should make our dinner a happy occasion,” he said. She was relieved to hear the tone of his voice had lost its sarcastic edge.
“I’ll even make a white wine sauce to go with the fish,” he added.
She stacked the plates on to the sink top. “You must have missed your vocation. You should have been a chef, not a fisherman.” She turned to face him and was still at the look of desire in his face.
“If I was a chef I wouldn’t have met you,” he said softly, his blue eyes caressing.
This time she didn’t lower her eyes, but returned his look. “In that case, I’m glad you’re a fisherman.”
~ * ~
It was four hours later and he still hadn’t returned from Jezebel or his fishing expedition. She had cleared up after the lunch and neatened the tiny, lopsided cottage once again. She had washed some of her clothes and repacked her suitcase ready to leave the next morning.
Finally, she had shampooed and conditioned her hair in the strange, antiquated shower near the house. The water from the large container above her head had been pleasantly warmed by the long, hot day in the sun but she’d used it sparingly aware the rainwater in the tank could be getting low.
At last Jack returned holding two fish aloft as he entered the front door. “Here we are,” he said cheerfully, as she placed the book she had been reading to one side.
“You’re not expecting me to…to gut them, are you?”
She was so aghast that he burst out laughing. “Seeing that you are all clean and pretty, I’ll let you off that particular chore,” he responded, slapping the fish onto the sink. “I’ll prepare them, then I’ll go and have a shower. Can’t have you being the sweet smelling one while I reek of fish.”
He was being remarkably affable, Lara thought. She was sure he had many other things he would rather be doing than stuck here. She decided to follow his positive lead. After all, it had been an adventure and they would never see each other again after tomorrow. What was the point of dwelling on things and being miserable? This time next week she would be home in the palace and a secretary would be going through her appointment diary to arrange engagements for at least the next year. Lara blinked away the tears that welled in her eyes. She had been prepared to return and take up her royal duties after her few days on Seagull Island but now meeting Jack, she could see the careless freedom he took for granted. How she wished life could be different for her. And if she let her romantic ideas really take hold that she could stay here with him. Perhaps he would learn to love her. Love her and care for her.
“I’ve opened a can of chicken soup. We could have it as a starter,” she said, watching as he prepared the fish.
“Good idea.” Jack glanced up. “Cuts healed?” he asked, as he continued to fillet the fish.
“I think so.”
“I’ll have a look at them later. You don’t want to risk an infection.”
She nodded and busied herself heating the soup. She brought the wine from the fridge and endeavored to open the bottle with a rusty opener she’d found in the cutlery drawer.
He washed and dried his hands and then rescued the wine from her. “May be easier if I do this,” he said casually as he removed the cork with a gentle popping sound and poured the wine into the two waiting glasses. He handed one of the glasses to her and chinked his own against it.
“Here’s a toast to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. May she find the happiness she seeks.”
Lara was stunned into silence as she sipped the cold, fruity Riesling. His eyes caressed her, making love to her, and she was tempted to throw herself into his arms and to hell with the consequences. Fortunately, the temptation was removed as he set his glass down and retrieving his towel and bag of toiletries, headed for the shower.
She waited nervously for his return and when he strolled through the door a short time later, she clutched at the back of a chair as her eyes drank him in. He was naked except for the towel draped around his lean hips. His tall, magnificently proportioned body glistened with moisture and his dark hair gleamed in a shaft of sunlight from the window.
But it was his face