Three Weeks Last Spring Page 7

Now comfortably settled in the cabin, Skye adopted a peaceful routine. She kept herself occupied by alternatively catching up with her reading and, between breaks in the rainstorms, visiting the island's museums and window shopping in the local art, craft and antique shops in Friday and Roche Harbors.

  As for Walker, Skye saw no more of him. She was sure he was somewhere in the vicinity, but for the time being at least, he was keeping out of her way, and that suited her fine.

  Debbie had phoned the day after Walker's early morning visit and had arranged to fly up for the weekend. Skye was looking forward to seeing her friend again, as it was nearly two years since they'd spent any quality time together. Their friendship, sustained by frequent e-mails and long distance phone calls, had survived well.

  After three action-filled days enjoying every tourist attraction San Juan Island had to offer, they joined one of the many charter boats on a trip to watch the Killer whales known locally as Orcas. And were enthralled by the sight of the huge mammals splashing and cavorting in the protected waters around the islands.

  Debbie's stay drew to a close, time passing too quickly for them, as it always did. As had become their custom over the years, they planned to spend their last night enjoying a meal and sampling the local nightlife in one of Friday Harbor's more prestigious restaurants.

  Walker was about to leave when he saw Skye and another woman enter. He’d only dropped in for a meal and a quick drink before returning to the Lodge. What a coincidence, that his tenant should choose this particular restaurant and bar for an evening out. He ordered another beer and settled down to watch. He had a feeling the evening was about to become interesting, very interesting indeed.

  The two women didn't have to wait long before a waiter showed them to a table by the window overlooking the marina. As they crossed the dining room they were oblivious to the fact that nearly every male in the room under the age of sixty watched their progression.

  Their appearance was striking, one auburn-haired and the other titian. They complimented each well. At first glance they appeared to be of similar height; although on closer inspection Walker could see that Skye's companion was taller by a couple of inches. Skye looked stunning. She was dressed in a calf length jade green dress, which caressed every inch of her figure like a lover. It set off her colouring to perfection.

  Caught off guard by the intense feeling of desire that surged though his veins, Walker willed his body to still, but his body was having none of it. He wanted to pull Skye into his arms and kiss her until she was senseless. Why did his tenant have to be so troublesome and so darned sexy? The first he could cope with, the second might just earn him yet another cold shower.

  Skye's companion was dressed all in black, a perfect foil for her vibrant hair and pale skin. Both were beautiful in their own way, although Walker preferred Skye's delicate features and softer colouring to the more dramatic woman by her side.

  To anyone who might appear interested, they were just two friends out for the evening. Walker, however, wasn't just anyone. His curiosity was aroused. Either his tenant made friends very quickly or she had an associate here on the island. In which case, why had she arranged to meet her in a very public place, rather than at the cabin, where they wouldn't be overheard?

  Enquiring from a passing waiter what the two women were drinking, Walker ordered a round of drinks and had them delivered to their table. He watched their reaction in the mirror above the bar. Skye's companion appeared to ask who had bought them a drink. When the waiter pointed him out, she turned, gave him a dazzling smile, and raised her glass in acknowledgement of his generosity.

  "Who was he pointing to? Skye asked. "Please don't tell me it was the geriatric with the walking stick."

  "Don't be silly, with those glasses he couldn't see this far. It's the guy on the second stool from the left, the one with the dark hair. He's wearing a tweed sports jacket. One of us obviously attracted his attention and I doubt very much it's me. Do you have any idea who he is?" She raised her glass once more.

  Skye choked on the sip of wine she had just swallowed. "Why aren't I the least bit surprised to see him here? That, my dear friend, is none other than the obnoxious and infamous Mr. Jedediah Walker."

  "Really? Well knock me down with a feather. He looks nothing like the way you described him. In fact he's kinda cute." She gave Walker one of her most alluring smiles.

  "Cute? As in pussy cat cute? I think you need your eyes testing, Debbie. Or better yet your head."

  "I wouldn't turn down an offer to get up close and personal with him. You never told me he was so attractive and sexy. That is one serious hunk of male flesh. I’m going to ask him to join us. After all, he's bought us a drink, I think it would be rude not to, don't you? Besides, what can I say? I'm an American and I'll talk to anyone, especially a handsome man like him."

  Skye stretched out her hand in an attempt to restrain her, but Debbie brushed it aside. "Are you out of your mind? Please don't ask him over. Let's just enjoy our last evening together on our own."

  But it was too late, her friend was already gesturing for Walker to join them. Skye watched in horror as he eased his tall frame off the stool and strolled leisurely cross the room, a slight grin of amusement on his face.

  "Good evening, ladies. Thanks for the invitation. I'm actually waiting for someone, but so far he hasn't showed," he lied glibly. "If you've no objection to making it a threesome, then I’ll happily join you." Before either woman could voice an objection, he dropped down into the chair opposite Skye and signaled the waiter to lay another place at their table.

  Skye was so mad at Debbie that she considered kicking her under the table, but then why ruin an exceedingly expensive pair of shoes? Debbie was always doing this to her, but this time she really had over-stepped the line. Skye forced what she hoped was a welcoming smile on her face and begrudgingly made the required introductions.

  Debbie returned Walker's smile and the hand that was offered to her, and casually asked, "Are you on vacation too, Mr. Walker."

  "Sort of. Have you two known each other long?"

  "Yeah, we've known each other for a few years now," Debbie responded. "Although we don't get to meet up nearly as often as we'd like. The last time was when Skye was over in Seattle, but that's over a year ago now. That's right, isn't it?" She barely gave Skye time to nod lamely in agreement.

  "When Skye told me she was planning this trip, " she continued, "I told her she ought to visit with me in San Francisco, but she wasn't buying it, as she’s been there before, so I said I would try and catch up with her here. Unfortunately, I could only manage a long weekend, I fly back in the morning."

  Skye smiled smoothly at Debbie, betraying nothing of her annoyance. She hated being the centre of attention, if only she could think of something to say to change the subject and divert the conversation away from herself. But when Debbie held forth that was easier said than done. There was no doubt in hers mind that Debbie had seen her disapproving look, and knew that she wished that she would shut the hell up. But it was too late; Debbie was completely captivated by Walker's charm and his devastating grin. She would recount her life history five times over given half the chance, and was in her element flirting with Walker, giving him her most captivating smile, while placing a well-manicured hand on his arm to emphasis a point.

  Skye groaned inwardly. Conscious of Walker's scrutiny, an unwelcome blush crept into her cheeks. Not only was the evening now officially out of hand, but she felt embarrassed too. Walker had managed to wind Debbie round his little finger and if he were to suggest that Debbie walk on water, then she was just the woman to have a darned good try.

  Walker couldn't help but notice the strained look that passed between Skye and her friend, and found the situation amusing. He studied the two women carefully. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, which made their friendship all the more intriguing. Skye's friend with the doe-like eyes and goofy smile was putty in his hands, and trying too hard to impress
him, but he wasn't interested. In fact he found her type mildly irritating and she was no exception. Her remarks, although seemingly innocuous, annoyed Skye, but he couldn't fathom out why. Debbie was all too obviously the quintessential American, willing to talk to anyone on any subject provided she was the centre of attention. If only she knew she wasn't the centre of his.

  Skye on the other hand, was charming, polite and tactful. But when it came to answering questions about her personal life she clammed up. Outwardly she appeared to be relaxed and enjoying herself, but Walker was sure it was an act, and a very poor act, at that. He sensed her tension. Saw it in the way she held her shoulders and the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. It was especially evident whenever her friend said something she didn't approve of. He was certain that underneath that cool exterior her temper was on its way to exceeding the boiling point and the posted speed limit.

  Walker watched the gamut of emotions that flickered through Skye's eyes, and considered what it would take to make her lose some of her aloofness. He suspected that under the very ‘correct’ smile and cool exterior there lurked an incredibly passionate woman.

  "It's a pity you’re leaving tomorrow," he said for Debbie’s benefit. He then attempted to draw Skye back into the conversation once more. "I'm sure you'll miss her company."

  Skye tried hard to control her temper, but her voice just a little too eager, as if her answer was all too obvious.

  "Of course I will."

  "How much longer do you intend staying on the island? I hope you won't find it too lonely in the cabin on your own."

  "Skye's here for another few weeks, isn't that right?" Debbie interrupted, taking control of the conversation once more.

  "Although my plans are flexible. I could change my flights and come back with you, if you wanted."

  Walker cut in. "I have a suggestion. I've got a few days free, and as the weather seems to be improving, why don't you let me show you a side of the islands that most tourists never get to see?" He offered Skye a smile that even her late grandmother would have fallen for.

  "Well, I don't…I mean I…" Skye stuttered like a teenager, a musk-rose flush rising on her cheeks.

  "What a great suggestion. You were only saying yesterday how much you wanted to see more of the islands before you fly back to London. I'm sure Mr. Walker is the perfect guide." There was a twinkle of mischief in Debbie’s eyes, as she knew only too well that Skye would be far too polite to decline Walker's invitation, no matter what she felt about the man.

  "Fine, that's settled then," Walker interrupted, with a conspiratorial wink to Debbie. "How about I pick you up tomorrow—late morning—and we make it up as we go along?"

  "Don't I get a say in this?" Skye demanded. "After all, it is my vacation and I might have made plans."

  "What plans?" Debbie laughed. "First I've heard about them. Oh, go on, Skye, who knows? You might enjoy yourself."

  Skye was neatly backed into a corner, and although she was seething, she knew that if she declined, she would appear churlish.

  "Well, only if you are sure. I wouldn't want to intrude."

  "Good, that's settled then. Everyone for coffee?" Walker raised his hand to signal the waiter.

  As they lingered over coffee and liqueurs, Walker insisted on paying the bill. He waved away all their arguments. "It’s the least I can do. It’s not often that I get to spend an evening in such fine company. So, do you have plans for the rest of the evening?"

  Debbie, who had long ago taken the role of chief conversationalist, was quick to reply.

  "We thought we might go and find some entertainment, either jazz, maybe a little folk, or, if I can persuade Skye—and we can find somewhere suitable—we might go dancing."

  Walker noted the faint blush on Skye's cheeks. He didn't have to try very hard to imagine what it would feel like to hold Skye in his arms. He could almost feel her soft curves moulding to the contours of his hard body, responding to his every move, as they swayed to an imaginary rhythm. He tried to ignore the sudden flare of heat in his groin.

  "Dancing, huh? There's no nightclub on the island, so unless you ladies can find a party to gatecrash, you're out of luck. But there are plenty of places that play live music. Perhaps I should join you?"

  The waiter cleared the debris of their meal away. Few diners remained, and although Debbie appeared to be in no hurry to conclude the evening, Walker could sense that Skye was. Her wide-eyed look merely screened her anger.

  "Thank you for dinner. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time Mr. Walker than accompany us," Skye said. She glanced at watch. "Besides, it's later than I thought and Debbie has an early start in the morning. Perhaps we should call it a night."

  "Pity, although maybe you're right." Walker conceded. A slow smile spread across his face. Better not antagonize Skye too much. After all, her so-called friend had been most accommodating in giving him another toehold in the door. He stood and extended his hand toward Debbie.

  "It was a pleasure meeting you, Debbie. Say ‘Hi’ to San Francisco for me and have a safe journey." He tilted his head towards Skye, his eyes holding her gaze slightly longer than was considered polite. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said with quiet emphasis.

  Walker was barely out of earshot, before Skye turned on Debbie. "Did you have to do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "You know very well what I’m talking about. Not only did you embarrass me, but you set me up too!" Skye banged her fist on the table.

  "I didn't hear you say no. Anyway, I don't know what you're getting all het up about. He's perfectly charming, and it's clear for all to see that he finds you attractive. He hardly took his eyes off you all evening. And despite what you say, I don't think you're averse to his charms either. So why not accept his invitation? A holiday romance could be just what the doctor ordered. Your love life's been non-existent for far too long, and you know what they say if you go without sex for too long—you become a virgin again."

  Skye blushed. She quickly looked over her shoulder and scanned the restaurant hoping that no one had overheard her friend's embarrassing attempt at humor.

  "Debbie, I'm not interested in Mr. Walker or any man. You of all people should know that. Not after Michael."

  "What is it with you and Michael?" Debbie asked. "You trot out the same excuse every time a man comes close enough for you to smell his cologne. I know he was a first class rat and treated you dreadfully. He lied, and in your book that's a cardinal sin, but I've got news for you most men lie at some point about something. It's genetic! It's something you have to accept, like the fact that their socks stink and they snore. Michael was over a year ago, it's time to move on."

  "Yes, Michael lied. But that was only part of it. I've never told anyone, not even you, the rest of the sordid affair." Skye turned her face to the window lest Debbie see her pain.

  "Then tell me now," Debbie said. "Make me understand why you are so averse to having another relationship."

  Skye continued to stare out of the window at the lights flickering in the marina. She was already trapped by all her memories of Michael. The last thing she needed was Debbie raking over old ground as well.

  "I can't, Debbie. I just can't. Drop it, please?"

  Realizing that she had overstepped the mark, Debbie reached across the table and took Skye's icy hand in hers. She gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  "I'm sorry. Whatever Michael did, it's over. Forget it. I've never suggested this before, but perhaps you should talk to a therapist. Get it off your chest once and for all." When Skye didn't respond Debbie continued, "I think you're right, we should call it a night. I'm truly sorry if I've upset you and spoilt our last evening together. You know I'd never intentionally do anything to ruin our friendship, don't you? After everything you’d told me about your previous encounters with your Mr. Walker, I was just having some fun with the two of you, that's all."

  Skye's temper finally tumbled over the edge. Her head whipped round
and she snapped at her friend.

  "Debbie, just stop right there, before you dig yourself an even bigger hole. For once and for all, he is not my Mr. Walker."

  In spite of Skye's dark looks and the anger in her eyes, Debbie couldn't help the amused look on her face, and playfully held up her hands as if to ward off an imaginary blow. She had to have the last word.

  "If you say so, but what is it, you Brits say? Oh yeah, ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’" She suppressed a giggle, picked up her purse, and left the restaurant.

  Skye, not trusting herself to speak, followed.

  Back in the car, the tension was palpable. Skye concentrated hard on the unfamiliar road. When they reached the cabin, neither prolonged the evening by talking. They quickly said goodnight, the door of Skye's bedroom closing with a resounding thud.

  Skye found it almost impossible to sleep, the events of the evening spinning in her mind, like laundry in a dryer. Debbie was right; she couldn't deny it any longer. She was by no means blind to Walker's rugged good looks, even though he was maddeningly arrogant. When she looked into his eyes, the smouldering flame she saw there made her body stir with an answering surge of excitement. Although unexpected, she had to admit, it wasn't totally unwelcome.