The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) (20 page)

        And for a moment, she thought she’d won.

        But, to her disappointment, the same aloof expression returned to his face.

        Jarrod dropped the brush onto the table. “It’s all yours.”

        “M-mine?” she stammered with confusion. “What do you mean?”

        “While you were in your coma, I had this place built for you,” he said, looking away from her. “Every square inch of it belongs to you---your own private paradise away from the rest of the world.”

        The tears blurred her vision. “Y-you had all this built for me?” she whispered, covering her mouth partially with unsteady hands. “But, why? I don’t understand.”

        “Olivia, I’m giving you part of your life back,” he stated, and again, uncertainty played along his handsome face. “The one thing that you loved most was your art and painting. So, I always had hopes of giving this to you once you came out of your coma. And now, it seems like the right time to make it---”

        Before he could step back, she hurled herself at him and he caught her midair.

        “Thank you,” she murmured tearfully, burying her face into his neck. “So much.”

        To her relief, he returned her embrace before releasing her. “Well, have at it,” Jarrod muttered, a bit unsteadily himself, and stepped back. “It’s all yours, my little Jane Doe.”

        With a pent-up breath, she faced the blank easel.

        “I-I don’t know how to begin,” she said shakily, facing him again.

        “Just start anywhere,” he suggested, placing a brush in her hand. “This is your new beginning, and you start it anew in any way that you want. No matter how dark and obscured things seem, the truth of your true self still lies within.” He paused. “I’m going back to the house and work on a few things. There’s a cell phone in the bedroom if you’re in need of anything.”

        Lifting a tube of red paint from the table, she squeezed some into one of the holes on the painting tray. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d filled every hole with a different color and with such ease. After dipping the brush into the black paint, she painted a single stroke along the white page. To her astonishment, her hands begin moving in fast and urgent strokes, and it was if she was releasing some pent-up magic at her fingertips. Exhausted hours later, she turned away from the easel with a satisfied sigh. She glanced overhead in surprise. Just when had early evening arrived and replaced the afternoon, she thought dazed, staring at the darkening skies.

        She’d been so lost in her painting, she realized with a jolt, facing the easel again.

        As she faced it, she dropped the paint brush in stunned surprise.

        On the easel, a perfect image of a wounded Jarrod Sabatino stared back at her.

***

     “Perfect,” she sighed, taking a step back from the easel, five weeks later. “Simply perfect.”

        It’d taken seven long painstaking hours to get the painting finished, and every minute of it had been worth it. 

        An unguarded Jarrod held a sleeping Meghan in his arms, and so much love had shone on his face as he did so. Somehow, she’d managed to capture the precious moment, and now standing here, looking at it, she felt much like an intruder, having stolen something so personal and private.

        Smearing a paint-wet hand over the dirty smock, still holding the paintbrush in her hand, she wandered to the railing before propping against it.

        Just what was it with midnight and Lamarie Rock, she pondered, staring up at the full moon. The dark hour and dark skies always seemed to share a blatant intimacy, one that resounded straight to the secluded island.

        A few minutes, having cleared her mess, she peeled the smock off and dropped it in the chair close to the easel. Only a red smear ran across the bottom of her denim shorts and not even a speckle of paint was on the navy tank top. Plus, she’d had the good sense to tie her hair back in a ponytail; so, there wouldn’t be any globs of paint there, hopefully.

        A sigh left her again.

        Another night here, alone----

        Not that she didn’t appreciate the solitude from time to time, she thought, falling onto the chaise lounge, but she missed Jarrod and Meghan like crazy.

        Like now---

        She’d been at the bungalow the entire day, having not seen either one of them.

        But, first thing, tomorrow, she would, she vowed.

        Suddenly restless, she stood.

        She cast a glance towards the ocean, and at once, the wild and crazy idea sprang.

        A midnight swim just might be the thing, she mulled, hurrying back inside. A minute later, with towel in hand, she strode across the white sands. After reaching the crest of the hill, she stopped and breathed in the ocean air.

         “Absolutely beautiful,” she murmured, admiring the oceanic view, and resumed the jaunt again. For minutes, she walked, knowing exactly where she was heading. Once she reached the spot where they’d been weeks ago, she stopped.

        She dropped the towel to the ground.

        Reaching for the hem of the tank top, she peeled it off, and then, stooping over, she shucked the shorts off. The lacy black brassiere and matching panty fit her curves well, and served as a great substitute for a bathing suit, she mulled, pulling the band from her long tresses. Without a further thought, she ran towards the lapping waves. The waters closed over her, cooling her off, and finally, the tension began to ebb away from her. Taking a fast and deep breath, she went under, and then came up for air.

        She glanced back towards the shore.

        Her heart leapt in her throat.

        A lone figure stood.

        One that she’d know anywhere…

        Clad in striped board shorts, he was the perfect picture of dangerous masculine power.

        Before she could muster another thought, Jarrod dove in the water, swimming straight for her. Like a helpless prey, she awaited the predator; but, rather than being afraid, she was eager to be captured, she realized, staying in place.

        In long, broad strokes, he swam, and in seconds, he was upon her.

        A shy smile played on her face, but it died upon seeing his thunderous expression.

        “What the hell are you doing out here alone?” he demanded angrily. “Do you realize how dangerous that is? What if something had happened? What then?”

        “Don’t tell me that you came all the way out here to yell at me!” she muttered. “Why are you so upset! I was just taking a quick swim.”

        “Damn it, Olivia, you’re out here alone in the middle of the night!”

        “Uh, naturally,” she nodded, spreading the water apart with both hands. “Seeing as that it
is
night.”

        “Don’t be a fuckin’ wise ass,” he snapped, shooting her an angry glance.

        “Don’t be a fuckin’ caveman, then,” she hissed in turn.

        The hint of a smile played at his lips. “Guess, I deserved that.”

        “You did,” she murmured, feeling the anger drain away. “I don’t understand why you are so upset with me.”

        He stared at her hard. “Accidents, things out of our control---they happen all the time.”

        “Nothing is going to happen to me!”

        “But, what if it did?” he said hoarsely.

        At the sight of the pain in his eyes, her heart hurt.

        He really was scared for her.

        “Jarrod,” she said softly. “I’m fine. I’m safe here. Nothing’s going to happen, okay. I’m sorry that I scared you.” Desperate to kill the solemn mood, she gave him a huge smile. “And I’d have to be---to do this!”

        Laughing, she splashed at the water, giving him a fresh bathing, and then she broke past him. In the watery background, she heard his deep chuckle.

        The chase was definitely on.

        When she’d almost reached shore, the water was waist deep.

        As his arm snagged around her waist, she squealed in delight and surprise.

        “Not so fast, my little mermaid,” he muttered, giving a deep laugh, and pulled her against him. “I’ve got you now---there’s no more running away from me.”

        At the contact, their laughter died.

        Vulnerable, lost, heated, in turmoil, needy, wanting, desperate….

        Every emotion that she had sprang to life.

        She turned to him.

        Again, she was struck by his attractiveness.

        The water droplets clung to his black hair and trickled along his face. In fine streams, the water ran down the planes of his hard chest and taut abdomen. Though the water was cool, the dangerous heat rose between them.

        Their gazes locked.

        “Jarrod,” she whispered helplessly, staring up at him. “I---”

        He laid a single finger against her trembling lips.

        She shivered.

        Felt his shudder.

        “Olivia, what are we doing?” Jarrod rasped, grabbing her face in his hands. “What we’re doing, it isn’t right.”

        The hurt played on her face. “Why?”

        “Things are so complicated, in ways that you don’t even know. The way that I’ve handled things to this point---it’s all wrong.”

        “I don’t understand,” she whispered again, swallowing hard, and felt the threat of tears. But, she forced them back. “Why isn’t it right? Why wouldn’t it be?”

        Under the moonlight, he watched her, and his emotions burned with pure fire. And it was if he were learning every aspect of her that he could, she mulled, taking in a ragged breath.

        She clung to him.

        As he traced the outline of her lips, she trembled against him.

        Taking his thumb, he pushed them apart.

        Her breath escaped in a rush.

        “Do you know how beautiful you are, right now?” he asked thickly, framing her face in his hands again. “And all I’m thinking is what right to I have to mar such sweet and beautiful innocence.”

        “Jarrod,” she said on a breathless whisper, so caught up in the moment. “I don’t understand.”

        “And it’s good that you don’t.” Closing his eyes, he blew a frustrated breath before freeing her. “Come on. Let’s go before you catch a dead chill.”

        Hurt, disappointed, she nodded, all the while blinking back tears as she followed.

        Once they reached shore, she headed for the spot where she’d dropped the towel. Her hands trembled as she picked it up, and so absorbed she was, she didn’t hear him as he stopped behind her. When he placed both hands on her shoulders, she jumped.

        “Here, let me help you,” Jarrod rasped, taking the towel from her.

        “T-thank you,” she mumbled, turning around.

        They were standing so dangerously close.

        The heat seared her body.

        She stared into the wall of his chest.

        His breathing was ragged.

        And then she understood.

        He was fighting the same fight.

        With that knowledge, she looked up and her gaze clashed with his.

        The intensity nearly made her crumple to the ground.

        They needed no language.

        For deep down, their souls already knew and were prisoners of their dangerous attraction.

        His eyes flicked over her.

        With a subtle slowness, he wiped her face with the towel, and he took his time, tracing every line along her face, it seemed. He moved onto her the firm column of her neck and dried it slowly with the towel. When he reached her chest, she stopped breathing.

       His eyes met hers again.

       She trembled.

        “You’re cold?” he asked, and his voice was unsteady. “I was afraid that you’d catch a chill.”

        Suddenly, mute, she nodded.

        “Come here.”

        As he moved closer, she did the same, bringing their bodies in full contact.

        She closed her eyes against the fiery fury of sensational madness and forced herself to breathe. And he was affected by their closeness, too, she realized, feeling his hard shudder.

        He wrapped the towel around her fully. “Better?” he asked, lifting her chin, and at her quiet nod, he clasped her hand in his. “Let’s get you back to the bungalow.”

        They walked in silence.

        Minutes later, they’d reached the bungalow.

        When they reached the door, she turned to face him, but wouldn’t look at him. “I really could have made it back safely,” she mumbled, staring at his chest. “But, thank you for walking me back. Goodnight.”