Daphne Clair - Summer Seduction

‘Nothing bothers you, does it?’

He sounded oddly tense, and she cast him a wary look of surprise. ‘A bit of water and a sore behind isn’t worth making a fuss about.’

Shawn came bounding towards them across the uneven rock shelf. ‘ Blythe? You okay?’

‘I’m fine! Really.’ Shawn’s father was holding two rods and looking anxiously towards her, and she lifted a hand in reassurance. ‘Just wet.’

Shawn followed her rueful gaze down at her jeans, soaked from waist to knees, and said cheekily, ‘Suits you.’ His admiring dark gaze returned to her face, and she gave him a primly reproving look, then spoiled it by laughing when he looked instantly abashed.

‘We got some fish for you,’ he said.

They picked their way across the rocks, and Tau turned to greet them again. He offered his rod to Jas, and when Jas shook his head, saying he’d no experience of fishing, Shawn cast him a look of teenage scorn, but Tau insisted on teaching him, while Shawn tied a couple of fish together and handed them to Blythe.

Blythe watched Jas’s efforts with amused interest, and teased him with exaggerated admiration when he reeled in a respectable schnapper.

Jas grinned rather narrowly at her as he handed back the rod and thanked his tutor.

‘Know how to gut it?’ Tau asked him.

Jas shook his head. Blythe said, ‘I’ll do it,’ and expertly cleaned and gutted the catch and attached a loop of twine while Jas watched with interest. She handed it to him and rinsed her hands in one of the rock pools, shivering in a gust of wind coming off the sea.

Tau said, ‘You’re cold. Want to borrow my jacket?’ He indicated it, lying on the rocks.

‘Mine’d fit better,’ Shawn offered eagerly.

‘No, we’re on our way,’ Blythe told them, ‘but thanks. And thanks a lot for the fish.’

‘No problem,’ Tau assured her. ‘We’ll have to be packing it in soon too.’

Carrying his fish and hers, Jas walked beside her to where they could climb down from the rocks, and she paused to remove her shoes, ready to walk on the soft sand. Jas jumped down and turned to offer his hand. Blythe paused and stared at his palm, marred by a dark, bloody scrape. ‘You’re hurt!’

‘It’s nothing.’ He transferred the fish to that hand and reached up with the other, gripping her hand.

She climbed down and grabbed his wrist as he swapped the fish back to his uninjured hand. ‘That must sting.’

‘I said it’s nothing.’ He pulled away from her.

‘You did that coming after me when I fell?’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘You really didn’t need to worry.’

‘I wasn’t the only one. Your young friend’s a bit precocious, isn’t he?’

‘Shawn?’ Blythe smiled. ‘I’ve known him since he was knee-high. He’s just being a teenager… practising. I’m sure his parents don’t need to worry.’

‘Are they worried?’

‘He’s been running round with an older crowd, boys who’ve left school. Tau and his wife think they’re a bit rough. He’s got a great family—he’ll come right.’

‘You think that will stop him going off the rails?’

‘I’m sure it helps. Don’t you agree?’

‘Oh, yes.’ His voice sounded flat. ‘A caring family with decent values can make all the difference in the world.’ As she glanced at him, he added smoothly, ‘Isn’t that what all the psychology books say?’

‘I haven’t read a lot of psychology,’ Blythe confessed. ‘But it seems plain common sense to me.’

He smiled suddenly, almost indulgently, his eyes warming in a way that made her heart skip a beat. ‘And you have a lot of that.’

Blythe hoped it was a compliment.

When they reached the sandy flight of steps to the cottage Jas made to hand over Blythe’s fish.

‘Come in,’ she said, ‘and let me see to your hand.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with it—’

‘Yes, there is. And I feel responsible.’ She gripped his wrist. ‘Come on.’

He could have pulled away, but instead he followed her up to the cottage, depositing the fish on the porch, and let Blythe lead him to the bathroom and switch on the light. She inspected his hand. ‘That needs cleaning.’

She ran warm water into the basin and poured in a little disinfectant. But when she made to clean the wound, Jas firmly removed the cloth from her hand and did the job himself.

Blythe found a clean towel and gently blotted the water from his palm, then placed a piece of gauze over it. As she leaned forward to tape it with sticking plaster she felt his breath stir the tendrils of hair at her temples. But there was a resistance emanating from him, as though he hated her touching him.

Not a touchy-feely person, she thought, concentrating on her task.

As soon as she’d finished he stepped back, although there wasn’t much room. ‘I hope your conscience feels better now,’ he said, a touch of irony in his voice.

‘You’re going to have trouble making a meal. Why don’t I cook some of the fish, and we can eat together?’

‘Here? You’ve had a busy day—’

‘I have to have dinner anyway.’

After a moment he said, ‘All right. Use my fish, and you can put yours in the freezer.’

She let him get the table ready, and while she prepared the meal he sat on the sofa and looked through a pile of library books she’d left on the coffee table—a book on contemporary Maori art, a romantic novel, a thriller and a biography of the painter Raphael.

‘You have an eclectic taste,’ he commented.

‘I like variety.’

‘Mm. So I see.’

In a very short time she’d served them fillets dribbled with lemon-and-parsley butter and accompanied by new potatoes and a fresh salad.

‘That was very good.’ Jas pushed away his plate.

‘There’s nothing like fish straight from the sea. Do you want a pudding? I can open a can of peaches—’

‘No. Thank you.’

‘Coffee, then.’ Blythe got up to clear the plates.

When she put the cups on the coffee table he moved to the sofa beside her. The cup she’d given him was a hexagon, in alternating bands of green china and shining gold. He turned it interestedly, examining the pattern.

‘That was my grandmother’s,’ she said.

‘Tell me about her.’

She looked at him sceptically.

‘I never knew my grandparents,’ he said. ‘Was she like you? Do you take after her?’

‘Well…she was very independent…’

‘A family trait. And…?’

Beginning hesitantly, she soon launched into family memories, watching his face for signs of boredom. He slipped in occasional questions, and listened with an expression of alert curiosity, like a tourist in a foreign land, curious about the local way of life.

At last she said, ‘It’s a shame you didn’t know your grandparents. They must have died early?’

‘My mother’s parents did, and I think my father just lost touch with his.’

‘That’s sad. Do you have brothers and sisters?’

He put down his cup. ‘I had two half-brothers,’ he said rather curtly. ‘I haven’t seen them in years.’

‘Why?’ Her eyes rounded with sympathy.

‘We didn’t like each other much.’ He picked up the Raphael biography and started leafing through it. ‘You’re interested in Raphael’s work?’

Reluctantly, Blythe dropped the subject of his family. ‘Art history was my best subject at school.’

‘Why didn’t you go to university?’

‘I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I was offered a job at the nursery where I’d worked in the school holidays. I’d enjoyed that, so I took it.’

Jas paused at a page, and Blythe leaned forward a little to see what had captured his attention. The illustration was a round design divided symmetrically into panels painted with different designs. She read the caption aloud. ‘“The Cupola of the Chigi chapel.”’