She moved towards the railings, her fingers curling over the cold metal. Then she sighed. ‘I suppose I want to stay here, too.’
O—kay.
Jack gave in to the impulse to go and join her. Where was the harm? he thought, leaning on the rail beside her. The fact that Grace was evidently conscious of his bare arm only inches from her sleeve was a bonus.
Dear God, he was in lust, and that was so not good.
‘How is your mother, anyway?’
Jack’s voice was a little strained, but he couldn’t help it. He’d chosen the words purposely to get his mind off the delights of the slender body almost brushing his sleeve.
It wasn’t working, so he added tersely, ‘I’m sorry. I should have asked you before.’
‘Why?’ Wide green eyes turned to look at him. ‘You don’t know my mother, do you? I asked Dad, and he said that as far as he knew—’
Her voice trailed off in confusion. Oh, God, why had she admitted she’d been asking her father about him? But she had to finish her sentence. ‘He—um—he said you’d never been into the pub.’
‘I haven’t.’
Jack didn’t sound perturbed, but Grace was mortified.
‘I suppose my enquiry stems from the fact that she’s your mother,’ he went on reasonably. ‘I hope you didn’t think I was prying.’
Prying?
Grace swallowed a little convulsively. ‘She’s—she’s much better,’ she said. ‘Cancer takes some getting over. But thank you for asking.’
Jack shrugged, turning his gaze towards the marina. But he could still see her eyes, open and candid, those words like a mirror to her soul.
Sean was so lucky, he thought, whereas he was being less than honest with her. And he had no right to be provocative. It couldn’t be easy for her and Sean to spend so much time apart.
All the same, he couldn’t deny that Grace’s mouth was so soft, so generous. A mouth he would very much like to taste...
Not that he ever would, he assured himself grimly. He was celibate, he reminded himself. And he intended to stay that way.
But there was nothing wrong with a little abstract speculation, was there?
Abstract?
Dragging his mind out of the gutter, he forced a polite smile. ‘So do you think Sean will like living in Rothburn?’ he asked, even though the idea of them setting up home somewhere in the vicinity filled him with dismay.
‘Oh...’ Grace was grateful to be distracted from her own thoughts. ‘Sean likes living in London.’ And that was true. She pushed herself away from the rail. ‘We’ll see.’
Jack turned his back to the barrier, arms spread along the rail where she’d been leaning, hooking one foot onto a lower rung.
He’d been on the verge of saying, Let me know what he decides, but it was really nothing to do with him. Besides, hadn’t he wanted to avoid Sean in the future? It would be a hell of a lot safer if they both moved away.
‘I’d better go.’
Grace was uneasily aware of how disturbing Jack looked lounging against the rail. He was much broader than Sean and, with his arms spread wide, his chest looked strong and muscular.
His stomach was flat, powerful thighs taut against the fabric of his jeans. Jeans that were worn to a much lighter shade in places, places where Grace determined not to look.
Although she did.
She couldn’t stop herself. The impressive bulge between his legs couldn’t help but draw her gaze. She felt an unfamiliar shivery sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Which troubled her a lot.
She blew out a breath.
‘Goodbye.’
With a nervous lift of her hand, she started back along the pier towards the quayside. But she was intensely conscious of Jack’s eyes watching her, of how much less constrained she’d have felt if she hadn’t been wearing a skirt.
‘Goodbye, Grace.’
The careless farewell drifted after her and she had to steel herself not to turn around and look back.
* * *
Jack spent the following weekend half anticipating that Sean would find an excuse to come and visit him again. But, despite his fears, Saturday and Sunday passed without incident.
And he didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry.
He knew he wouldn’t have objected to seeing Grace again, but it was probably just as well to cool that thought. In any case, he’d spent a goodly portion of both days on his boat, so it was possible he’d missed any visitors. Although knowing Sean, he doubted his temporary absence would have deterred him.
It poured with rain Monday and Tuesday and even Wednesday morning was overcast.
His housekeeper had phoned to say she wouldn’t be in that morning. And, unusually, Jack was feeling housebound. With the redecoration complete, and no other restoration project in prospect, he was restless.
Emptying the remains of his coffee into the sink, he left the kitchen and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He’d take the car for a drive, he decided firmly. He felt like driving and there was nothing to keep him here.
‘Are you going out?’
Jack was zipping up a pair of khaki pants when Lisa’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He turned to find her slim form balanced on the edge of the windowsill. And he thought how typical it was that she hadn’t appeared for over a week, but now that he was planning on going out, she had to interfere.
‘Yeah, why not?’ He turned to pick up his leather jacket off the bed. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’
Lisa sniffed. ‘You could get a job.’ She paused, pressing a scarlet-tipped nail to her lips. ‘You have too much spare time on your hands.’
‘And that’s my fault, is it?’
Lisa’s lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘You’re going to see that girl, aren’t you?’
Jack’s jaw dropped. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.’
Lisa slipped down off the windowsill and limped on her one high heel across the earth-toned carpet. ‘Even so, I doubt if Father Michael would approve.’
Jack’s lips twitched with humour now. Father Michael had been the priest who’d married them. He’d also officiated at Lisa’s funeral, but he doubted she was referring to that.
‘I think Father Michael gave up on me a good time ago,’ he remarked at last. ‘And I’m sure he’d be the first to suggest I should move on with my life.’
Lisa looked doubtful. ‘She’s very attractive, I suppose.’
Jack shook his head. ‘Do I have to remind you she already has a boyfriend?’
‘You mean Sean Nesbitt?’
‘That’s right. Sean Nesbitt. He’s a mate. I’m not about to forget that, am I?’
Lisa pulled a face. ‘Really?’
‘Hey, I don’t tell lies,’ retorted Jack, slotting his wallet and his mobile phone into his jacket pockets. ‘Which reminds me, you never did tell me where you were going the night you had the accident.’
He didn’t get an answer and he didn’t really expect one. It was a question he’d asked many times before. He knew, without even looking again, that