The Deeper the Passion.... Jennifer Lewis
a side door of the house, pushing at the big, tarnished brass handle. Something in the tone of his voice made her breath catch at the bottom of her lungs. What else did he remember? How she’d called him in the middle of the night just to hear the sound of his voice? The way she sighed when he kissed her neck?
The time she’d made the bitter mistake of telling him she loved him.
That last one wasn’t a question. He probably would remember that, unless he’d repressed it somehow. That little slip of the tongue had sent him running.
She followed him into the cool, shaded interior. Things would be a lot easier if she could find this cup without his help. Just her luck, it had wound up on the bottom of the sea. Even if they could find the ship, it would be a miracle if the cup piece hadn’t washed away, and then again, if it were recognizable enough for her to find it. This could well be a wild goose chase, and she couldn’t afford to waste too much time on it. She should probably set a strict deadline for herself, with plans to jump ship if they hadn’t found it within two weeks.
“You’re quieter than you used to be.” His words startled her from her thoughts.
“More going on in my brain, less coming out of my mouth.” She smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“How enigmatic.” He pulled a bottle of wine from a large rack against one wall. “Pinot grigio?”
“Sure.” She watched his hands as he peeled away the foil over the cork. His fingers were precise and careful, no doubt good with fine detail and careful with precious relics. He plunged the corkscrew in with gusto—the kind of thrust with which he approached most aspects of life—and turned it aggressively. The muscles in his forearms torqued beneath the skin, revealing their power and stirring something primal inside her.
It had to be primal because it had nothing to do with modern-day common sense. Men didn’t need strength to be successful in today’s world. A good head for numbers and a dubious set of morals was a much more effective get-rich-quick kit.
Still, she admired the bulge of his biceps against the soft sleeve of his T-shirt as he pulled the cork from the bottle in a swift and brutal movement. The cork squeaked and popped free, leaving her heart beating slightly faster.
She distracted herself by admiring the interesting tile work on the wall behind the stove. No sense getting herself too aroused and invested in their evening plans. She might need to pull back at some point and she didn’t want her own rampant desires to make that almost impossible.
Jack handed her a brimming glass of pale gold wine. “To treasure.”
“Treasure.” She smiled and lifted her glass. The wine tasted delicious, smooth, rich, cool and refreshing after the hot sun outside. “Jewels and coins and gold bars for you, part of an old cup for me.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.” His dark eyes sparkled behind the lock of hair hanging down to them. “Maybe we’ll have to find you a gold necklace or a stash of rings.”
She held out one of her pale, bony hands. “As you can see, I’m not much of a ring wearer.”
“You might change your mind, for the right one.”
“Don’t count on it.” She glanced at her empty ring finger. She did not intend to live her life by anyone else’s rules. “But I’d be happy to sell it for a handsome profit.” She shone him a bright smile. “In fact, that’s my intended future business, so it would be a nice jump start.”
“I heard you were working for an auction house.”
“That was my apprenticeship. Now that I know what things are worth, I plan to go out on my own.” She sipped her wine again. “This is good stuff. Tastes expensive.”
“You do know what things are worth.” His eyes crinkled in a smile.
“You’re funny, Jack. You always look so casual and act like you don’t care about money, but you do enjoy the finer things in life.”
“One of my many weaknesses.”
“Hmm, makes me wonder what your other weaknesses are.” Not a soft heart, for sure. Which is why he’d never fallen for anyone.
“A passion for a fickle mistress.” He looked at her over his glass.
“The sea.” She knew it wouldn’t be a real woman.
He nodded. “Though she’s been good to me.”
“She’s giving you all the riches she took from the hundreds of men and women who’ve died off this coast over the centuries.”
“I did say she was fickle.”
“And obviously has her favorites.”
A slow smile crept across his mouth. “Let’s go sit where we can see her.” He led the way out onto a veranda with a view out over the sea grape in the dunes. Blue and steady, the ocean lay before them like a velvet throw. She could hear the waves crashing on the beach, but couldn’t see them because they were hidden by the dunes. Jack ushered her to sit on a sleek upholstered outdoor sofa. When she was seated, he eased himself down next to her and flung his arm casually on the back of the sofa behind her.
Her neck and shoulders prickled with awareness. Of course he was doing it deliberately. He wanted to taunt and tempt her. He had every intention of seducing her. And she might even let him, but not until they were at least on the way to finding the cup. Otherwise he might find he’d already got what he wanted and send her packing.
She twisted the stem of her wineglass in her hands. “Because there’s a reward, there are probably other people looking. We need to move fast.”
“We’ll start tomorrow at first light.”
“When is that?”
“Six or so is when you can start to tell the sea from the shore.”
She cringed inwardly. Jack probably didn’t even drink coffee in the morning. She usually started the day with her familiar newspapers and a hearty meal to ground herself before venturing out into the cold, cruel world. The prospect of having to drag herself out of bed and onto the sea without those reassuring comforts was frightening. And she’d better buy something for her stomach. If she’d known the cup was under the sea, she might have been better prepared. “Where’s the nearest drugstore?”
“Headache?”
She hesitated. “Nope. I might need a little something for my stomach on the boat tomorrow.” She avoided his eyes. “It’s always good to be prepared.”
“Don’t worry. My larder’s well stocked.” His eyes twinkled. Maybe he’d give her a placebo so she’d be leaning over the edge of the deck, begging for mercy. “We can stay out at sea for days at a time. Weeks even.”
“I’m not sure I’d survive weeks trapped on a boat with you, Jack.”
“I suspect you could survive almost anything.” His arm shifted behind her, and she tried to ignore the shimmer of response that slid through her body. “You look slender and insubstantial on the outside, but you’re made of sturdy stuff.”
“I hope so.” She’d need to be to make it through this trial. Being this close to Jack was having a dangerous effect on her sanity. Which didn’t make any sense. He was just another rich, handsome bozo and she had years of experience and training in dealing with them. “I guess only time will tell.”
“You look different.” His eyes narrowed. He studied her face for a moment while her pulse quickened.
“It has been six years since I saw you.” Did she look older? Her dad had aged dramatically during his swift and private fall from grace. Hollows appeared under his eyes and cheekbones, and his skin developed a bluish undertone. “You, on the other hand, look exactly the same.”
Not exactly. Time and the sun, working hand in hand, had made him look rugged and