Turnagain Love (Sisters of Spirit #1)
“Turnagain Love (Sisters of Spirit #1) “Those aren’t bad,” he commented as he sat down, “seeing as how you only had photos to guide you. But I can tell you this, they’re totally unsuited to my plans.”“Yes, they are,” she agreed tactfully, knowing he was right, and at his quick upward glance, added pleasantly, “Why look so surprised? You’ve completely changed the personality of the house with your plans; so naturally these interiors wouldn’t work.” “I’m glad you agree.” She swallowed her food and... prepared for another bite before saying, “I’ll need to draw up a whole new set of interiors that’ll blend with what you’ve—”He exploded, practically coming out of his chair. “Look! I told you already...no deal!” He clipped his words short. “John wants a person familiar with the region to give the feel of the islands to his house. Unobtrusive, blending in, as if it “grew” here. He doesn’t want any Boston frills. So forget it, would you? You aren’t drawing up anything!” His eyes dared her to contradict him.It was what she’d expected, and she said nothing, knowing the power of silence.When she didn’t argue, he announced, “I just called Clyde. He said he’d come. Not this morning though—he already had a charter—but he should be here by late afternoon. And he apologized for forgetting to mention the situation here to you.”“I see.” She frowned at the table in concentrated rebelliousness. She had only begun to fight.She had been right in her assessment of Zack. He was the managing type. As long as she kept that image before her to counteract his undeniable attraction, she’d be able to mobilize her own forces and plan her strategy. Whether it would require infiltration or diversionary action depended upon his resistance.He was not going to tell her what she could or couldn’t do. Mrs. Van Chattan had signed a contract with her, and she, Jennel, was going to fulfill that contract...with Zack’s help or without it! Chapter FiveJennel ate slowly, deep in thought. She could call the Van Chattans by a radio-telephone link. But it would be better to see them in person and show them her designs, once she revised them. She had more of a chance, that way. Without seeing her designs, the Van Chattans would surely retain Zack and dismiss her. Why had this mix-up happened anyway?Finished with his breakfast, Zack put down his fork and stretched backwards. “When you get to New York tell them what happened and ask for expenses plus something for your time. It’s not your fault they don’t communicate.”At least he didn’t blame her for that. Right—he wasn’t blaming her, but he wasn’t going to make any concessions either. Not unreasonable, just stubborn. But could he be any more stubborn than she? Trying to talk Zack out of sending her away looked impossible. Therefore, she’d have to find some way of changing his mind—even if she had to trick him into letting her stay. She wasn’t giving up that easily! A diversion was called for.The toast and eggs tasted good, and she ate slowly, enjoying the food.For Mrs. Van Chattan’s comfort and happiness, the interiors Zack planned needed to be softened. She, herself, had not considered Mr. Van Chattan while drawing her interiors, but she knew he liked Zack’s masculine designs.A home for the strong, manly type and the utterly feminine woman. One in which both felt comfortable. Clean lines with a touch of softness. The velvet over the steel. Could she design such a place?She took the piece of toast Zack handed her and absent-mindedly buttered it. It was an intriguing challenge to design a home for two people of completely diverse tastes.She could do it. She knew she could!Somehow...she had to get Zack and his crew to do the work she had planned to hire carpenters for—all the remodeling and re-roofing and knocking out walls—while she designed a livable interior for Mr. and Mrs. Van Chattan. And somehow she had to get Zack to accept her designs over his.She needed time.If only she could cancel Zack’s arrangements with Clyde.“Boston! Hey! Wake up!” She looked up to see Zack holding a pan of boiling water in one hand, a cup in the other. “You want coffee?”“Yes, thank you.”He poured the water, added a half- spoonful of instant coffee and set it in front of her. He was wearing work clothes, making him look rugged and excitingly masculine: blue jeans and a faded blue work shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms and broad strong hands with square-cut nails. The hands of a builder. It was easy to admire the owner of such hands.A small smile flickered around the corner of his mouth, reflecting a definite twinkle in his eyes. “You were off somewhere...?”She responded with a smile of her own. “I tend to do that. I concentrate on one thing and all else is blanked out.”“That could be serious business, if you’re driving a car,” he teased, sitting down next to her, and she moved slightly to give him room.“I try not to—then,” she joked back and his crooked grin grew broader, making her emotions spin with a heady wobble. Breakfast spent with Zack would be a great way to start anyone’s day.He must’ve felt he could afford to relax and joke about things, now that he thought he was getting rid of her. It made him infinitely more attractive.Zack was handsome enough to make any woman’s heart perk up and take interest, and when he showed compassion, as he had last night, or smiled in this lopsided way, well...! Jennel stirred her coffee as if it were the most important thing in the world while she called herself all kinds of a fool. With her business in jeopardy, she couldn’t afford to concentrate on anything but her job.The job. Not the man.Especially not this man. He wasn’t safe and biddable like her last boyfriend who would do anything for her.Zack wouldn’t.Zack wouldn’t be swayed by soft words and pleading blue eyes. The only way she might reach him would be through her designs...even if she had to send them back to the Van Chattans in New York. Only they could override Zack’s claim.She had to maintain some form of hold on the island until she could talk to them. She was afraid if she left, she’d never get back. An illogical feeling perhaps, but there it was. She must stay on the island.“I was planning my day. Since I’m not able to walk around, I wonder if you’d let me study your plans. I think I could learn a lot.” “Sure.” He smiled, evidently pleased by her request. He wouldn’t have, if he had known her thoughts.“I like your boat. Is it new?” “No. I’ve had it about five years now.” It looked new. He took excellent care of it, or else he didn’t use it often. The spic and span interior would have made her Navy father proud. “Do you use it often for your jobs?”“Only on ones like this. I use it mainly for fishing trips or pleasure cruises. I like to get away from things. Out on the water is the only place where people can’t constantly call you with their problems.”“Does that happen often?”“Not so much anymore. I’ve got some good foremen who run things once I get set up. They know better than to bother me over details. I’ll stand behind them on those.”“And your crews?”“The same. I choose my crews carefully; ones who think for themselves. I pay accordingly, but I gain in the long run by having things done right and on time.”That must be nice. Jennel envisioned herself one day able to hire a helper who would do the work while she designed.Up above, Brutus barked, a deep rolling sound, rocking the boat as he jumped out.“Must be my crew,” Zack said. He went up the steps to look. “Yep!” He stepped back and brought out his case. “Here. Keep ’em in order, so I can put my hands on the one I want without having to hunt.”“I will.” How many times had her father said the same thing? The exact same thing. “And don’t touch my cast iron griddle.”He was more adamant about that than his plans.“Okay.”“Even when it gets cold. If you use soap I’ll have to re-condition it. It’s fine the way it is, so leave it alone.”“Okay!” She wouldn’t touch his precious griddle, but curiosity prompted her to ask, “How do you clean it then?”“Hot water, no soap. Drying it on a hot stove sterilizes it, but don’t you touch it!” She almost saluted. “No, sir!” Not after that warning. Besides she was going to be drawing plans, not washing pans.Zack had his doubts. Dare he leave her with everything? She looked innocent, but he’d never put much trust in looks. The key to his boat was in his pocket, so unless she knew how to hot-wire a boat, she’d be here when he got back. Shrugging, he threw the paper plates into the garbage and left to join his crew.Jennel was a distraction he hadn’t counted on. He wanted to get to know her better, but that wasn’t possible. She held herself back, as if afraid of contact. It might be her New England background, but he felt it was more than that.She tugged his emotions to all points of the compass, with smiles one moment and snappy answers the next. His position with her shifted so often, it threw him adrift.He tried to put Jennel out of his mind as he greeted his crew. The three men had worked for him all of last year, and he knew them to be hard workers. He wouldn’t keep any other kind around, but they were getting harder to find. He led them up to the house and showed them around, smiling as he pictured Jennel’s face when she stabbed her rare steak. He shook his head over the way she had cut up her feet.“You mean you don’t like it that way, Zack? I thought you said—”“What?”“I thought you were going to remove this wall?”“Yes. Sorry. I was thinking of other things.” Like the slight dimples in her cheeks when she smiled.Deciding that the house contained too much of Jennel already, Zack took his men outside and marked where he wanted the trench dug to bring in the utilities.Setting two men to dig near the house, he took the third across the narrow strait to Stuart Island and started him digging with a backhoe. Zack helped move rocks and did some shovel work himself. The physical labor felt good. It beat a health club for getting into shape, but it didn’t keep Jennel from entering his mind and tormenting him with a thousand questions about her.With Zack out of the way, Jennel considered different ways to keep Clyde from coming. All of them sounded weak.Determined to try, she hobbled up the steps to the radio and flipped the switch. Not knowing Clyde’s call letters, she said, “Calling Clyde Brekley of Friday Harbor. Over.”Three repeats brought no response. If Zack caught the message, she was out of luck, but then she was out of here anyway, if Clyde arrived on schedule.She had Mrs. Van Chattan’s phone number. Should she call her? Jennel spent several seconds mustering the courage to put the call through, and felt nothing but intense relief when the ringing went unanswered.Leaving the radio, Jennel turned her attention to Zack’s case. It opened easily, and she removed the plans, carefully laying them on the adjacent seat so she could keep them in order as she took off the information needed. They were beautifully drawn, with the clean sharp lines of a professional, and Jennel paused to admire the overall views of the finished home. Clean cut lines, like the crispness of Zack’s hair and the firmness of his chin. A design as strong and bold as he was. Such a lovely home. Any woman would be happy to live in it...once Jennel got finished.Quickly she copied the measurements onto her planning papers—window sizes, room sizes, door openings. If Zack only knew, he was saving her a tremendous amount of work. She would have had to measure everything to estimate the amount of materials needed.As usual she became so involved she forgot the time. It was almost ten when she tried the radio and again got no answer.Carefully she picked up Zack’s plans to put back into the case, then stopped, aghast. Somehow she had reversed them. At first she’d flipped each one over as she looked at it so that they’d stay in order.But as she became engrossed in what she was doing, she’d set them on top of each other...and when she’d pulled two out of order to get a measurement, she hadn’t put them back where they belonged.How could she have been so absent- minded? And after she’d promised, too! He’d kill her!Her stomach tightened as she remembered spilling coffee on one of her father’s Navy reports. His anger had raged for days. Afterwards he brought it up every time she failed to meet his standards.He always wanted things shipshape. It hadn’t affected her mother, who was born neat and orderly, but Jennel needed a certain amount of cozy clutter around to be creative. As soon as anything was spic and span, she put several objects on it, hiding the bare, unfriendly surface. She scattered things all over while working, organizing only when the project was finished.There was no way she could remember how to restore the original order of Zack’s plans, so she put them back in the case, resigned to seeing him furious.She stopped long enough to get a drink and ease the kinks out of her neck. When she felt calmer, she returned to her task.Jennel sketched the house plan twice, to memorize it. Then she closed her eyes and pictured each area, imposing on it the opposite personalities of husband and wife. It was easy to put Zack in. Jennel had to fight herself from leaving it just like he planned. She knew she had to change it enough to make Mrs. Van Chattan happy.The rooms floated before her, ideas clamoring to be expressed. Apricot, wine, and taupe shades were more acceptable to men, with a touch of pink in some of the patterns. Light creams on the walls rather than the stark whites Zack had used.The entrance and study could be left just as Zack planned them. The biggest changes would take place in the bedroom, bath and dining areas.The boat swayed and Jennel slipped her notes into her case an instant before Zack opened the door. She had left one of his plans out—the main floor plan—and looked up from it as he entered, his masculine presence sending a rippling tremor of awareness down her spine. Realizing that her own reactions were weakening her resolve, she went immediately on the defensive.“You’re back.”He was smiling broadly as he took off his coat and carefully hung it up, not seeming to notice her sharpness. “Yep. Hungry?”“No.” She glanced at her watch. “Is it noon already?”Cocking his head to one side, he looked her over inquiringly. “Did you put up your feet, like I told you?”She had forgotten, and the fact was written on her face. “No.”He shook his head in exasperation as she swung her feet up onto the seat cushions.“I like your plans,” she said, deciding to get in some points before she told him what she’d done to them.“Good.” “But...uh...” He didn’t say anything, just nailed her with a look of such dour contemplation that she chickened out and tried another topic.“Mrs. Van Chattan...with her hobby, you know; she’ll need a room for it....” His puzzled face announced that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Or didn’t you know?”“No, I didn’t. What kind of hobby?”His look of alert concentration showed he was listening. Zack was a good listener. He took what you said, mulled it over in his mind and came to his own conclusions... but at least he listened.“She collects antique dolls. Some of them are extremely valuable...she has them in large glass cases. And she restores them...she has boxes of materials, wigs and arms, and she does the dresses herself.”Zack frowned. “He didn’t mention it to me. How big a room do you figure she’ll need?”“Twelve by twelve. Her cases on two walls and a workbench on another. She could also use a small table and chair in front of the window.”He scowled down at the plans. “And just where would you put this room?”Well, if he was going to ask, even a tad sarcastically...? “There was a sewing room in the old floor plan. You’ve brought it into the main bedroom as a closet. It’s smaller than I would like—”“Too small,” he retorted. “And the master bedroom needs that extra closet space.”“Then how about taking it out of the living room?” Which was where Jennel wanted it to go. “Surely they won’t need that much dining space...she could have a small sitting room next to it...” With her finger she started to sketch on the plans in front of her.“I’m surprised you haven’t drawn it in already.” His comment was sarcastic and critical, even when delivered in such an indolent manner.“Oh, no! I’d...I’d never do that!” She was shocked at the idea of even touching another person’s plans with a pencil.“Huh! I’m glad you have some restraint. Let’s see....”Her temper flared, as, humming softly to himself, he took a soup can out of the cupboard, opened it and poured the contents into a bowl to heat in the microwave. “Chicken noodle. I carried most of the grub up to the house, so our variety here isn’t much.”Practicing the restraint he had congratulated her on, Jennel didn’t throw anything at him. She even waited until they had finished eating before asking, “Don’t you think that’s a good place for her two rooms?”“Maybe. Maybe not.” He mumbled the words, giving no indication of his feelings. Frustrating man! “Well, where would you put them?” she persisted. He paused, then reached for his coat.“I’ll mention it to John and see if he wants to add the room...or rooms. Satisfied?”“As long as Mrs. Van Chattan is.”“Clyde Brekley should pick you up before I’m back. You can change bandages at Friday Harbor and wear your tennis shoes on the flight to Seattle.”She wasn’t going to Seattle. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she’d completed her job here. Mrs. Van Chattan deserved...Her body stiffened defensively as he picked up the main floor plan and pulled the others out of his case to roll them all together, stopped, and reviewed the order. The lines of his mouth straightened as she held her breath.“I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different...from you,” he accused her with a hardening in his eyes.“I’m sorry. I can explain—”“Don’t bother!” He rolled them up and thrust them into the case with a finality emphasized by the rigid carriage of his body. “I don’t want to hear it. Just be gone when I get back.” He left without saying goodbye.He was gone, and, wonder of wonders, without exploding. Jennel let out her breath. The anticipation had been a lot worse than the reality, but then, she hadn’t spilled coffee on his plans. Her emotional reaction to what she thought he might do had left her shaken. She would have to stop comparing him to her father.If she was going to get this job done, she would have to stop thinking about Zack, period! And that was about as easy as kicking a habit. Thinking about him was addictive.Once more she tried to raise Clyde Brekley, but without success. It worried her, but the plans dominated her thoughts, pushing her concern to the background. Swiftly she sketched ideas as they flowed forth, each one incorporating Zack’s pure lines with her touch of velvet.It was a good thing she’d copied and sketched like mad all morning. All the information from his plans was where she needed it...on her papers and in her head.Zack was also in there. With an effort she pushed his image out of the kitchen, busy with his cast iron griddle, and plunked Mrs. Van Chattan there instead. He was a nuisance, popping into every scene.In the breakfast nook of the remodeled house, she ignored the large painting he had planned and instead drew in a series of small prints, delicate and light...water colors she had already purchased in New York. Valences cut the severity of the windows and decorative lighting replaced the hard commercial globes Zack had used. She could see the fabrics she would need, the glowing colors mellowing the atmosphere of the home. As usual, when ideas piled one on top of another, each one sparked off two or three more, and a rush of excitement swept over her. Totally immersed in her work, she looked about in confusion when Brutus barked. When she heard her name, she hastily slid her papers out of sight. “Who is it?”“Clyde Brekley. Zack said you needed a lift back to Friday Harbor. You didn’t stay long.”Groaning inwardly, Jennel opened the door and stepped out onto the deck. Brutus joined her, tail wagging in delight. She patted his head as she surveyed the charter captain’s weathered features and engaging smile with its deep lines of laughter. His dark hair, lightly peppered with gray, curled down into his collar. He was middle-aged, jovial, and with a flair for mischief— reminding Jennel of her uncle. Clyde’s boat was tied to the opposite side of the float.She smiled warmly, welcoming him with outward composure as her mind raced for an excuse. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day, Mr. Brekley. I, er...I’m planning a surprise, for Zack; and, uh...to do it, I have to remain here. So I won’t be going back. Uh...I’ll pay for your trip out, if that’s okay. Come aboard.”“All right. Can’t stay long...getting dark. I’ve got radar and sonar, but these waters call for a good eye, too. There’s lots of logs floating around right now.”He turned to look out over the water, gray eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re going to stay awhile, eh? Good fishing in these parts. Think you’ll catch anything?”It sounded like fun, but... “I haven’t time to fish.”“Everyone’s got time to fish. Especially a pretty woman like you.”“Not me,” she objected. “I’ve work to do and besides, I don’t have a license.”“Some fish...you don’t need a license to catch; only a license to keep.” There was a sly, knowing tone to his voice that baffled Jennel, as if he knew something of importance she should know. “Really?”“Uh-huh. And there’s sharks out here—”“Sharks?” Her voice rose in protest. Who would want to catch a shark?“Little, friendly fellows. You might try for one of them,” he suggested with a wink. “Some of ’em like to get caught.”Laughing, Jennel wrote a check on Mrs. Van Chattan’s account and handed it to him. “I’ll leave the sharks alone.”“They’re fun to catch.” “Not to my way of thinking!” “Well, have fun while you’re here. Zack’s got a good boat...nice place to stay, but it needs a woman’s touch, don’t you think?”“Yes, it’s lovely, but he keeps it neater than I ever would.” She paused, gathering her courage. “He’ll probably call you and want to know what happened. Could you tell him you had motor trouble or...or something?”It was clear to see that suggestion didn’t go over very well. His bushy eyebrows almost met in frowning thought. “Well, now...I don’t want to—”“How about just saying you had some minor difficulty,” she interrupted quickly. “Please. You mustn’t say I wouldn’t go.”“Well...”“Please?”“Run that by me once more,” he requested, regarding her with suspicion. She hadn’t figured on him accepting her flimsy reason, but it was still worth trying.“I’m planning a big surprise for Zack.” “A surprise, eh?” “It’ll take several days. He thinks I want to leave, so he’ll keep calling. If you could keep telling him you’ll come...then when it’s too late, call and say you can’t...” Her voice drifted off. It sounded foolish even as she said it.“How long you plan for this to go on? Days? Weeks? I have my reputation to uphold.” For some unknown reason, he appeared to be giving it serious consideration.“Just a few days. Will you do it?” she inquired eagerly. “I’ll explain to Zack, afterwards, that you were helping me.”“I guess so. If it’s not too long. I’m known for being dependable. Although Zack won’t mind, especially after he gets his surprise. It is a surprise, you say?”“Uh-huh. Sort of like a...a birthday surprise. He’s not to know anything about it.”He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Birthday, huh?”“Yes.” “Okay. For a few days.” Jennel couldn’t believe it’d been so easy. “Great! Now, how can I get hold of you when I really do need you to come?”“Simple. You call. I won’t come when Zack calls.” He gave her his call letters and wished her good fishing, swinging his boat away to the north to avoid being seen by Zack and his men.Jennel hoped she wouldn’t get him into trouble. But now she had the time she needed, and that was what mattered most.After Clyde had gone, she suddenly realized how exhausted she was. She’d been running all day on nervous energy and the excitement of creativity. Carefully putting away her work, she lay down on the bunk with her feet up, intending to rest for a few minutes before fixing the evening meal...and fell fast asleep.Zack woke her, his hand on her shoulder, and she blinked her eyes, fighting off the lethargy of the afternoon nap. In her sleep- drugged state, all she could think about was: What a wonderful way to wake up!“What happened?” she asked, looking upward at his tall form in the subdued light, thinking he’d come back early. Then she realized it was almost dark outside.He would expect her to be gone with Clyde. She shook herself awake, trying to clear her mind. He’d be angry at her. What should she say?Chapter SixJennel sat up quickly, her mind searching for the right words. Zack mustn’t find out she’d asked Clyde to stay away. “It’s late. What...where’s...?”She must have appeared completely bewildered, for he was quick to answer. “Clyde’s not here. He called while I was eating supper with my men.”“Oh...Clyde! Of course. Clyde was going to pick me up.”“Yes. He can’t. I’m sorry. Looks like you’ll have to stay another night.” His deep voice was apologetic, as if he thought she wanted to go. It was hard to act disappointed.She rubbed her face as she yawned to cover her relief. “What happened?”“He had some kind of schedule foul-up but should be able to come tomorrow, early. I told him we’d manage.”That was good of Clyde. Jennel hadn’t thought of asking him to go so far as to come up with an excuse. Her story must have been so simple as to sound plausible.She hated to think what would’ve happened if Zack had returned expecting her to be gone. As it was, she refused to think what would happen if he ever found out that Clyde had come and she’d sent him back.Zack was a man you wouldn’t want to cross. A strong, decisive, straightforward man who would likely throttle her when he found out she’d altered his designs while he wasn’t looking.She didn’t want to make him angry at her...she just wanted to save her company and make Mrs. Van Chattan happy at the same time. Surely a few diversionary tactics could be forgiven with those goals in mind?“How did the cable laying go?” “Typical.” He shrugged, evidently used to taking things as they came. “There were several big boulders my men couldn’t move on this end, so I’ll have to bring a backhoe over. We’re trenched to the water’s edge on the other side. Tomorrow, we should be able to lay both cables at once.”“I see.”“I tried to call the Van Chattans, but couldn’t reach them. His secretary said they were en route to L.A.”Was that good news...or bad? “So you weren’t able to ask them anything?”“No. How did your day go?”“Just fine. Although I must’ve been more tired from the trip than I thought...or else just lying down in the cabin made me sleepy. I don’t usually fall asleep in the afternoon.”He was being friendly, sociable, polite. So nice it made her feel guilty. It was much easier planning devious things when he was being difficult.He had already had supper, so when he said, “Hungry?” she replied, “Not much. I’ll make a sandwich or something for myself.”“How’re the feet?”“Fine. Just a little sore. I’ll make sure I wear my tennies if I ever have to cross those rocks again.”He was in a good mood, whistling as he rearranged things to give them more cabin space. “I’m going to fish ’til dark. You want to join me? I’ve got more than one pole.”“I don’t have a license.”“You don’t need one as long as you leave the restricted fish alone.”“Thanks, but not tonight. I haven’t fished since my dad took me years ago when I was a child. All I remember is that I fell into the lake.”“Were you standing up?”“No. I was trying to see the reflection of my face in the water and lost my balance.” She had always been an inquisitive person, a seeker of beauty. She had been fascinated with how a motor worked, delighted with the varied shining colors of a bird’s feather, and awed by the sparkle of sunlight on water.He was grinning smugly and with sudden insight, she asked, “What were you doing when you fell in?” His hazel eyes twinkled, his entire face changed as the dancing smile darted across it. “The first time? Trying to untangle my fishing line. The second? Trying to catch my boat before it drifted away.”“Well, stay dry this time. That water’s cold.”He chuckled softly and went out on the deck.What a change a smile could make. Now that he was being hospitable and no longer putting her in her place, he was extremely attractive. She had to force herself to remember his earlier caustic remarks.Don’t be deceived, she reminded herself severely. He hasn’t given in...he just thinks you’ve given up. The battle had barely begun.A quick wash made her feel better and two peanut butter sandwiches stopped the worst of the hunger. If they continued to eat in the boat, they should bring some groceries back from the house.She went out on the deck to watch the pale glitter of the moon upon the quiet water. There was tidal action here, but the ocean breakers were blocked by Vancouver Island.The evening was lovely. Both sky and water stayed light as the land began to darken. Nearby, a large cormorant sat on a piling, watching him fish, its long black, snake-like neck crooked, its wings slightly outspread.Jennel settled on the chair beside Brutus, out of Zack’s way. Neither spoke, enjoying the stillness of the evening. Soon a crisp wind developed, making it too cold to sit out, so she went inside. Zack followed, having caught nothing of importance.He put his pole away, turned on the cabin lights and got out a chess set, asking if she played. Jennel had been a chess champion in high school, but didn’t bother telling him.The game quickly became intense. Used to easy wins, Jennel didn’t give it her full attention at first, watching the smooth movement of his strong fingers as he placed the pieces upon the board, dreamily enjoying the pleasant interlude of companionship. He made two strategic moves, and she woke up fast. He knew what he was doing and would wind this game up in three more moves unless she gathered her thoughts and attacked.A quick glance caught him eyeing her with speculative challenge, as if to say, “What are you going to do about that?”Blinking to take her focus off him, she studied the board. To save her queen, she had to sacrifice a knight. She moved and saw him nod with approval. Again their glances met, and the battle was joined.Resting his chin on his hands, he frowned down at the board while she tried to quiet the rapid thrum of her heart, set off by his unspoken praise. She realized it was going to be extremely hard to keep her mind on the game. He had two cowlicks she hadn’t noticed before, creating a swirl of hair near the crown of his head. The tips of his ears—“Your turn.” His glance flicked upward, and she recoiled slightly with embarrassment. What move had he made?Since she thought better with her hands active, she unconsciously released her braid as she stared at her small army, debating a counter-move.“Do you have to do that?” “What?” “Nothing,” he muttered, but he looked uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. “I didn’t realize I was doing anything.” “Forget it.” Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her what was bothering him...! She was no mind reader. Her fingers slowly worked through the strands, separating them, and she realized he was watching the slow, almost hypnotic, movements. Turning her hands slightly, she glanced at them and then at him, in question. In response, he left the table and fixed some coffee.Jennel had learned chess from her father as a lesson in strategy. He applied military tactics, and one of them included breaking the “enemy’s” concentration. If her hair bothered Zack, she would leave it down. Two moves later she had his queen.He tried every which way to beat her, playing as ruthlessly as if in a major tournament, until only a king and knight remained to each...and it was nearing midnight.“Let’s call this a stalemate,” Zack said after staring quietly at the board for five minutes. “You don’t know when to quit, and I don’t either. We could keep chasing each other around ’til daybreak.”“I agree. You’re very good.”“You, too. Something tells me you’ve played more than just the odd game here and there. Were you in any tournaments?”“Yes. In high school and college.”His eyebrow flicked upward. “Chess champion?”“In high school.” “I don’t doubt it.” “Were you in any? Tournaments, I mean.” “No.” He shook his head, grinned, and said, “I had a good teacher.” “Who?”“Clyde.”“Clyde?”“Yes. He loves the game. He’d take me fishing and after it got dark, we’d play chess. Sometimes I think he took me as much for the game as for the fishing.”“Clyde doesn’t look like the chess type.”“Don’t let that charter captain exterior fool you. That ‘old home boy’ act is just for the tourists.”“I see.” He had played the role to perfection, making her think he’d forgotten to tell her about the house. But maybe he hadn’t. If not, why not? And why had Clyde agreed so easily to stay away? She had to ask him next time she got him alone.“Clyde’s sharp. Sneaky, too. He plays a lot like you do. I thought I had you a time or two, but you got away from me.” He leaned back and stretched, and she rose to put their coffee cups in the sink.She was not the tidiest of individuals, preferring to do her dishes twice a week and the rest of her housework, excluding laundry, two or three times a month. But she had made a determined effort, in Zack’s ship-shape boat, to pick up and put away all her things. Therefore, she washed, rinsed and dried the cups and put them in their place on the shelf. Too bad Zack didn’t notice the extra pains she took for him.“It hurts when you lose your queen,” she sympathized. If that hadn’t happened, he would have beaten her. He had captured her queen when she sacrificed it to save her king. They were very evenly matched.“I was careless,” he grumbled, picking up the board and pieces and putting them away.“Same here.”“One of my foremen likes the game. We play whenever I visit the site where he’s working. He’s fairly easy to beat, so I’ve been getting slack.”If they played again, she was going to go all out to win from the start. He didn’t strike her as one who had been defeated very often, at least not lately. It would do him good. It was one place where his size and strength didn’t count.Jennel thought that many people blessed with a lot of strength seemed to think that being physically strong automatically made them the leader in any situation. It might’ve been true in the old days when might made right, but in a cultured society, strong people were apt to be a colossal pain. She removed the bandages, finding the tiny cuts healed. Zack insisted on checking, one large hand encompassing her ankle while he gently ran a thumb over the healed area. His touch sent the pulse leaping in her throat, a tensing of muscles and breath, and she involuntarily jerked back.“Sorry. Does it tickle?”“It’s...it’s okay. Just a little.” Better that than him thinking she was reacting to his touch. She wanted him to continue, to savor the feel of his gentle hands on her skin, but she didn’t want him to know it.She was becoming more and more attracted to him, and that wasn’t good. Not if she was going to keep her business intact. She had to keep her mind clear, unclouded with emotion, ready to do battle.“They’re in good shape,” Zack said, holding her foot for a moment longer, his fingers gently massaging the smooth skin.It sent Jennel’s pulse racing faster, and finally, in self-defense, she pulled her foot away. “Yes. That smelly ointment works.”Their second night was a repeat of the first. Zack asleep almost instantly, Jennel lying awake for awhile because of her nap, conscious of him lying beside her.It had been fun playing chess with him. More fun than with her father, who was a poor loser and played like he was in World War III. Zack groaned when she captured a piece he had overlooked, but did so with a smile.He was independent, self-reliant; a talented professional. He also had a bulldog tenacity to hang on to what he had. A characteristic she liked in a man, but which would give her problems in keeping her job here.Despite wanting to be near Zack, despite the comforts of the boat, she would fix up a bed in the house. She really ought to do that...tomorrow.Tomorrow she must finish her sketches and do the color boards, then mail them to New York. When Mrs. Van Chattan saw them, she’d insist Jennel stay as her designer. Then Zack would have to stop trying to make her leave.Next morning Jennel had a big breakfast of fruit and oatmeal. The ocean air made her hungry. Zack ate with her, but fixed himself three eggs and toast.“Don’t forget now,” he called back as he went out to join his crew. “Be ready when Clyde comes.”“I will,” she promised easily, since Clyde wasn’t coming.After Zack left, she tidied the boat and put her luggage down with her sleeping bag. Satisfied that all her things were neatly stowed away, she took her water colors and blank color boards, and worked her way through the trees. On the northeast side of the island, she found a secluded nook overlooking a small cove.There she could look across at Mount Baker. Clyde had pointed the dormant volcano out to her, explaining how geologists thought it might be the next to erupt. It was completely covered with snow, its round top dominating the scenery.She was going to have to come back with her camera and take some pictures, otherwise her friends would never believe her. They had all urged her to take the job, especially her last boyfriend, reminding her that “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” It wasn’t true. She hadn’t thought of him since she’d arrived.Instead, Zack dominated her thoughts. He was made handsome by his personality more than his picture-perfect looks. He reminded her somewhat of the New England fishermen, strong and rugged and self-possessed. When he wasn’t mad at her, he was quite something.Blessed with a vivid visual recall, Jennel picked up her sketchpad and did several faces, catching the snap of his eyes, alight and animated under jutting brows. Rumpled hair, square jaw, mobile lips about to twitch into laughter.Her heart beat stronger as she gazed at the shape of his lips on the last sketch. They were so expressive. What would they feel like in a kiss? Would they be as firm and masterful as she had drawn them? Sighing, for she probably would never find out, she shaded in the shadow beneath the lower lip.A touch of pride was strongly evident in all her sketches of him, and she eyed them ruefully. If only he’d give a little and accept her! That pride made her feel unnecessary in spite of her excellent designs. She stared down at her sketches and tenderly traced her finger along his jawline. She had made him better looking than he was. Yet that was how she saw him. At least she was able to see Zack as a man apart and not as a composite of all the dominating men she’d run into—primarily her father.She’d done that at first, but his sense of humor, his quick temper that instantly disappeared, plus his kindness even when he was angry with her, all helped her realize that he was unique—steel under velvet. A strong man, but not against her.At least not her personally. He didn’t want her interfering. He didn’t want her re- designing anything of his plans. But as a woman, he seemed to have accepted her. Was that enough? She mulled over the thought for a long time. All this time they’d been together, he’d never mentioned her designs. It was as if she’d never created them. Evidently he had closed his mind to them, once he had given his ultimatum.Clamping down on her turbulent thoughts, she closed her notebook and picked up the first of the color boards, then paused to soak in the peace of the island.Sitting beside a tall cedar, she was rewarded by the sight of a killdeer and his mate, twitting and bobbing along, inspecting the area near the water’s edge. A soaring osprey dove for fish and came up with one flapping helplessly, while a Grebe did a sinking submarine act for its food.There were other birds, many and varied and all paying no attention as Jennel finished her sketches and began to add color.For her interiors she used the muted greens of the Douglas firs, the silver blues of the water, the soft apricot pink of lichen on a nearby rock, a gray from some driftwood, the beige of marsh grass—all toned down into light washes that endued her delicate line drawings with a subtle kiss of color.Once she spotted two whales, their bodies clear in the water as they passed beyond the cove: a gray whale and her darker calf. Jennel was close enough to hear the short explosive sighs as the mammoth creatures vented air, yet high enough to see their entire length. If only Zack was here to see them, too. Then her joy would be complete.It was as if the islands themselves were welcoming her presence. She found herself rapidly falling in love with them.By late afternoon, she laid the final board down to dry. Done. A harmony for two people of opposite tastes. She had been confident she could do it, but until the finished designs had been illustrated, she had not actually known.The completion of such a difficult task gave her even more confidence and a warm glow of satisfaction. If only she could show them to Zack, share this part of her life with him, knowing he would approve and be pleased with the results. It would make her achievement even more rewarding. As it was, she felt cheated out of part of the joy she should have experienced over her achievement.Stretching out her cramped muscles, Jennel looked again at her boards, propped around her. They were very good. There was no way Zack would be able to deny it, unless he had such a fragile ego that he couldn’t admit when the competition was good.No. The chess game had proved that. But would he allow her designs in his final plans?Her eyes drooped sleepily, and she dozed in the sun.Zack watched the dock on Turnagain Island approach, searching illogically for Jennel’s figure. He couldn’t help himself, even though he knew Clyde planned to pick her up this morning. Clyde had a reputation for being dependable. When he said he’d do a thing, he did it.“Almost there.” The youth steering the boat cut the engine. “You want any of us to come in with the helicopter?”“Yes. Send Mike over with it. You did a full day’s work today. I think it’s time for a raise.”“Really? Thanks Zack.” “You’ve earned it. So long.” “Bye.” Zack stepped onto the float and watched the boat leave. He enjoyed solitude, never feeling lonely while in the San Juans. That was why he had arranged to be here for these few days while his main group of workers finished a previous job.So why did the dock area seem so empty?Brutus barked, making Zack smile. “Here, boy,” he called, slapping his hands on his knees. “Good dog.”He fended off the big dog’s exuberant greeting and climbed aboard his boat. Feeling deserted and very low, he looked around for something to keep him busy.He could do some paperwork, that always needed doing. No. He didn’t think he could settle to that. Perhaps he should unload some more equipment.Straightening, he looked with disgust at the island. When had it lost its magic?“Get down, Brutus.” He pushed the dog away and sat in the captain’s chair, brooding.“This isn’t getting me anywhere,” he told the sorrowful-eyed animal. “I think I’ll cut down those tall firs this afternoon, instead of in the morning. That way they’ll be done before the ’copter comes.”Tying Brutus on the deck, he picked up his chain saw and started along the trail. Some hard work should snap him out of the doldrums. It was only five o’clock, leaving plenty of daylight remaining.Jennel opened her eyes wide, startled by the loud thrum of a hummingbird investigating the red patch on her scarf. When she painted, she usually got paint all over everything, so she had dressed in old jeans and a black blouse, topped with a brightly colored scarf. The bird hovered for a few more seconds, then darted away in a series of swift moves interspersed with slow hoverings.Such a lovely creature! Such a lovely place. She just had to stay longer. If a person lived here, he’d never have to go on vacation.If only Zack wasn’t so determined to get rid of her.Wide awake once more, she packed her case and started back, walking with care to avoid stepping in the hundreds of rabbit holes dotting the area.At the crest of the island, Jennel took one long look back. Mt. Baker was glowing gold in the late afternoon sun, the land below it lost in haze, the nearer islands sharp and clear. Magnificent! Her artist’s mind was caught and held.Then an annoying whine, a buzzing sound that rose and fell in volume, demanded her attention, and she looked curiously around for the source.A motor, perhaps a small motor boat, but that didn’t sound quite right. A weed cutter? That was more like it. Had Zack come back already?It sounded like it was near the house, and she walked more rapidly, curious. It ran for a while, then died down to a low put-put.As she entered the more heavily forested side of the island near the house, the knee-high undergrowth made walking difficult. As she fought her way through a particularly dense section, the motor started again, a long continuous sound, rocking in volume.It stopped as she stepped out in a small clearing.Zack stood several yards away at the base of a large fir. His gaze was directed upward, toward the top of the tree. He hadn’t seen her.She followed his gaze. The top made a small circle, as if stirred by a wind coming from several directions.She heard a metallic clank, and looked back towards Zack to see him pounding something into the trunk. Metal upon metal. The sound rang through the clear air like harsh music.Zack was looking upward again, and once more she followed his line of sight.He was cutting the tree down. The top stopped circling, then steadied as the tree started to fall...slowly, hesitating a half-second, and then picking up speed.It was coming—towards her. Right where she was standing!Chapter SevenTransfixed, Jennel stared at the falling tree.“Jennel! Run. Run!” Which way? A leaning madrona stood three feet away. Struggling through the underbrush, Jennel reached it as the fir hit.The madrona shuddered with the impact. Terrified, Jennel crouched down, arms covering her head, hearing the fir scraping off the madrona’s red bark.Large branches snapped from both trees with the loud crack of rifle shots, then fell like spears. One landed near her, its pointed end embedding itself deep into the soil. Its length followed, knocking Jennel flat, pinning her down.The trunk landed five feet from her out-stretched hand with a loud “ker-whump,” shaking the ground. Above the ringing in her ears, she heard Zack storming through the branches, shouting her name frantically, over and over.“Jennel! Jennel! Where are you? Jennel!”In spite of being buried under the boughs, she laughed to herself. So this was what it took to make him stop calling her “Boston.” She might have known.The limb had knocked the breath out of her and it took a few seconds before she could reply. “Here!” she croaked as loudly as possible. “I’m okay...I think.”Her face was buried in the dirt, her body in the underbrush. The smaller end of the limb lay across her shoulders, its needles covering her like a blanket.“Where?” “Over here.” She could hear Zack’s muttered prayer as he scrambled to her and tried frantically to lift the branch. He swiveled it aside when he couldn’t pull the end out of the ground.“You okay?” “Yeah.” “Are you sure?” There hadn’t been time to see if all her parts worked. She wiggled fingers and toes, then moved her head as he watched, frowning with worry. “Uh-huh. It didn’t hit me.”She started to rise, staggered, and he caught her, giving support until she regained her feet.“Nothing broken?” he murmured, cautiously brushing her face, then her body to remove the worst of the dirt along with numerous pine needles stuck on with pitch. The smell of pine permeated the air. His hand had a fine tremor to it, his voice low and catching.“No.” She stood still, letting her body recover, cocooned in the warmth of his concern. A new awareness of him coursed through her, making her skin ultra sensitive—all reaction to the near miss, of course. Her senses were extremely receptive to any tenderness shown.She felt grateful for his solicitude, but should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Once he saw her standing upright, dirty and scratched, but basically unharmed, his fright gave way to a raging red-hot anger.“Of all the crazy, stupid...!” He groped for words, his face white with fear, probably a reflection of her own.She started to shake hard with aftershock, in no shape to yell back. “What did you do a crazy thing like that for? You almost got killed!”“I...I certainly didn’t do it on purpose!”“You never, never, ever get close to someone running a chain saw!”“But I didn’t—”“You’re a walking disaster! You’re the most accident-prone woman I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!” He was at full volume now, finding relief in hollering at her. His hands were white, clenched, shaking.He clearly had had a rough few moments there, seeing the tree fall on her and not being able to do anything about it. She had been too busy getting out of the way to have time to be frightened, although her legs were now trembling like a tuning fork testing middle “C”, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of him. She almost felt sorry for him.Like her mom had said, some men come unglued over things they can’t control. Unlike women—who had it happen often enough to take in stride—men were inclined to resort to anger rather than admit to feelings of helplessness.She started to explain. “I—” “I nearly killed you!” “But—” “If you’d have tripped...or...or anything, you’d be dead.” “I know, but—” “What were you doing out here?” The volume dropped as he took another large gulp of air and passed a hand through his hair, wiping out all resemblance of order. Was he going to give her a chance to talk? It seemed so, and she leaned for support against the smooth trunk of the madrona as she said, “I was out sketching... My case!”“All day?”“Yes.” She looked around in dismay at the forbidding pile of tangled branches, tugging at first one and then the other. Most were either attached to the tree or had one end buried deep in the ground. Had her case and all her work been destroyed?“You missed Clyde.” “Clyde? Oh...I forgot all about him.” “You see what happened, don’t you?” he asked, his voice still unnaturally raspy. “I thought you’d gone...left with Clyde! I never dreamed you were still around.”“I’m sorry, Zack.”He sat down on the fir and let out two deep long breaths, not unlike the whales. He looked at her grimly, then shook his head and took one more long breath.He pointed meaningfully towards the end of the branch where it was still buried deep in the ground.“I’m sorry I yelled at you. But if that had hit you, it would’ve killed you.” He wiped at his forehead with an unsteady hand, reliving the past few moments. “I could see you didn’t have time to get clear. I thought for a moment you weren’t even going to move.”“I couldn’t think.”He stood up, looked across the few feet at her. “At least you had sense enough to go to the side. No one can run fast through the salal.”“The salal?”“These bushes.” He kicked at the two-foot-high shrubs that made up most of the underbrush.The fir tree stretched out a good ten feet beyond where they stood, its top buried in the salal. If she had tried to run that way, she’d be dead. As it was, she was going to be bruised and sore. That branch had delivered a hefty wallop to her neck and shoulders.“I froze. If you hadn’t yelled....” The tremor went through her again and this time Zack responded to the residual terror in her eyes. His arms went around her, strong and sturdy, holding her against the solid comfort of his body.“It’s okay, okay,” he murmured, as she clung to him, very glad for support as the strong tremors continued to rack her body. “You made it...luckily.”The strong, rhythmic beat of his heart under her ear steadied her quicker than his words. He had a powerful heart beat, the mark of a long distance runner. Jennel closed her eyes to listen, and felt the worst of the reaction begin to leave.“What a mess!” His hand reached up to stroke her hair, undoing it to let the braid fall, checking its dark length, pausing often to remove pieces of bark, needles and dirt. “You might need help getting this clean.”“No.” Her hair was as sensitive to his touch as if it had nerve ends of its own. Her pulse accelerated with the sweet delight of his care, beating more fiercely than it had when the tree dropped. Startled by the strength of her reaction, Jennel stepped away from him, then hesitated, immediately experiencing a sense of loss. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”“Are you sure?” Zack reached up and carefully separated a five-inch long twig from the crown of her head, seemingly unaware of the havoc he was causing.“Yes.” It wasn’t her hair she was worried about. It was the growing attraction she felt for this man and the increasing difficulty of hiding it from him. She needed to rein in her own volatile feelings.She had to keep her mind upon her job. Not on Zack. In this, he was her opponent, and she had best not forget it.Her case was out there somewhere. Still dazed with shock, she staggered away from Zack, searching the tangled mass, finding it under a limb on the other side of the tree. When she couldn’t free it, Zack got his saw and cut the limb, then opened up her battered case.All her boards were there, mute testimony as to how she’d been spending her time, the top one covered with various layers of paint from the squashed tubes of color. The others were still in fair shape.Relief encountered reaction, and she sank to the ground, unable to stand on her shaky legs. The destruction of the top board felt like an enormous tragedy, although she knew it wasn’t.ItMoreLess
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