ISLAND OF LOVE Page 4

  Suddenly Anne was uncomfortably aware that they had become the object of several interested pairs of eyes. Someone jostled them passing by, and several people were staring at them.

  “I think we’re creating a sensation standing here in front of the whole village,” Anne said with a smile.

  Ben laughed. “Oh, it gives them something to talk about. But I agree, it’s not the best place for a reunion.”

  “Well, I do have some groceries to pick up. There’s nothing edible at the house.”

  He took her by the arm and they started walking. “I’ll just tag along with you as far as the grocery store. Perhaps when you get settled we can get together for a real talk. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I can’t think of anything at the moment. I hardly know what needs to be done myself at this point.”

  “How about coming over this afternoon, then? We could have a cup of tea in front of the fire, just the way we used to.”

  She realized with a pang what he didn’t add— “When Victoria was alive.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said hurriedly. “What time?”

  “How about three o’clock? Or is that too late? Are you worried about walking home in the dark?”

  “On the island? Of course not. Nothing could happen to me here. And I find I still know every inch of every path.”

  “All right, then,” he said. “It’s a date. I’ll see you this afternoon around three o’clock.”

  He turned from her then and walked off. She stood there in front of the grocery store watching him until he disappeared from view around the last shop on the street, filled with a sense of protective love for him. Perhaps she could heal his hurt, ease the pain of loss for him.

  By the time she’d picked up her purchases at the grocery store, what had started out to be a fine day had degenerated into a gusty wind and a gray sky that was filling rapidly with black rain clouds. Just as she reached the road that led to her house, the heavy drops

  were already spattering down, and she broke into a brisk run.

  When she finally got home, the rain was coming down so hard that she hardly noticed the car parked out in front. It was most unusual for anyone to atŹtempt to negotiate the rutted dirt road during the autumn rains, although Patrick Fielding used to have a Land Rover, very much like this one, that could go anywhere.

  Then she saw that a man was standing on the front porch. When she recognized him, her mouth fell open in utter astonishment. It was Jerry—the last person she would have expected to see. He had obviously been waiting for her under cover. She stopped dead in her tracks for a second or two with the rain lashing against her face, soaking her hair, then made a dash for the porch.

  “Here, let me carry that for you,” he said, reaching for the shopping bag, which was thoroughly sodden by now.

  Without a word she handed it to him. She was shivering from head to toe, as much from shock as from the penetrating wet and cold, and barely able to fish the house key out of her purse. She fumbled it into the lock, opened the door and stepped inside the chilly damp house, with Jerry close behind her.

  Shaking out her dripping head, she turned slowly around to face him. “What in the world are you doing here?” she asked.

  He was grinning down at her. “I wish you could see yourself. You look like a drowned rat. Where shall I put these groceries?”

  She glared at him. “I said, what are you doing here?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “What kind of greeting is that?”

  The old eyebrow trick only escalated her irritation. “You’ve got some nerve showing up like this out of the blue. What do you think you’re doing, checking up on me?”

  The grin broadened. “Something like that.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it.”

  “Well, you’d better start believing it. Now, will you please tell me where to put the groceries? This bag is beginning to leak all over me.” He gave a low wicked chuckle. “You really are a sight. Don’t you think you’d better go dry off? I can find the kitchen myself. Then I’ll light a fire. It’s freezing in here.”

  He turned from her, heading for the kitchen, leaving her standing there speechless and dripping all over the carpet, and still shivering. Finally, she shook herself and went down the hall to her bedroom. As she stripped off her wet clothes, her one thought was how to get rid of him. He’d obviously come up here to press her about the interview with Ben, and he’d simply spoil everything.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BY THE time Anne had thrown on a pair of dry jeans and heavy white pullover, dried her hair as best she could, and hung up the damp towel on the rack in the bathroom, the smell of wood smoke was filling the house. She carried her brush into the living room to finish drying her hair by the fire. Jerry was in there, down on his haunches in front of the stone fireplace, feeding kindling into it.

  “Please,” she said, walking toward him. “Make yourself right at home.”

  He swiveled his head around to look up at her. “Thanks, I already have. It’s not a bad fire, if I do say so myself.”

  “Congratulations.”

  He threw in a large alder log, rose to his feet and turned around to face her. “Say, have you got anyŹthing to eat around here? I’m starved. Haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”

  She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that would kill a lesser man. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.”

  He gave her an innocent look. “Why, to check on how you were coming along with the interview, of course. What else? When I talked to you on the teleŹphone last night you didn’t sound very enthusiastic about the project.” He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “I just thought I’d come up here and give you a nudge in the right direction.”

  She knew it was hopeless to argue with him. By now her anger was pretty well spent anyway. She just wanted to get him out of here as quickly as possible, and she knew that if she kept on arguing with him he’d never go.

  She sat down in front of the fire and started brushing her hair. “How did you get here so fast?”

  “By seaplane. I rented the car from someone named Patrick down in the village, but I don’t think it’s worth much. I had a heck of a time getting over that poor excuse for a road back there.”

  “This is not the heart of Seattle, Jerry,” she said dryly. “We don’t have such amenities as paved roads here.” City born and bred, with luck he’d get sick of the primitive conditions and go back today. “In any case, I’m confident Patrick’s Land Rover will get you back to the village in time to catch your plane back to Seattle this afternoon.”

  “Oh, I’m not going back today.”

  “Just how long are you planning to stay, then?” she asked in a tight voice.

  “I’m not sure. It all depends. As a matter of fact I thought I might treat myself to a little holiday. Maybe do some fishing. Patrick tells me there are steelhead trout in the streams farther inland, and the salmon run most of the year up here in the saltwater anyway.”

  Anne’s heart sank slowly into her stomach. He’d wreck everything. Yet she knew that the harder she pressed him to leave, the deeper in he’d dig his heels. Somehow she’d have to make him realize that his looming presence could very well jettison all hope of the interview.

  “Jerry, please try to understand,” she said, making her voice steady and calm. “If Ben finds out you’ve come up here to push him into that interview, I haven’t a prayer of getting it.”

  He didn’t say anything for several seconds. She glanced up to see him gazing pensively into the fire, his head bent, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans, and it suddenly occurred to her that this was the first time since she’d known him that she’d seen him dressed so casually. Although ordinarily he wasn’t exactly a shining example of sartorial splendor, his tie perennially loosened, his clothes always a little rumpled, they were expensively tailored and fitted him well.

  Tod
ay he was dressed in tan chinos and a soft rich brown woolen shirt, just the color of his eyes, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and unfastened at the throat. Oddly, the outfit seemed to suit him, with his slender athletic build, broad bony shoulders, narrow waist and lean hips.

  Just then he turned his head slightly. Before she could catch herself, their eyes met, and a slow grin began to spread across his face.

  “See anything interesting?” he drawled.

  Quickly, she looked away. “Don’t change the subject. I still can’t believe you really did this. Don’t you have any confidence in me at all? I don’t need you to come up here and baby-sit me or hold my hand.”

  He got down beside her, leaned back against the sofa and crossed his long legs in front of him. “Well, if you’re really doing that well on your own, I apolŹogize. I’ll just go fishing and leave you alone. Can I

  take it then that you’ve already set things up with Poole?”

  “Well, no, not yet,” she stammered. She turned and gave him a pleading look. “Jerry, I just got here yesterday.”

  “Have you even seen the guy?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I have,” she said. “I ran into him this morning in the village and he invited me to his house this afternoon for tea.”

  He pulled the eyebrow trick on her again. “For tea?”

  She flushed. “It’s an old custom. He and his wife and I used to have tea together in the afternoon quite often in the old days.”

  He leaned his head farther back and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, that’s good work, Cameron. So today you’ll start the interview? Do you have a tape recorder? How about the camera? Did you reŹmember to bring it along?”

  “No, Jerry,” she broke in firmly. “Today I do not start the interview. Today, if all goes well, I might broach the subject. That is, if you can manage to keep out of my way.”

  “Well, what did you talk about today, then?”

  “Oh, just old times.”

  Her hair seemed to be thoroughly dry by now. She gave it one last swipe with the brush, then rose to her feet and went over to glance out of the window. The rain had stopped, and a pale sun was struggling to come out from behind the last of the clouds. The road to the village would still be virtually impassable for another hour, however, even in the Land Rover.

  She turned back to him. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to negotiate that road for a while. I’ll fix some

  lunch before you go. If you really do intend to stay on for a few days you’d better fix it up with the Sorenson’s at the hotel. You can call them from here if you like. I’ll get the number for you.”

  She started walking toward the hall where the teleŹphone was kept, but before she’d gone far he was calling after her.

  “Actually I thought I’d stay here with you. You seem to have plenty of room and“

  “What?” she broke in. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly around to face him, shaking her head. “No, Jerry. You can’t possibly stay here. It’s out of the question.”

  He gave her a look of honest puzzlement. “I don’t see why.”

  Suddenly acutely embarrassed, she could feel her face reddening. “Well, this is a small village. Everyone knows me here. It’s also about fifty years behind the times. If it ever got out that I had a man staying here with me alone in the house the gossip would never end. You simply can’t stay here, Jerry, and that’s final. It would ruin everything.”

  He rose slowly to his feet and stood looking down at her, a long careful look, for several long moments. “You know,” he said at last in a deceptively soft tone, “I thought right from the beginning of this little venture that there was more to it than met the eye. You want to know what I think?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  Ignoring the dry comment, he continued on un-daunted. “I think you’ve still got some kind of adolescent crush on this old geezer, haven’t you?”

  She lifted her chin. “He is not an old geezer.”

  “He’s got to be almost fifty. Probably old enough to be your father.”

  “He happens to be forty-four, hardly old enough to be the father of a twenty-seven-year-old woman. And not, I might add, much older than you.”

  “Hey, I’m only thirty-five, a mere boy.” He took a step toward her, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Come on, Cameron, give. Have you got something going with this guy?”

  “How could I? I’ve been gone for ten years and have seen him exactly once since I got back. We talked for perhaps ten minutes.”

  He gave her a cool, penetrating look. “Maybe so,” he said slowly. “But you’ll have to admit you’ve got him up on a pretty exalted pedestal.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d call it a pedestal. I just think he’s a wonderful man.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, in every way.”

  “And you don’t call that a pedestal?”

  She spread her arms helplessly. “What can I say? It’s hard to explain. He and Victoria were always just there for me, for each other. They had a perfect love, yet it didn’t shut out other people. I mean, both of them were enormously kind to me, especially when my mother died so soon after my brother, and everyŹthing just kind of fell apart.”

  “And so you’ve spent all these years since searching for that kind of love.” Jerry put his chin in his hand, rubbing it thoughtfully. “Could that be why you’ve never had a romance of your own?”

  “No!” she said. “Of course not. Besides, how do you know I’ve never had a romance?”

  “Oh, I’d know, believe me.”

  “I see,” she said evenly. “You’ve suddenly become omniscient, is that it?”

  He braced his hands on the table and leaned toward her so that his face was only inches away from hers. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not omniscient, but when a woman is in love she shows it in a hundred different ways. I’ve never seen a sign of it in you.” He straightŹened up and gazed down at her. “I thought you were just cold. You know, not interested in men.”

  “If you mean because I didn’t fall all over you“

  He raised a hand. “Don’t be obstructive. Why do women always have to take everything so personally? I’m only trying to help you solve your problem, and right away you get huffy.”

  She jumped to her feet. “I don’t have a problem!” she said. “And if I did you’re the last person I’d want to help me solve it.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Not with your reputation.”

  “My reputation!” he exclaimed in genuine astonishment. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Well, I don’t see that your love life is any shining example to follow—one blonde after another. You say I’ve never been in love. Well, neither have you, if it comes to that.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fair is fair, Jerry. Let’s psychoanalyze your hangŹups now that you’ve got mine all figured out.” He opened his mouth, but she rushed on before he had a chance to get a word out. “Haven’t you ever asked yourself why you hop from one blonde to another? Surely one of them must have measured up to your exalted standards.”

  “I have my reasons,” he stated loftily.

  “Let’s see,” she went on, ignoring him, “maybe when you were a child some little blond girl hurt your feelings. Maybe tattled to the teacher on you or didn’t invite you to her birthday party.”

  “That’s enough, Cameron,” he said in a warning tone.

  “Oh? I see. It’s one thing to dissect my hang-ups, but when the shoe is on the other foot it pinches, doesn’t it?”

  They stood there, glaring at each other, neither giving an inch. Finally, she noticed his mouth beginning to twitch at the edges. It was contagious, and in the next moment they were both literally helpless with laughter.

  “Truce!” he said when he’d caught his breath. “Okay?”

  She nodded. “Truce.”

  Alt
hough he was still smiling, his eyes had hardened. “Just don’t you forget why I let you come here in the first place. That interview goes at the top of your list. When you get that out of the way you can pursue your own fantasies as much as you please.”

  On her way to Ben’s that afternoon, dressed in her best pair of gray flannel trousers, a white silk shirt and hunter green cashmere cardigan, she thought about the things Jerry had said. Could he be right? Was she so hung up on searching for the kind of perfect love the Pooles had had that she’d denied herself a real love of her own?

  Even more to the point, why had Jerry bothered to go into it in such detail? In fact, why had he come up here at all? She’d assumed it was to goad her about the interview, but now somehow that explanation

  didn’t quite ring true. It just wasn’t like Jerry. He might be the most exasperating man in the world, but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d trusted her on far more important assignments in the past without bothering to check on her progress. There had to be more to it than that.

  Then there was his telephone call the night she’d arrived, and the odd little scene in his office, when for just a moment he seemed to be looking at her for the first time as a woman, even a desirable one. And why did he keep harping on the subject of her feelings for Ben? If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he was jealous. Then she had to laugh. Not the Jerry Bannister she knew!

  Ben’s house was perched high on a cliff overlooking the northern channel. Anne slowed her steps as she approached. How many times in the past she’d come down this same road to this same house! She stopped short when she came to the old shed where Ben kept his painting equipment, and cold shivers ran up and down her spine as the memory of what had taken place there rose painfully up in her mind.

  It had been her last night on the island, the night she’d thrown herself at Ben so shamelessly, sobbing out her love for him. How embarrassed he must have been! And how perfectly he had handled it. If only her father hadn’t come along and misinterpreted it!