Amber Beach (23 page)

Jake froze in the instant before he
realized
that there was nothing wrong. She flipped to a new page and began drawing with a speed as
dazzling as
the amber bathed in sunlight. He watched and held the stone so that its golden shadow fell onto the paper.

A rod tip jerked, catching his eye.

“Uh, Honor…”

“Not yet. I’ve been trying to see that face ever since I was born.”

From the corner of his eye Jake looked at the rod tip closest to him. It was moving up and down much faster and harder than the dodger could account for.

“Honor…”

She made a go-away noise and kept on drawing. The line did what it was designed to do. It popped out of the down-rigger clip and headed off at an angle.

“Well, hell”, he muttered in disgust. “We can always have
pizza tonight.”

“There. Got it! Or most of it.” She looked up. “Pizza? I’d
rather have salmon, if it’s all the same to you.”

“So would I!”

He bent, stuffed the amber back into her pocket, and yanked the rod out of the holder in one continuous motion. A quick upward jerk assured him that the fish was still on the line. The motion of the rod told him the fish was a salmon and it was well and truly hooked.

“Here you go”, he said, handing the rod over to Honor and taking the sketch pad. “Reel in our dinner. I’ll handle
the boat.”

“But I can’t – I’ve never…” The rod leaped and quivered in her hands. “My God! Jake, there’s really a fish on the other end of this line!”

“Sure is. Reel, buttercup.”

It was full dark by the time Jake buttoned up the
Tomorrow
for the night and drove to his own cabin to check the answering machine. There was no news from Emerging Resources, but there was a surly message from Ellen on the subject of racing boats and their testosterone-freak drivers.

“Tough kibble, lady”, he said. “If you can’t run with the wolves, stay in your kennel.”

Smiling with a wolfish kind of satisfaction, he grabbed some wine and headed back to Honor. There was another message, of sorts, at the turnoff to her driveway – an unmarked car parked in a little turnout just off the county road. In case anyone wondered what the car was doing there, a
radar
unit poked out the open window.

Jake wasn’t the only one who had noticed the cop’s presence. Local traffic, which normally went at least ten miles over the twenty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit on the little road, was going precisely what the law allowed. In Washington State, speed traps were considered a valuable, ecologically sound, endlessly renewable resource that was nourished by ridiculously low speed limits.

Honor opened the front door as soon as the truck coasted to a stop. It shouldn’t have pleased Jake that she was watching for him, but it did. What pleased him even more was that, like him, she had showered and changed her clothes. Her hair looked slightly damp and she was wearing casual slacks and a loose blouse that were the same color as her green-and-golden eyes. Talk about looking good enough to eat…

Jake wrenched his mind out of its single track and got out of the car. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“No. The charcoal is ready and so am I.”

He blinked. “For what?”

“Salmon, what else? I’m starved.”

So was he, but salmon was distant second to what he really wanted – Honor Donovan, naked, in bed. He grabbed the bottle of cold Chardonnay he had brought from his cabin and followed her into the cottage.

While he made a marinade for the salmon and put it on the barbecue, Honor was right on his heels, proud as a duck with fourteen ducklings.

“Well, the day wasn’t entirely wasted”, she said, gloating over the fish. “But it’s too bad you didn’t catch one.”

Jake smiled, remembering her dancing excitement when she finally managed to reel in her fish. She had lit up like a Christmas tree. Just watching her had been more fun than he could remember having in a long, long time.

“It doesn’t matter”, he said, putting the cover on the barbecue. “There will be other salmon for me.”

Honor looked uncertain as she followed Jake back into the house. None of the Donovan males had been worried about being outdone by a woman, but some of her dates hadn’t taken it very well.

“You’re sure?” she asked, shutting the back door.

“Uh huh”, Jake said, tugging lightly on a strand of her hair. “I don’t mind, honey. Even if I caught a salmon, I would have turned it loose.”

“Why?”

“Even after I cleaned it, yours weighed fourteen pounds. By the time you finish eating it in sandwiches, pastas, omelets, and salads, you’ll be thinking salmon is another name for too much of a good thing.”

“Ha! I’ve never gotten my fill of fresh salmon. Or good smoked salmon, either.”

“In that case, we’ll have to get you a big salmon.”

“A big one? What do you call that?” She gestured toward the barbecue.

“Good eating. But if you’re going to get the best smoking fish, you go for ones over twenty-five pounds. Thirty and up, way up, is best. Unfortunately, there aren’t many that big left in the San Juans.”

“Thirty pounds?” Her eyes widened. “Good grief. I better start lifting weights. I had a heck of a time bringing this little shrimp to the boat.”

“You did fine.”

“Really? Then why were you always yelling at me to keep my rod tip up?”

“I wasn’t yelling.”

“Ha! I thought Captain Conroy was going to fall out of his
Zodiac
laughing.”

“That’s because he’d never seen anyone trying to hold a net full of struggling salmon in one hand and an armful of over-the-moon woman in the other.”

“Don’t forget the fishing rod.”

“It’s hard to forget holding that in my teeth”, Jake said dryly.

It was the only thing that had prevented him from returning Honor’s excited kiss. That was just as well. He had a feeling the kiss would have gone from congratulations to raw hunger in a heartbeat. That would have been dumb.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But himself wasn’t listening. In his mind, Jake kept seeing that crotch-length T-shirt Honor slept in. He couldn’t help wondering if she wore underpants beneath. Thinking about that led to other things, like what she looked like when she opened herself to
a lover.

“Hello”, she said, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

“What?”

“Where are you?”

For an instant he considered telling her that he had been mentally pushing her nightshirt up her hips and searching through her spicy thicket with his tongue until he found the soft woman flesh beneath. Dumb. Really dumb. “I was just thinking”, he said.

“About dinner?”

“Um… yeah.
Dinner.”

“How does pesto sound? Or would you rather stick to hot sourdough bread and salad?”

“It all sounds good.”

“You must be hungry.”

“Yes”, he said curtly, stepping away from her. He was also dumber than a row of stumps for even thinking about how good it would feel to slide into her.

“Why don’t we have some crackers and cheese right now?” Honor suggested warily. “As grouchy as you are, we’ll be at each other’s throats before the salmon is done.”

Jake knew he was in a rough mood, just as he knew that cheese and crackers wouldn’t satisfy the hunger riding him. But food was better than what he had now.

Nothing.

He munched on cheese and crackers, drank a beer, and watched while Honor tossed pesto and pasta together.

“Do you mind if I draw while the salmon cooks?” she asked, setting the pasta aside. “I keep thinking about that face in the amber.”

“I don’t expect to be entertained.”

She gave him a slanting, rather wary glance and headed for her sketch pad.

The telephone rang. Jake expected Honor to hurry across the room and grab it eagerly. Instead, she walked slowly and extended her hand to the receiver as though she expected to be bitten.

“Hello”, she said.

“Disassociate yourself from Mr. Mallory or your brother will suffer.”

“What? Who is this? Where is…”

The phone went dead. She looked at it in disgust and slammed the receiver back into the cradle. “Damn him!”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Not Snake Eyes. This jerk started talking as soon as I said hello.”

Jake shut the front door and walked to her. She was pale except for bright spots of anger and adrenaline burning on her cheeks.

“How can you be sure it wasn’t Snake Eyes?” he asked.

“Linear logic sure or hunch sure?”

“Either one.”

“Actually, it’s both. I knew it before he started talking. The silence was different. Anyway, his accent isn’t as broad as the one Snake Eyes had when he mumbled around at my front door.”

“What kind of accent did this caller have?”

“Not French”, Honor said, replaying the words in her mind. “Not quite German. Not Spanish. Not British.”

“What do you mean, ‘not quite German’?”

“I don’t know. It just wasn’t.”

He didn’t push. There was no reason. The odds were nearly one hundred percent that the caller was from Russia itself or one of its satellite states on the Baltic Sea. Nothing new there.

“What did he say?” Jake asked.

Honor took a deep breath. It broke into pieces. Carefully she took another one. Then she looked at Jake with shadowed eyes.

“He told me to get rid of you or Kyle would suffer”, she
said simply.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Divide and conquer.”

“What?”

“The oldest tactic in the book. And the best. Someone
wants you isolated.”

She looked out the window. The wild gold of the sun and restless blue of the sea were long gone, leaving only the kind of deep black she didn’t want to face alone.

“Kyle…” Honor whispered. “My God, what am I going
to do?”

The anguish in her soft voice was like a knife in Jake’s conscience. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her; and if he did, she would only feel all the more deeply betrayed when
the truth came out.

He told himself he would be doing everyone a favor if he pointed out all the logical, rational reasons why she shouldn’t send him away. He was still listing those reasons in his mind when he found himself holding out his hand.

“Come here”, he said softly.

Honor walked into his arms as though she had always known she belonged there. He held her the same way, cursing Kyle with every heartbeat.

“What should I do?” she asked finally.

“Whatever you can live with.”

“What about Kyle?”

“He’s a big boy. Worry about yourself.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“I keep hoping you’ll listen.”

She laughed raggedly. “Talk to me, Jake. I need… to talk.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’ll go or I’ll stay. Your choice, Honor.”

“I don’t want to choose.” She burrowed against him as though the chill she felt was physical rather than mental. “Do you think whoever called has Kyle?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“If he already has Kyle, there’s no point in hamstringing your search, is there?”

She let out a shaky breath. “That was my second thought. A bluff rather than a real threat.”

Jake brushed his lips against her hair too gently for her to feel. Each breath he took was sweet with the scent of warm woman.

“What was your first thought?” he asked.

“I was glad I wasn’t here alone. I’m beginning to hate the telephone.”

“I’ll get you an answering machine.”

“I have one. I just can’t bear to turn it on when I’m here. I keep thinking that Kyle might be on the other end.”

There was nothing Jake could say to that. Certainly there was nothing that Honor would want to hear. So he simply stroked her chin-length, shiny hair and held her until she finally let go of him and moved away.

“Thanks”, she said self-consciously. “I didn’t mean to, well, you know.”

“Er, no.”

“Cry on your shoulder.”

He touched the dark blue flannel shirt where she had laid her head. “What are you talking about? It’s dry as a Baptist revival.”

She laughed almost helplessly. Then she took a shaky breath and turned toward the kitchen. “About that wine…”

“I’ll get it as soon as I check on the salmon.”

The telephone rang
again.

Honor flinched. Jake headed toward the phone. She stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“No”, she said quickly. “I can handle it.” She picked up
the phone. “Hello?”