Catch Me a Catch (19 page)

Her eyes
widened. She pointed to the bottle on the bedside table.

“Now,” he said
slowly, “you’ve done quite a good job, but there are some parts you missed.”

“There are?”
She grinned. “I was pretty thorough.”

“Maybe you
thought you were being thorough, but believe me, you missed a bit, and you should
always make sure you moisturize properly after a bath.” He poured the lotion
into his palm. The subtle fragrance of vanilla permeated the air.

“Did you rub
it on your stomach?” The muscles on his face twitched with the effort of
keeping his face straight.

“I may have
forgotten.” His hands smoothed over the soft skin. She moaned and squirmed
under his hands.

“Thought so.”
He knelt next to her and his fingers worked their magic.

“Just relax,”
he whispered. Her fists clutched at the bedspread. His hands swept over her
thighs, then up to caress her breasts, carefully working the lotion into them.

“Jack,” she
moaned. He carefully turned her over, pouring more lotion into his hands.

“You can’t
have done here.” His hands were gliding over her back, slipping lower to caress
her bottom.

“My legs…” His
fingers stilled for an enchanted moment, then slid down the back of her thighs,
massaging them firmly.

“Just your
feet now.” He reached for the bottle again, but she captured his wrist with an
impatient hand, turning in the circle of his arms.

“My feet can
wait.” She reached up and pulled his head down to hers.

“But I can’t.”
She nipped his bottom lip, and the ravenous need she was feeling blazed through
him as their mouths met hungrily.

Chapter Thirteen

Jack’s arm
tightened around Annie in sleep.
If there’s anything better than this, I
don’t know what it is.
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It
was late, and they hadn’t eaten. Her stomach grumbled loudly in protest.
God,
I’m starving!

“Are we being
attacked by the Hound of the Baskervilles, or are you hungry?” Jack’s big body
flexed. She wanted him again. How on earth was that possible?

“Hungry.” She
wriggled out from under his arm and pulled on her bathrobe. “I’m going to heat
up dinner, I missed lunch.”

He linked his
fingers behind his head and smiled at her.

“You look good
in there.” If truth be told, he looked
right
there in her bed. Her
stomach growled loudly again and she covered it with her outspread fingers in
embarrassment.

“But food
calls, right?” he teased. “Go heat it up and I’ll have a quick shower.”

She nodded,
and escaped into the kitchen. If she waited to see him climb out of bed there
was no way she would be able to resist climbing right back into bed with him.

She pulled the
salad things from the fridge and mixed balsamic vinegar and olive oil into a
vinaigrette. Her mouth watered as she chopped avocado and tomatoes, and ripped
lettuce, arranging it all in a colorful bowl and adding a handful of flaked
almonds before drizzling the vinaigrette over.

Time was
running out. Only one more week and then the festival would end with the
festival party. With a start she remembered Jack’s meeting. Her fingers
stilled. She hadn’t even asked him about the presentation. She’d been so
distracted by the vision of his eyes blazing as he challenged David, and then…
Annie caught a glance of herself in the mirrored front of the microwave, and
peered closer. Her hair was standing on end and she had the stupidest smile
plastered over her face. She ran fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it.

“There’s no
point, it’s beyond repair.” Jack was fully dressed again. The wet hair combed
back from his face accentuating killer cheekbones.

“I didn’t ask
you about the meeting.” She pulled the food out of the oven and set it up on
the pine table, while he pulled out two plates and cutlery.

“I got it.” He
said quietly. “We’re going to be handling the account. I went to see Mary
afterwards. I wanted to talk to her doctor about moving her to New York.”

“I’m really happy
for you, Jack; it looks like your trip across the Atlantic was worth it then.”

“It was
definitely worth it, Annie. Without the lightning strike, I never would have
stopped at Durna.”

“And ended up
at a matchmaking festival.” She laughed shakily. He was planning to take Mary
away with him. There’d be no need for him to stay. Emotion burned through her
chest at the thought of Jack leaving, back to his life and work in New York.
“It’ll make one hell of a dinner party story.”

His eyes
flashed and he crowded into the space between them. “You and me are no dinner
party story.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. So hard she
was breathless.

“I didn’t
mean…”

“What did you
mean?” his eyebrows lowered and anger flared in his eyes, transmuting them to
navy. “It sounded like you were saying what we had was only a temporary thing.”
His eyes narrowed. “Have you had enough of me?”

There was
something about the set of his shoulders and the way he held himself. As if
steeling himself for a blow. He was closed off and defensive, protecting
himself.

From me?
From something I’d say?

She laid her
palm flat on his chest, feeling the constricted muscles twitch under her palm.

“I don’t think
I’ll ever have enough of you,” she admitted huskily.

His eyes
locked with hers, questioning then believing the truth of her words. The
tension in his features released, and the Jack she knew re- emerged. The Jack,
who in so few days had become so achingly familiar. So vital, somehow, to her
survival.

Her arms slid
around his neck, pulling him down for her kiss. The light caress was so tender
she felt the prick of tears behind her closed lids.

She sighed, as
his fingers cupped her nape.

“Do you have
your passport?”

The sudden
change of subject jolted her. Her eyes shot open and she stared up at him,
uncomprehending.

“Passport?”

“I’ve booked
us on a flight tomorrow lunchtime.” He walked across the room and flicked on
the kettle, all business now. “You can pack in the morning and then we can pick
up my bags from the hotel.”

“To New York,”
she whispered weakly.

“I’ve a few
things to organize.” He measured coffee grounds into the cafetiere, and
followed it with boiling water. “I have to get this problem with Mecredi Cars
sorted out.”

“Mecredi
Cars?” She shook her head, trying to spark her speech centre into
consciousness, all it seemed to be capable of was parroting whatever he said.

“My client.”
He took milk out of the fridge. “I have to make a new presentation.”

Her mouth
gaped. Jack had covered miles while she progressed by inches, and the
unbelievable leaps he’d made without even consulting her rendered her
speechless.

He poured
coffee into two mugs and held one out for her. She took it from him
soundlessly. It was all moving too fast. Out of control. He wanted her to come
with him, but she couldn’t leave now. It was impossible.

“I can’t go,”
she declared. “There’s no way. The ceili is tomorrow and it’s such a lot of
work we have to get everyone involved to help. I promised Da I’d be there for
it.”

“It’s just a
dance, isn’t it? I’m sure someone else can help.” He brushed it off like lint
from a jacket.

“The
presentation for the Chocolate Oscars is on Friday.” The culmination of all her
hard work. The pinnacle of professional achievement.

“Do you have
to go?”

“Yes, I have
to go!”
How could he not know what winning meant to her?

“It’s my life,
Jack. It’s everything I’ve worked toward. Everything I’ve dreamed about!”
And
Jack wants me to forget all about it; it doesn’t matter to him at all.

He’d spoken
about moving his grandmother. Had he even asked Mary what she wanted, or had he
made a unilateral decision there too?

“You talked to
your grandmother’s doctor. About moving her to America.”

He nodded, and
drank his coffee calmly. “I want her to be with me.”

“What did the
doctor say, Jack? What does he think about you relocating her?”

“He said it
wasn’t in her best interest.” His jaw clenched. The doctor’s advice must have
been unwelcome. He looked furious. It was as if he was so used to getting his
own way he wasn’t capable of taking someone else’s feelings into account.
Someone else’s needs.

“But you’re
planning to move her anyway.” There wasn’t any point in shouting, he wasn’t
going to listen to her. He glared at her stubbornly and didn’t reply. “I know
you want family, Jack, but you have to think of what’s best for her. Have you
even taken her life into account while you’re rejigging yours to make room for
her?”

Little
prickles of heat flooded her face. Despite his warning look she was too far
gone to back down now. She’d known Jack was arrogant, but this went beyond
arrogance, this was right up there in control freak territory.

“And your life
too, I suppose.” He slammed his mug down on the table. “I’m only asking you to
come for a visit.”

“You’re not
asking, you’re telling. You’re organizing my life without even finding out what
I think about it.” She turned away from him, pain welling up in her chest.
She’d spent the afternoon struggling with tortuous thoughts of what she might
have to give up in order to have a relationship with Jack. Whatever she was
going to do would be
her
decision.

“I won’t be
told what to do, Jack, I’m never giving over control of my life again.”

“Is this about
your wedding?” he asked, “Being left at the altar? Because I didn’t leave you
at the altar, Annie. It was a long time ago.”

“So get over
it? Is that what you’re saying?”

She glanced
around for something to throw. He had it coming.

“Yes. You’re
not the only one who lost out, he lost out too.”

“Because he
ended up with my friend, not me.” She frowned at him cynically; she had no idea
where he was going with this one.

“Because he
left his home, and she did too, and I’m guessing they haven’t shown their faces
in Durna since.”

She stopped
dead. He was right, neither of them had returned.

“So, that’s
two families torn apart. Just so you’re not upset.” He strode towards the door.
“It’s not just your parents who look after you, it’s the whole town.” He stared
into her eyes with fury in his. “And they do it because you let them. You play
the victim card. I’m going to the hotel to pack, I have a flight tomorrow morning.”
The door slammed loudly behind him, and she stumbled towards the window just in
time to see him accelerating away. The deep roar of the engine faded into
nothingness. He drove away, out of her life.

****

“A whiskey,” he
ordered, sliding onto the polished chrome barstool. “And some nuts, if you have
them.”

The waiter
nodded, placing a glass before him and a small jug of water. He turned to make
elaborate cocktails for the two girls who waited next to him. Jack had thought
about ordering room- service, but given up on it, too wound up by their
argument to sit in the cold sterility of the suite.

“Hi, are you
waiting for someone?” A tall blonde, a perfect soldier for the blonde army,
eyed him with a look he knew only too well. In the past, he might have been tempted.
Now, with Annie in his bloodstream, he was in no mood for female company.

“Yes, she’ll
be here in a moment.” He picked up his glass and retreated to a shadowy booth in
the corner like a bear retreating into its cave. Annie’s words replaying in an
endless loop in his tired brain.

You’re
planning to move her anyway.
He threw back the whiskey. She hadn’t even
listened to his side of things, but had jumped to conclusions without waiting
to hear what he had to say. He’d made the decision Mary couldn’t be moved, and
the repercussions hurt like hell. To know his grandmother, he’d have to
reorganize his entire life.

He caught the
eye of a waitress, and ordered a double. The cold burn of anger faded to
melancholia. The last thing he should have done was walk out. Annie had such
issues with abandonment, and it hadn’t just been Steve, had it? The bridesmaid
had betrayed her too. His head pounded and he threw back the fiery liquid with
a growl. He should have stayed and forced her to listen to his side of things.

The bar was
full of laughing groups of people, men and women flirting and leaning closer.
Being here was even worse than being alone. With a snort of disgust, he drained
his drink and tossed some notes on the table. He strode upstairs to the room.
At least there, he could be miserable in peace.

****

Annie padded
into the kitchen. She reached up into the top cupboard, and pulled down the
bottle of Cinzano. She grabbed ice from the freezer and clinked two cubes into
a tall glass. She snagged a half-full bottle of lemonade from the fridge door,
and she was in business.

She walked
back into the sitting room, flipping open the phone. No messages, and no missed
calls either. She scrolled through her contacts, staring at his number. Her
finger hovered over the call button for a moment before she tossed it onto the
sofa in disgust. Ice clinked against her teeth as she drank. Her mind ran over
their angry exchange like a CD on repeat. None of it mattered. He was gone.

She strode
into the bedroom and packed a small suitcase, needing to get away from the
scene of the crime.

The pillow was
still dimpled with the indent of his head. In her imagination, she could see
him still lying there, arms behind his head, staring at her.

I love him.

It shouldn’t
have been a surprise, but somehow it was. She climbed under the covers. The
pillow smelled of him, and she hugged it to her chest. Breathing him in with
every breath. She longed for the feel of his body against hers with a
bittersweet sadness. The man she loved had walked away. And what was worse,
she’d let him. She tossed the pillow across the room. He’d accused her of
playing the victim, and maybe he was right. But no more. Resolve hardened as she
made plans for the day ahead. With or without Jack, she had some changes to
make in her life. Starting tomorrow.