Catch Me a Catch Page 9

  The last perfect crystallized violet she had spent ages preparing lay ready on a plate. It would take a steady hand to attach it perfectly. A nearby plateful of rejects bore testament to that. A bead of moisture trickled down her spine, as she inhaled the scent of warm chocolate. She aimed her ‘point and click’ thermometer at the heated vat and pulled the trigger.

  The temperature was perfect. For the umpteenth time that day, she packed a pristine bag half-full, twisting the end so she’d have control over the contents. Next, she snipped the end with her scissors, bent from the waist, and carefully squeezed a shining pearl onto the chocolate’s glossy surface. With the tweezers, she stuck down a perfect violet.

  She peered at her plateful of entries, searching for flaws. There weren’t any. A wave of satisfaction rolled over her. They were perfect.

  After the intensity of chocolate making, Annie yearned for a shower. Her upper arms ached with the strain of holding the same pose for hours. A massage would be heaven right now. At the mere thought of Jack’s masterful hands working out her body’s kinks she almost groaned aloud. She’d relived their conversation in the car all day. Obsessing over the moment his eyes had darkened to navy with desire as he kissed her. Jack’s kisses had burned her up from the inside, melting her resolve to guard her heart. He was upfront and honest about what he wanted. He didn’t promise forever like Steve had done.

  She stripped off her clothes and climbed into the shower. Loading her sponge with lavender shower gel, she ran the bubbles over her body. The slightly abrasive surface of the sponge was deliciously arousing. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and imagined his calloused hands running over her breasts instead of the warm sponge. The blistering heat of their attraction was inescapable. Lovemaking with him would be spectacular; she just knew it. She turned up the heat, breathing in the lavender laden steam. He’d explained why he’d turned away from her on the beach, and she was ready to give him another try. It was time to take a chance on love.

  Chapter Eight

  Dinner with Bull, their plates on their knees in the sitting room, was an awkward affair without the distracting presence of the women to break the tension.

  “You’re a natural. You’ve a real flair for it.” Bull finished his last mouthful of chicken pie, and edged the tray onto the sofa next to him. The moment Jack had returned from the pub, they’d worked through the book, discussing new people and outlining potential matches. It had been a long, hard process. One that continued over dinner. “You’re good with people. You listen to them.”

  “It’s what I do in my business.” Warmth flooded Jack at Bull’s approval. “In advertising it’s important to find out what people really need.”

  “That’s the way it is with matchmaking too,” Bull’s brow creased in a frown. “I’m not sure Annie understands that. It’s not natural for her, never has been.”

  So at least Bull understood how difficult this was for Annie. That was a start. Maybe there was an alternative, one that didn’t involve shoehorning her into a role she didn’t want. He’d promised not to tell Bull her innermost thoughts, but he hadn’t promised not to look for alternatives. Maybe in this time alone with Bull he could figure out something.

  It was one thing to stand in as matchmaker for a day, but quite another to assume the mantle full time. Especially when you had another path in life. Annie’s desire to succeed in her career consumed her. It was difficult to see how she could do both and be happy. She wasn’t a natural matchmaker, but she was trying her best with the role heredity had dropped in her lap. Bull should give her a break.

  “It’s all to do with what people want. Her focus is to find them partners for life. Some want that, but not all of them. Some just want a sympathetic ear to listen. Others want to practice their pitch before trying it out on a date. The one thing they all have in common is they want a connection, a respite from loneliness. So many people are isolated and alone, Jack.”

  Bull’s words sat like heavy lead in Jack’s heart. Since the accident he’d wanted more than anything not to be alone, to be part of a family. In his long isolation, he’d almost given up hope of things ever being different.

  “I know, Bull.”

  “Yes, you do.” Bull patted his hand with his large paw. “That’s what makes you a good matchmaker, Son. You recognize the need in others.”

  At a loss for words, Jack fell back on his standard response when things got too intense. Retreat. “I’ll take the plates through. Would you like some coffee?” He gathered up their plates and pushed the door open. Gales of female laughter wafted through from the kitchen.

  “And pie, but watch yourself in there,” Bull warned. “The ladies can be dangerous.”

  “Evening, ladies.”

  A hush fell over the room. Glasses of Baileys Cream Liqueur and thick slabs of fruitcake balanced mid-way from table to mouth froze in the air as Jack was subjected to a thorough inspection.

  “Jack. Pull a chair up and come sit,” Maeve invited. The smell of warm apple pie filled the room, his mouth watered.

  “I said I’d bring Bull some coffee, and some apple pie.” He realized too late he’d walked himself into a situation it would be nigh on impossible to escape from.

  “I’ll get him some. You come and sit down here.” Maeve patted the chair next to her. “My friends are dying to meet you.”

  A couple of drinks later, introductions made, Jack wondered what on earth Bull and Annie had warned him about. He was having more fun than he’d had in years.

  “I must admit, Jack,” Eileen confided. “You’re not what I expected at all.”

  “No, you’re not what I expected either.” Mags helped herself liberally from the sherry bottle in the center of the table.

  “I heard you were sort of rough and hairy—no offense.” Eileen’s eyes darted to his. “And a bit, sort of, y’know, well…”

  “Manky, was the word I heard,” Mags announced. She covered her mouth with her hand, as if realizing she’d gone a bit far. Even for her. “Not you, you understand, but your clothes.” She patted Jack’s arm.

  “I had a makeover.” Jack batted his eyelashes at them. A wave of giggles filled the room.

  “For Annie?” Mags batted hers back, her voice laced with innuendo.

  “For business,” he replied. “I’ve a meeting on Monday in Dublin. To be honest, after spending weeks at sea I needed it.”

  “I’m glad.” Eileen blushed. “I didn’t see you before, but I think you’re only gorgeous now.”

  Jack leaned over and kissed Eileen on the cheek. “Unfortunately, I’m taken.” He grinned. The older woman blushed right to her white roots.

  “Oh, you’re a charmer, you are,” she said. “I’d say you could talk the birds right down out of the trees.”

  “Just got to do the best I can with what I’ve got.” The table erupted in laughter, and Jack helped himself to a slice of cake. If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em.

  “So, how long are you in the country for?” Eileen asked. The sudden silence was so profound you could hear a pin drop. Jack chewed and swallowed. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. The open, curious faces focusing his direction pinned him to the spot.

  “Well, I’ve some business…”

  “In Dublin. On Monday,” Eileen added.

  “And someone I’ve got to find.” They waited. “My grandmother.” It was his most closely guarded secret, and they’d effortlessly winkled it out of him, like a snail from a shell.

  “I didn’t know you had a grandmother here,” said Maeve. “Whereabouts in the country is she?”

  “She lives in Greystones, on the coast, outside Dublin. I’m meeting her tomorrow for the first time.”

  Their friendly smiles transformed to concerned stares.

  “I’ve never met her. I grew up in care.”

  The words wouldn’t stop coming. For the first time in his life, warmth and support dissolved his barriers.

  “She’s one of the reas
ons I came to Ireland. I haven’t talked about her before.”

  Maeve placed a glass of Baileys in front of him soundlessly, and he sipped it gratefully. The smooth chocolate cream warmed him with a welcome kick of whiskey. The silence was oppressive, stifling. Eileen walked around the table and put both her small hands on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.

  “Thanks for telling us, Jack.” The others murmured their agreement. “You’re a good man; she’ll love you.” She patted his back before making her way back to her chair. In the silence of the room, a mobile phone rang.

  Jack pulled the phone from his pocket. He glanced at the display before flicking it open. “Excuse me, ladies.” He stood quickly and pushed the back door open. Alone in the darkness, he strode to the chair under the apple blossom.

  “Did you say ladies?” Annie sounded incredulous. “You didn’t go in there?”

  “I went in there,” he admitted, “and ended up telling them my whole godamned life story.”

  “Well, I warned you.” He could hear a smile. She must be smiling. “Anything I should know about?”

  “I think you were wrong, at least two of them are my type.”

  “Oh, funny. I’ve lost you then, have I?”

  “No.” It wasn’t possible to joke with her anymore. Not when he ached to have her here, next to him. If she were he could wrap his arms around her and tell her how much she meant to him. Let her warmth and humor bolster him for tomorrow’s showdown.

  “So, did they prise any secrets out of you?”

  “Yes.” he stated flatly. “Something I haven’t told anyone, not even you.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  His heart pounded in the silent darkness. “I came to Ireland to find my grandmother. I hired a private detective to trace her.”

  “Oh.” The sound was tinged with shock.

  “My parents died when I was eight. I remember it as if it were yesterday. There was a car crash and the car flipped over. After the paramedics cut me out, I sat on the back step of the ambulance. Watching them fight to save them.”

  The burning in his chest rose up into his throat, choking off the words. Tears prickled behind his eyes. It was the first time he’d talked of his parent’s deaths. The first time he’d revealed his devastating grief since the day in the ambulance. Since that day he hadn’t cried. There wasn’t anyone to cry with.

  “I knew when they stopped their frantic attempts my parents were dead. My life was shattered into pieces. Things would never be the same.”

  “Were there relatives, or friends?” Her voice trailed off in the darkness.

  “My father worked on building sites. We moved every six months so they had no friends who could help. There wasn’t anyone. At least, I didn’t think so. Until I reached eighteen I didn’t know there was anyone in the world with my DNA.”

  “That must have been terrible for you.” Her empathy reached out to him through the long miles separating them. Her caring words a balm on his bruised soul. He hadn’t revealed his torment to anyone in the long years since their deaths. Somehow talking to Annie changed everything. It still ached, but he didn’t feel so alone.

  There was a crack in his armor, an echo of the child he’d once been. The child who’d stared at unfamiliar ceilings wondering why there was no one who cared what happened to him. He shook it off, desperate to return to normality before he lost it altogether.

  “Why didn’t you come to find her before?”

  “Long story.” Not something to talk about over the phone. He needed to see and hold her. Explain how his grandmother refused to take in her grandchild. With no options, the authorities consigned him to the care system. He rubbed his hand over his knees, and changed the subject. ”Have you made your chocolates?”

  “Yes.”

  He breathed out in relief to be back on solid ground rather than the shifting sands of his childhood.

  “After a lot of hard work I finally got them done.” She described the intricate process she’d gone through during the day. How she’d made twenty-five chocolates, and ended up with only ten good enough. “To match a boxful, with the flowers all looking perfect…” She sounded tired. “Well, let’s just say it was a lot more work than I’d expected.”

  “Did you leave some for me for tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Nope. Ate them all,” she said.

  “Well in that case, I’ll have to think of something else we can have for dessert.” At his provocative words, he heard a swift intake of breath. A wave of lust swept over him. She was feeling the attraction between them too.

  “Well, I do have some chocolate left over. I guess I could blend it with some cream, so if you brought a paintbrush…”

  “Body paint?” His heart stuttered and almost stopped.

  “Are you any good at painting?” Her deep warm tones aroused him instantly.

  “I’ve never tried, but I’m willing to take lessons.” Painting it on and then licking it off. It was a process that could take hours. Long, delicious hours.

  “Where are you?” Her voice was so clear in the darkness for a moment he could almost imagine she was sitting next to him.

  “Sitting in the dark in the back garden. You?”

  “In bed.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Feeling lonely.”

  Jack moaned. His rampant imagination pictured her sitting up in bed. With mussed hair flowing over the soft skin of her shoulders. “You heard me, right? You understand I’m sitting in your parents back garden, on LADIES NIGHT, with the kitchen full of drunk women with x-ray vision.” His voice dropped to match hers.

  “With your voice whispering in my ear, and my whole body rioting at the thought of lying there next to you.”

  “I wish you were upstairs.” Her voice was husky, aroused. “I’d like to tell you about what I’m wearing.”

  “Stop.” He strode to the gate, unable to bear this particular brand of torture any longer. He needed to cool things down. “I’ve got an image to maintain here.” He aimed for teasing, but missed it by a mile. “I’m supposed to be Jack Miller, the calm, reliable boyfriend of Annie Devine. Responsible matchmaker of this parish. I can’t possibly be found wandering in the dark, muttering obscenities.”

  “For the sake of propriety I’d better say goodnight, then.”

  “When I see you tomorrow will you stay with me in my hotel? After dinner?”

  “Try stopping me.” Her husky whisper fanned the flames into blazing life again.

  “Till tomorrow then.” He returned to the chair under the tree. Breathed in the scent of Apple Blossom, heady and intensified by the night. Aroused, like never before, by the lingering echo of her voice.

  I’ve got it bad. It was going to take a while sitting out here to cool his fevered body from the effect five minutes listening to Annie’s husky voice had wrought.

  Tires crunched to a stop on the gravel. A door slammed. The dark form of a lumbering giant carrying a large box struggled to open the gate. He stood up.

  “Can I help?”

  “Jaysus! What the hell are you doing in the dark?” The box slipped from the shrieking stranger’s grasp and he stumbled.

  Jack grabbed the box just in time. “Sorry, Mate, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me carry this in for you.” He pushed the door open. His eyes scanned the room for a convenient place to stow the heavy box. Maeve swept a pile of newspapers off a table. He gratefully put it down.

  “Michael! I see you’ve met Jack.” Maeve nodded his direction.

  “Not really,” Michael said.

  “Jack Miller.” Jack reached for the outstretched hand and instantly regretted it. The man didn’t know his own strength. Jack was pretty sure he heard the small bones in his hand cracking as they were painfully crushed.

  “Ah! So you’re Jack Miller, the boyfriend.” Eyebrows raised theatrically. “Well, you’re the man I’m looking for, so.”

  Jack eyed Michael cautiously. This didn’t sound good.

 
; “I’m Michael Devine, Sean’s son,” he explained. “He sent me down with the things for the boat.”

  Jack sighed out a breath. Relief flooded over him. He’d feared Michael might be one of Annie’s disgruntled suitors on the warpath. He grinned. “That’s great.” He peered into the box.

  “He got everything you were looking for.” Michael pulled out a list. “And he said to tell you he’ll come down next week and help you fit everything.”

  “That’s very kind of him, but…”

  “Ah now, there’s no need for but,” Michael said sternly. “Since you arrived my father has spent his time staring out of his window at your boat. He’s dying to get on board and poke around. He’s always wanted a ‘Bateau Rouge.’ He keeps muttering: ‘It’s what dreams are made of.’”

  “I like it.” The one thing missing from his presentation was the perfect tagline. Out of the blue, Sean Devine had provided it for him.

  “I’m away for a couple of days, but when I’m back I’ll call in to him. I could do with a hand.”

  “Right, I’ll tell him.”

  “Michael, Bull’s in the sitting room. Why don’t you go in for a visit?”

  “Sounds good to me, Maeve.” Michael snagged a bottle of whiskey and two glasses off the center of the table and made for the door. “Are you coming, Jack?”

  “Sure.”

  Maeve handed him a glass from the cupboard.

  “Nice meeting you, ladies.” He slipped through the door into the sitting room, in hot pursuit of the other men of the house.

  Jack was 6 foot 4, so it was rare to find a taller man, but Michael topped him by a good two inches, and had shoulders that barely made it through the door. In deference to his size, Jack let him settle on the only armchair, and squeezed onto the sofa next to Bull, picking up the matchmaking book and balancing it on his knee.