Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady)

by Vanessa Grant

  “I’ll tell Violet you approve – she gave it to me. She’s an incurable knitter, you know.”

  Jenny said breathlessly, “I liked her.”

  “She liked you.” Jake’s voice wasn’t very steady either. “She said that I— here, let me take that bowl for you.”

  “I— no, it’s hot! You’ll burn yourself!”

  He stepped back to let her pass. She put the bowl down on the table. He was watching her, a look in his eyes as if he were planning a film shot. She smoothed her hands nervously over her slacks – at least she hadn’t worn jeans, and her blouse was pretty, but—

  “You’re looking very beautiful, Jennifer.”

  “I—” She felt so tongue tied this evening, as if she were on her first date. She shouldn’t be thinking that way, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. When she’d invited him, she’d insanely intended to let him make love to her, but she’d regained her sanity and now she felt nervous and uncertain.

  Jake lifted a hand as if to touch her, then dropped it, his voice husky as he offered, “Can I set the table for you? No, that’s all right, I’ll find my way around. I was watching you put away the dishes the other night. I’ll manage.”

  They worked quietly together. When the salmon and potatoes were steaming on the table between them, and they were sitting across from each other, the silence suddenly seemed long and filled with meaning.

  He was dressed more formally tonight, not unlike the way he dressed in the city. If she closed her eyes a little, let their surroundings blur, she could imagine they were seated at the small table in the breakfast nook she’d seen in his False Creek apartment.

  Before she realized what she was going to say, she asked, “Have you ever lived with anyone, Jake? A woman?”

  He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t tell her anything but the truth, so he said, “Yes,” and saw her eyes drop away from his. He said quickly, “But I didn’t—”

  “More potatoes,” she asked on a rush, following the serving of potatoes with a discussion of the Anthony Island restoration. Brightly, she asked, “You’ll want shots of Anthony Island? Those totem poles looking out to sea?”

  “Of course,” he agreed, adding abruptly, “Her name was Alison. It was six or seven years ago. We lived together for six months or so.”

  Jenny said coldly, “It doesn’t matter.“

  “I don’t even remember what she looked like,” he added, realizing as her eyes met his that he was only making it worse, painting himself into a corner as a man who never stuck to a woman. Alison, he thought bitterly. She’d been trouble from the beginning, a beautiful body with an empty head.

  Jake gave up on explaining Alison, kept the conversation firmly on the details of filming. Eventually, to his relief, Jenny began to relax again.

  “I’ll get some paper to make notes,” she said at one point. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Don’t. We’ll start planning next time. I’ve got to catch the jet tomorrow – there isn’t time for us to really get into it. Does George’s stereo work? How about some music?”

  Jake had found George’s collection of CDs, was frowning over her cousin’s taste. He wanted to take Jenny in his arms, love her, tell her all the words she wasn’t ready to hear yet. Instead he forced himself to say casually, “Country? Jazz? Not exactly what I had in mind— here’s something!”

  They listened to the strains of Ferrante and Teicher as they did the dishes. When Jenny finished washing, she started to help Jake dry, but he took her towel away, insisting, “I’ll finish the drying. You curl up on the settee and enjoy the music. You can watch me work.” He wanted to see her there, to watch her and pretend she was waiting for him to come to her.

  “I thought you hated dishes?”

  He shrugged and smiled, and she wasn’t about to fight for the privilege of drying dishes, so she went into the salon. She tucked her feet up, leaned back on a soft cushion. She closed her eyes, listening to the music, but whenever she opened them, Jake was there, close by.

  In her mind, the dreams started again. She couldn’t seem to stop them. She found herself waiting for the moment when he came to her.

  When he sat down near her, she watched him from behind lowered lids, taking pleasure in the sight of him relaxed and still only inches from her.

  They talked – meaningless, comfortable spurts of conversation.

  “Your plane leaves in the morning,” she said at one point, meeting his eyes with uncharacteristic challenge. “Shouldn’t you spend the evening with your aunt? You haven’t seen her in a long time and—”

  “I’d rather be here,” he said hoarsely, as she had hoped he would. Then he looked at her oddly and said, “Jennifer? Jenny?”

  She fell silent, staring at him, frightened by the intensity of his eyes.

  “What? What is it, Jake?”

  He started to say something, stopped, shook his head, started again. “Jenny, I honestly don’t know how to deal with you any more. Damn,” he said softly, smiling wryly, “I’m not used to feeling so helpless. You were always there, and I know I took you for granted, but now, suddenly, you’re so— I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing you’ll disappear on me again. I’m not sure what you want, and I—”

  She felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She wanted to touch his face, smooth that disturbed look away, give him whatever it was that he wanted.

  “What is it that you want of me?” she asked on a frightened whisper.

  “You know what I want.” His arm lifted, his hand touching hers, fingers running up along her arm, touching her neck lightly, tracing the planes of her face.

  Her lips parted, her breathing shallow. He leaned closer, both hands feeling the contours of her face, fingers spreading through her short hair as her scalp tingled with his touch.

  His voice was low and hoarse. “My God! I’m sure the whole world knows what it is I want of you by now!“

  His lips brushed hers. Was it his mouth trembling? Or hers? She drew in a deep, ragged breath. His head blotted out the red sky she had glimpsed through the porthole.

  At first his mouth was soft and cautious against hers, then his hands tightened on her shoulders, his mouth became firm and warm, and her eyes closed to shut out everything but the wonderful feeling of Jake holding her, touching her, kissing her, drawing his tongue along her lip, exploring her cheek, her neck, the sensitive hollow of her throat with his mouth.

  “Jennifer—” He drew her soft body close against his, sliding his arm around her back and bringing her close. She found her arms around his shoulders, her palms open on his back, stroking the soft mohair, feeling the ridges of his shoulder muscles tense as her hands moved. She felt the fire rising swiftly in her blood, her hands rubbing against his hard male body, his gasp as her hand moved against him.

  “Jennifer— Jenny—”

  “Jennifer,” she told him softly, her breast swelling from nothing more than the thought of his touch on it. “You can call me Jennifer if you want.”

  “You said you didn’t like it.” He hardly knew what he was saying. His hands were exploring the back of her rib cage, tracing her spine through the thin blouse she wore.

  She opened her eyes and stared into the black depths of his. She felt dizzy, heat racing through her veins. “I’ve missed you calling me Jennifer. I—” His fingers moved softly along her side, skirting the swelling of her breast, not quite touching the softness that swelled suddenly, aching for his caress.

  “Please Jake,” she whispered, her eyes refusing to stay open, her hands clutching, digging into his back. Then his lips were on hers again, hard and suddenly demanding. She was opening her lips, herself to him, spinning off, losing touch with everything except the reality of Jake’s lips, Jake’s tongue, Jake’s hands cupping the fullness of her beasts.

  “Jennifer— oh, God! Darling…” His lips pulled a response from hers that she had never known existed. She was burning, needing him, moving against him to feel his warmth closer to
her, hardly hearing his words as his hot breath stirred against her ear and her throat. “I’ve needed you for so long, darling! Let me love you!”

  Her fingers slid under the edge of his sweater, found the dry warmth, the sudden rigidity of his abdominal muscles as she moved her palms over his broad, hard chest.

  He stared at her, saw her eyes closed, head thrown back to expose her soft throat for his kiss. He touched the vulnerable skin with his lips, seeing her shudder as his lips traced along the softness, down to the beautiful swelling of her breast. He kissed the peak softly, then caressed with his tongue, feeling the powerful surge of his own desire as she groaned and twisted against him.

  He should make sure she knew what she was doing, that the morning wouldn’t leave her regretting this intimacy. He moved his hand along her midriff, caressing through the soft fabric of her slacks, feeling her respond to his touch, needing him.

  He wanted her forever, her soft body against his. His lips moved over the white skin, seeking all the places that would drive her wild in his arms, wanting to touch and kiss and love, wishing suddenly that he could give her his child, could touch her and hold her and love her and make her his more deeply than any two people had ever joined.

  He lifted her, holding her against his chest, touching her lips again before he moved along the passageway, carrying her held closely in his arms. She closed her eyes, sliding one arm around his shoulder. Her other palm explored the line of his clenched jaw.

  Then she was resting against the softness of a mattress. She opened her eyes, staring up at him, seeing the movement of his chest that revealed shallow, ragged breathing.

  He wanted her so badly. It was in his eyes, in the way he leaned over her, so still, so tense. Had he wanted her like this before? Or was it the evening, the islands, and George’s music?

  She loved him so much. She had always loved him, but now it had grown into an unbearable pain. She opened her lips to tell him, but his mouth covered hers and she was caught up in his kiss, trembling as his hands fumbled with the fastening of her slacks, finding her own hands working with the buttons of his shirt.

  As the last vestige of her clothing disappeared, Jake’s hand moved softly along the curve of her hip, his eyes looking down in her body with a sudden stillness.

  She knew with a sharp pain that she was never going to recover from this night, never going to stop needing him. She hadn’t been with a man since Lance, and she was fiercely, agonizingly glad that she was unprepared for this, that her surrender to him could mean the creation of a child in her womb.

  “Jake,” she whispered, her hand caressing up along his chest, touching his face. She dared not whisper that she loved him. Instead, she said his name again.

  “Jennifer…” He brought his lips to hers again, taking her heated body in his arms.

  She lost track of everything but the feel of him, the closeness of him. His lips and his hands caressed her, sending flames along her veins. Her hands answered his, touching him as she had never touched a man before.

  When she couldn’t bear the waiting any longer, needing him to possess her completely, she groaned, “Please, Jake,” not even knowing she spoke, but responding eagerly and completely to his masculine possession of her body.

  He took her to the edge of the world. She was mad with needing him, holding him, kissing him, sharing the motion of their two bodies become one. Then their passion climaxed in an explosive surge, and she lay trembling in his arms.

  Finally, they slept, exhausted.

  Once, in the night, Jenny awoke, opening her eyes and seeing the dark silhouette of Jake’s form. His arms tightened around her. She closed her eyes, relaxing against his body, wanting the night to last forever, trying not to think about what came next.

  Held tightly against Jake, she slept again. She was curled against him when he woke in the early hours of the day. The northern sun was climbing in the sky, working its way into the cabin where they lay together.

  She shifted, turning her face against him as the light intruded into her dream. Careful not to disturb her, he reached up and pulled the curtain down over the porthole. The cabin darkened.

  He should wake her, but he didn’t know what words to say when her eyes stared into his. He was afraid to say too much, afraid that she would waken regretting giving herself to him.

  Had it been too soon?

  God! What if her eyes froze, shutting him out forever? He couldn’t face that.

  He held her in his arms without waking her until the sun had risen high in the sky. He’d give her time to get used to the idea of him as a lover. Then, when he came back in a few days he would tell her all the words that had trembled on his lips last night.

  She knew. After last night, she couldn’t help knowing how he felt about her, how necessary she was to his happiness. He brushed the short curls gently back from her face, pressed the softest of kisses onto her lips, and left her sleeping.

  She was alone when she woke, lying in George’s big double berth with the blankets tumbled around her. Her eyes opened slowly as she remembered. Jake. His hands and his lips giving pleasure to every part of her body.

  He had taught her more about passion than she had ever known before. Her hands had explored the hard male contours of him, touching him in ways she had never thought to touch a man, discovering the pleasure of drawing a groan of desire from him, learning how the touch of her softness against him could arouse his need – and hers – when only a moment before they had lain spent in each others arms.

  The curtain was drawn, the light coming around the edges and filtering through the cabin. Jenny looked down along the length of her own body, her bare skin exposed and gleaming in the half-light.

  Would there be a child from their union? She closed her eyes, feeling the fierce heat of Jake’s touch. It was possible. She’d been totally unprepared for intimacy with a man, although Jake probably assumed that she was in the habit of taking lovers.

  What if she were pregnant?

  A baby would be hers. Jake wouldn’t have to know. Not if she disappeared before it became obvious. She’d probably have to leave the west coast entirely to get away from Jake. How long would their affair last? A shaft of pain penetrated her as she thought about the inevitable ending. Would she have the strength to run away, leave before he tired of her?

  Jake. He was gone. She felt the emptiness of the boat, listened to sounds from outside – the roar of an engine as a boat pulled away, the muted sound of voices on the wharf.

  She stumbled as she got up, putting on her clothes quickly, seeing the clock and knowing when she heard the roar of a jet overhead that it was Jake – leaving her.

  The note was lying on the galley counter. She saw it, her heart pounding, afraid to walk the two steps and read his black handwriting.

  If he wanted to tell her that he loved her, he could have said it last night when she was in his arms, closer than two people had ever been.

  Jennifer,

  I couldn’t bear to wake you and say good bye. I’ll be back on Sunday.

  Jake

  Not love, just ‘Jake’. And he’d left her alone. Of course she had known it would happen, but—

  The note crumpled in her hand. There were chores to do, little household – or boathold – duties that might help her to take her mind off Jake.

  At least she hadn’t told him that she loved him.

  He knew how badly she wanted him, but there was just a slight possibility that he didn’t know it was love. Or had she said the words, sometime in the night when his hands and his body were drawing everything she had into their union?

  She must have. She couldn’t have kept the works back, not when he touched her like that, when her need was surging through her veins, making her wild and reckless, foolishly fearless.

  The boat moved under her feet gently. Someone had stepped onto the deck from the wharf. Jenny’s heart pounded for a moment, then slowed with a sickening thud. Not Jake. Jake’s step was heavier.
>
  “Jenny?”

  It was George’s voice, George almost running across the deck and down the stairs. Jenny swung around to face her.

  George looked slightly pale, but she was smiling, her eyes gleaming with her customary energy. She took in everything at a glance – the crumpled paper in Jenny’s hand, the tumbled bedclothes through the doorway in her own cabin. Jenny watched her eyes dart from the bed and back to Jenny’s face, watched George putting it all together.

  “Where’s Jake?”

  Jenny shook her head, dropped the paper into the wastebasket beside her. George glanced at it, her hand moving in a brief spasm as if she wanted to pick it up and read it.

  “He’s gone,” Jenny said flatly, her voice almost normal. “He took the plane south. Did the doctor let you out of the hospital?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? As good as new, but with a healthy respect for clams!” George’s voice dropped with concern. “Are you all right, Jenny?”

  Jenny turned away, said tightly, “I didn’t get any shopping done. We should go up to the store later and lay in stores, shouldn’t we?”

  “Jenny? What did you and Jake—”

  “Could we just get out of here, George? I don’t want to talk about it. He’ll be back, but I can’t see him. I just can’t! I know you’re still weak, but if we could just get our groceries and get the hell away from this place?”

  George dropped her sweater on the dinette table. “I’ll have a coffee. We’ve got some artificial sweetener, don’t we? There wasn’t any in the hospital. Coffee tasted terrible!”

  “You could have taken sugar in it.” Jenny managed a smile. “You’re such a little thing. I can’t imagine a spoonful of sugar making you fat!”

  “It won’t if I don’t have it.” George clicked a pill into her cup. “Are you sure you want to go? Where?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere. Just away from here.“