Nightingale Way: An Eternity Springs Novel (19 page)

“I noticed she was distracted,” Jack replied. “She did a lot of work preparing for today. It was obviously important to her. Maybe she overdid.”

“I hope that’s all it is.” Cat glanced down at her computer, mentally arranging her front page, wondering where she should start. She had a special section to put out. It was the coolest thing ever, but almost overwhelming.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“You’ll stay for a while?”

“Sure. I want to see this project through. This is my family heritage, and that makes it interesting to me. Besides, all this makes it seem like Cam is more closely related to me than he really is, and frankly, it’s nice to have a family connection. I’m short on those.”

Cat was inordinately pleased to have the company. To have
Jack’s
company. She’d had fun with him today.

Her heart gave a little lurch at that thought. Quickly she pressed on. “We’ll build the front page first, so I need appropriate shots for that. What do you have for me?”

For the next two hours they worked both together and independently. She asked his opinion and he gave it. Sometimes she took his suggestions and sometimes she ignored them. She had intended to mock up the front page and then quit for the night, but when the page was done, she was enjoying herself too much to stop. What
she and Jack built together—six pages of news, town history, Murphy family facts, frivolity, and fun—made her proud.

Now, as she stared at the choice of photos of the face painting booth that he’d given her, her gaze was caught by a picture of little Meg Callahan painted up like a kitten, complete with a headband sporting kitten ears. Her smile was big and bright. Her eyes sparkled like sunshine reflecting off the waters of Hummingbird Lake. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but toward something beyond the reach of the lens. “Who was she smiling at?”

“Her dad.”

Cat heard a note of longing in his voice and it caused her heart to twist. She glanced up at him.
Not just longing
, she thought.
Yearning, too
. Acting on instinct, she reached for his hand. “Lauren would have made a darling kitten, don’t you think?”

He subtly stiffened, then sent her a sharp look that turned searching once he realized that she wasn’t on the attack. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “She’d have made a beautiful kitten.”

Jack’s thumb brushed Cat’s knuckles. “Before today, I can’t recall taking photographs of people except for surveillance purposes. Well, except for you. I took photographs of you.”

“You took lots of photographs of me.”

“Yeah.” His lips lifted in a knowing smile and he shifted his gaze away from hers. Immediately, Cat knew what he was thinking about. “Tell me you didn’t keep those photographs, Jack Davenport!”

He recited as if by rote. “I didn’t keep those photographs.”

She caught her breath. Heat flushed her skin. “You lying dog.”

Jack broke into a full-fledged grin. “Now, Cat, those photos are some of my most prized possessions.”

Chagrin battled with embarrassment and a ridiculous sense of, well, prideful pleasure. Jack had taken the photos in question on a private beach on a private Caribbean island he’d had access to due to his job during the second month of their marriage, when he’d finally managed to steal time away for a honeymoon.

Cat awakened to the sound of the surf rolling against the white sand and for a long moment, she lay tangled among the luxurious sheets with her eyes closed, soaking in the peace. When she finally summoned the energy to move, she stretched her arm toward the other side of the bed. Empty. No surprise. Each day during their weeklong honeymoon, Jack had awakened early and disappeared into the house’s office before she stirred. Cat spent the mornings by herself, running on the beach, reading and writing in her journal, but he usually joined her for lunch and declared the office off-limits for the rest of the afternoon
.

She dressed for her run and found coffee waiting for her in the kitchen—bless the man. She indulged in half a cup along with a small breakfast bar, then exited the house to enjoy the morning. A salty sea breeze blew gently off the water and she stood and stretched, listening to the call of the gulls as they soared and dived. She felt good, having slept like a rock last night, deliciously tired after a long, sweet interlude of lovemaking
.

Now her body hummed with energy, so when she finished her stretches and took to the beach, she ran longer and farther than was her norm until she rounded the point and arrived at the turquoise waters of the island’s isolated lagoon. The inviting lagoon. Cat was hot and sweaty. The lagoon looked cool and refreshing
.

What the heck. The household help lived on the other side of the island, and when guests were in residence, they only worked from ten until two. No one was around to see her. Besides, what good was honeymooning
on a private island if you didn’t take advantage of the privacy?

In the broad daylight, feeling downright wicked, Cat stripped off her clothes and went skinny-dipping. As a city girl with minimal experience with isolation in Mother Nature, it was a new experience for her, and it took her a few minutes to relax. Silly, really, considering that the bikini she’d bought for her honeymoon was the next thing to naked. Yesterday, Jack had wanted to make love on the beach, but she’d been too shy. A girl didn’t go from modest to wanton overnight
.

But this was a good start
.

Cat stretched with contentment as she floated on her back in the blue lagoon. Maybe if Jack were here now, she’d risk being risqué. If Jack were here now, rather than in the office working with her mother. It was a sad thing for a bride to have to compete with her mother on her honeymoon
.

“Stop it,” she scolded herself. She wouldn’t go there. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let herself wander down that rocky path. Maybe she wished that she had her new husband’s full attention, but she had gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. It wouldn’t be fair to Jack or their marriage for her to backtrack on the decision she’d made when she accepted his proposal. She had to share her husband with the U.S. of A. At least he fought the good fight from a building in Washington rather than on a battlefield. Cat rolled onto her stomach and swam the disturbing thoughts away
.

Twenty minutes later, as she emerged from the water, the clicks of a camera shutter warned her she was no longer alone
.

Years later, in a hundred-year-old building in a Colorado mountain town, the click of a camera shutter brought her back to the present. At some point while
she’d been lost in the past, Jack had picked up his camera and started shooting her.

Click click click click click
.

Cat licked her lips. “What are you doing?”

Slowly, he lowered the Nikon. “You looked so … wistful. What were you thinking about, Cat?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, then confessed. “You. Us.”

He set down his camera and took her into his arms. “Me, too.”

And then his lips touched hers, and with a soft sigh, she let him in.

Yearning washed through her like snowmelt in spring. His fingers tangled in her hair as one hand cupped her head and the free one skimmed up and down her spine. Cat quivered and lost herself in the moment, in the wood-smoke scent clinging to his shirt, in the taste of spicy mustard lingering on his tongue, in the oh-so-familiar drag of calloused fingers that had found their way beneath her shirt to stroke her bare skin.

This was Jack. Her Jack. The only man she’d ever loved. The lover who had left her empty and alone in the face of tragedy.

But he had been empty and alone, too. He’d just hidden it so completely that she’d never seen it.

How she had missed him. Missed this. Being touched by Jack, held by Jack. Kissed by this man whose kiss excited her like nobody else’s.

Jack deepened the kiss, his tongue twining with hers. She lifted her hands and laced her fingers behind his neck. Melting against him, she let the current of sensation carry her away, seduced by the memory and the moment.

She lost all track of time. Arousal sizzled along her nerves as her breasts swelled and that hollow, achy feeling blossomed from her core. When he released her
mouth and trailed heated kisses along her jaw to that sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear, she jolted. Shuddered.

Wondered what the heck she was doing.

He finally lifted his head and those mesmerizing blue eyes bored into hers. “Cat?”

She knew what he was asking. Knew how she wanted to respond. A sense of self-preservation held her back. “I think it would be lovely, but foolish.”

“What’s wrong with foolish?”

“Foolish has its time and place, but I’m not sure that time and place is now.” She waited a beat, then asked, “Are you?”

Following a pregnant pause, he closed his eyes, then dropped his forehead to hers. “I guess not.”

“I don’t know what we are doing here.”

“I know what I want to do,” he murmured, a groan in his voice.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from him. “I enjoyed spending time with you today, Jack. It was fun. But this wasn’t something I anticipated, and frankly, I need to think about this. If we take the next step, then I want to do it with my eyes wide open.”

“You always did like watching.” When she chided him with a look, he caught her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “As much as I hate to say it, I think that’s probably a good plan for us both.”

Cat tried to tell herself she was glad he hadn’t pressed her. “Okay, then. Well. Um. I guess I’ll get back to work.”

“What can I do to help now?”

Leave
. “I think we’re set with the photos. You should probably go check on Fred, don’t you think? Won’t he be needing his dinner?”

He gave her a knowing look. “You trying to get rid of me, Blackburn?”

She forced a smile. “I need a little space, Davenport.”

He packed up his camera bag and headed for the door. There he paused and glanced back at her. “Do you have dinner plans tomorrow night?”

Her heart stuttered. Was he asking her out on a date? “No, I don’t have any dinner plans tomorrow night.”

“I heard a rumor that Ali was going Moroccan tomorrow at the Yellow Kitchen. I expect her lamb tagine will be superb. Would you like to join me?”

Something light and hopeful blossomed in her chest. “Just to clarify, Mr. Davenport. Are you asking me on a dinner date?”

“Yes, I am.”

“In that case, yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you. Thanks for the invitation.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Around seven?”

“That will be lovely. Good night, Jack.”

“Good night, Cat. Sleep well.”

Of course, she didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned for hours before she slept, and once she did sleep, she dreamed—of rolling naked on a Caribbean beach with her husband, the love of her life.

Jack thought the Saturday night date went very well, and when he walked her to the door of Nightingale Cottage, he kissed her thoroughly, then asked, “So, are you still thinking?”

She answered affirmatively.

As he climbed into his cold and lonely bed that night, he did suffer a few pangs of doubt. Was he making a big mistake? Was pursuing her the right thing to do? Yes, he loved her, but he’d always loved her and he’d been getting along relatively well without having her in his life the last few years. Perhaps he did take too many physical risks since nobody waited at home for him. Melinda had taken him to task for the dangerous choices he’d made in recent months. She’d be happy if he took to
avoiding such situations because he had someone in his life who cared for him again. Except, considering that that someone would be Cat, maybe not.

It could be argued that getting involved again with Cat could be the riskiest move he could make. What if he offered her his heart again and she refused to take it? He’d rather take a steel blade to it than endure that sort of pain.

The next afternoon he invited her to go sailing with him on Hummingbird Lake, and again, at the end of the date, in response to his question and his kiss, she remained committed to “thinking.” They spent part of each day together for the next week, sometimes on official dates, other times as reporter and photographer as she continued researching historical sites for her
Eternity Times
series.

The Cam Murphy Day special edition had proved to be a hit, selling out completely. Cat gave credit to the visual appeal that Jack’s photographs added. He claimed the quality of the writing did the trick. They both recognized that everyone in town wanted the details of the Cellar Bride / Murphy Mountain news, and the special section could have been written in pencil on a Big Chief tablet and it would have sold out. Still, when he loudly gave her praise at the Mocha Moose sandwich shop while they ate lunch yesterday, she’d visibly preened.

A week after Cam’s big day, Cat and Jack visited the original Silver Miracle Mine. The Eternity Springs development committee had the mine site listed for possible restoration and development as a tourist attraction, but for now it remained an isolated, all but forgotten scar upon an otherwise beautiful spot. And yet, Jack couldn’t deny the allure of weathered timber and multicolored sludge, all that was left of the dreams of riches that had lured men into these mountains by the thousands in the second half of the nineteenth century. His
own family history swirled through his thoughts as he shot photos of the place where Lucien Davenport had struck it rich, and Cat chattered about historical details she had gleaned as she researched her article. But when he spied a pair of red foxes scampering across a wildflower-dotted meadow below the mine, imaginings of the past faded away. Jack switched to his telephoto lens and began shooting.

He was excited. Though he kept it to himself, he had a “bag list” of animals he wanted to photograph in the wild before he died, and red foxes were one of them. As a result, he was careless with his equipment, setting the camera bag down in the middle of the trail. Cat was busy making notes about the mine and didn’t notice that he had veered off the trail. She stepped right on top of the bag and Jack heard the sickening crunch of a lens breaking.