by Joan Kilby
JACK’S PADDLE SLICED through the water and rose in a smooth rhythmic motion as he kayaked parallel to the shore. Drops sprayed off the blade and glistened in the afternoon sun. He wore a half wet suit, which kept his core warm but left his lower arms and legs bare. His shoulder had hurt at first, but after twenty minutes of paddling, his muscles were warm and almost pain free.
Blue sky, sunshine, sparkling water. To his left was the town’s namesake, Summerside Beach, a crescent of white sand between two rocky cliffs. Brightly colored bathing boxes lined the shore to the sailing club, where the sand was littered with beached dinghies, kayaks and sailboards. To his right, the expanse of Port Phillip Bay, and in the distance, the Melbourne skyline.
He wished Sienna could experience this with him. She needed more pleasure in her life, needed to relax.
Hearing someone calling, Jack glanced over his shoulder toward the beach. A hundred meters away at the water’s edge stood a small trim figure with long red hair. Speak of the devil! He was too far away to hear what she said, but he grinned. Sienna was bouncing up and down, waving her arm at him. Make that two arms. She really knew how to say g’day.
He waved back, then balanced his paddle across his kayak and cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’m coming—” He broke off, eyes widening in surprise.
Sienna was hauling a kayak from the sailing club down the beach and into the water. A man came out of the clubhouse and called, but she ignored him. When the kayak was floating she kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pant legs and waded out with the water lapping at her bare knees.
What on earth was she doing? Jack shielded his eyes to see, chuckling as she tried to climb into the rocking kayak. Each attempt succeeded in pushing the kayak farther offshore until she was waist-deep. Then heaving herself up, she flopped on her stomach across the cockpit and dangled there a moment before sliding helplessly back into the water. It was like a comedy sketch.
Jack set off, paddle flashing, to help her. Before he was halfway, Sienna somehow managed to scramble into the tippy craft. She fished the floating paddle out of the water and set off. What her technique lacked in finesse was made up for in energy. Jack had never seen anyone paddle so hard to so little purpose. With every stroke she veered first one way, then the other. The distance covered after some minutes of frantic activity amounted to practically nil. He slowed his own pace just to watch her crazy efforts, not troubling to hide his enjoyment.
As he came closer and he began to make out the shape of her features, his grin faded. That wasn’t a smile she was wearing; it was a scowl. She wasn’t happy to see him—she was angry. In fact, judging by the sparks shooting out of her eyes and her red cheeks, he’d say she was furious.
“What’s wrong?” he said when she was close enough to hear him.
Strands of wet hair were plastered to her cheeks. Her blouse was sticking to her breasts and he could make out the lacy outline of her bra beneath the transparent fabric. It wasn’t the time to be taking note of such things, but he couldn’t help it. Then she saw the direction of his gaze and he could have sworn steam hissed out of her ears.
“Don’t you dare ogle me!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He lifted his gaze, only to be impaled by a lethal glare.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Uh…” Somehow he suspected “kayaking” wasn’t the correct answer. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“You told Oliver…” she began, jabbing the air with her paddle. The violent movement put her off balance and set the kayak wobbling dangerously. She tried to counterbalance and the rocking increased. Water sloshed into her cockpit, and she flailed the paddle around, her eyes wide. “What is it with these crazy boats?”
Jack reached out and grabbed the hull of her kayak to stabilize her. “Relax and the boat will steady itself.”
“How can I relax? It’s going to slip right out from under me!” A choppy wave from a passing motorboat rocked the kayak. Panicking, she dropped the paddle and clamped her fingers around his biceps.
“Careful!” he said. “You’ll end up dunking us both. If you feel the kayak rolling over, do a somersault underwater and slide out.”
“What if I get stuck?” Sienna’s furious gaze flashed back to him. “This is all your fault.”
“I was coming to help you!” They were literally an arm’s length away. “It’s not my fault you’re hotheaded.”
“Everything’s your fault,” she fumed.
Jack bit down on a grin. Maybe it was the unevolved male in him, but he enjoyed seeing Sienna with her chest heaving and her eyes flashing. He had the urge to haul her into his arms, kiss her senseless, then tease her until she laughed. “What, specifically, is my fault? Something about Oliver, I take it.”
“You told him to do an apprenticeship!” Her kayak rocked violently. She grabbed his other arm.
“I did suggest he might enjoy that,” Jack agreed, relieved it was something simple. “He’s a natural with electronics. I’d be happy to mentor him.”
“You are not going to mentor him. He is not going to miss out on an advanced education to be a tradesman.” Sienna was gripping both of Jack’s arms now and they were twisted to face each other, hanging over the water, both kayaks tilting at a dangerous angle.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a—” Jack began.
“He’s going to be a doctor…”
Jack doubted that very much, but he managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Or at least he’s going to graduate university so he has options,” she continued. “I won’t let a decision he makes as a teen affect the rest of his life.”
Jack shipped his paddle and held her arms to prevent them both from falling into the water. “What sparked all this?”
“I found Oliver playing with some meters and wires you gave him. Now he’s talking about quitting school and doing an apprenticeship. He said you were going to help him.”
Jack looked down. The gap between the kayaks was widening. He spoke faster. “I didn’t tell him to quit school. I simply encouraged him to develop his natural talents.”
“He said you left school at sixteen.” Sienna looked at him as if he’d grown two heads and they were both writhing with snakes.
“It’s no big deal,” he said, irked by her disapproval. Jack was starting to think this wasn’t so funny. In fact, it was a mystery how he could have been so attracted to this woman. “Don’t you think Oliver can decide what’s right for him?”
“He’s too young to decide. It’s not that long ago he wanted to run away and join a circus.” Glancing down, she saw how precariously they were balanced. Of course the moment she tensed up, the kayak began to slide out from under her. “Holy crap,” she whispered, clinging to his arms. “What do we do now?”
“Put your arms around my neck,” Jack said. “I’ll pull your boat toward mine.”
“Is this a trick?” she demanded. But she inched her hands up his arms, wiggling her fingers into his armpits.
“Hey,” he said, squirming. “Don’t tickle.”
“I can’t help it. I’m trying to keep my head above—” With a shrill cry, she lost her grip and pitched forward out of the kayak, falling into the salt water with a huge splash.
Jack nearly overturned but managed to right himself at the last second with deft paddlework. Sienna surfaced, gasping for air and blinking furiously, her hair streaming over her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he let out a guffaw.
“Are you laughing at me?” she fumed.
“N-n-no,” he sputtered, shoulders shaking. “I’m drowning here!” She looked like a wet cat, mad as hell and itching to scratch his eyes out.
She was treading water, churning the sea so hard that her shoulders were above the surface. He pushed over her floating paddle. “Just don’t hit me with it.”
“I can’t even lift it out of the damn water.” Her mouth screwed up and for a second she looked as if she would cry
. Then all at once a chuckle escaped. Then another. Soon she was giggling uncontrollably. Only, she wasn’t happy, Jack realized; she was hysterical.
“Give me your hand,” he said. “I’ll help you get back into the boat.”
She reached up to clasp his outstretched hand. Her fingers tightened. Then with a sharp tug she pulled on his hand and rolled his kayak. His yelp of surprise was lost as he sank beneath the water. Years of experience kicked in and Jack slid out of the kayak in a smooth somersault. He opened his eyes underwater to see Sienna’s face just below the surface, peering down at him, her cheeks full of air and her hair floating like seaweed.
When he surfaced, she popped up, too. “I wanted to see how you do that somersault.”
Jack shook his wet hair back, blinked the water out of his eyes. “You’re nuts. Certifiable.”
“I’ve had the crappiest day! You would not believe how bad my day was. And now this,” she said, lifting her hands, palms up. “I’m wearing my good clothes in the ocean.”
“Sienna, look around you,” Jack said, trying to get her attention. “Look at the light, the sky, the sparkling water.”
It was early evening, his favorite time of day, when the setting sun cast a warm reddish glow on the bathing boxes and the cliffs.
She took in he surroundings. Droplets sparkled on her eyelashes. Faint freckles stood out on her wet nose. Captivated, Jack drifted closer. When he kissed her, her lips were moist and tangy with salt. For a moment she started to respond.
Then Sienna pushed him away, her irises a vivid, changing green, reflecting the choppy sea. “I’m still mad at you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TREADING WATER, Jack tilted one end of his overturned kayak to drain it, then rolled it right side up. Placing a hand on either side, he hoisted himself up, legs tucked, and swiveled, sliding inside. He turned to Sienna. “I’ll hold your kayak while you get back in.”
“Not in a million years am I getting back in that boat.”
“You can’t swim to shore in those clothes.”
“You’re right.” She began undoing the buttons at her waist and stripping off her pants. They tangled around her ankles and she had to duck under the water to pull them over her feet. She stuffed them inside the kayak, then undid her blouse.
Jack wolf whistled through his teeth.
She whipped off the pale blue silky fabric and flung it at his face. Then she set off swimming for the beach. “Not a bad stroke,” he said. “With a little training you could be a swimmer.”
“I came second in the state championships in high school.”
“You didn’t come first? I’m disappointed.” He retrieved her clothes, attached a tow rope to the bow of her kayak and followed her. “Want a tow to shore?”
She blew a jet of salt spray at him and swam on. A few minutes later she found her footing in the shallows and rose, water sluicing off her coral-colored bra and panties. The setting sun gilded her creamy skin and set fire to the long wavy hair streaming down her back.
Botticelli’s Venus, Jack thought, lost in admiration. This was how Lexie should have painted her. Maybe not in her underwear, but coming out of the sea.
Jack beached the kayaks and dragged them ashore, then took hers close to the sailing club. He’d left a towel on the beach next to his pile of clothes. Unzipping his wet suit to the waist, he let his torso air dry and gave the towel to Sienna, still trying to control his grin. “You should have seen your face when your kayak went over.”
“Laugh away, dolphin boy,” she said, drying herself off with brisk rough strokes. “I had no idea these things were so tippy. No idea.” She sneezed and picked up her shoes. “How I’m going to ride my bike back up that hill in wet clothes, I don’t know.”
“I’ll throw the bike in the back of my ute.” He wrapped the towel around her wet shoulders and picked up his kayak. “Come with me.”
He loaded his kayak and her bike onto his utility truck. As she brushed the sand off before getting in, he noticed the blisters. “What did you do to your feet?”
“I had a flat tire and had to walk home.” She sneezed again.
“Hop in,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat in his wet suit. After she did, he started the truck and drove off up the hill. At the top she told him to turn left. Jack entered a newer subdivision where the mansions came with tennis courts, swimming pools and a view of the bay. “I should have known you’d be in the posh end of town.”
“Keep driving, James.”
She directed him to the oldest part of Summerside, down a narrow road where tall cypress trees arched overhead and the 1950s summer homes of Melbournites, now quaint compared to modern dwellings, were set far back from the street. “Ah, now, this is what I call a nice neighborhood.”
“Here we are, on the left.”
He pulled into her driveway and parked in front of a single-story wooden house painted white with green trim. The wraparound veranda was crowded with pots of white and red geraniums. “Get changed and we’ll go get your car.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested between sneezes. “Anyway it’s down the road. And you’re wet, too.”
“I’ll be fine. Go, before you catch pneumonia.” He slanted her a stern look. “Doctor’s orders.”
“But…” she began, then stopped. “Okay. Thanks.”
She hurried into the house. While she was gone Jack stripped down to his bathing suit and put his shorts and T-shirt on. Sienna appeared a few minutes later wearing dry jeans and a pullover and carrying two cups of coffee in travel mugs. Back in the truck, she directed him to her car. Jack pulled in behind and parked.
Sienna got out and opened the trunk of her car. “I would have changed the tire myself when it happened, but…” She trailed off as she awkwardly removed the jack from where it was wedged beneath the spare tire.
“But?” he prompted, reaching down to lift the spare out of the way for her.
“I was in a hurry.”
“To get to the beach and chew me out?”
“No, I wasn’t mad at you at that point.”
He watched her put the jack in the wrong spot beneath the wheel well and waited for her to realize it. But first she had to study the handle and figure out which end slotted where. She was too proud to ask him to change the tire for her and he wouldn’t dream of insulting her by taking charge. Jack leaned against the car and sipped his coffee. The afternoon’s entertainment wasn’t over yet.
She crouched next to the jack and tried one end of the handle. It didn’t fit. She glanced over her shoulder at him and her eyes narrowed as she saw his smirk and realized he knew she was doing it wrong. Her cheeks grew red, but she seemed even more determined to succeed.
“We need to talk about Olly,” she said, turning the handle around. “He looks up to you. What else was he going to think when he heard you didn’t finish school?”
Jack waited until she’d gotten the handle positioned properly before replying, “That a person can be a success despite not graduating from high school?”
Dropping to a crouch, she began to crank the jack. “Would you call yourself a success?”
Implied insults aside, he couldn’t let her ruin her paint job. “Stop. The jack goes in that slot to the left of the wheel well.” Nudging her aside, he let the car down the half inch she’d raised it and moved the jack to the correct position.
“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” she huffed.
“You seemed bent on doing it yourself. You’ve also got to loosen the nuts on the wheel before you go any further. As I’m sure you know.” He got the wrench from the trunk and gave the nuts each a twist to start loosening them—otherwise they’d be here all night. “Are you saying I’m not a success just because I didn’t finish grade twelve and go on to higher education?”
“Look at you!” She began to turn the jack handle again. “It’s midweek and you’re kayaking as if you haven’t a care in the world.”
“So I ha
ve a great lifestyle. What’s wrong with that? Maybe you’re jealous. I don’t condemn you because you can’t cook.”
“Who says I can’t?” Her head came up, red hair springing like a ruffled bantam rooster.
He would have laughed if he’d been feeling amused. “You did. Not in so many words, but it was implied.”
Sienna cranked furiously. She was kneeling on the pavement now, heedless of her clean jeans. “You had something with the Men’s Shed. Then you quit just when it was getting really good.”
“The Shed was your idea, not mine,” he pointed out.
“But you liked it.”
He didn’t want to talk about that, or about the sudden void the Shed’s closure had left in his life. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Oliver.” He set his cup on the roof of her car. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course it’s about Oliver.” She floundered, realizing she’d gotten off track. “I wouldn’t be doing my job as a parent if I didn’t make him finish grade twelve in the academic stream.”
“Academics aren’t right for everyone.”
“They’re right for Oliver,” she insisted. The wheel was off the ground now. She threw down the jack and used the wrench to finish loosening the nuts. There was grease beneath her short scrubbed nails and her hair was falling in her face.
“Why don’t you let the boy’s talent and his inclinations decide what his profession should be?” As she removed the nuts Jack set them in a safe place on the curb. “Do you want me to finish changing the tire?”
“No, thanks.” Embracing the tire in both arms, she wrestled it off the axle. It came free suddenly and she sat down hard on the curb.
“He’s got an analytical mind. And he’s good with his hands,” Jack said, helping her to her feet. He took the tire and rolled it over to the rear of the car.
“He’s a healer at heart.” Her voice was fierce with motherly love.
“But he wants to learn robotics.” Jack handed her the spare.