“No,” he said quietly. “I meant me.”
“Oh, you’ll never change, not a chance.” She laughed. “You’re too successful at the way you operate now.”
“You could take that chance. You know, Anne, you can’t play it safe all your life.”
“I can try.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “And do you think someone like Ben Poole would give you what you want? Marriage? I suppose children?”
“Well, he’s pretty old-fashioned, too.”
“Don’t you think he might be a little old to be starting a family?”
“Jerry,” she said in a warning tone. “Don’t start.”
With a heartfelt sigh he rose abruptly to his feet and stood for a moment looking down at her. “Too bad,” he murmured. “We could have had some good times together.”
Looking up at him, she had to admit to herself that she was more tempted than she would have dreamed possible. It was true. Even a brief fling with a man like Jerry would be an experience to remember, someŹthing to tell her grandchildren aboutif she ever had any.
He reached out and took her hand and pulled her up. “Now, I’m starved. Did you find anything edible in that kitchen besides soup?”
CHAPTER SIX
THE next morning Patrick showed up around ten-thirty in the Land Rover just as Jerry was finishing his last red-penciled revision to Anne’s draft story.
“I figured you folks might need a lift into the village after being stranded out here for two days.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Patrick,” Anne said. “I appreciate it.”
The three of them were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. It was another fine day, bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. Patrick Fielding had been a great crony of Anne’s father, had known her since she was born, and local legend was that he had been in love with her mother before her marŹriageand, according to some people, even afterward.
He was a stooped, rather taciturn man, with a thinning head of grizzled hair and a ruddy face, seamed and weathered by a lifetime spent outdoors on the sea. His wiry frame appeared somewhat scrawny, but he was as tough and strong as leather.
“Any chance I can borrow the Land Rover for a couple of hours?” Jerry asked. “Or will you be needing it all day?”
Patrick reached under his red woolen cap and scratched his head thoughtfully for a minute. “No,” he said finally. “I guess you can have it for a while.”
“Great,” Jerry said. “I have some errands to run, but they won’t take long. Of course,” he added quickly, “I’ll be glad to pay you for the use of it.”
Patrick gave him a hurt look. “No need for that. You can fill the tank with gas if you want.”
Jerry smiled apologetically. “Of course. Whatever you say.”
The old fishermen swallowed the half cup of coffee he had left in one long gulp, then rose to his feet. “Guess I’ll go wait outside. The fan belt’s been flappin’ around lately and I need to tighten it.” He looked at Anne. “You be ready to leave in, say, half an hour?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “That’s plenty of time.”
When he was gone, Anne glanced over at Jerry, who was sitting opposite her gazing abstractedly after Patrick. Since she’d used the last of the eggs in last night’s omelet, they’d only had a sketchy breakfast of toast and coffee, so there wasn’t much clearing away to do. After that they’d been so absorbed in going over her story that they hadn’t had time for any personal chat.
It was just as well, she thought now as she watched him covertly from under half-closed eyelids. She’d hardly slept a wink all night, tossing and turning, her mind in a turmoil over what had happened between them last evening.
He’d impliedno, he’d actually come right out and saidthat it was possible for him to change. For her. Did he mean it? Or was it only part of his strategy to sweet-talk her into bed? Which he clearly wanted to do. In spite of his colorful reputation, she was more flattered than she’d realized at first by his desire for her, and she had to admit that she was attracted to him.
Living at such close quarters with him these past few days, marooned by the floods, had actually turned
out to be quite a pleasant experience. He was a neat man in his personal habits, and although he made an unholy mess cooking he did his share of cleaning up afterward. He’d chopped all that wood for her, tended the fires they’d had, banked them safely at night. In fact, it was very satisfying to have a man like Jerry around the house.
But that didn’t mean he was offering her any kind of future. He’d said last night that maybe it was time she took a few chances, that she’d played it safe for too long. He could be right. But it was one thing to come out of her self-protective shell, quite another to walk blindly into what could only be a dead-end reŹlationship. She didn’t think she was that attracted to himnot yet, at any rate.
Just then Jerry scraped his chair back and rose to his feet. “Are you about ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes. I just have to get my things.” She got up from the table and started to leave. At the door she turned around. “What are those errands you menŹtioned to Patrick?”
“Well, we need groceries, for one thing,” he said. “The cupboards are bare, and I can’t exist forever on toast and crackers.”
Her heart turned over. Clearly he had every intention of staying on with her at the house. But was that wise? Lord knew what Ben would make of that! He must already be suspicious after seeing them together yesterday morning, and she still in her bathrobe!
“Then,” Jerry went on, “I’ll drive you over to Ben’s. I want you to try to talk him into letting us take some pictures. Also, when you get the story typed
up in final form, he’ll need to approve it before I can mail it into the office.”
“All right,” she said. “Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no road to Ben’s place, only a narrow path over higher ground through the woods. Even the Land Rover couldn’t make it.”
He had come over to her side and was standing quite close to her, smiling down at her. “Then we’ll just have to walk, won’t we?”
She gazed up at him, wordless, immobile, as though paralyzed by his nearness, and could only nod. Their eyes met, and he reached out to run a hand over her hair.
“Anne,” he said softly. “Have you thought any more about what we discussed last night? I want you surely you know that by now?” His hand moved to her face, his long fingers outlining each feature, her forehead, her nose, her lips. “And I think you want me, too.”
She stepped back from him, alarmed. “Jerry, at this point I’m not sure what I want.”
The hand dropped from her face and he frowned darkly. “You’re still hung up on Ben Poole, aren’t you?”
She turned her head away. What could she say? She was definitely attracted to him and knew she could want him if she let herself, but he was moving way too fast for her. She needed more time. And, although it was true that she’d always idealized Ben, since Jerry had come bursting into her life like a rocket from outer space the issue had become distinctly cloudy. How could she explain that to him?
“Well, you’d better make up your mind pretty soon,” he went on coldly. “I’ve never had to beg a woman yet, and I’m not about to start now.”
The note of male arrogance in his voice shattered the mood as thoroughly as if he’d dashed cold water in her face. “Fine,” she bit out sharply. “No one’s asking you to.”
She turned and stalked off down the hall.
The ride into the village was a silent one. Jerry was driving, at Patrick’s behest, to get the feel of the Land Rover, and the two men were totally absorbed in an arcane, detailed discussion of the beast’s peculiarities and inner workings.
Anne sat in the back, her arms folded in front of her, staring out of the window and brooding over that last conversation. What gave him the right to issue her any
ultimatums? She hadn’t invited him up here, hadn’t thrown herself at him. She’d even done everyŹthing in her power to get rid of him! He was so used to having women falling at his feet every time he crooked his little finger at them that…
She gave a start when she realized that Patrick was speaking to her. “I’m sorry, Patrick. What did you say?”
“I said I expect you’ll probably be coming to the get-together at the hotel tomorrow night.”
“Probably not me,” Jerry put in quickly. “I’ll be leaving later today if I can arrange for the seaplane to come and pick me up on such short notice.”
“I thought you were going fishing,” Anne remarked tartly.
“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I got what I came here for.” He caught her eye in the rearview mirror.
“Or almost,” he added dryly. “Now it’s time to get back to work.”
Anne averted her eyes. He’s sulking, she thought with satisfaction. Well, let him! It was nothing to her. Just because he couldn’t have what he wanted the exact moment he wanted it was not her problem.
In the village they dropped her off in front of the Sorensons’ hotel, then drove on to the garage at the end of the street, near the dock, to have the fan belt checked out more thoroughly.
“How long will it take you to do your shopping?” Jerry asked as she got out of the car.
“I have no idea,” she replied brusquely. “I want to stop in at the hotel to say hello to Carl.” She turned and gave him a saccharine smile. “But since you have so many errands to do, you should be able to keep busy.”
With a vicious grinding of gears and squeal of tires, he pulled away from the curb and left her standing there looking after them. Poor Patrick, she thought, watching the car disappear in a cloud of dust. He must be regretting his offer of the use of it.
She turned and walked slowly toward the hotel. Why had he decided to leave all of a sudden? It was like him, though. He was a man of quick decision, and not all of them right. In her heart, beneath the annoyance at his high-handed, dictatorial manner, she had to admit she’d be sorry to see him go. She’d quite enjoyed his company these past few days, and his interest in her as a woman instead of a story-making machine was flattering. Now all that would be over, and she couldn’t quite stifle a pang of regret.
Men! she thought disgustedly as she pushed the door open. Who could understand how their minds worked?
In the kitchen she found Carl, covered in a vol-uminous white apron and bending over the stove, just taking a fresh batch of scones out of the oven. He looked up when Anne came in and gave her a broad smile of welcome.
“Why, hello there, Anne. Glad to see you were able to make it in at last.”
She went over to the stove. “Yes, so am I. There’s practically nothing left to eat at the house.” She sniffed the fragrant air. “Those scones smell heavenly, Carl.”
He gave her a sly sideways glance. “I heard you had some company out there. Fellow from Seattle, isn’t it? Came in on Tuesday by seaplane?”
Anne flushed uncomfortably and forced out a laugh. “My, news travels as fast as ever around here. He’s only my boss, Carl. He came up here on business, about a story he wanted me to do, then got stuck at my place because of the floods.”
Carl straightened up. “Couldn’t have been all business. Patrick said he planned to stick around a while, do some fishing.”
“Yes, well, his plans have changed,” she said. “He’s leaving today, as a matter of fact.”
He gave her a long look, then nodded owlishly at her. “I see. Have a lovers’ quarrel, did you?”
“Carl! We’re not I mean, it’s nothing like that. He’s only my boss. He’s leaving early because the story is finished.”
Carl only nodded again, but the dubious look on his face spoke volumes. Anne sighed. Just as she’d
feared, Jerry’s presence at the house had created a veritable flood of village gossip. It was just as well he was leaving.
“I came to see if you’ve made enough scones to sell,” she said.
“Sure, Anne. How many do you need?”
“Oh, a dozen or so, if you can spare them.”
He started packing some scones that had already cooled into a white baker’s box. “You’ll be coming to the party tomorrow night, I hope?” he asked as he worked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Carl.” Now that Jerry was leaving, it didn’t sound like much fun. “Won’t people think it’s a little strange to be socializing so soon after Dad’s death?”
“Of course not. They understand how it was between you two. I think you should come. Everyone will be there.”
Including Ben? she wondered. Funny how she hadn’t even thought much about Ben since Jerry showed up.
“Well, I’ll think about it.”
Later, as she walked up the street to the grocery store, she had to wonder why Carl had automatically assumed Jerry was leaving because they’d quarreled. It seemed so very strange to be linked with him that way publicly. What was behind his sudden decision to leave? Had she actually hurt his feelings by reŹfusing to take his amorous advances seriously?
If so, she thought as she turned into the shop, maybe he’d really meant what he said about changing. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn’t really had time to digest it. Now, away from him for the first time in days, she saw the whole affair in a difŹ
ferent light, and it was clear to her that they’d at least have to have a serious talk before he left.
She dawdled in the grocery store for almost an hour. It was very crowded with the farmers and other out-landers who hadn’t been able to make it into the village during the flood, many of them old friends and acŹquaintances she hadn’t seen in years. They all offered her their condolences on her father’s death and seemed genuinely glad she was back.
She left her purchases at the store so she wouldn’t have to carry the two large bags around with her while she did the rest of her shopping, and went on down the street to the general store, which sold virtually everything else besides groceries on the island. It also had a Washington State liquor license. The sherry was all gone by now and the brandy undrinkable. She knew Jerry liked Scotch. As she reached for it, however, she realized that there wasn’t much point in getting liquor for him if he was leaving today, and she stopped short, her hand still on the bottle. She didn’t want him to go! How could that be? What was going on?
Finally, with a helpless little shrug, she grasped the bottle of Scotch more firmly and went over to the counter to pay for it.
“Anne, Anne.” Someone was calling her name, and she turned around to see Linda Sorenson over at a counter, in a darkened corner of the store.
“Hello, Linda,” she said.
“Anne, I need your advice.”
Anne walked over to her. “What about?”
Linda was holding up a swatch of pale blue silk and a spool of thread that almost matched it. “I’m making a new dress for the party tomorrow night and
wouldn’t you know?ran out of thread. This seems to be the closest I can get. What do you think?”
Anne took the spool of thread and held it against the material, examining it carefully. “It’s not perfect,” she said at last. “Let’s take it over where the light’s better.”
They walked together over to the front of the shop by the window and held it up to the light. “I think this is probably the best you can do, Linda,” Anne said after a more careful scrutiny. She laughed. “Take tiny stitches and you’ll be all right.”
Just then the door opened and Jerry breezed inside, still grim-faced. He glowered at Anne. “Are you through with your shopping?” he asked brusquely. Then he did a double take, his eyes shifted toward Linda, and the frown was gradually transformed into a smile. “Well, hello,” he said in his most mellow tones. He turned to Anne. “Well, Anne, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Anne gave him a sharp look. The expression on his face as he gazed down at the lovel
y blonde by her side made her feel as though a knife was twisting inside her. Then, just as suddenly, the pain turned into anger. This was one leopard who never had any intention of changing his spots.
“This is Linda Sorenson,” she said through her teeth. “Her parents run the hotel.” She turned to Linda, who was gazing up at Jerry wide-eyed. “Linda, meet Jerry Bannister, the editor of the magazine I work for in Seattle.”
The blonde held out a hand. “How do you do?” she said demurely. “We’ve all been wondering about you. You’ve been staying at Anne’s house, haven’t you?”
He held on to her hand for so long that Anne was certain in the next moment he’d bend down and kiss it. “Yes,” she put in hurriedly. “He came to the house the night of the floodon business,” she added pointedly. “And got stuck there until today.”
Jerry dropped Linda’s hand at last, but Anne noticed he’d edged a little closer to her in the meanŹtime.
“Oh?” Linda said, batting her big blue eyes up at Jerry in an inquiring look.
“Yes,” he said hastily. “That’s exactly what happened. And now that the road is passable again, I’ll be leaving.”
“Oh, not leaving the village, I hope,” Linda cooed. “You must stay for the party tomorrow night.
“Right,” Jerry said smoothly. “I intend to. You’ll be going, I presume?”
Linda blushed prettily. “Of course,” she murmured.
They had turned slightly away from Anne, who stood there gaping at them, feeling like an interloper, certainly a fifth wheel. They were completely igŹnoring her, and she watched, fascinated, at the little byplay that was almost like a mating ritual. Linda was asking Jerry what he thought about the match between the thread and the material, and he was studying them seriously, as though it were the most important question he’d had to consider for years.
“I think it’ll do,” he said at last. He gave them back to Linda, his hand lingering on hers in the process. “You know, that fabric is the exact color of your eyes.”
“Oh, do you think so?”
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