Read Online Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) by Vanessa Grant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanessa Grant
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want to tell you something about George. You’ve got the wrong idea, actually. George—”
“Don’t, Jennifer.” He couldn’t bear the thought of listening to her declare her love for another man. “I don’t really want to hear it. I just don’t like to see you— no, don’t get your feathers up! I’m not going to lecture.”
She smiled. “It sounded like the beginning of a lecture.”
“Maybe it was,” he admitted ruefully. “Just a small lecture.” She relaxed, her shoulders touching his. He kept very still, saying, “I am worried about you. George is your business. I’ve no right to interfere, but the sailing worries me.“
“Jake—” she turned towards him, her face only inches from his, her eyes dark and serious. “—George has sailed all over – in the Caribbean, Tahiti. Even— ”
“All right.” She wasn’t his woman. She never would be, yet he had an almost irresistible desire to kiss her until she was trembling in his arms. Damn it! If she’d only let him have a chance! He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he said, “Don’t bother singing the man’s praises.”
“George isn’t a—”
He rode over her words hurriedly before she could say any more. “Promise me one thing. No matter how experience he is, these aren’t waters to play with. Just look down there – no, forget about the damned airplane, but look at that water. We’re just over the north end of the Charlottes. See, that’s Graham Island below us.”
Her hair slid across his face as she nodded, looking where he pointed as he leaned across her and breathed in her scent. Was that her shampoo, or a particularly enticing perfume? She whispered, “It looks beautiful, wild and—”
“There’s Dixon Entrance,” he pointed, leaning across her until his other arm came curved around her back. For a second she seemed to lean back against his arm. His voice was husky as he went on, “It’s the stretch of water between the Charlottes and the Alaska Panhandle. You’ll be crossing there from Ketchikan when you come south. It’s big and damned near empty. You might not see another boat all day when you cross. It can be blue and beautiful and gentle, but—” His hand gripped hers again, loosened when she winced, “—but it can be nasty when it wants – black and stormy and deadly! You know my mother’s people are from the islands?”
“Yes, I knew that.” She turned, her eyes looking into his, her lips parted, only inches from his. He had to concentrate on what he was saying.
“This is where they make their living, fishing these waters. My uncle and his two sons disappeared out here – the boat and all three of them. They were fishing and a winter storm blew up. Years ago when the herring fishery was big, the fishermen used to fish through the worst of the winter storms, hiding out when they had to, fishing when they could. Uncle Daniel and his boys just disappeared. They were never heard from, never found. Some wreckage washed up on Rose Spit, but—”
Below them, the blue water was streaked with white from the wind.
“Jake—”
“I don’t want to terrify you, just make you careful. I want you to promise you’ll leave word every step of the way.”
He’d managed to get through her anger. She was watching him, saying earnestly, “Leave word where?”
“With me. Phone from Ketchikan – does George’s boat have a radiophone?”
“Yes. George called me on it yesterday.”
“All right.” He sensed her slight movement away from him and dropped his arm, giving her more room. “Phone me when you’re leaving. Tell me your planned route, your expected arrival at the next port – Masset, will it be? On the Charlottes?”
“I’m not sure.” She was frowning, drawing herself back into that shell.
“Then find out, and call me. Promise?”
“All right,” she agreed, then her eyes met his briefly. “Yes, I promise.”
“And when you get to Masset – if it is Masset –
“Don’t, Jennifer.” He couldn’t bear the thought of listening to her declare her love for another man. “I don’t really want to hear it. I just don’t like to see you— no, don’t get your feathers up! I’m not going to lecture.”
She smiled. “It sounded like the beginning of a lecture.”
“Maybe it was,” he admitted ruefully. “Just a small lecture.” She relaxed, her shoulders touching his. He kept very still, saying, “I am worried about you. George is your business. I’ve no right to interfere, but the sailing worries me.“
“Jake—” she turned towards him, her face only inches from his, her eyes dark and serious. “—George has sailed all over – in the Caribbean, Tahiti. Even— ”
“All right.” She wasn’t his woman. She never would be, yet he had an almost irresistible desire to kiss her until she was trembling in his arms. Damn it! If she’d only let him have a chance! He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he said, “Don’t bother singing the man’s praises.”
“George isn’t a—”
He rode over her words hurriedly before she could say any more. “Promise me one thing. No matter how experience he is, these aren’t waters to play with. Just look down there – no, forget about the damned airplane, but look at that water. We’re just over the north end of the Charlottes. See, that’s Graham Island below us.”
Her hair slid across his face as she nodded, looking where he pointed as he leaned across her and breathed in her scent. Was that her shampoo, or a particularly enticing perfume? She whispered, “It looks beautiful, wild and—”
“There’s Dixon Entrance,” he pointed, leaning across her until his other arm came curved around her back. For a second she seemed to lean back against his arm. His voice was husky as he went on, “It’s the stretch of water between the Charlottes and the Alaska Panhandle. You’ll be crossing there from Ketchikan when you come south. It’s big and damned near empty. You might not see another boat all day when you cross. It can be blue and beautiful and gentle, but—” His hand gripped hers again, loosened when she winced, “—but it can be nasty when it wants – black and stormy and deadly! You know my mother’s people are from the islands?”
“Yes, I knew that.” She turned, her eyes looking into his, her lips parted, only inches from his. He had to concentrate on what he was saying.
“This is where they make their living, fishing these waters. My uncle and his two sons disappeared out here – the boat and all three of them. They were fishing and a winter storm blew up. Years ago when the herring fishery was big, the fishermen used to fish through the worst of the winter storms, hiding out when they had to, fishing when they could. Uncle Daniel and his boys just disappeared. They were never heard from, never found. Some wreckage washed up on Rose Spit, but—”
Below them, the blue water was streaked with white from the wind.
“Jake—”
“I don’t want to terrify you, just make you careful. I want you to promise you’ll leave word every step of the way.”
He’d managed to get through her anger. She was watching him, saying earnestly, “Leave word where?”
“With me. Phone from Ketchikan – does George’s boat have a radiophone?”
“Yes. George called me on it yesterday.”
“All right.” He sensed her slight movement away from him and dropped his arm, giving her more room. “Phone me when you’re leaving. Tell me your planned route, your expected arrival at the next port – Masset, will it be? On the Charlottes?”
“I’m not sure.” She was frowning, drawing herself back into that shell.
“Then find out, and call me. Promise?”
“All right,” she agreed, then her eyes met his briefly. “Yes, I promise.”
“And when you get to Masset – if it is Masset –
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