Don't Tempt Me (23 page)

An emotion that went beyond gratitude filled her with a warm, glowing softness.
I love you,
her heart sighed and she jolted. Good God, had she really just thought that? Her chest pounded with the terrifying knowledge that the words might actually be true. "Yes, well ..." She glanced around for her fastest escape route. "You're probably exhausted, so I'll go. I just wanted to say thanks."

"Not a problem. I enjoyed it. But hey, look, I'm a little keyed up and couldn't possibly go straight to bed. You want to come inside and have a nightcap?"

"I ..."
Don't you dare say yes
.

"I have some Mexican Kahlúa. Perfect for a night like this."

"I suppose I could stay for one drink."
What are you doing? Do you want to get your heart broken?

"Great." He opened the door. She followed him inside, her nerves jumping. Moving ahead of her into the darkness, he clicked on a floor lamp, revealing a casual and inviting living room with a small eating area tucked in the far corner.

"You want cream with yours?" he asked as he headed around a breakfast bar into the kitchen.

"Yes, please." She looked around while he fixed the drinks. Books filled shelves along every wall and sat in haphazard stacks on the floor, making her think of a wizard's cottage in the woods. The leather-covered sofa and overstuffed chair invited a person to settle in and read, or take an afternoon nap. The end table, coffee table, and other accent pieces were all antiques; none of them matched, yet all of them added to the room's welcoming feel.

She could easily see why Adrian had wanted to swap with Rory and Chance. This place was smaller, but cozy and private, while the apartment at the inn was a constant hub of activity. She'd always felt a bit uncomfortable there, but could almost picture herself living in a place like this.

The thought sent another wave of panic along her nerves.

"Here you go."

"Oh!" She whirled to find Adrian right behind her. "You snuck up on me."

"Sorry." He held out a glass.

"Thanks."

"You want to sit in here, or outside?"

"Outside," she said quickly, hoping to escape in the dangerous longing trying to wiggle its way inside her. She followed him out on the porch and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs. A light breeze rustled through the trees.

He lit a candle on the table between the chairs, then sat with his feet propped on the rail, his ankles crossed. Candlelight played across his face.

"Are you trying to get romantic on me?" She nodded at the candle, trying to keep things light.

"Well, it
is
Valentine's Day," he teased back.

"That it is." She frowned, since she'd actually forgotten. "You should be spending it with one of those women who try to talk you into staying all night."

"You'll do." He smiled into his glass, but looked so exhausted, she wondered if he'd lied about the need to unwind. If so, she should finish her drink and go.

She glanced toward the cove. "I saw the work platform has arrived, but I haven't seen any sign of Carl. I take it he's here, though."

"He is. Allison checked him into one of the larger bungalows, which will serve as his team's headquarters as well as a place for him to live for the next few months. Apparently, he's not too keen on large crowds watching him work. He put up with the camera crews for a while, then disappeared into his bungalow and hasn't been seen since."

"Did they start today, then?"

"Just some preliminary dives to 'establish a grid' or some other technical-sounding term. I think he plans to start in earnest tomorrow." He studied his drink. "Speaking of Carl, I've been wondering about something."

"Oh?" Something in his voice put her on mild alert.

"If I'm being too nosy, you can tell me to butt out."

She steeled herself for anything. "What's your question?"

"That day at the Visitors' Center, Carl's animosity toward your father seemed to go beyond an archeologist's natural dislike for treasure hunters. I was wondering if there's some personal issue involved."

She wasn't sure whether to tell him, but reminded herself they were friends, and friends shared things. "He and my father used to be close. In fact, they both worked as scuba instructors at the resort where my parents met. I don't know exactly what happened, though. Dad never talked about Carl other than to cuss about what an uptight prig he was."

"Definitely sounds like there's a story there."

"Probably." She sipped her drink. "I guess I'll never know now. Dad's gone, and Carl doesn't seem inclined to become buddies with me."

"I noticed." He looked at her with such empathy, her chest grew tight. "I wish we could hire someone else, but he was the Historical Society's first choice, and since they hold the purse strings, they call the shots. I'm sorry, though."

"Don't be. He's good at his job. One of the best, I'm told. The project is more important than my personal comfort level."

"This is going to be hard for you, though, isn't it?"

"Only because I worry about how having me involved will affect you and your family."

"Jackie ..." he said in a warning tone.

"No, let me finish." Her hand tightened around the cold glass. "You've all been very kind to me. I appreciate it, and I hope you never have cause to regret including me."

"We won't" He sighed heavily. "For one thing, we couldn't have done it at all without you."

"I doubt that. Scott's research was pretty tight. You could have managed, and been better off in the long run."

He studied her. "You really believe that don't you?"

"I know it."

He shook his head. "I take it back. You aren't a whipped dog, you're one of those brave, stoic martyr types."

"Excuse me?" She frowned at him.

"Jackie." His voice gentled as he let his feet drop to the floor and shifted toward her. "You don't have to be tough all the time. In fact, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I have two guaranteed not to melt on contact with tears."

A strained laugh escaped her. "I appreciate the offer, but I learned a long time ago that crying to others accomplishes nothing."

"So, you do your crying alone?"

"I didn't say I cried at all. It's a stupid waste of energy." When he gave her a knowing look, she relented. "Well, maybe sometimes in private."

"Like I said, you don't have to be strong all the time." He reached over and took her free hand. "Even though I do admire you for your strength at times."

"Adrian, don't." Her throat closed, making her voice thin. "I've had a really tough day, and it wouldn't take much to make me lose it, so back off, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. I know you're uncomfortable with kindness, because you don't know how to deal with it, but when I think of all you've been through, I wish I could turn back the clock and be there for you all the times you felt frightened and alone."

"Stop. Please." Her shoulder jerked and she set her drink down to cover her face with her hand.

"I'm here for you now, though. I want you to know that."

To her horror, a sob slipped past her control, and then another.

"Come here." He tugged on her hand, pulling her from her chair onto his lap. She went more willingly than she should have, and curled into a ball with her face buried in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, making her feel safe as he rocked back and forth.

"I'm sorry." The words barely made it past her tight throat. "I'm just tired."

"It's okay." He kissed her forehead, which made her cry harder. "Tell me why you're tired."

Lord, what a question! "I'm tired of living in a minefield. Every time I do anything, I hold my breath waiting to see if my world will explode. And I'm angry at my father for putting me in the middle of this." Bitterness rose up, scalding her throat. "God forgive me, I'm so angry at him!"

"You have a right to be."

"No I don't." She lifted her head to stare at him. "He did the best he could. I loved him in spite of his being a big, irresponsible kid, and I miss him so much. But sometimes, sometimes" ---her hand tightened into a fist ---"way down inside me there's a tiny bit of me that hates him and is almost glad he's gone. Oh God!" Another sob escaped and she hid her face against his chest.

"It's okay," he murmured, rubbing her back.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I never wished him dead."

"I know how you meant it, and it's all right to be angry. He put you in some awful situations, and you're still suffering because of him. But listen to me." Taking her by the shoulders, he straightened her so he could see her face. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. Everything is going to be okay."

"How can you say that? My whole world could blow up and splatter all over you and your family."

"It'll never happen." He used his thumbs to dry her cheeks. "See, we have Marguerite's magic on our side, so we're guaranteed to succeed at whatever we do."

"Well, she may be a good-luck charm, but I'm a curse, so we cancel each other out."

"You are not a curse. And now that you're doing business with us, Marguerite will help you, too."

"Except I don't believe in ghosts."

"Then believe in me." He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. "Because no matter what happens, I'll be here for you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered with tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't believe in you, either. You're too good to be true."

He laughed. "Be sure and tell that to Allison the next time she gets mad at me for being a nosy, overprotective big brother."

"She's an idiot if she thinks that. I wish I'd had a brother like you."

"Well, now you have a friend like me, which is even better since it lets us do the things we did last night."

She let out a laugh as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I need a tissue."

"Well, this proves I'm not too good to be true. If I were, I'd whip a handkerchief from my back pocket and hand it to you."

"You're right. You're not perfect."

"So you'll trust me to stick by you and help you get through whatever happens?"

"Only if you get me a tissue."

"I think I can manage that." Standing with her in his arms, he turned and settled her on the chair. "Will you be all right until I get back?"

She looked up at him and the candlelight shimmered in her damp eyes. "I've done without you my whole life. I think I can manage a few more minutes."

He went inside to get a box of tissues. When he came back out, she was standing by the steps. "Leaving?" he asked with a jolt.

"Yeah." She took a tissue and blew her nose. "I hate to cry and run, but I ..." She peeked at him through damp lashes, then looked away. "I should go."

The friendly concern shifted to something far more urgent and possessive. He longed to take her in his arms again, only to kiss her this time, not comfort her. "Here, take the box with you"

She shook her head. "I'm okay now." Another quick glance, and the moment grew uneasy. "Thanks, you know, for the shoulder."

"Anytime," he assured her, and tamped down the need to ask her to stay, to take her back into his arms and confess all his own mixed-up confusing emotions.

As she disappeared down the footpath that led to the cove, he finally understood how Marguerite and Jack could love each other for years and never say the words out loud. Once words that powerful were spoken, the pretense of mere friendship would have vanished. Love, once acknowledged, had to be acted on, and neither of them had been ready to deal with the consequences.

But was this really love he felt for Jackie? And if so, what should he do about it? If he told her how he felt, would she run like hell, or give him a chance?

Chapter 17

"
Believe in me
," Adrian had said. "
No matter what happens, I'll be here for you
."

The words haunted Jackie throughout the night, making her battle the covers, until finally she gave up on sleep. Rising before daybreak, she dressed in shorts and slipped quietly from her cabin. A predawn hush lay over the island as she headed down the beach toward the jogging trail.

Even then, Adrian's words hounded her at every step. "
Trust me. Trust me. Trust me."
His voice matched the rhythm of her feet, sounding more like her father each time. "
Trust me, kid, everything's going to be all right."

Ironically, he'd always said that just before they had to scramble to escape arrest by some port authority. Sometimes they managed to sail away in the nick of time, but twice they'd forfeited their boat and everything on it. The shock of loss never quite left her, to have all her personal belongings snatched away without warning.

And here was Adrian asking her to trust that some disaster wasn't waiting just ahead. Or that if disaster did strike, he wouldn't bail out on her as other friends had.