The Darling Jade

  THE DARLING JADE

  Peggy Nicholson

  "I've always wanted to blackmail a beautiful girl."

  Jade Kinnane regretted the day she'd driven into Zan Wykoff, causing him to break his wrist. She'd paid his hospital bills and agreed to help him meet the deadline on his new book. But his demands just kept increasing.

  Zan was off beat and exciting--the kind of man who'd accidentally break a heart and never be held responsible. He was too dangerous, even for Jade's usually reckless tastes.

  Unlike the more sophisticated women in his life, Jade knew she'd not survive a collision with Zan's kind of loving. And there was no insurance against a broken heart.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Plants thrive on conversation, and the potted herbs on the kitchen windowsill were flourishing. 'I have a feeling,' Jade told the chives, 'that today will be special. It's going to be one of those days when nothing can go wrong.' She studied the square of deep violet sky beyond the tender greens. Deep violet, but fading fast—it would dawn clear. And it would dawn without her, if she didn't hurry. The tea kettle whistled.

  Topping off the thermos, she set it on the table by her paintbox and watercolour block, and paused to check her wrist watch. Nearly four-forty, damn it! Her extra ten minutes in bed had stretched to twenty somehow. There was no time for breakfast, if she wanted to beat the sun to the beach. Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, she found her keys and hustled out of the door, her arms full of gear and a smile in her green eyes.

  And just what would Fred think when he discovered she had a penchant for painting seascapes at dawn? Jade wondered, as she scampered down the stairs. In their two years of teaching together, he'd never seen that darker side of her nature, had he? It was scarcely in evidence in the cold New England winters, when she played the staid, responsible teacher of art in a private high school. And by summer, when she shed that role to become the manic painter, drunk on early light and her own freedom, he was far away in Greece, digging earnestly through the dirt for shards of pottery and bits of metal. Well, he would know the worst of her very soon—next week, in fact. No doubt there were surprises in store for her as well.

  Shutting the front door behind her, Jade crossed the porch and tiptoed down the steps. She winced as they creaked ferociously, probably woke half the neighbourhood. She would have to fix that in the fall when they returned. She laughed softly. Or maybe next year. Her list of projects seemed to grow with each passing month, rather than shrink. Home ownership was a mixed blessing, she was finding. But she glanced back at her two-storey Victorian cottage with pride before turning to scan the sky in the east.

  It was paler now, but she was still ahead of the sun. She stepped out into the dark street, sniffing the soft, warm air of early June. Summer in Newport, Rhode Islands-could anything be sweeter? It would almost be a shame to miss it, after pining for lilac and beach roses, green trees and warm seas all winter long. But then Greece would have its charms too, she assured herself. And it was too late for second thoughts now.

  Too late—and where had she last parked the bug? Jade peered along the row of parked cars that lined her street. She hadn't driven it in three days, not since her insurance had lapsed. Spotting a battered tan bumper beyond a dark Ford, she hurried up the street, her wide mouth curved in a smile. The choices you had to make when you were broke! She threw open the VW's door, tossed her painting kit behind the seat, and slipped her long, bare legs beneath the steering wheel.

  And yet it had seemed a reasonable, even fitting, choice—trading her car insurance money for an airline ticket to Greece. That's me, she thought, throwing caution to the winds and taking a flyer! Her heart-shaped face flickered in a brief frown as the thought formed. No, that wasn't exactly right. The first half of the thought was true; she was reckless and impulsive. She had that from her mother—as she had been brutally reminded a few months ago. But dear solid, sensible Fred could hardly -be considered a flyer. He'd been patiently and cheerfully waiting for her to come to her senses for three years now.

  If anyone was taking a flyer, it was him in marrying her! She edged the bug out of its place and into the street. Well, he'd not regret it. Her reversal might have been sudden, but it was wholehearted. She glanced at the sky again. In the meantime, I've got a week to myself in which to paint, and a dawn to catch. Get moving, girl! She stepped on the gas.

  Within a few blocks, the close-packed shingle and clapboard houses of a Victorian working class gave way to thick, sheltering hedges and high granite walls, as Jade skirted the back of the mansion district. Beyond the walls, ornate rooflines and fanciful towers loomed dark against the cobalt sky, then vanished behind her. But this morning she had no time to admire the summer cottages. Fabulous relics of Newport's gilded age, the fairy-castle monuments to the pre-income tax empires of Vanderbilts and Astors merely blocked her view. She would have to drive further out along the point to watch the sun rise over the ocean.

  As Jade picked a winding route south to the sea, pruned trees and stone walls gave way to wind-blasted scrubby woods cut by granite ridges. The rough lonely spine of the point that sheltered Newport harbour from the Atlantic was deserted at this hour, and she could choose her own speed on the corkscrew roads. The little car hummed along, bouncing through the potholes and swaying wide on the curves as the thickets faded from green-black to emerald.

  Jade rolled down her car window and leaned out to feel the wind on her face. Wisps of long hair escaped the clasp at her neck to wave in the salt breeze and then curl damply on her cheeks and shoulders. She could smell the ocean now, and flowers. The scents roused her stomach and she groped for the apple, but after taking a bite, she wrinkled her nose—mushy! Passing it to her left hand, she held it poised above the rushing road for a second, then lobbed it skyward. She stole a glance back to watch it bomb into the bushes, red into deep green, and grinned. Some early-rising rabbit would be in ecstasy, no doubt.

  Her stomach muttered in sullen envy, and she smiled again. Too late now. It would just have to settle for the coffee in her thermos. And even that would have to wait till she'd finished her first painting. The light changed too quickly in that first half-hour of sunrise to pause for an instant. There wouldn't be time to pre-mix her colours, as it was. The wind whipped a curl into her teeth and she brushed it back impatiently. Hurry!

  Swooping over a hill, she flushed a pheasant, missed him by inches as he took off with a metallic squawk, in a flurry of copper. Jade laughed in sheer delight. She felt reckless and alive in her race with the sun, her senses as vivid and eager as if she'd just been born this morning. She laughed again.

  And morning it nearly was. Jade flicked off the headlights. No need for them now in the pearly light. Above the beach scrub, the sea mist was tinged now with expectant rose. She glanced at her watch. But you haven't won yet, she told the sun, putting her foot to the floor. Wait just one minute and I'll catch you yet! The bug leaped ahead.

  Wheeling around a tight corner, she bore down on a stop sign at a crossroads—not much further now. She slowed, glanced both ways, then jumped the stop sign, smiling as she thought of Fred, who would stop at a broken red light in the middle of the Sahara at three a.m., and would probably stay put till someone fixed it. But Fred wasn't here to be shocked. There was no one for miles around, just her and the coming sun in a world smelling of honeysuckle and seaweed.

  The bug took the last hill, hummed down to the narrow road's junction with the ocean drive. Jade slowed the car, flicked her eyes to left and right, scanning the open road beyond the clump of trees at the corner. Not a car in sight, and no need to stop. She went over the stop sign smoothly, then pulled out to the left, her eyes on the brightening sky.

  'Oh!'

  As
she started the turn, something large bobbed before her. The shape dodged to the right-reached, twisting, for the bumper. Rubber screamed and slipped on damp pavement as she braked, didn't drown out the thump as the car connected and the shape flew aside. And then there was nothing—just the soft hush of the ocean and sunlight.

  'Oh, my God!' Jade watched a hand reach out before her to turn off the engine. The keys tinkled as her fingers shook. There was no road before her, she noticed dimly. The car tilted forward, its front wheels in the weeds, facing the ditch. How had she got here?

  And where was he? 'Oh, my God!' Fumbling at the door, she hammered on it as the catch resisted, then gave, and half fell into the road. Where was he? She stared around blindly, her breath loud in the silence. Nothing. She couldn't have imagined it, could she? No, she shook her head dazedly, that half-glimpsed shape had been human, that thump too real. Where had he come from? And where had he gone?

  The thought hit her and she stooped to stare beneath the car, her teeth biting into her lip. 'Oh, my God!'

  The sound was faint, halfway between a snort and a laugh. 'No such luck, girl. I'm over here.'

  'Oh!' She whirled.

  Twenty feet behind the car a man knelt in the weeds, his right arm cradled in his left, his eyes on her face. 'Oh.' She returned his stare, feeling relief surge through her in a sickening rush. The ground tilted strangely as she wobbled towards him, his odd light eyes holding her wide green ones.

  'Sit down before you fall down,' he commanded.

  Jade knelt before him, dizzy with gratitude, and found she had to look up to meet his eyes.

  Tears gleamed in the edges of his thick gold lashes. The heavy gold eyebrows were clenched in a frown of concentration, as if all his energy was focussed outward in the laser beam of the pale grey eyes. 'Got a licence to hunt with that thing?' he asked.

  'What?'

  Beads of sweat gleamed in the golden pelt across his wide chest, in the curling hairs along the muscular arm he held so carefully. This time the low voice had an edge to it. 'I said, do you have a licence to hunt with that car, sweetheart? They didn't tell me it was open season on runners in Rhode Island.'

  'I—it isn't.' Jade shook her head miserably, trying to collect her wits. If he'd just be quiet a minute. 'Are you all right?'

  'And is your face always green, or is this—'

  'Will you shut up and listen to me!' She snapped, surprising them both into silence. She reached for his arm. 'How is your—'

  'Uh!' he flinched away, hogging the arm closer. 'Don't touch, thanks! You've done enough for one day. We'll leave this to the doctors, shall we?'

  Jade bit her lip. 'Of course—stupid of me. I'll go call an ambulance, right now.' She bounced to her feet, then swayed as the world darkened around her.

  'Steady!' A warm hand clamped around her calf, the hard fingers nearly encircling her slim leg. She froze, waiting for her vision to clear, all her senses focussed on those warm fingers.

  The hand squeezed slightly, slid slowly down her calf and then dropped away. She could see first his eyes and then his face now as the faintness passed. 'Slow down, girl.' He smiled tightly and reached to cradle his right arm again. 'You don't drive away from the scene of an accident, remember? At least, not till I get your licence plate numbers.'

  'You think I'd—'

  'I don't think anything,' he cut in irritably, 'but you're not leaving.' He grunted and began to stand.

  'Oh, wait!' Jade put out her hands, then stopped, afraid to quite touch him. She hovered before him like a basketball guard, waiting for him to fall, as he rose stiffly between her hands and kept on rising. He straightened and she found herself blinking at his hard furry chest. She took a step backwards, looking up. 'You shouldn't move,' she protested.

  White teeth showed in what passed for a smile. 'I'll be damned if I'll just sit there in the briars all day! Do you know where there's a hospital?'

  'Yes, but what about leaving your scene of the accident?'

  He scowled around, glanced at the stop sign, then down at her, his grey eyes hard with pain. 'It's pretty clear-cut, isn't it? You never stopped. You admit you jumped the sign and hit me, don't you?'

  'Yes,' she gulped. 'I'm so sorry!'

  'Me too,' he said dryly. 'But we can settle that later.' He stepped forward haltingly, nodded in grim satisfaction, and took another step.

  'Are—are you sure you should walk?'

  His teeth flashed again. 'Want to try carrying me?' he asked rhetorically, limping stiffly towards her car. 'I'm sore, but it's just the arm that really hurts. I fended off with it, and that's all you hit as you came around.' He scowled. 'It would be the right one, wouldn't you know!' He inspected her car contemptuously, and as she opened the door for him, he shook his head. 'I do choose my accidents, don't I?' he said wryly. 'Run down by a beautiful, green-faced redhead in a decrepit VW. I guess I'm lucky you don't drive a Cadillac.'

  'Do you always talk so much, or are you just in shock?' Jade scowled at him.

  He sat down stiffly in the seat, stared glumly at his long, muscular legs yet to be folded inside. 'It's just stark terror, sweetheart. You will stop at all the stop signs, just to please me?'

  She glared at his teasing male face, noticed the muscles knotted tight at the jawline, the teeth clamped shut once the jeering words were out, and nodded humbly. She shut his door gently. She should be grateful he wasn't cursing her, after all.

  The car was full of him, she discovered, when she climbed in. Her hand grazed his hard thigh as she shifted into reverse and backed them on to the road. She tried not to flinch as her knuckles brushed the curly blond hair along his leg again, and then again as she shifted into second.

  He leaned back in the seat and shut his eyes, smiling tightly. 'We'll just have to enjoy it, sweetheart,' he told her quietly, the low voice amused. 'There's no place left for me to gd.'

  Gritting her teeth, Jade shifted to third. 'My pleasure,' she said icily. She would have to run down a wise-guy! 'And I'm not a redhead, by the way.'

  'Oh?' The golden brows clenched as the car jounced through a pothole.

  'I'm sorry!'

  'Sure . . . What ... do you call it, then?' he asked breathlessly.

  'Auburn, when it's this dark.'

  'Whatever you say, lady. Just keep your eyes on the stop signs, and don't ever cut it.' The gold lashes squeezed tight, then eased again as if he were willing his face to relax. He breathed deeply and slowly, as if he were counting each breath.

  Jade stared blindly at the beautiful morning outside her windshield as the little car whirred along the drive. Beyond the mansions on the rocks, the sun was well up, burning off the sea mist, turning the grey dawn Atlantic to morning blue. He'd won their race, slid up the sky, smug and serene, while she bagged her runner. Hubris, that was what Fred and his Greeks would call it, to race the sun. The gods didn't tolerate that kind of pride and nonsense for long, did they?

  Jade bit her lip. Well, they'd brought her down quickly enough. Or she'd brought herself down, rather. To drive without insurance—what dim-witted folly! And then to jump stop signs! She deserved everything that was coming to her, and more. The only mercy was that she hadn't killed the man.

  Though maybe she should have, she thought ruefully. Dead men tell no tales, after all. She flicked a glance at the shuttered face beside her, and smiled wryly. Nope, not a chance. She was lucky she hadn't broken her car, as it was. He was large.

  She stole another look at his profile as they turned off the drive and on to Bellevue Avenue. It was an interesting face. Not so handsome as Fred's, she thought quickly, but arresting, with its hard, flat planes meeting in sharp angles, the long, carved lips, and the hint of a cleft in the square chin. His straight nose hooked slightly at the top, as if he'd broken it once upon a time . . . Rather a hard face, you might say, but then that first impression of toughness was softened by the loose fall of honey-dark blond hair across his brow. And the thick lashes brushing his cheeks seemed to give it
the lie— until you remembered that those closed eyes were not the usual blue, but the grey of granite., or polished steel. An interesting face . . .

  And somehow familiar. Frowning suddenly, Jade turned back to the road. Jack? Why should . . . how could that pain-bleak face remind her of foxy, laughing, despicable Jack? Her hands clenched on the wheel. She hadn't let herself think of Jack in months—and didn't mean to now. No, there was no resemblance. None at all.

  She slowed down smoothly as they encountered traffic, grazed his thigh as she shifted to third. She scanned his doubled legs with their crisp haze of curly gold. Going by their thick muscularity, it looked as if he'd been running for quite some time. You didn't get legs like that in a week, or even a month, of jogging. And he must lift weights as well, she thought, glancing at his arms, or else do manual labour. He was a wholehearted jock of some sort, without a doubt.

  'When do we get there?'

  Jade jumped guiltily and looked up at his face, her clear skin flaming. But his eyes were still shut, thank heavens. 'Just a few more blocks, now . . . Does it hurt?'

  He didn't bother to answer that, but his lips twitched. Slowly they tightened to form a hard line again.

  She pulled up to the emergency room door at the rear of the hospital, and stopped the VW. 'You'd better get out here. I'll park the car.'

  The ice-grey eyes snapped open, inspected her face gravely. 'No, thanks. I'll walk with you, I think,' he said crisply.

  Jade shrugged, flushing angrily as she found a parking place. Did he really think she'd dump him and run? On the other hand, in the age of million-dollar lawsuits, didn't hitting and running have its own dreadful kind of logic? A damage suit could ruin her. Probably would ruin her.

  She climbed out, waiting for him, then realising he couldn't reach the door past his injured arm, she rushed to open it. 'I'm sorry, can I—'

  'No, you can't,' he said briskly, unfolding slowly, as she hovered. He walked stiffly around to the front of the car, studied her licence plate, then glanced at her, eyebrows raised. As he turned and limped towards the hospital, Jade stared after him, seething. His message had been clear enough: she could stay or she could run for it, he would find her in the end. She trailed after him slowly, her face grim.