Don't Tempt Me (9 page)

Her eyes scanned the first few sentences, and she scowled in disappointment. It was a description of what Marguerite planned to wear for dinner that night. As if Jackie cared about women's fashion in the 1800s. As she read more, though, she caught the bitterness behind the words and realized the newly arrived gown from Paris was something her husband had commanded her to wear.

Apparently, Henri was throwing a lavish dinner party for the captains who carried cargo for his shipping company. Marguerite described the expected guests as the "coarsest of seafaring men who will devour every delicacy put before them with all the manners of drunken sailors in a dockside tavern while Henri secretly laughs at their crudeness."

The low-cut gown would also have the all-male dinner guests salivating onto their plates, making Henri feel even more superior since she "belonged" to him.

What a jerk,
Jackie thought recoiling at the plight of women in a time when they were little more than property.

The exquisite sapphire bracelets Marguerite would wear with the gown suddenly sounded more like a prisoner's manacles than fine jewelry.

With a note of resignation, Marguerite ended the diary entry in order to dress.

A second entry for the same day followed, though, and Jackie's attention was piqued, since it had been written after the party.

Tonight at dinner there was a man, a man I've not seen before. He was a sea captain, like the others, and yet not like them at all. I still can picture how he looked in that first moment I saw him. Seated near the head of the table next to Henri, he was leaning back in his chair, holding a goblet of wine. He watched the room with lazy eyes and a half-smile that said he found the other men amusing but beneath him. There was about him an unmistakable arrogance, as if he, not the painted Neptune over his head, commanded the very tides to do his bidding.

Then his eyes lifted and he saw me. For the barest heartbeat, the detachment vanished and he looked ... surprised. He rose with the kind of gallantry I once took for granted and now sorely miss. And as his gaze held mine I saw such admiration that some of the numbness in which I've cloaked myself these past years faded. I felt raw, exposed. Like a person again, rather than a porcelain possession with no purpose save that of being displayed. I cannot recall what he said to me by way of a greeting, but the respect in his voice nearly made me weep.

I could almost hate him for that, for making me feel again. Yet, a part of me yearns to see him once more. As painful as it was to be in his presence, for a moment this evening I remembered that I am still a woman, I am still alive, and I am still capable of longing for love.

Jackie stared at the page, caught off guard by an instant stab of kinship. Tonight, watching the St. Claires, she too had longed for things she'd thought she'd forgotten: family, home, a sense of belonging. No wonder she'd almost cried when Adrian and his sisters hugged her. Hope could be both joyful and painful.

Marguerite's hope had ended in tragedy. A warning Jackie decided to heed as she set the diaries aside and turned out the light. And yet, she thought as she lay in the dark, sometimes, surely, as long as one didn't dream too big, dreams could come true. Couldn't they?

Chapter 8

The following morning, Adrian headed for Chance's BMW parked in the small lot behind the inn. He planned to ride with Rory and Chance and meet the others at the Visitors' Center. The throaty rumble of a big engine came up behind him and he turned to find Jackie sitting in a truly ugly pickup truck on which blue paint fought a losing battle with primer gray.

She rolled down the window and flashed him a playful grin. "Hey, mister, need a lift?"

"I don't know ..." He made his expression intentionally leery, remembering last night on the balcony. "Will I be safe?"

She laughed. "What if I promise to be on
my
best behavior?"

"If your best behavior is like mine, that's not very reassuring."

"Do you really want it to be?"

The look of sensual challenge she gave him set off danger sirens in his head even as his body hummed with glee. He stepped over to Rory, who was buckling Lauren into the baby seat. "I'll meet y'all there, okay?"

"What?" Rory glanced from him to Jackie and back again. Her brow arched in speculation. "Oh, okay."

"Now, don't be getting any ideas," he told her. "We're just playing around. But not the way you're thinking."

Rory gave him a sure-you're-not look, which he ignored. Crossing to the truck, he opened the passenger door, then waited for Jackie to make room on the seat by moving a toolbox into the back of the cab.

"Just kick that stuff out of the way," she said, motioning to the rigging blocks that littered the floorboard.

He climbed in and rolled the window down to enjoy the crisp fall weather as they followed Chance's car along the winding, sun-dappled drive. Shifting to face Jackie, he soaked in the sight of her in a denim shirt, silver earrings, and sunglasses. "Did you like your breakfast?"

"I did." She laughed, and the rich sound turned the low hum in his belly to a steady purr. "Although I'd like to know what you told Rory, because she gave me a really funny look when she brought out the plate of bacon and eggs made to order just for me."

"Funny look?" Actually, he hadn't told Rory anything. He'd just handed her the plate and asked her to take it to Jackie. "Funny how?"

Jackie tipped her head to look at him over her shades. "Like she was trying to figure out if we had something going on and found the possibility hunky-dory with her."

"Rory finds a lot of things in life hunky-dory."

"I've noticed that" The breeze through the windows picked up as they reached the short causeway that connected Pearl Island to Galveston. "Maybe you should explain to your sister that we're not each other's type."

"As a matter of fact, I just told her something to that effect," he said, then scowled. "What do you mean, 'not each other's type'? What kind of man is your type?"

"For a serious relationship?" She mulled that over.

"Quiet, reliable, and not so gorgeous I'd spend all my time beating off the competition."

"I'm reliable."

"One out of three?" That really got her laughing. "Sorry, mister, not good enough."

So she did find him attractive, just not in a serious- relationship sort of way. Which was good, he assured himself. Having Jackie fall for him would complicate things. He'd been through that with too many co-workers back in his days as assistant chef at Chez Lafitte. Still, he was starting to chafe at her cracks about his looks and taste in women. "You overestimate my appeal, and underestimate your own."

"Oh yeah?" Her brows went up. "Are you saying you're ready to forsake your legions of admirers to pursue me and only me?"

He studied her, thinking she was just a little too cocky from one-upping him last night. "I don't know." He let loose a sensual smile and lowered his eyelids halfway. "Are you willing to make it worth my while?"

"Ha! In your dreams."

"Oh yeah." The color that flooded her cheeks intrigued him. "I definitely had a few of those last night. How about you?"

"Dreams?" She cocked her head, suddenly lost in her own thoughts. "I may have had a few myself."

"Oh? Care to tell me about them?"

She shook her head. "Why don't you tell me who all will be at this meeting?"

"Changing the subject again." He sighed. "You're good at evasive actions."

"The meeting ..." she prompted.

"Okay, okay." He turned his mind toward business.

"Chance's father, Norman Chancellor, is heading up the Historical Society subcommittee for this project, so he and his volunteers will be there. But that's about it, other than the marine archeologist they're hoping to hire."

She straightened her arms against the steering wheel as if bracing herself. "I can't believe I'm really going through with this."

He looked at her more closely. "You really are nervous, aren't you?"

Terrified
, she wanted to say, but just shook her head. For today, she was going to cross her fingers and hope for the best.

They reached the Visitors' Center ---located in the historic district amid antique shops and art galleries ---and she pulled into a parking lot. Stepping out of the truck, Jackie noticed the tourists milling about the sidewalks. The smell of fresh seafood drifted on the air along with the sound of horse-drawn carriages. The tall masts of the
Elissa
rose above the restaurants and shops along the bay-side pier, marking the Texas Seaport Museum.

"Looks like Scott and Alli are already here," Rory called to them as she freed the baby from the car seat. "But then, I guess we're running a little late."

Watching Chance wrestle a stroller and diaper bag from the trunk, Jackie marveled that people with kids managed to go anywhere, much less be on time. Maybe it just took practice.

When they entered the center, two elderly volunteers greeted them by name. Spying Lauren, the women came forward to coo in admiration. Jackie watched the parents' glowing pride, and felt the same tug of envy she'd felt last night watching Alli and Scott.

"Is my father here?" Chance asked.

"He's in the meeting room," one of the volunteers said.

"Great." Chance extracted them from Lauren's admirers and led the way past bookshelves, brochures, and cases of souvenirs, to a door at the back.

Jackie followed them into a small meeting room where Scott and Allison stood with a handful of other people eating pastries and drinking coffee. She felt the excitement like a tangible buzz in the air, and realized how important this project would be, not just to the St. Claires, but to the whole town. The museum exhibit would offer a new attraction to a town that thrived on tourism.

And Jack Kinglsey would finally have the recognition he deserved for his contribution to the South during the war.

Moving toward the table with the coffee service, she let her gaze drift toward two men who stood apart from the others. The taller of the two looked so much like Chance, tall and thin with that sheen of "old money," she knew he had to be Norman Chancellor. The stockier man had his back to her, but held himself with a controlled strength that stirred some distant memory. Then, he turned enough for her to see his profile, and her stomach dropped to her feet. Carl Ryder.

She stopped so abruptly that Adrian plowed into the back of her.

"Oops, sorry." He grabbed her shoulders to keep them both from falling. She whirled around, her heart pounding with panic. Adrian leaned back, studying her face. "Hey, you okay?"

"I ---I suddenly don't feel so good." An inner voice screamed for her to run straight for her truck. She could race back to the inn, grab her stuff, and be out of town in minutes.

"Oliver, Aurora," the taller gentleman called. "Come meet Mr. Ryder. Carl, my son Oliver Chancellor and his wife. And this is my grandbaby, Lauren."

Jackie peeked over her shoulder as Chance and Rory joined the two men. Of all the marine archeologists in the world, why did they have to hire Carl Ryder for this project?

"We're so pleased to meet you," Rory said, looking slightly awed. And why wouldn't she be? Carl might look like an easygoing guy with sun-bleached hair and ruddy complexion, but something about the set of his wide shoulders, the calmness of his blue eyes, made people admire him instantly.

The admiration was well deserved since he had credentials out the yazoo and a rock-solid code of ethics.
Blast him, why couldn't he be off working for some museum, retired from active diving?

"Jackie?" Adrian asked, drawing her attention back to him. He searched her eyes. "What's wrong? You look like you're about to throw up."

I might.

"All right, folks," Chance's father said. "Now that we're all here, let's get this meeting under way."

Chairs scraped the floor as people settled around the conference table.

"Come on." Adrian rubbed her upper arms. "Grab a seat and I'll get you a cup of water."

There was nothing she could do at this point but brazen it out and pray that Carl didn't recognize her, which was possible since he hadn't seen her since she was a gangly teenager. With a deep breath, she turned around. Carl had just taken a seat at the head of the table, opposite from where she stood. He looked up, smiled absently at her, and started to look away. Then his gaze snapped back and he froze.

A burst of laughter followed his surprise. "You've got to be kidding me." He gestured toward her, but addressed the others taking their seats. "If this is who's providing the key evidence you promised, I'm afraid you people have been had."

Heads turned up and down the long length of the table as everyone looked from him to her in confusion.

"Excuse me?" Norman Chancellor said.

"Well, Jackie?" Carl cocked a brow. "What do you want to do?"