Part 3 (1/2)

'I know where Cornwall is,' he said dryly.

'Oh! Oh, well, then. Why can't we try it now? I'm willing.'

Jared's eyes dropped pointedly to her stomach. 'Are you?'

'Yes, of course.' She sighed, colouring in spite of herself. 'I've told you, it's months and months away. I don't intend doing anything reckless. But I don't want to spoil your-your pleasure.'

'Haven't you done that already?' he countered, and she glared at him.

'Well? Have I?'

His eyes probed hers for a long disturbing moment, and then he thrust open his door and climbed out. 'I'll let you know,' he replied enigmatically.

There were steps down to the beach, and Jared went ahead, glancing round from time to time to a.s.sure himself that she was all right. Catherine couldn't help feeling touched by this involuntary display of concern on her behalf, although she guessed he would have done the same for anybody.

Halfway down, they came in sight of a low beach house, set in the lee of the cliffs and not visible from above. It stood on supports, a couple of feet above the sand, and as they came down the last of the steps Jared said: 'This is mine. I work here sometimes. And it's useful as a retreat!' this last with a meaning glance in her direction.

Catherine tossed back her hair, and walked across the sand, kicking off her sandals and carrying them. She climbed the shallow steps to the shaded veranda and looked in through the sand-dusted windows.

Jared seemed to hesitate, and then he said: The door isn't locked. You can go in, if you want to.'

Catherine looked round at him, could read no hidden menace in his expression, and turned the handle of the door. Inside, there was a faint smell of oil paints and canvas, and looking round the room she could see why. There was a stove in one corner, for heating on cooler days, she presumed, a couple of squashy leather chairs which were worn in places, a low table, cupboards for storing things, and a cooker, sink and refrigerator. But in every available s.p.a.ce there were stacks of canvases, strewn haphazardly around the walls, and propped against an easel which leaned drunkenly against one of the chairs.

She stood just inside the door looking about her, and Jared came to support himself against the jamb, regarding her without evident hostility for once. 'Well?' he said, making it a question.

'Are you appalled at the mess?'

Catherine half turned towards him. 'Why should I be? I expect you work very well here.'

He frowned. 'Why do you say that?'

'I don't know.' She shrugged her slim shoulders. 'It's the disorder, I suppose. I read something once, I don't remember where-in one of those trendy journals, I think-and it said something about order being without inspiration. That creating anything-artistic, in disciplined surroundings, is like mining for diamonds in a velvet-lined box.'

Jared straightened, his lips twisting-mockingly. 'How very apt!

And how perceptive of you to remember it.'

Catherine sighed. 'Sometimes those articles are just rubbis.h.!.+ I just thought that particular one had some merit.'

'Oh, it did.' Jared pa.s.sed her and walked indolently across the room, kicking aside a tube of paint which oozed stickily on to the bare boards. He indicated a divan in one corner, half hidden from her view by other paraphernalia. 'I sleep here sometimes, It's quiet, and I don't mind the sound of the ocean. And, as you say, I enjoy the chaos.'

He looked at her as he spoke, and she felt a curious warning sensation in the pit of her stomach. When he was not using the sharp edge of his sarcasm against her, he was disturbingly attractive, and the girlish feelings he had aroused all those years ago did not seem quite so distant after all.

As though realising that for a few moments he had forgotten his antipathy towards her, he withdrew his gaze from hers and hauled a couple of surfboards out from behind the door. One was bigger than the other, but they were both made of fibre-gla.s.s and very light.

'Arc you sure you want to try this?' he asked, his voice hard and slightly impatient, and she nodded eagerly.

'Of course. Is this one mine?' She indicated the smaller board.

'Hmm, smell that scent of the sea!'

They came down the steps on to the beach and looked towards the ocean. The sun glittered and danced on the water, dazzling the eyes, jewelling the foam to sparkling brilliance. The sun was rising higher, and its heat was making the sand warm beneath their feet.

Catherine bent her head to unzip her jeans and Jared gave her an angry look. 'What are you doing?'

She looked up in surprise. 'I don't normally go swimming in my jeans,' she answered innocently.

He expelled his breath noisily. 'You can change in the beach house.'

'I don't have to change.' She wriggled the jeans down over her hips, revealing the narrow band of the bikini. 'I came prepared.'

She smiled. 'Didn't you?'

Jared said a word which she wouldn't have liked to repeat, and unfastened his own jeans and slid them down his legs His swimming trunks were black and came beautifully low on his lean hips. Catherine couldn't help admiring the powerful muscles so displayed, but he obviously disliked her eyes upon him.

Picking up a surfboard, he strode away down the beach, and she stood there folding her jeans and watching him.

He carried the surfboard into the waves until the water was up to his waist, then he straddled the board before stretching his length upon it, paddling out towards the line of the reef with steady progression.

Catherine was hardly aware that she had bent and picked up the untidy pile that was his jeans, or that as he approached the turning point, she pressed them closely to her chest, watching for the surf to catch him with such intensity that her eyes ached from the glare.

He had turned. He was kneeling on the board now, coasting down the inside of the crest which threatened to engulf him. Her heart leapt into her throat as the board was lifted high on the swell, and then he was on his feet, balancing himself with an expertise she couldn't help but envy, driving diagonally in towards the sh.o.r.eline at what seemed an incredible speed. If he should lose his balance, if he should fall. . .

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he had disappeared. She took several involuntary steps forward, her heart hammering so loudly it seemed audible. Then she saw the surfboard tossed carelessly by the waves, and her heart seemed to stop beating altogether. She ran towards the water's edge, blinking as shafts of green brilliance obscured her vision. The sun was reacting on her unguarded eyes, making them water just when she wanted to see clearly.

She moved her head from side to side, searching for a glimpse of him, and then gulping with relief when he appeared some distance to her left, thrown upon the sand like the surfboard beside him. She ran eagerly towards him, still clutching his jeans, but he was getting to his feet and his expression was not encouraging.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing?' he demanded, and she blinked at him bewilderingly. 'What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like that? And what are you doing with my pants?'

He tugged the offending jeans out of her grasp, and she stood there before him, still wearing her smock, still too shocked to say much at all.

'I-I-you disappeared. I thought-I thought-'

'You thought I'd drowned?'

'Well, I-I wasn't sure. . .'

Jared tossed his jeans on to the sand, and Catherine noticed inconsequently that they had landed in the same heap as before. 'I dived off the board, before it reached shallow water,' he told her impatiently. 'I'm sorry if you were alarmed, but I didn't know you were watching me.'

Catherine was gradually recovering her composure, and resentment gave her a welcome barrier against the feelings she had just experienced. 'I'm sure you knew perfectly well that I was watching you,' she retorted, aware as she did so that she was not sure of any such thing.

Jared sighed. 'Why? Why aren't you in the water yourself?'

'I'm no expert. You must know you are.'

'Thank you.' His tone was sardonic. 'So why were you so concerned?'

She stared up at him angrily. Without the platform soles she was used to, he was several inches taller than she was, a new experience for her because she was a tall girl. 'I really don't know!' she told him feelingly, and marched away along the beach.

Her desire to swim had left her. Her eyes still ached from the glare of the water, and an awful empty feeling was making itself felt in the region below her rib-cage. After all, she had not eaten since yesterday afternoon, and men only two of the diminutive sandwiches. She sat down on the sand beside the other surfboard, drawing up her legs and wrapping her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees.