Catch Me a Catch Page 3

  “You should have made me a match, Da. I’ve asked you often enough,” Annie teased.

  “I’ve never met the one for you, Annie. I’ll let you know when I do though.”

  “Yes, and the next time you warn me off someone I’ll listen. It was such a fiasco.” She picked an apple blossom off the tree above them, twirling the flower around between her fingers. Her one foray into love had been an unmitigated disaster. Who needs it? She threw the bloom to the grass, discarding unpleasant memories with the flower.

  “Will I open it up and tell you what I’ve got?” He’d been sneaking glances at the book, as if dying to see if there was anyone new, who might be the ideal match for one of his clients. Matchmaking wasn’t just something her clever father did during the annual festival. His thoughts turned to love twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

  For years, Annie avoided bringing home a boyfriend, or a male friend of any type. Living up to his nickname, Bull went for the direct approach. When she was eighteen, Mick Ryan had taken her to the prom. Upstairs, getting ready, she’d heard Bull grill him on the doorstep, before reluctantly admitting him. Reeling from the third degree, Mick had relaxed when he met her mother. Bad mistake. Her expert interrogation gleaned a hell of a lot more than his name, rank and serial number.

  After Mick, she’d introduced them to her fiancé, Steve. They hadn’t liked him, even before her disastrous wedding day. As she slid into her wedding dress, Steve got into the ten o’clock train to Dublin with Elaine Sweeney. The news spread like wildfire before the train even pulled out from the station. He hadn’t even had the decency to leave a note. With one fell swoop she’d gone from bride to jilted. Her parents went into complete and utter shock. The bridesmaid was no help, she hadn’t turned up that morning, too busy getting ready for her train journey. Without a sibling to take over, she’d had no option but to stifle her mortification and stalk into the church in full wedding dress, to tell the congregation the wedding was off. Afterward, she regretted not wearing the veil.

  Thank goodness I now have my own home. Her small flat in Dublin was miles away from the scene of the crime. A bolthole where she could be herself. Could live her own life.

  Annie’s heart ached at the remembered betrayal. Elaine had been her friend since they were kids, and Steve… She forced the feeling down and opened the book.

  ****

  Jack stripped the packaging from the mobile broadband stick bought in Durna’s only technology shop, and plugged it into his laptop. He connected his headphones and mike, and dialed New York.

  “Roxie? It’s Jack.”

  “Jack!” Roxie started in to a lengthy, breathless questionfest. Not stopping to hear his answers. His eyes rolled at her excited flow of words. It was amazing how much his secretary talked. Even more amazing was the fact Jack found her constant chatter soothing. His mother had talked mile-a-minute too. There was a technique to talking with Roxie. Let her get it all out, and when she runs out of things to say, strike. She finally paused to draw breath.

  “The yacht got struck by lightning.”

  She squeaked something girly. The words escaped him, but the tone was one of concern.

  “I’m fine. I pulled in at a small village in the west of Ireland. I have to make some repairs to the boat before I continue to Dun Laoghaire.”

  “How was the journey—worth it?”

  “Yes, definitely. I’ve learnt a lot about the yacht on the voyage. It’ll make the presentation much weightier. I want you to do a couple of things for me.”

  “Okay, shoot.” Roxie switched to efficiency mode.

  “Confirm Monday’s meeting with Bateau Rouge in Dublin. Have you organized my hotel?”

  “Yes, Boss. You’re booked into the Shelbourne for Sunday and Monday nights. I’ll get the car transferred from Dun Laoghaire, they have a branch in Galway.” The rapid clicking of keys showed she was right on it.

  “Right, give me their number and I’ll handle the pick up from here.” Jack found an old envelope in his jacket pocket, and jotted down the name and telephone number.

  “That’s great, Roxie. Can you patch me though to Mark?” He gazed out of the window into the verdant green of the garden, so different from his usual view of grey waves, and greyer sky. A cloud of pink blossoms shrouded a large tree. Something moved under it.

  “Jack, you made it!” The congratulatory tones of his second in command, Mark Windsor came onto the line.

  “Hi Mark. Yes. It was a long and rough trip but I’m finally here.”

  “I’m staying put for the next few days. I’m in a town called Durna, it’s on the west coast. I’m compiling the data from the sail for a presentation that should rock Bateau Rouge on Monday. How’s everything with you? Have you presented to Mecredi Cars?”

  “We’re ready to go. The presentation’s in a few hours.” Mark sounded confident.

  Jason Mecredi, owner and Chairman of Mecredi Cars, was notoriously difficult but Mark was ready to go solo on a presentation. He was perfect partner material, and it would be good to split the load.

  “All right, Mark. I’ll talk to you later. Give ‘em hell.” He hung up. Annie’s voice drifted up to his window. She wasn’t alone. He heard the deeper tones of a man.

  She laughed warmly and his stomach clenched in an irrational burst of temper.

  I guess the waiter’s wrong. She’s got a boyfriend after all. Acid burned in his gut. He turned away from the half-hidden cozy tableau beneath him to stuff his arms into a worn denim shirt. If she has a boyfriend, that’s her business. He hadn’t come to Ireland to flirt with a woman. He had a job to do. And a relative to find.

  There were footsteps on the path below, then the heavy thud of the kitchen door. He rooted out his plastic bag of washing from the bottom of the knapsack and went downstairs.

  The buzz of conversation ceased abruptly as he entered the kitchen.

  “You clean up well.” Maeve flicked the kettle on. “We’ll be having dinner in a while; I hope you’ll join us.”

  His stomach was full of steak. But he could force something else in. “That would be great, Mrs. Devine. I’ve no plans.”

  “Maeve.” She spotted the bag hanging from his hand. “Washing?”

  “Annie said…”

  “I know, she told me.” Maeve turned to her daughter. “Annie, take Jack out to the shed and introduce him to the washing machine. You’ll find everything you need out there, Jack.”

  It was warm in the back garden. Annie silently walked around the corner to a small shed. The door squeaked open, and she stood back to let him pass.

  He stopped.

  “What’s the matter?” She was so close every tiny eyelash was visible. The dark pool of her irises expanded, swallowing up the brown. Despite his determination not to get involved, he leant forward and breathed in deeply. A scent of flowers, and something lemony hung in the air.

  Tangible waves of disquiet rolled off her. She ran the tip of her tongue over full, pink lips. Desire flashed instantly, like oxygen flowing onto sparks. How would she taste? She turned away, but he caught her by her upper arms and stepped into her personal space.

  “Are you avoiding me?”

  “No.” She stepped back. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  His hand moved to her jawline. “That’s not all. There’s something different about you.” Her skin was warm, strokeably soft. He shouldn’t be touching, but he couldn’t resist. “I heard you laughing with a man, while I was getting dressed earlier. Will he be joining us for dinner?” Damn it, he sounded like a jealous lover. Sure, she’d leaned close to him in the car, let her fingers trail over his face, then gazed at him with big brown eyes as though she wanted to kiss him, but maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe she got a kick from leading a guy on.

  He rubbed his thumb slowly over her jawbone. She was attracted to him all right; her swift intake of breath was a dead giveaway. She swayed into his hand and her eyes drifted closed like a virgin sacrifice, offering
herself. His traitorous body tightened in response. Some poor sap was going to be devastated if he took what she was so blatantly offering. He gulped and took a step away. Jack wouldn’t be responsible for another man’s heartbreak. He knew what that was like, and had vowed never to trust a woman again. He loved women. Their smell, their taste, the sound of their laughter. The last woman he’d given his heart to in New York had seemed devoted to him. Right up to the moment he caught her in bed with someone else. He lived life by different rules now. There were plenty of women who were interested in spending time in his bed without falling in love.

  “What?” Annie whispered.

  “I said, will the man you were laughing with earlier be joining us for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, he will.” She chewed on her lip. “And we better hurry up putting your clothes in the washer. You look so much better since your bath. I’d like to get a photo before the light goes.”

  She really was a piece of work.

  “For the book,” she spelled out calmly. “I don’t need a picture.”

  “Not while you have the real thing in front of you anyway.” He followed her into the shed; eyes glued to the subtle sway of her hips.

  “There’s powder there. Set the washing machine to four for a general wash.”

  “Right, I’ll see you back at the house.”

  “I’ll get my camera.” She squeezed past him, brushing against his skin. A tingle of electricity shot up his arm, like the one that fried his boat and forced him to pull in to Durna in the first place. He frowned at her departing back. A raw flash of lust was roaring to life at the mere sensation of her flesh touching his. What would full on skin-to-skin contact be like? He harshly stuffed his clothes into the washing machine, stunned by his body’s reaction. Annie Devine was dangerous. The last thing he wanted to do was have a fling with another woman he couldn’t respect in the morning.

  ****

  Annie trembled. She jerked open the car door to grab her camera. She’d never been so confused in her entire life. One minute Jack was stroking her face, and the next looking at her with disgust in his eyes.

  And her reaction to him…what was that about? She shivered. His body heat had scorched her in the doorway of the shed. She could have sworn she’d caught the faint scent of vanilla. Something was happening between them. Something she didn’t want, and couldn’t have. He was a sailor, for goodness sake. A man who spent long weeks at sea.

  She hung the camera’s strap around her neck. She had a life in the city, and her lifelong dream was so close she could taste it. A dream that would take her far away from the sea. Yet here she was, captivated by a sailor. When he touched her, she’d yearned for his mouth to grind down on hers. It was crazy. He’s a client. The one ironclad rule of matchmaking is not to poach the clients.

  Jack strode out of the shed toward the back door.

  “Hold up, I’ll take a picture of you now.” He paused mid-step, and waited for her to catch up. Annie pointed the camera at him but he was so tall the result was a far from flattering shot up his nostril. She grinned. It wouldn’t get him any dates. She half wanted to put it in the book anyway. To keep the women of Durna off him.

  “You’ll have to sit down.”

  She gestured at the cast iron chair and table her mother had placed at the back door.

  “Right.” Jack sat and scowled at her.

  “Smile.” He wasn’t co-operating. If anything, his scowl darkened. “Oh come on, Jack, you can do better than that,” she teased. “Remember you want women to look at this picture and choose you, rather than any of the other men in the book.”

  His eyes glinted a warning, but it was too late to take back the flirtatious words.

  “What would make you choose me, rather than any of your other suitors?” A devastating grin transformed his face. She burned under its heat like a chicken on a spit.

  “That’d do it,” she muttered under her breath. “That’ll do,” she repeated loudly, snapping the shutter. “Let’s go in for dinner.”

  He opened the door wide and stood back to let her stride into the kitchen before him.

  Chapter Three

  Four places were set at the heavy pine table. As Jack waited for the final chair to be filled, his body tensed at the thought of meeting the sucker Annie was stringing along. The door creaked open. A heavyset man with graying hair shuffled arthritically to the table.

  “I’m Brendan Devine.” The newcomer held out his hand to Jack in welcome. “But everyone calls me Bull. You must be Jack.” He pumped Jack’s captured hand vigorously. “You’re welcome to our house.”

  “Thank you.” So this was the stranger. Not some boyfriend. He’d got it totally wrong. What was worse, Annie knew it. He ran his hand though his hair. “I think I heard you in the garden earlier.”

  “That would be right. I was getting a progress report from Annie. I can’t stand not being in the thick of things with the festival being on, but the doctor’s a tyrant.” He leant closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I’ve known him since he was a pup. I introduced his parents, but that doesn’t get me any respect apparently. I have to take it easy until my chest improves. Maeve here has me more or less confined to bed. Normally I wouldn’t mind it too much, but with the festival being on…”

  “Potatoes, Da?”

  Bull helped himself from the bowl Annie held.

  “So that’s why Annie is up in the pub, on the matchmaker’s chair.” Jack said.

  “She’s the next matchmaker. Or will be when I finally give it up.”

  Jack glanced at Annie. Surely, her family could see the look of dread flickering over her expressive face?

  “That won’t be for years, Da.” She surreptitiously crossed the fingers of her right hand, and ate with her left.

  “Tell us about yourself, Jack.” Maeve’s clear green gaze fastened to his like the guidance system of a heat-seeking missile.

  “I’ve just sailed the Atlantic.”

  Annie gasped.

  “And you came all this way for the festival?” Maeve’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. Annie was going to be mad, but now was the time to come clean. Jack began to understand what people meant when they wished for the floor to open up and swallow them as three pairs of eyes swiveled his direction. He sipped some water to clear the tightness in his throat. Here goes. He put his fork down, clenching his napkin under the table and turned to Annie’s steady chestnut gaze.

  “No I didn’t.” Her eyes widened, and her rosebud mouth gaped. “Unfortunately Annie misunderstood.”

  “You came into the Maiden’s Arms and asked for Devine,” Annie interrupted. “I heard you.”

  “My yacht got struck by lightning. I had to make an emergency stop. When I came ashore, I saw the sign for the Chandlers. It was closed and I was directed to the pub. That’s why…”

  “That’s why you were looking for Devine. You wanted Uncle Sean.” She glared across the table. “You could have just told me. Not let me go on about how you were a good looking man, and all.” A reddening flush swept her features and her fingers clenched into fists.

  “I did try and tell you matching me was never going to happen.”

  She wasn’t going to forgive him. Her jaw was set in a stubborn line.

  “Ah well, no harm done,” Maeve said briskly. “Eat up now before it gets cold.” The only coldness was the glacial draft blowing his direction from across the table. “Sean tells me you’ve fried everything, right enough. He says you won’t be moving on for a few days yet.”

  He stared at Maeve in surprise. Annie’s mother had obviously done her research, and knew his stay in Durna was more impulsive than planned.

  “So, Bull. Did Annie find you any good prospects for the book?” Maeve winked at him. He puffed out a breath as the tension left his body.

  “She got a good few, okay, although we’ll have to take Jack out.” Bull shoveled in another mouthful. “But she’s having problems with some of the men.”


  “Ah, the old ones. They’re used to talking to a man.” Maeve said.

  “The young ones too, Mum.” Annie replied. “I’ve heard chat up lines today you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Do you come here often?”

  Her lips softened into a smile at his comment. A wave of relief flooded him as the tension between them eased.

  “I heard it a couple of times, along with ‘Heaven must be missing an angel…’”

  “Because you’re here with me, right now.” Their eyes met and her soft lips parted slightly. If she responded like that every time, he couldn’t blame them.

  “The problem is they know you’re single,” Bull said. “That makes you easy game, especially if you’re the matchmaker.”

  “Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.” She stood up from the table and collected the plates.

  “Now. Chocolate time?”

  “Absolutely.” Maeve cut some thin slices from an apple, and placed them on a plate. She passed it to Bull who slipped a slice into his mouth and chewed vigorously.

  “It cleans your palate.” He grinned at Jack. “We take chocolate tasting very seriously in this house.”

  Annie was decanting chocolates from a box on the counter onto small china plates. She placed one in front of each of them.

  “Annie’s brought these for us from Dublin, Jack. It’s a sort of special treat.” The abrupt change of subject was bewildering. What on earth was going on?

  Annie smiled, taking obvious pleasure at his confusion. “Right, we are tasting two different types this evening. Elderflower Ganache and Almond Praline Truffle. You’ve two of each. Shall we start with the Elderflower?”

  Bull picked up a chocolate and held it up. “It looks great, good and shiny.”

  Maeve agreed.

  Jack picked up a chocolate and followed their lead. He’d heard of chocolate appreciation but these guys were crazy. They were taking it way too seriously.

  “Now feel.” Maeve rubbed her thumb gently over it. “Lovely. Smooth and silky.”

  All the comments seemed to be directed at Annie. Bizarre. He obediently felt the chocolate’s smooth surface under his fingers.