Natural Attraction Read online

  “They’re always eating even when they’re on a diet. Say, this is a neat way to get rid of garbage, isn’t it?”

  “I have no doubt they’ll eat,” Jessie informed Mark dryly, unsettled by her own wandering thoughts and Mark’s perversely even temper. Her skin still burned where he had touched her. She resisted the urge to rub her fingers across the spot. His hands had smelled of apples, and the scent still lingered on her skin. “One thing you can count on with teenagers is that they will eat. But whether or not they’ll be satisfied with what they wolf down is something else altogether.”

  “It sure is dark out here.” A small flashlight appeared in Nell’s hand. “I’m going exploring along the shore. Isn’t this great, Mom! I never knew there were so many stars in the sky.” Jessie was proud of her youngest daughter. She’d tried every item on their forager’s menu gamely, and although she’d had trouble with the mussels, the clams were a hit and the sea-urchin roe hadn’t caused open rebellion as it did with the twins.

  “The sky is always more beautiful away from city lights,” Jessie agreed wistfully. “I can see the North Star and the Big Dipper. And there’s Venus, the Evening Star. Make a wish, Nell.”

  “I did ages ago, Mom.” She scurried off, her flashlight beam a small, bouncing beacon in the darkness.

  “She’s a trooper,” Mark said. He was alone with Jessie for the first time since they’d set foot on the island. He tried to recall his earlier mental strictures on how to deal with her. Friendships required time to grow. Slow but sure.

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” he asked politely, gathering up utensils to drop in a plastic pail.

  “As a matter of fact I did.” There was a faint tinge of surprise in Jessie’s tone, as though she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

  “Well, then, our first day hasn’t been a complete failure.” Jessie hesitated a moment before accepting a refill of her plastic coffee mug from the pot he held out to her.

  “All things considered,” Jessie tried again, hoping to find the right light note, “I really am sorry about the twins’ behavior. I’m afraid it has a lot to do with their age.” How much did he know about the fragile equilibrium, the monumental eggshell-thin egos of sixteen-year-olds? He’d never been married and had spent most of his adult life in the military, cut off from the ordinary lives most people led. All at once it seemed a sad and lonely way to live as far as Jessie was concerned.

  “It’ll catch up to Nell in the next few months,” she added with a sigh, leaning back against the sun-warmed boulder that had served as both dining table and chair. Nell’s flashlight beam winked along the shoreline about a hundred feet away. Jessie began to relax a little. “Only I think I’ll be able to recognize the symptoms more easily with her, avoid some of the pitfalls I’ve encountered with her sisters. At least I hope so.”

  “Experience is the best teacher, they say.” Mark watched the play of firelight over her strong, fine-boned features.

  “They just can’t seem to look past the moment at this age. It’ll pass, my mother tells me, but now things like having their ears pierced again or bathing twice a day assume monumental importance—not to mention washing their hair. Be prepared for another crisis tomorrow if there’s no water available.” She took an experimental sip of the hot drink.

  “We’ll think of something before then. I remember how it was with my sister, Ellen. It might have been a generation ago, but I don’t think girls have changed all that much over the years.” He smiled, sloshing hot water over the plates and silverware. It was the first mention he’d made of his family to anyone in a long time.

  “Where is your sister now?” Jessie found herself watching his reaction closely. “Is she living in Manchester?”

  “Portsmouth. My brother-in-law is a retired naval officer. That’s where I called you from this morning. I went up there last night to load them up for the trip. This morning she and my nieces backed out.”

  “No other brothers or sisters?”

  “One brother. He lives in Idaho. He runs my aunt and uncle’s sheep ranch.”

  “Is that where you grew up?” Jessie leaned forward, cradling her mug, eager to hear him talk about himself. “Do your parents live there?”

  “My parents died when I was sixteen. My aunt and uncle took in Ellen and Keith. They were hardly more than babies, six and eight. I couldn’t cut it,” he said tersely, the words coming hard, as though he hadn’t told the story to anyone for many years.

  “Did you run away?”

  “Yes. I paid a guy fifty dollars to say he was my dad and sign the papers. The army gave me an education, a career, and I gave them twenty-four years of my life.”

  “But you were just talking about Ellen as a teenager. Did you go back to Idaho while they were growing up?” Jessie hoped so; the army was no substitute for a family.

  “I was stationed in Washington State for two years after I got back from Nam. I got to see them pretty often, and got to understand my aunt and uncle a little better, too. It must have been hard for them at their age, saddled with a whole family all of a sudden like that. They weren’t ready for an insolent, grieving adolescent as well as two small children. We’re all good friends now. So you see I’m not such a greenhorn when it comes to teenagers after all.”

  Jessie could feel her color heighten; she was thankful for the darkness. “I’m sorry it had to happen that way.” All around them the sea murmured sleepily. The wind had died away, taking with it some of the restless energy of the ocean. The tide had turned; the seabirds were gone. It was still and quiet for a few precious moments. They might have been alone in the world.

  “Don’t be sorry, Jess. It was a long time ago. The army was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Your turn,” Mark insisted, refusing politely to allow the conversation to focus on him any longer. He sloshed hot water over the dishes. “Have you always lived in Manchester?”

  “No, I was born and bred in Pennsylvania, in a little town not far from Harrisburg. Red Lion, have you ever heard of it?”

  “No.”

  “That’s not surprising. It’s in Amish country—fertile, prosperous.”

  “So you’re a New Hampshirite through the back door. By marriage, right?”

  “That’s about it. I fell in love with Carl, my husband, then I fell in love with New Hampshire—the mountains, the scenery and the sea. I love New England.”

  “Me, too,” Mark admitted. “Especially the sea.”

  “Then you should have settled down in Maine, not New Hampshire. Unless you’re a ski nut.”

  “I do like to ski, but it’s not a passion. I guess I didn’t check to find New Hampshire only has about fifteen miles of seacoast before I took over Meanderings from old Mr. Peavy.”

  “Are you sorry you didn’t? Move to Maine, I mean?” Jessie hesitated a second before taking the warm hand he held out to help her up from her place by the fire.

  “Good Lord, no, Jess. I was joking. Lighten up.”

  “I was joking, too,” Jessie replied. “I think I’m out of practice though.” She laughed lightly.

  Mark likened the sound to chiming golden bells, high-pitched and melodic. No woman for a long time had affected him quite like this one. He didn’t know why or how it had happened, but Jessie Meyer fascinated him. He felt comfortable with her, at ease. He wanted to learn to know her, to be able to reach out and smooth away that worried frown that so often settled between her bottomless honey-gold eyes. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to keep apologizing for her daughters’ behavior.

  “In any case I’m glad you didn’t choose New Hampshire strictly for the skiing. I’ll make a confession if you swear never to reveal it to another living soul.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

  Mark looked down at her hand nestled comfortingly in his. It felt good, natural, as though it belonged there cradled within the strength of his palm. “What’s that?”

  “I can’t ski. I
don’t want to learn to ski—ever. I can’t imagine why an otherwise sane human being would strap those tiny strips of wood to his feet and go barreling down the side of a nearly perpendicular mountain. There, are you shocked?”

  “When you put it like that I have to agree with you, but a lot of other New Englanders would argue the point. It’s great fun.”

  “That’s what my brother, Tim, tells me. He’s the only one I have, by the way, so I think he’s kind of special, but every winter he comes up here to ski. I can’t understand it. He was always the brighter one of the two of us.” Jessie chuckled again at her own facetiousness. She couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun talking to someone. The giggle ended in a sigh. She looked down at their joined hands as if seeing them for the first time. She gave a little tug but Mark only tightened his hold on her fingers.

  Jessie halted the attempt to free herself and looked up questioningly into his darkly shadowed face. “I think we should call it a night.”

  “I’ve missed out on a lot of things in my life,” Mark stated wonderingly. His breath brushed her skin, his aftershave mingled with the rich, deep smells at the edge of the sea. “But I just want to thank you for keeping this dream alive, for coming out here with me, Jess. The spring issue could spell the difference for Meanderings.”

  Jessie didn’t move. “I know how much the magazine’s success means to you, Mark. I just hope this week turns out the way you want it to, that we don’t disappoint you.” Her breathing was ragged. Whatever was the matter with her? Had it been something she ate? Or was it some unknown element in the sea air? “Good night.”

  “Not yet, Jessie.” Mark’s voice was low and rough. “Stay just a little while longer. He could see the rush of blood through the vein in her throat. Her body was inches from his. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek.

  “It’s getting late, Mark.” The sound of his name on her lips was sweet in his ears, and Mark was sure the taste of her mouth on his would be equally as sweet. He bent his head a fraction of an inch; Jessie remained motionless.

  The taped rock music issuing from the twins’ tent died. “Mother!” Jessie jerked back. Mark dropped her hand. The spell was broken. Jessie blinked in surprise. A moment ago she could have sworn the stars had left the sky to glitter and dance on the broken surface of the tidal pool. The moon had certainly been more than a wispy sliver of cold light far up in the inky velvet blanket of the sky. It had been right here, inches above the treetops right over her head. “Mother!”

  “What is it, Ann?” she called.

  “There’s nothing to put under our sleeping bags. It’s going to be awful sleeping on moss and rocks. It’s all Nell’s fault for knocking the duffel overboard, losing the air mattresses and the first-aid kit. Now she has to go to the john and we’re already undressed. Will you take her?”

  “They’re such sissies.” Nell’s brown head popped out of the tent.

  Jessie thought she heard Mark utter a curse under his breath, but she couldn’t be sure it was because the girls had interrupted their tête-à-tête. “I’m coming, Nell. Get your flashlight. Good night again, Mark.” She wanted to be alone to have the luxury of savoring the precious minutes of companionship they’d shared. Had he truly wanted to kiss her a few moments ago or had the stardust in the sky played tricks on her reason?

  “Jess—”

  “Ready, Mom.” Nell’s piping voice overrode Mark’s words.

  “We’ll get to work on something to double as mattresses first thing in the morning.” He hoped she hadn’t realized he’d been about to kiss her before the girls’ timely interruption. She’d probably figure he’d lost his mind, or worse. Yet the thought of her soft lips under his refused to be banished from his mind.

  “I know just how to do it,” Nell broke in, tugging at Jessie’s hand as she explained the finer points of wilderness camping she’d picked up from her paperback guide. “They’re called browse beds. And, Mom, it says here you can even drink fish blood if you have to, to stay alive! After Mark rigs those two a shower we’ll probably have to do that when the water runs out.”

  “That’s enough, Nell.” Jessie laughed, following the bobbing flashlight beam into the darkness. “Hurry along. I’m so tired I don’t even think sleeping on solid rock is going to keep me awake tonight.” But the pleasant memory of her time with Mark certainly might.

  Chapter Three

  JESSIE SLEPT LATE, AWAKENING to the sound of Nell’s trilling laugh, the twins’ whispered giggles and Mark’s deep, authoritative voice issuing instructions and suggestions as he passed by. Evidently she was the only slugabed.

  Rummaging through her tote for toothbrush and undergarments, Jessie made a discovery as she hurried to join the busy crew outside. In the rush to pack and make Mark’s deadline, she’d left her underwear behind. That posed a problem. She’d never been sorry for the full, sweet curves of her breasts, but neither had she felt comfortable going without a bra. She was the mother of three, a member of the chamber of commerce, PTA vice-president. She was beyond such behavior, wasn’t she? Now it appeared she had no choice.

  Why not? She didn’t look too bad in the old white T-shirt she’d slept in, Jessie decided. She tucked in her chin, scrutinizing her figure beneath the thin cotton. Not bad at all, if she did say so herself. Grabbing another shirt, equally old but red in color, she dragged it over her head, pulled on her jeans, and bent to tie her shoes. At the last moment she added a sweatshirt because the weather was cool, not because of her braless state; she ran a brush through her hair, pinning it into a soft swirl on top of her head with ease, and crawled—as gracefully as she could manage—out into the beautiful sun-washed morning.

  “Mom! Come look at our shower,” Ann called, dancing toward her from a small stand of spruce trees directly behind and above their tent. “Mark rigged it up this morning, just like he promised. Didn’t you hear him pounding on that rusty old bucket Nell scrounged up off the beach?”

  Jessie admitted she’d slept through the operation.

  Ann sniffed at Nell’s pack-rat proclivities and continued. “He’s got it working great. He scoured it with rough moss and hung it on a tree branch. Come look.” She laughed self-consciously at her own enthusiasm. “The branches come down around like a screen. There’s even a rock to stand on and pour more water into the bucket.”

  As if on cue, Lyn appeared in the clearing, her cinnamon-colored hair gleaming in the bright, clear light. “Hurry up, Ann,” she directed. “The water’s finally hot. Mark must have started the fire hours ago. “’Morning, Mom.”

  “’Morning, honey,” Jessie replied faintly. This was the last thing she’d expected. She’d been bracing herself for another long sulk by both of them. But here were her temperamental twins, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and smiling!

  “What’s for breakfast? I’m starved,” Nell called, emerging from the trees as if she’d been produced by a magician with a hat. The magician himself followed close on her heels. Mark hadn’t shaved yet that morning and the stubble of dark beard on his sharply angled face gave him a rakish, piratical air. In his black-and-red plaid wool shirt and soft faded jeans he looked totally at home in the rustic setting.

  “Good morning, Jess. Breakfast’s just about ready. We have bayberry tea, powdered juice for the girls, coffee if you need it,” he added with a smile for Jessie. “Fresh raspberries, scrambled sea-urchin roe, which I promise you won’t be able to tell from scrambled eggs, and toast. That’s the last of the store-bought bread, by the way. Today we bake our own.”

  “How?” Jessie queried. She knew the propane stove wasn’t anything like the oven she was used to back home.

  “You create your own Dutch oven by placing a pan on top of the one you’re baking the bread in,” Mark explained. “That keeps in the heat and bakes the bread all around.” After all his years of camping, this method had become second nature to him, and he was quite adept at creating some unusual tasty treats. “Got it?” he asked the group surrounding
him.

  “Understood,” Jessie answered for her brood.

  While they ate, Mark passed out assignments that set the pattern for that long busy day and the next. After breakfast, with the camp shipshape, the twins would disappear with towels, shampoo and buckets of water that they collected from the surprisingly efficient setup Mark rigged.

  Later they all worked at gathering beach peas, small wild cousins of the domestic variety in Jessie’s garden. The shelling was tedious, but time was plentiful.

  Mark added snow-white cattail hearts to the menu when he found them growing in a deserted nineteenth-century quarry. Together with bay leaf and clam juice they made an excellent stew, as he promised. For lunch they snacked their way around the island: gooseberries, tart and juicy; more raspberries, full and ripe; and rose hips, large as plums.

  “Want to come with us, Jess?” Mark asked on the middle of their second full day on the island. “I’m going to show Nell how to fish in the deep water off that spit of rock. I think fresh fish would taste good tonight.”

  “I’d love to. Wait until I get my gear.” There wasn’t anything she’d rather do than spend the day with Mark and her girls. She snapped happily away, more relaxed, more rested than she could remember being for a long time. She’d never had the luxury to spend so much time at her photography. Busy with the camera angles and shutter speeds from dawn to dusk, Jessie knew she was doing some of her best work ever. It gave her a special glow of pride and accomplishment.

  It was easy when you had good subjects. The girls always made interesting studies, and Mark’s rugged good looks gave added depth and substance to the shape and textures of gray sea and rocks. Nell, small, quick and bright, her slight, red-jacketed form framed by dark pine trees and blue sky above, was echoed tirelessly by the restless movement of the choppy surf.

  When the sun climbed high and the fresh breeze off the water died away, Jessie would pull off her sweatshirt and open her arms to the sun like a greedy flower. She never gave the fact she was braless a second thought until she looked up to catch Mark’s intense blue gaze touch for a second on the opulent curve of her breast. Her nipples tightened automatically and pleasurably. Jessie turned her shoulder, amazed at the response of her body, but managed to meet Mark’s eyes head on when they lifted to hers.