The Darling Jade Page 5

Jade turned away. Now where was that bathroom? Circling the gallery, she found it above the bathroom on the first floor, tucked behind the two-storey chimney wall.

  In the bathroom's mirrored walls, she inspected herself with loathing. How could she have forgotten a hat? Her cheeks might not peel, but the tip of her nose was a lost cause. She glanced around for the hand mirror and a gleam of silver caught her eye.

  She picked up the mirror gingerly. She knew whose this was, even before she saw the delicate engraving along the handle—'Mona.' She stared into the oval glass. Framed by ornate scrolls of sterling silver, a vivid face leaped back at her, its green eyes ironic. 'Yes, I know,' she told the mirror, 'we clash. You want your snow mistress back.' And where was the silvery blonde who matched this mirror? She swung around to study the back of her neck. Fried was the word for it! Jade set down the mirror and began to undo her braid. At least she could hide the damage.

  'Hey, Red!' Zan's bellow sounded from below.

  Jade gritted her teeth. There was no way she'd answer to that name.

  There was a moment of silence. 'Green?' he tried doubtfully.

  She smiled in spite of herself. 'You're getting warm,' she called back, stepping into the hallway.

  'Jade!' His voice held a note of delighted recollection.

  'You've got it!' she laughed, then leaning over the balcony, she caught her breath.

  Flat on his back, Zan lounged directly below her on the sofa, his good arm tucked behind his head. He smiled up at her lazily. That's how a man's supposed to look, she thought rapidly, taking in those wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, the long, hard legs fuzzed with pale gold. So why don't more men look like that? Suddenly conscious of the silence, she met his sleepy gaze.

  'I like your hair like that, Rapunzel,' he said softly.

  'Are you all right?' she asked doubtfully, ignoring the compliment.

  He shook his head, grey eyes mournful.

  'What's the matter, Zan?' Could his arm be hurting him?

  'Advanced starvation,' he pronounced weakly. 'We've got to go shopping—I can't write on an empty stomach.'

  Jade stared down at him in exasperation. 'Zan, I signed on as a typist, not a shopping service! That's not part of the deal.'

  His eyes narrowed to a beam of cold light, as his lips shaped a hard line. 'Jade, as far as I see it, you are here to help me do any and everything I could do for myself three days ago, before we . . . bumped into each other,' he clipped out. He tapped his cast bitterly. 'You'll have noticed I can't straighten the elbow joint. You try shifting a car's stickshift like that!'

  Jade nibbled her bottom lip. 'I didn't think of that. . . I'm sorry.' She brushed her hair back from her eyes. 'I'm afraid I've sold my car ...'

  Zan's eyebrows jumped, but he nodded approval. 'Just as well. You wouldn't have gotten me in that uninsured death-trap again.'

  'Death-trap!' she sputtered.

  He rolled over and stood up. 'Let's go, Jade,' he commanded, holding out his arm and his cast. 'Jump— I'll catch you.'

  'Oh, thanks. You'd look terrific in double casts!' she laughed down at him.

  He grinned. 'Then I'd really be at your mercy!' His smile faded. 'Offer withdrawn.' He wandered off towards the kitchen.

  'Drive that? You've got to be kidding, Zan!' Jade stared at the teardrop shape of the racy old Porsche. In the dusk of the garage, the antique sports car gleamed a deep forest green.

  'I am not. You'll drive it and like it, before I'm done with you, sweet.' Zan stepped into the garage, trailing his fingers along the car's sleek curves in an absent caress. 'I bought it just to match your eyes, Jade. You've got to drive it.' He turned to face her, eyebrows up. 'Now put your hand out and come forward slowly . . . and whatever you may feel, act confident. She can sense fear in an instant.' He jerked his chin gently. 'Come on.'

  Jade shook her head and stepped forward, half expecting the Porsche to growl and take a nip at her legs. She stopped by the left door, eyeing Zan across the low top.

  'By Jove, Jade,' he murmured in a fruity English accent, his eyes wide, 'I believe she likes you! She doesn't usually take to strangers.'

  She scowled at him. 'Did you remember to tell the doctor that you landed on your head the other day, Zan? He must have some kind of pill that will help you.'

  His face was solemn. 'There's no cure for what ails me, sweet.' His lips twitched faintly. 'It's terminal every time. Get in.'

  The inside of the Porsche reminded her of a WWI bomber—primitive, utterly masculine, mysteriously functional. The low leather seat gave softly, then cupped to fit her. Jade stared at the dash in dismay. 'What's that?' She pointed at a dial.

  "The tachometer, chump.' Settling in beside her, Zan suddenly seemed enormous. He closed his door awkwardly.

  'They left that off my Volkswagen,' she murmured, stretching her long legs out. Her toe just grazed the brake pedal.

  'You'll have to adjust the seat, Jade,' he prompted.

  'Where's the lever?'

  'I forget. I haven't changed it in three years.'

  She glanced at him nervously. 'No one else drives her?'

  'Not till now,' Zan said softly. 'You're the first.'

  This seemed significant to him, though she couldn't see why. Bringing the seat forward, she fingered the stickshift gingerly. The clutch was surprisingly stiff. She ran through the forward gears once, and then twice again as he watched narrowly.

  'Okay, now this is reverse.' Zan shifted awkwardly with his left hand, then made her follow the pattern. 'Now, let's see you back out of here.' He handed her the keys.

  Jade bit her lip. His unblinking attention was beginning to unnerve her. She fumbled for the ignition. There wasn't one. She flicked a wary glance at Zan. Was this a joke?

  His grin was utterly male, the product of centuries of mechanical superiority. 'Other side, sweet,' he said softly.

  'What? Oh!' She stared indignantly at the ignition. Why hide it to the left of the wheel? 'The name is not "sweet", by the way,' she said carefully. The engine throbbed awake with a soft purr.

  'No, you're not sweet,' Zan agreed smoothly. 'But if I called you "tart", you'd probably take it wrongly.'

  Glaring into his laughing eyes, Jade shifted into reverse and let the clutch out. The Porsche lunged backwards, then died with a soft grunt. 'Damn!' she said feelingly.

  'Try it again, Jade, and this time go a little slower and smoother with the clutch, and give her more gas,' he advised, settling back with the air of a man prepared to be patient.

  Jade glanced in the rear-view mirror as she started the engine again. The garage was built into the side of the landscaped slope above the condominiums, and the pavement behind the Porsche slanted up to the doorway. It would take some power to back up that narrow ramp. Faintheartedness would not pay here. She bit her lip.

  'Try it again, sweet,' Zan encouraged brightly.

  Flicking a savage glance at him, she stamped on the pedals. Rubber squealing, the Porsche shot backwards into the sunlight and died.

  'Cripes!' Zan breathed reverently, pushing himself off the dash.

  Her teeth flashed white as she smiled back at him, daring him to say a word. Just one.

  He rubbed a fist thoughtfully across his lips, his eyes measuring her glittering green gaze. Gold brows lifted in a faint shrug. 'Try first,' he said mildly. 'It should be easier.'

  It was. The Porsche pounced forward and kept moving. She had it how. They mounted the rise to the main road with hardly a hiccup. Jade glanced at him smugly.

  'And best of all, I'm insured,' he told her, his eyes dancing. 'Just keep an eye out for moving stop signs.'

  Driving a Volkswagen would never be the same again, Jade thought wistfully, as she swung the Porsche into the teeming parking lot of the local supermarket. It was dangerous to acquire tastes you couldn't afford. Weaving through the traffic, she found an empty space and pulled in, mindful of the gleaming flanks of the sports car. Zan sighed softly in unconscious relief and straightene
d his shoulders as the engine shut down. He looked around with the air of a dreamer awakening.

  Jade laughed. 'That wasn't so bad, was it?' She was absurdly proud of herself suddenly, eager for praise.

  Zan considered her boastful face, a smile tugging at the corners of his straight lips. 'Not bad at all, for a first run. I thought you showed remarkable restraint back there, when we passed that jogger.'

  'Brute!' Handing him the keys, she slipped out, and turned to see him grapple with his door. She bit her lip and looked away guiltily.

  'Come on, Jade.' Zan's hand closed on her upper arm, sending warm tremors fluttering across her shoulders. 'Your job is to restrain me. I can feel a feeding frenzy coming on.' He tugged her along gently, his long legs taking one stride for each two of her steps. 'Don't let me buy more than two cartons of ice cream!'

  Jade laughed and glanced ahead at the store windows, and her smile faded. How many times had she and Fred shopped here together, for some meal they were sharing? Or had met here by accident? Why, everyone they knew in town shopped here! She glanced down at the hand on her arm with vague distress, and stopped short. This was all wrong. She stared past Zan's quizzical face towards the entrance, and swallowed hard. She didn't want to go shopping with Zan. She shook her head and stepped back, pulling away from him.

  'What's the matter, Jade?' His eyes probed her face.

  'I . . . have to get something at the pharmacy, Zan,' she managed breathlessly. 'Why don't we just meet at the car?'

  He shook his head, his eyes suddenly cold. 'Meet me in the store . . . I'll need help with the bags,' he said curtly. He strode off without her, half a head higher than any man he passed, and she looked after him unhappily.

  That was stupid, Jade decided a few minutes later as she stood staring at the shampoos. Shampoos for grey hair, shampoos for bleached hair, shampoos for dry hair, and a miracle in every bottle. True love and happiness for ever, if one only chose the right brand. Now why had she panicked like that? She wandered down the pharmacy aisle, contemplating hair products gloomily. Fred . . . she would have to telegram Fred tomorrow, and then follow that up with a letter reassuring him that this was just a postponement, not a change of heart . . . She found herself staring at the crème rinses, which she was nearly out of, come to think of it. Too bad, because she hadn't a penny on her.

  She stopped, frowning. What was she going to do about money, anyway? Fred had arranged for her to work as an illustrator and general assistant for the project, and she'd counted on that to give her pin money for the summer. If any big expenses had come up, Fred's salary would have covered them, of course. But now what would she do? She scowled at the hair sprays.

  She'd not got much for selling her VW yesterday, but it should keep her in groceries and paint for a month at least.-And if she had paints, she could manage for the rest of the summer, she told herself firmly—if Zan gave her time to use it, that was. The tourists who jammed Newport's streets in the summer months had an insatiable hunger for seascapes. Come to think of it, she'd better rescue her pet paintings tomorrow, or they'd all be gone. She moved on.

  But would he give her time to paint? He'd certainly kept her busy enough today. Well, I'll just have to make time, she decided, Zan or no Zan. He can't write every minute. In the meantime, it was probably best to humour him. A happy master was a good master. She smiled wryly. Three months or one book, whichever comes first, she promised herself. I can stand it. Rubbing her thumbs across sore fingertips, she hurried out of the drugstore.

  Jade found Zan amongst the crackers, honey-blond hair falling in his eyes as he stooped to inspect the boxes. She stopped beside him.

  'Find what you need?' he asked idly, his eyes scanning the saltines.

  'Er . . . yes.' She'd forgotten her lie already.

  Zan's pale eyes swung to her empty hands, and then up to her face. He examined her thoughtfully. 'Oh?'

  'Lip-gloss,' she explained, hastily, her hands clenching. That at least would have fitted into the pocket of her shorts.

  Zan's eyes moved to her bare lips and lingered there for a long moment and then to her cheeks. 'Floodtide,' he murmured gently, turning back to the crackers. Rubbing a hand across her hot face, Jade scowled at his back. Damn the man, anyway.

  'Bring the cart over here, Jade,' he commanded, grabbing two boxes in a big hand. He dumped them in, and reached for more. And more.

  'You're expecting company, Zan?'

  He smiled. 'Nope, I'm just expecting not to waste time shopping. I'd rather write.' He jerked his chin at the cart. 'Why don't you push?'

  'All right.'

  Zan padded beside her, his restless laser eyes sweeping the shelves and then flicking to the shoppers as they passed by. Two bottles of steak sauce in one hand, he stopped to watch an old man shuffle past with a cart full of cat food.

  'Your mother never told you not to stare, Zan?' she teased.

  Turning back to her, his eyes were suddenly sorrowful beneath the thick gold lashes. 'I never had a mother, Jade,' he explained bravely. 'I'm an orphan.'

  'Oh.' She bit her lip in sympathy. 'I'm sorry, Zan.'

  He shot her a contrite glance. 'And I'm a liar, sweet. Pay me no heed. Starvation brings out the worst in me.'

  His lips twitched. 'That and wide-eyed girls who believe everything you tell 'em.' He touched her arm to start her moving again, the lines fanning out from his own wide eyes.

  Jade scowled. He was impossible! 'Seriously, Zan, why do you watch people like that?'

  He reached up to the soy sauce, muscles sliding under the brown skin of his arm. 'I'm a writer, sweet, remember? Where do you think the material comes from?' Wedging two bottles into the cart, he straightened to look down on her. 'In fact, in the novel I'm working on now, there's going to be a heroine with long hair. . .'He reached out to lift a curl of hair off her shoulder, rubbed it slowly between his fingers. 'Hair like a curtain of silk . . .' His eyes danced as they met her horrified gaze. 'And the funny thing is, she thinks it's auburn, while everyone else thinks . . .'

  Jade pulled back from his hand, her eyes flashing. Zan didn't let go. Her hair stretched between them, a gleaming leash. 'Don't you dare!' she hissed.

  Grinning evilly, he lifted the lock over her shoulder and set it free. 'Try to stop me,' he teased.

  'Try to get it typed!' she shot back.

  His gold brows jumped. 'That could be a problem,' he conceded. 'In the meantime, come tell me what kind of barbecue sauce you like.' Touching her shoulder, he eased her along the aisle.

  'I like?' Jade flashed him a wary look. 'Why does that matter?'

  'I'm just seeking housewifely advice, sweet. What kind do you feed lover boy?' Zan looked down at her innocently.

  Lover boy. Jade shut her eyes and took a deep breath. And another. She couldn't let him get to her like this. She wouldn't. She opened her eyes. 'Try the Krafts,' she cooed, her eyes glinting dangerously.

  He laughed softly, conceding defeat, and took four bottles. 'Let's get the meat,' he suggested, 'before I faint dead away.'

  In the meat department, he leaned over the steaks hungrily. 'What kind do you usually buy, Jade?'

  Her smile was genuine this time, and wry. 'The cheapest, Zan, when I buy them at all. I'm a teacher in a private high school, remember?'

  He nodded, his eyes caressing the beef. 'Do you like teaching?'

  Jade considered that. 'Do you know the rhyme about the little girl, with the curl in the middle of her forehead? When she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was—'

  'Awful,' he chanted for her, looking up and grinning now. 'What would you rather do?'

  'Paint.'

  Zan nodded again, his grey eyes serious. 'I want to see your work.'

  'I suppose you will, sooner or later.' She looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed.

  'Okay,' he announced decisively. 'We've poked around long enough. Let's get moving. Hold out your hands, Jade.' He selected a T-bone and handed it to her, and then anot
her. Flipping through the selection, he chose a third, and a fourth. 'Let's try a few rib eyes,' he suggested, stacking packages into her hands.

  Jade wrinkled her nose. 'Stop! That's all I can carry!' Hooking her chin over the top package, she retreated towards their cart.

  He was over in the poultry section prodding fryers when she returned. 'Wouldn't it be better to buy them cut up, Zan?' she asked doubtfully. How would he manage with one hand?

  But his smile was serene. 'I know what I'm doing, woman. Take this. And this . . .'

  She stared down at the mounting packages. 'How big is your freezer?'

  'Big.' He brushed the hair off his forehead. 'Now let's get some vegetables. And don't let me forget charcoal, whatever you do.' He touched her arm, urging her onward. Obviously starvation was setting in rapidly. Loading the cart methodically, they rounded the end of the vegetable aisle.

  Jade stopped short. 'This is what you need, Zan.' She inspected the potted plant display and chose a begonia in a hanging basket. It was just about to bloom.

  But Zan looked sceptical. 'How do you cook 'em?'

  'Brute!' She flinched away, hugging the plant to her breast. 'Pay him no heed, baby,' she murmured into its leaves, 'he never means anything he says.' She looked up at him warily. 'You don't have a single plant in your place, Zan.' Reaching up, she brushed his chin with the leaves coaxingly.

  His pale eyes regarded her through the foliage. 'I don't have plants for a good reason, Jade. I have a black thumb, and Mona's is brown. And if it survived us, our tenants would no doubt deliver the coup de grace.' He smiled gently.

  She lowered the begonia, and looked down at its soft leaves, suddenly, inexplicably, sad. 'Tenants?'

  'The condo's just a summer place, Jade. We'll rent it out for the winters. I don't like the cold. Not for long anyway.' He studied her face, then glanced at the begonia. 'Looks like a healthy little devil,' he murmured judiciously. 'But can you housebreak it?'

  'Housebreak it. . .' she looked up indignantly. 'Why, this one will chase burglars and fetch the morning paper!'

  His eyes crinkling, Zan took the plant from her and balanced it carefully in the cart, 'Tell you what,' he said lightly, 'we'll buy it for you, and you can loan it to me until September.' He inspected-her face sternly. 'But you feed it, you walk it, and it doesn't sleep on our bed!'