by Susan Fox
It didn’t feel right for Jenna to be subdued. So he probed again. “How about you? You said you don’t believe in monogamy?” Whereas he had enough of the caveman in him that he’d never share his mate with another man.
“No, I think it’s unnatural.”
“You’ve never felt so strongly about a man that you’d be jealous if he slept with another woman?”
A pause. “Once, when I was very young. But it was stupid, and I was wrong.”
He glanced over, seeing her brows drawn together in a frown. He wished he wasn’t driving, so he could keep watching her face as they talked. “I don’t think it’s stupid or wrong. I think it’s …” He paused, reflecting. In evolutionary terms, jealousy made sense for a female. She needed to hold a man so he’d look after her and their kids. As for the male, the drive was to reproduce, so he didn’t want some other guy messing with his female.
“Romantic? Dr. Chambers, the romantic?” she teased, and he was happy her mood had lightened.
“God, no. I was going to say it’s hardwired into our genes.” He explained his reasoning, then went on. “It’s good for kids, too. I think about how I grew up. At Freedom Valley, free love was the rule. There were no stable couples, no stable families. For me as a kid that meant uncertainty. When I went to Grandma and Grandpa’s, I had stability and security.”
“Mom and Dad drove me nuts, but there was definitely security. Still is. Even though the three-pack’s rarely home, our rooms are there waiting.” A rueful note in her voice, she said, “Even if I screw up, I know I can always go home. I avoid it, though, because they nag and criticize.”
“I imagine they only do it because they care about you and worry about you.”
“I know. Plus, they’re sure they know best.”
“That goes with parental territory. Wait until you have kids of your own.”
A long pause then, flatly, “Not going to.”
Of course, not every woman had maternal instincts, but he could imagine Jenna splashing in the ocean with children, laughing at their antics, pointing to a peregrine falcon and teaching them to respect the environment. “Seriously?”
She flicked her head, curls flying. There was an edge to her voice when she said, “Told you I’m a free spirit. Doesn’t work to have kids tying me down.”
So it wasn’t about maternal instinct; it was her irresponsibility. The quality that made him think of the hippies at the commune. The quality he liked least about her.
He had no right to judge, he reminded himself. As his friend Adrienne often told him, he sure as hell wasn’t perfect.
Jenna rested her head against the window, hair hiding her face, and didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes, he figured she’d drifted off to sleep.
A while later, needing gas, he pulled into a station at Fortuna.
She lifted her head, yawned widely, and said, “Where are we?”
“About an hour from where I planned to stop for the night. Just stopping for gas. The Westfalia’s a hybrid, but it still needs fuel occasionally.”
Another yawn, smaller this time, and she shook her head as if to clear it. “This is a hybrid? It’s too old, isn’t it?”
“Had it converted.”
“That’s cool.” She opened the door and hopped out. “Bathroom break.”
“Want something to eat or drink?” he called after her and got a head shake in response.
After filling up with fuel and water, he went inside to buy a coffee. As the woman behind the counter, a brunette roughly his own age, took his money, her fingers brushed his and she smiled brightly. “Haven’t seen you before. Just passing through?”
“Yeah. Heading up to Patrick’s Point for the night.” His nostrils twitched at the unpleasant scent of her heavy perfume.
“Pretty place but kind of lonely.” She winked, or was that a tic? “If you know what I mean.”
“I’m never lonely when I’m by the ocean.” He sipped the bitter coffee, so nasty after that lovely blend at Marianne’s Diner.
“I’m just saying, Fortuna’s a friendlier place.” She gave him his change, and red painted fingernails rasped unpleasantly across his palm.
“That’s nice,” he said politely as he dumped the change in his shorts pocket.
When he removed his hand, Jenna was there, twining her fingers through his and making his blood heat. “Oh, I think Patrick’s Point will be plenty friendly,” she said, giving the older woman a grin.
The brunette shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl.”
Jenna chuckled. “No harm, no foul.”
Baffled, and disconcertingly aroused by the clasp of her slim fingers, he let her tug him outside. “What were you two talking about?”
He opened the passenger side door, and she turned to him, freeing his hand. “Didn’t you realize she was hitting on you?”
“She was?” He thought back. The woman had said the ocean was lonely and the town was friendly. That was hitting on him? No wonder he was so hopeless when it came to male-female stuff.
“Totally. I was browsing through magazines on the other side of a rack behind you and heard it all. I bet this happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?” Then her laugh rang out. “No, wait, you wouldn’t even know.”
He ducked his head. “Adrienne says I can be pretty oblivious when women, uh, like me.”
“Adrienne?”
“We went to grad school together and became friends.” He met Jenna’s curious gaze. “She’s at the University of B.C. now, teaching and doing research. We stay in touch, and she’s worked on a couple of my projects.”
“I bet Adrienne’s in love with Mark,” she chanted in a kid’s singsong voice.
“No. God no. She just, uh, we have common interests. Hit it off.” She was his best friend, his only close friend.
“Oh, she’s totally in love with you,” she teased. “Pining after you all these years and you’re too oblivious to notice.”
He shook his head. “She’s in love but not with me. Adri-enne’s lesbian, married, and pregnant.”
“Man, I had that one pegged wrong, didn’t I?” She winked. “Guess I just didn’t see how a woman could resist you.”
In a way, her teasing reminded him of Adrienne. Except there’d never been a sexual vibe between him and his friend, and there definitely was with Jenna. He was so out of his depth with her.
She couldn’t really have been offering sex—as if it were nothing more significant than enjoying strawberry pie together. Could she? Yes, in fact, it was simply a physical act based on a biological urge, but it was one society had turned into something much more complicated.
Of course, Jenna didn’t seem to give a damn what society thought …
Confused, he stuck to what he did know. “Let’s get on the road, or all the camping spots will be filled.”
They climbed into the camper. He put the coffee in the cup holder, then pulled back onto Highway 101, heading for Eureka.
Jenna took a drink from a steel water bottle and tilted her seat back. She slipped off her sandals and rested her bare feet against the dash.
The woman even had sexy feet, slim and brown like she’d spent a lot of time on the beach. He hadn’t noticed before that she had a silver ring on one of her toes.
“We were talking about your sister, uh, is it Kat?” he remembered.
“Right. When it comes to men, she has crappy judgment and even worse luck. But she brought a new guy home and Tree’s given him a tentative stamp of approval. I can’t wait to meet him. If he lasts until I get home.”
“They don’t usually last?” Gazing at her slender feet, catching glimpses of her legs as the breeze teased her skirt, gave him a very basic male reaction. Arousal quickened his breathing and pulsed through his cock.
“Not past dinner with my parents.”
Her comment brought back memories. “I can relate. When I was in university, I took a few women home. As study partners or dates. Grandma and Grandpa never approved.”
He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. If anything might break his addiction, this foul brew would. “Apparently, they were either not serious enough or too much like me. My grandparents believe human partnerships are similar to base pair bonds.”
“Huh?”
The word bond made him imagine Jenna’s legs, naked and wrapped around him. He cleared his throat and clarified what he’d said. “It’s molecular biology. Complementary nucleotides from opposite DNA or RNA strands that are connected by hydrogen bonds make up a base pair.”
“Oh yeah, that totally clarifies it.”
He was so used to talking to other scientists that it was hard to remember to put things in lay terms. “The way my grandparents apply it to relationships, they say you have to be different enough, yet complementary enough, in order to fuse into a strong bond.”
“Hmm,” she said reflectively. “My parents are both super smart, incredibly hard workers, and share common values. But Dad’s happiest in a research lab, and Mom really enjoys being with people, helping people.”
“Yeah, I think that’s what they mean. My grandparents have the same things in common as yours. They’re wonderful, committed people. They’re both really serious, not very demonstrative, and they don’t have much sense of humor.” He grimaced. “Guess I inherited that one.”
“Ah, so that’s your excuse. How are your grandparents different from each other?”
“Grandpa’s super intellectual, and he’s all about research. Even in his eighties, he’s working at TRIUMF, one of the world’s leading subatomic physics research labs at UBC. Grandma’s always been hands on, a born surgeon. It’s like she’s at war with disease and injury and determined to win.”
“You’re more like her than him,” she commented.
Surprised, he glanced over. “I am?”
“You’re not into research labs; you’re about application. And you’re at war with everything that’s destroying the environment.”
“You’re right. I never really thought about that.” Much less talked about it. There was something about Jenna, her interest and openness, and something about being side by side in the camper, the road stretching ahead of them, that brought out a side of himself he’d never realized existed. One that surprised and actually kind of pleased him.
Curious about her, he asked, “Which of your parents are you most like?”
She gave a wry chuckle. “Neither. I keep expecting them to admit I was adopted.”
“I was nothing like Alicia. Probably nothing like my biological father, who I’m sure was the hippie type.”
They’d come out to the coast again and were entering Eureka, a small city. “Shall we pick up groceries for dinner?” he asked. “I have a portable barbecue, and it’s going to be a warm night. We could eat outside.”
“Perfect.” She reached over to trail soft, caressing fingers down his arm. “And yes, I’m betting it’ll be a very warm night.”
His skin prickled with awareness, and he suppressed a shiver of arousal. “Uh …” Now, that was flirtation, wasn’t it? She was being suggestive, hinting that they’d have sex. Would they?
He’d never slept with a woman he’d just met. Did the fact that he wanted to make him no better than all those free love freaks at Freedom Valley? On the other hand, in the few short hours since he met Jenna, he’d shared more personal stuff than with any other woman except maybe Adrienne. Was this fascinating stranger becoming a friend? And maybe soon a lover?
“Mark, there’s a grocery store.” She pointed, pulling him back from his thoughts. “Aren’t you going to stop?”
“Yeah, right.” He swung the camper into the parking lot. Again, they both climbed out, him taking a couple of cloth bags from behind the driver’s seat.
As they walked toward the store, Jenna linked her arm in his. By now he was almost getting used to the casual intimacy and the way her touch made his pulse quicken and his blood heat.
“Any food preferences?” she asked. “Are you vegetarian?”
He should be, but it made meals—and travel—too complicated. “No, though when I can I eat organic food and avoid red meat. But vegetarian’s good with me if that’s what you want.”
She shook her head. “How about fish if they have something wild?”
“Great.”
Strolling through the nicely appointed store, he let her choose. A fillet of wild local salmon, a lemon, a bunch of baby carrots with frilly green tops, and a box of local strawberries. She added a loaf of crusty bread, then said, “Looks good to me. How about you?”
It had taken only a few minutes, but she’d assembled a meal that was healthy, featured local products, and would be easy to cook. “Yeah, great.” No, wait. If he was going to share this meal with Jenna, perhaps beside a campfire, there was something missing. “A bottle of wine?” he suggested.
“Love it,” she said promptly. “But it’s not in my budget.”
“My treat.”
“Thanks.”
They studied the selections. “I don’t know a lot about wine,” he confessed. “Do you?”
“Yeah, I’ve waitressed in some good places over the years. Tell me a price range, and I’ll choose something nice.”
“Uh … twenty dollars? Is that okay?” He knew nothing about this stuff.
“We can get a great wine for less than that.” She picked out a bottle with an intriguing moon label. “I like this one. It’s an unoaked chardonnay from Valley of the Moon in Sonoma. It’s fresh, flavorful, kind of a green apple undernote. It’ll stand up to the salmon but won’t overpower it. Sound okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Her knowledge impressed him. He guessed that, with her bubbly, outgoing personality and her beauty, she’d made good tips. But really, waitressing? For a woman of … “How old are you?”
She shot him a startled look. “Where did that come from?”
“Just curious.”
“You know how they say no woman’s ever older than twenty-nine?”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
She shook her head tolerantly. “You really do live with your head in science journals, don’t you? It just means women are sensitive about their age, and guys aren’t supposed to ask.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No problem. I’m not your typical woman.”
“That’s certainly true.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “You always speak the truth, don’t you? You’re not into compliments; you just tell it like you see it.”
“Is that bad?”
She shook her head, curls bouncing. “Refreshing. And I am twenty-nine, for real. But ask me again in three months, and I’ll be thirty.”
Four years younger than him. But it was as if they were a generation apart when it came to their approaches to life. Of course, once he’d gone to live with his grandparents, he’d never been young, in the sense of carefree and irresponsible like Jenna.
When they reached the checkout line, she pulled out her wallet. “I’ll pay for my share of the food, and I owe you for gas.”
“Put it away. We can settle up when we get to Vancouver.”
“Okay. But I don’t need charity. If you want to buy wine, great, because I can’t afford it, and I love it. But food and gas are in my budget.”
He nodded as they moved ahead. “No charity.” He respected that. She took responsibility for herself, though she didn’t want any other obligations tying her down. His scientist’s brain kept wanting to analyze her; she was the most intriguing woman he’d met.
Now she was telling the young Latina cashier that her name—Esmeralda, according to her name tag—was beautiful. Jenna noticed people. Engaged with them. Whereas he, shy and often absorbed in his thoughts, rarely did.
When the cashier wished them a pleasant evening, he thanked her and took the bags.
Pleasant. Such a bland word. Being with Jenna was the opposite of bland. As for the evening and maybe going to bed toget
her … His pulse quickened and he felt as anxious as the time, at age eighteen, he first donned scuba gear and dove under the ocean. Uncertain, a little scared, excited.
That dive had been momentous. For the first time, he’d been absorbed into the ocean that had for so long fascinated him. He’d been on intimate terms with it. The experience had been the fulfillment of a long-time passion, the beginning of a lifelong adventure.
“You going to open the door?” Jenna’s voice called him back.
They’d arrived at the Westfalia. He was just standing there, staring blankly at the side door, seeing not it but that first tantalizing glimpse of the ocean depths. He shook his head, clearing it.
Quickly, he unlocked the door. As he stowed the groceries in the compact kitchen, he puzzled over why he was thinking of the dive and feeling anxious. He’d had sex before, plenty of times. Like anything else he took on, he believed in doing it well. So he’d studied female anatomy and sexual response, and with each lover he’d experimented to find out what gave her the most satisfaction. If he and Jenna did get together, he’d follow that tried-and-true course of action, and they’d both enjoy themselves.
But he was getting ahead of himself. A little flirtation wasn’t an offer of sex.
It wasn’t far to Patrick’s Point, a state park he’d never visited before that one of his Santa Cruz colleagues had recommended. Though the visit to Jenna’s mechanic and the stop at Glass Beach had put them behind schedule, it wasn’t five o’clock yet. The campground wasn’t full, and they’d still have two or three hours of daylight to explore the park before dinner. At the gate, he paid the camping fee to a young woman in uniform who handed him a park brochure. He passed it over to Jenna.
A few minutes later, he pulled the camper into a pleasant, open space framed by tall spruce and fir trees and containing the standard wooden picnic table and fire pit. He found the most level spot and turned off the engine.
Jenna jumped out and gazed around as he joined her. “Very pretty,” she said happily. “Love the way the sunshine filters through the trees. Let’s go explore.”
“Great. We can take a look at the brochure and decide what to see.”