with misery and disgust, and anyway, there were no more tears left. How could she be so unlucky? What had ever possessed her to stand outside Jake’s parents’ house?

  You deserve this, a voice inside her head told her.

  She wanted to argue. She wanted to evaporate. She wanted to die with embarrassment. Maybe you could, she reasoned. She certainly felt like some kind of death had occurred because she felt rocky, light-headed and uncertain of anything except that she was an utter fool who would never escape this situation with even a modicum of pride.

  She couldn’t lift her head. Why did he have to sit there? She felt his presence as keenly as if their bodies were fused together. Oh, Lord, deliver me, she prayed impotently.

  Time marched on.

  Kate’s hands dug into the cold sand. She couldn’t look up. She couldn’t face him. And her ankle throbbed as if someone had tried to rip it off her leg.

  Her face was wet. Tears were drying on her cheeks, but not before sand stuck firmly in their tracks. Oh, why wouldn’t he leave?

  “I’m fine,” she struggled to assure him. “I just want to be left alone.”

  “Katie?” Jake asked in disbelief.

  She shrank inside her own skin. For a wild moment she thought about bluffing, but the situation was bad enough as it was. Brushing a hand over hot, sand-dusted cheeks, she managed to lift her head and offer him a lopsided smile. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” Jake sat up straight, his eyes glaring at her through the darkness. A light from down the beach diffused his outline. She would have rather it had been pitch-black so she wouldn’t have to see him at all.

  “I was just walking, and I stopped outside your house.”

  “Why did you run away?” he bit out, confusion quickly turning to suspicion.

  “I didn’t,” she lied. “I just left, and then I—”

  “You ran away,” he corrected harshly. “I saw you.”

  “I was just walking along the prom.”

  “You saw me in the window,” he guessed, too clever by far.

  “Yes, but—”

  “And so you took off. What are you afraid of?” His face was stern.

  The ache in her ankle made her feel dull and stupid. For a while embarrassment had put her pain aside, but now her injured ankle throbbed like a heartbeat. “Nothing,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

  “Did you come to see me?”

  “No!”

  “Oh, I get it. You didn’t expect me to be there, and then when I was…” He let her draw her own conclusions, and he was too close to the truth by far.

  Kate sighed. “Don’t make more of this than it is,” she declared, feeling light-headed.

  “I won’t,” he assured her, climbing to his feet. Staring down at her, she saw his lips compress. With extreme reluctance he offered her his hand, as if mere contact might contaminate him.

  “Don’t bother,” Kate said. “I’m just fine.”

  “Call me crazy. I don’t feel right just leaving you here on the beach.” He reached for her hand, and Kate childishly tucked hers inside the pocket of her jacket. The movement jarred her ankle, and she winced involuntarily.

  “What happened?” Jake asked at once.

  “Go away!”

  “You hurt yourself,” he realized, talking more to himself than her. “Good God, how fast were you running? Didn’t you look at the terrain?”

  “Oh, yeah. I stopped and checked the ground because—you know—I’m just so cautious and careful and I knew you’d want a full explanation should I happen to run into you!”

  “You’ve hurt your ankle,” he realized when Kate winced again as she jerked away from him.

  “It’s not your problem!”

  “It’s that same ankle, isn’t it?”

  The knowledge that they shared this from their past turned them both silent. Kate lay her cheek against the sand and simply relaxed. Her muscles felt loose and useless. She had no strength.

  “You were running away from me, weren’t you?”

  His voice was soft, as if he didn’t even want to utter the words. Kate swallowed hard. He made it so difficult!

  “You couldn’t face me,” he added, ruffling her feathers with his superior tone.

  “I just didn’t want to deal with you, okay? I ran off. So, sue me. You didn’t have to chase me down like a criminal!”

  “I didn’t,” Jake denied shortly. “Let me see that ankle.”

  “No.” Stubbornness came awfully natural to her, Kate realized. She knew she would die of embarrassment all over again when she was safe and alone; but recklessness had invaded her soul, and she suddenly wanted to give Jake Talbot the rough side of her tongue. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He was so damn sure of himself! “Really. I do this all the time.”

  “What? Run pell-mell in the dark across uneven ground?”

  “Twist my ankle,” she retorted evenly. “As you well know.”

  “Then, why don’t you let me look at it?”

  She responded with silence. She would rather crawl back to the Mustang than have him touch her.

  “You’re just feeling like an idiot,” he offered dispassionately, as if he were some noted psychologist, “and now you won’t allow anyone to help you.”

  That stung. “I just don’t want you to help me.”

  “I’m all you’ve got.”

  “I don’t need you!”

  “Fine!” Jake released her. “Prove it, then.”

  Kate was instantly wary. “What do you mean?”

  “Get to your feet.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  “What is wrong with you?” Jake demanded. “I’m offering help that you desperately need, and all you can do is snipe at me. What did I do to you?”

  The shock of that statement swept her breath in so fast she felt she might choke. But the belligerence and selfrighteousness of his stance suggested he was perfectly serious. He really didn’t know how much he had hurt her! Had that whole secret marriage meant nothing to him? A lark? A moment in time? A way to get a reluctant virgin into bed?

  No…she would not believe that.

  “You didn’t do anything.” Kate struggled to her feet. Jake automatically put out a hand to help. Pain shot up her leg. She gasped and sucked in air, new tears starring her lashes. She clung to him in spite of herself.

  “Here,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist. “Lean on me.” His body was tense, his words clipped. He didn’t like this any better than she did.

  Berating herself for her rashness, Kate did as she was told, letting Jake take the bulk of her weight as they eased their way up the uneven path to the prom. She felt zapped. Spent. All her energy had melted away, and there was nothing to do but get through this with some bit of dignity—if there was an
y left to be had.

  At the prom Jake kept right on going, pushing open the wrought-iron gate that led to his property. Kate stopped short. “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere with that ankle without help,” he pointed out. “Come on inside.”

  There was nothing to do but acquiesce. She let him guide her toward the stairs, conscious of his warm skin and hard body. She remembered his chest, its width and strength. Nothing seemed to have changed over the years as Jake felt as if he were made of iron.

  She wondered what he thought of her. Did she seem the same? Or did he even notice?

  Get over it, she told herself sternly, but her senses wouldn’t listen. They were on overload, conscious of the feel of him and his masculine scent mixed with salty sea air, an aroma more potent than any bottled cologne. His deep breathing was like the throb of music, something she felt within herself, and she couldn’t even bear to look at him, knowing even a sideways glance might bring those blue-gray eyes to gaze searchingly into hers. No, it was better to stare straight ahead and concentrate on the pain in her ankle. Thinking about Jake Talbot’s proximity did dangerous things to her.

  “Here,” he said, guiding her through the front door to the couch arranged in front of the fireplace.

  Kate swept in a breath. It was just as she remembered it. Victorian. Except…

  “You’ve got the same furniture,” she said, thinking aloud, “but all the doilies and froo-froo are gone.”

  “We took it down.”

  “We?” She dared a glance at him as she sank into the cushions. Bad idea. Those eyes did her in. Quickly, she glanced away.

  “Phillip and I. My mother and father sort of—stepped out—of everything. Turned over the business to me and the house to both of us. Phillip wants to sell the place, but I don’t know…”

  “Phillip—doesn’t own any part of the family business?” Kate asked.

  “He works for Talbot Industries, but he and my father have never gotten along that well.” Jake was brusque. “You remember.”

  “Yes. I just thought things might have changed.”

  “They have,” Jake agreed, then added with an ironic smile that could have meant anything, “and they haven’t.” He bent down by her feet, and Kate grew alarmed.