Falling For Jack Read Free Page B

before her. Although it was a reasonable size and made of sturdy wooden planks fastened together in a haphazard way, the cottage tilted oddly and appeared about to fall over. A rickety veranda surrounded three sides, and there was even a chimney, also leaning to one side at a precarious angle. It was as if she had walked into the middle of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Did a witch live there? A tiny, overgrown garden lay in the front with the remainder of the house closed in by native shrubs and trees.
    “This is my home-away-from-home. I built it with my own hands,” Jack said, a ring of pride in his voice as, lifting Lara’s case, he walked toward the entrance.
    She trailed uncertainly behind him and climbed the few uneven steps to the porch as he swung the door open almost causing it to fall from its hinges.
    “There you go.” Once again he flung out his arm in a dramatic gesture as she peeped cautiously inside the dimly lit room. The last of the sun’s rays emphasized the layers of dust as it slanted across the fireplace and sparsely furnished living room. At the end of the room was a dining table and chairs and beyond that, a small kitchen with a heavy iron stove and antiquated fridge.
    Without stopping, he led the way along a short, narrow passage and into a bedroom containing a double bed and mattress. He placed Lara’s case on the bed. She flinched as a large and very startled spider scurried across the mattress and disappeared.
    “You can have this room, seeing you’re the paying guest.” He turned to her with a dazzling smile, his teeth brilliant white in his tanned face. “There’s a smaller bedroom across the passage, which I can use.” With an innocent expression he added, “It’s quite big inside, isn’t it?”
    At last, she found her voice. “I can’t stay here. It’s filthy. You’re crazy to suggest it.” She knew her face had to express a look of horror as she placed a finger into the dust on the tiny dressing table.
    “Oh, I know it’s not up to the standard of your posh rental and it needs a bit of a clean but that won’t take you long. Just flap a duster around, or whatever you women do, and it’ll look beautiful, I’m sure. While you’re doing that, I’ll start up the generator so we can have some light and use the fridge. Then I’ll catch us a couple of fish for supper.”
    He turned away but Lara caught his arm. “Just a minute. Do you really expect me to clean the mess in here?” she asked, aware as she was speaking of the hard, rippling muscles flexing beneath her hand.
    He faced her with a polite, but puzzled look. “Well, it’s not usually this messy, but I haven’t been here for a while,” he explained in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “But, it comes up well with a bit of spit and polish.”
    She watched as he wiped a loving hand over the dusty headboard. Was this man mad or what? She hesitated realizing she had really got herself into a jam. After her big, brave statement to her mother about wanting time alone without being protected by detectives and companions, the first thing she had done was to trap herself on an island with a mad man, or even worse, a rapist and murderer.
    But she wasn’t going to show she was afraid — that was the worst thing she could do. She decided attack was the best form of defense. Lifting her chin, she put on what she considered to be her most haughty and fierce expression.
    “Now listen, Jack. I do not intend to clean your dirty house or do any of the other chores you may like to allocate to me. I shall sleep on the beach tonight, and if you as much as come within ten yards of me then I’ll…I’ll kill you.” She held up a bunched fist in the most aggressive pose she could remember from her self-defense classes.
    “Does this mean you won’t want any supper?”
    She snorted in a very unlady like fashion. This guy was crazy.
    “Of course, if I can’t get Jezebel started, we could be here tomorrow night as well, and even the next