Don't Tempt Me (22 page)

"Aren't they beautiful?" Jackie leaned over the rail, enjoying the salty spray on her face. "No matter how many times I see them, they always thrill me."

"They are quite a sight," Adrian agreed. "I wonder if they'll stick with us all the way to Pearl Island."

"They might." She glanced up to see the private island Adrian called home on the horizon. "I've had them follow me for miles before, but never in a crowded shipping channel."

"Must be your lucky day."

She turned her head and found him smiling at her.
I'm so glad we talked,
she thought. "Must be."

"Then you're starting to believe in luck?"

"Maybe." She smiled. When she looked back toward Pearl Island, some of her happiness dimmed. "Do you think Carl Ryder will be there?"

"Probably. Before I left, Rory said she might have a surprise for us when we arrived. So I bet the archeology crew is there and ready to start."

Ignoring the tension trying to coil in her stomach, she went back to watching the dolphins, focusing on good things. Once they docked, there'd be no time for standing quietly with Adrian like this.

"Did you know," he said, "some people believe dolphins are the guardians of dreams, because they exist half in air, half in water, with air being our conscious thought, and water our subconscious?"

"You really do read a lot of philosophy."

"Actually, that would be folklore, but we all have our weaknesses." He grinned, then glanced out across the water. "Almost home."

She saw the line of palm trees that marked the mouth of the cove. "Well, time for me to get back to work." She tipped her head to check the sails.

"Do I need to get out of the way?"

"No." She turned back to him. "Hang out if you want."

"I'd like that." Resting his back on the rail, he leaned his weight on his forearms so he could watch her as she worked. He supposed he should be thinking of work, too, preparing himself mentally for the extravagant Valentine's dinner he would need to prepare in record time. Watching Jackie was much more fun, though. He was glad they'd worked things out this morning, even if they couldn't go with his preferred plan: that they be friends who slept together. As frequently as possible.

Had he really told his sisters last fall that Jackie wasn't his type? Perhaps he'd thought that because he'd never met anyone like her. True, she bore no resemblance to the image of the sweet, domestic wife he'd carried in his head for years, but she challenged him, intrigued him, and kept him on his toes. As an added bonus, she couldn't care less about his looks, which he found extremely refreshing.

His attraction was more than that, though. He simply
liked
her. A lot. The knowledge filled him with frightening speed. He truly, deeply
liked
everything about her.

Good heavens, was this the beginning of falling in love? With a woman who wanted nothing more from him than friendship? His mind spun at the thought. How had this happened?

Just then, he saw her stiffen. She whirled toward him with such accusation blazing in her eyes, he wondered if she'd read his mind ---until she turned away, shading her eyes as she looked toward shore. He followed the direction of her gaze and found they'd already entered the cove. On the dock, news crews had lined up to film their approach.

What in the world?
he wondered.

Ti, who stood at the base of the mainmast, called out a question about the rigging to Jackie. She shook her head as if to clear it and relayed an order in a stumbling, unsteady voice, completely at odds with her normal assurance. She looked as unsteady now as she'd been the day they'd run into Carl Ryder.

He remembered what she'd told him about her father's murder and the media frenzy surrounding the trial. As the ship neared the pier, he saw Rory in the Southern belle costume she wore for special occasions at the inn. She waved cheerfully when she spotted him.

Oh hell.
This was the surprise his sister had arranged. She must have sent out a press release to every news station in Houston to get this many cameras out. Knowing Rory the way he did, he should have anticipated something like this. If only he'd explained that widespread press could be potentially dangerous, this never would have happened.

But Jackie had asked him not to tell them about her past and he'd honored her request.

Damn.

He looked over to gauge her reaction as all around the ship sailors scurried to follow orders. She pressed a hand to her forehead, as if willing herself to concentrate. He ached to go to her and take her into his arms, but knew he'd only make matters worse. Instead, he stayed out of her way as a tender boat was launched to help tow them to the pier. All the while, cameras rolled and passengers waved.

Good Lord,
he thought.
Is that CNN?
His stunned gaze took in a van with
Good Morning America
splashed on the side. His sister hadn't just sent press releases to Houston, she'd sent them to all the major networks! This had to be Jackie's worst nightmare.

The moment the ship was secure, he headed toward her. She had her back to the cameras, and one hand shielding her face. "Jackie, it'll be okay."

"It will not!" she shouted back, then lowered her voice. "What if one of the people I helped con recognizes my face and comes after me? The last thing I need is a lawsuit right now."

"It's your father who conned them, and he's dead."

"I helped."

"You were a minor, and none of that happened in the U.S."

"So?"

He glanced around to be sure no one could hear them over the general noise on deck. "Have you ever been arrested or charged with a crime?"

"No."

"Then stop acting like a whipped dog."

"What would you have me do?" she asked between clenched teeth. "Smile for the camera?"

Ti joined them, clearly agitated. "Ya need to get below," he told Jackie.

Ignoring her first mate, she kept her eyes fixed on Adrian. "How could you do this without warning me?"

"I didn't know, I swear. Rory arranged this on her own." He saw the gangway being lowered into place, and knew the news crews would have access to the ship any second. He didn't think Buddy Taylor's old victims could come after Jackie, but her fear tore at him. "Ti, get Jackie below and stay with her. I'll handle this."

With one last order to Mr. Jamison, Jackie and Ti headed down the steps and disappeared through the aft hatch. Fortunately, the cameras seemed focused on the waving passengers.

Okay, he could handle this. Piece of cake, he told himself as he crossed to the top of the stairs. A few of the passengers were already disembarking, so he waited for the gangway to clear before he started down. Rory was greeting passengers and telling them to go on up to the inn where Alli would serve afternoon tea on the veranda.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, he moved past a female reporter talking into a camera with the ship behind her. Rory turned to him, her face alight with excitement. "Isn't this great! We're going to be on
Good Morning America
!"

"I see that." He didn't know whether to kill her or kiss her.

"Are you the brother?" A harried woman in a rumpled black suit approached him, checking notes on a clipboard. "Adrian St. Claire, the inn's chef, right?"

"That's me."

"I'm pleased to meet you." The woman looked up from her notes and froze with her hand extended halfway toward him. Her pale blue eyes blinked behind trendy glasses, then sharpened. "H-hi. I'm Eva. Phillips. One of the producers with
Good Morning America
. I've heard wonderful things about the food here at the inn."

"I'm glad," he said as he shook her hand and pegged her for a barracuda.

She stepped closer, smiling. "Our segment will focus mostly on the upcoming efforts to excavate the sunken ship, but I'd love to get some shots of you in the kitchen for background color. Would that be all right?"

Standing behind the woman, Rory wiggled her brows, bursting with pride over her accomplishment: a mention of their inn and the quality of the food on
Good Morning America
, for crying out loud! Under other circumstances, he'd share her enthusiasm, but all he could think about was getting the cameras and reporters as far away from Jackie as possible.

When he didn't answer right away, Eva Phillips frowned. "You're not camera shy, are you?"

He laughed at that. "Not in the least. I need to get started fairly soon, though, so why don't we head on up that way now?" He turned to the reporters and raised his voice. "Everyone's welcome for a cooking demonstration in the kitchen. Samples of tonight's dinner included."

As he led the way up the hill, he cast one last look at the ship, picturing Jackie in her cabin. He longed to tell her everything would be all right, but knew she wouldn't believe him.

~ ~ ~

Jackie thought about what Adrian had said as she paced her cabin, and realized he was right. Some of her fears probably were unfounded. As far as her being a whipped dog, though, she assured herself he was dead wrong. She'd tell him that, too ---just as soon as all those camera crews took off.

The last thought jarred her as she realized she was hiding. Good grief, she really was a cringing coward. Even worse, she'd lost her temper with Adrian
again
. Some friend she was.

She berated herself as the evening wore on, knowing she'd never sleep until she thanked him for his understanding and support even in the face of her accusations. Unfortunately, she couldn't go to the inn to do that, because the
Good Morning America
crew was still there. She tried calling, but got the inn's answering machine. Then she remembered the little house behind the inn where Rory and Chance lived. If she couldn't thank Adrian in person, maybe she could ask his sister to relay a message.

Leaving the ship, she walked across the beach to the trail that circled the island. A tangle of trees obscured the moonlight, but she found her way up the hill to the quaint little house. She'd discovered it only by accident during her last stay since a stand of trees shielded it from the inn. The natural wood siding and green tin roof further camouflaged it even in bright daylight. In the dark, she never would have found it if not for the single light shining by the front door. All the windows, though, were pitch-black.

Disappointed, she stepped onto the porch debating what to do. She'd hoped to find Rory or Chance at home by now since the Valentine's dinner had ended an hour ago. Surely they weren't already in bed. It wasn't
that
late. Glancing back the way she'd come, she listened to the light rock music drifting through the balcony doors on the third floor of the inn. The party would go on until two in the morning, but hopefully Rory and Chance would return home well before that. They had a baby to think about, after all.

Deciding to wait, she ventured around the corner of the L-shaped porch to a dark area that faced the cove. In the shadows, she made out rocking chairs and a porch swing. She passed up the chairs and sat on a porch rail with her back to a post as she gazed through the trees at the cove. The white lights strung about her ship made it look like something out of Never-Never Land. The music from the inn turned soft and dreamy as a cool breeze kissed her cheek.

The scuff of a boot and creak of a porch-board sounded near the front door. Relieved to have her wait over so soon, she hopped down and rounded the corner, then stopped when she saw Adrian. He stood at the door in a dark T-shirt and jeans, a white chef's jacket slung over one shoulder.

He looked up and squinted in her direction. "Is someone there?"

"It's me." She stepped forward, into the light. "I was waiting for your sister. I wanted to give her a message for you. What are you doing here?"

"I live here. We traded places back in January."

"Oh." She looked around. "It's nice here. I like it."

"Me, too." He smiled, a good sign that he wasn't too put out with her for how she'd acted. "So, what were you going to have Rory tell me?"

She moved closer. "Among other things, I wanted her to tell you thanks for what you did today, you know, leading the press away. I hadn't quite worked out how to give her the message without explaining everything, but now I can tell you in person. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded solemnly. "As for telling Rory and the others the whole story, I promise you they'll understand. You should tell them and be done with it. Or let me."

"Sorry, I know better than you how people react when they find out." He started to object and she held up her hand. "I'll think about it, though. Okay?"

"It's a start."

"Are the cameras gone?"

"They are."

"Finally." She sighed. "I didn't think they'd ever leave."

"Me, either." He chuckled. "Although it's my own fault. I got a little carried away by diverting their attention away from the ship, and put on quite a show." He flashed a playful grin that brought out his dimples. "I'm talking juggling fruit, twirling knives, flaming sauces. They ate it up."