Taken by the Pirate Tycoon (7 page)

With a faint whirr the skylight opened, sending fresh, warm air into the room. “I like to lie here looking at the sky on a
starry night,” he said. “You don’t see that in the city. Sometimes I leave it open when I go to sleep.”

Samantha pushed aside the picture of Jase lying on the bed, maybe naked or nearly so. “And if it rains?”

He laughed. “The first sign of moisture, it closes automatically.”

There were lights of course, and music that wafted from some unseen source. He touched another control and the blind overhead began to unroll before he stopped it again. Another, and the head of the bed gently rose. “For reading. Or watching TV.”

A square of wall opposite the bed lifted out of the way to display a TV screen set into the cavity. “A Japanese guy has developed a wallpaper that doubles as a screen,” Jase said. “Not in time for me to use it here, and anyway mostly I have better things to do in bed than watch TV.”

Samantha’s eyes flickered away from the gleam in his, and he laughed softly. “Sleeping,” he said. “Reading, using my laptop. Not what you’re thinking, Samantha.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” she informed him, looking him in the eye, daring him to contradict her.

“Of course not,” he said, so soothingly she wanted to shake him. The gleam in his eyes intensified, and her body tautened as he approached her, but with his hand at her waist he walked her out of the bedroom and along the passageway towards the front of the building.

As if by some unseen hand, double doors ahead of them whispered open. Even as she passed through she had an impression of light and space, of entering into a non-earthly dimension.

A vista of green and blue, earth and sky drew her forward across a thick moss-coloured carpet to the huge triangle wall of glass that reached to the floor.

The road was hidden behind a screen of trees, and the countryside stretched for miles. Lush grass and dark, thick native trees were interspersed with splashes of colour in a few farm gardens—pink and purple, gold and red—all under the wide canopy of almost cloudless blue sky.

She caught a glimpse of water glittering in sunlight not too far away, and followed a line of trees that opened here and there to allow more tantalising peeks at a lazy, winding stream.

“Like it?” Jase asked at her side.

“How could your parents bear to leave it?”

“Gets windy up here,” he said. “And they didn’t want a two-storey house for their retirement years. It’s only up this high that the view is worth it.” He looked up, surveying the few ragged clouds scudding upward from the horizon. “If you stay until sunset, it could be a good one. Sometimes they’re pretty spectacular.”

“Sunset’s a long way off.” She looked at her watch, finding it already later than she’d thought. “What would we do in the meantime?”

Jase said, “I could think of a couple of things I’d like to do with you.”

Her eyes flew to his face. Despite the lightness in his voice he wasn’t smiling. And at the heat in his eyes her heart stuttered and her breath paused.

Involuntarily she took a step back—while she still could. Because every nerve she possessed was screaming at her to go forward into his arms, and fear of losing herself there kept her sane and cautious.

The air seemed full of electricity, crackling with it. She was conscious of the sunlight warming her face through the shimmering glass of the windows, the blinding blue of the sky
outside, the softness of the carpet under her feet. In her mind, as if she were an onlooker, she could see herself and Jase facing each other, an arm’s length apart, see the rise and fall of his chest under his shirt, hear the sound of his breathing.

She could have reached out and touched him. Wanted to.

Instead she turned to examine the room, taking in details she had only peripherally noticed.

Large and squishy navy-leather sofas formed a U-shape before that expansive view, bookshelves lined one wall, and on another was a long Maori taiaha—sharply pointed at one end, tasselled at the other, intricately carved along the shaft. Below it hung a large framed map, obviously old—or pretending to be. She moved closer, away from Jase and temptation, and saw the map represented an island, with curlicued legends all around and sailing ships anchored in the harbours.

“New Providence,” Jase said. When she looked around he was standing where she’d left him, hands jammed in his pockets, his expression stone-carved but his eyes watchful. “The island was a hangout for pirates in the seventeenth century. Part of my first commercially successfully game is based on the place.”

“It’s genuine?” She peered at the date on one corner. “Sixteen ninety-nine?”

“According to the expert I got to check it. Might even have come off a real pirate ship.”

“Why did you choose to write pirate games?” she asked, turning back to him.

“Robert Louis Stevenson,” he answered. “
Treasure Island
. After we read the book Ben and Rachel and I played pirate games around the farm—not this one…my father was managing the Donovans’ estate farm then—and in the Donovans’ garden. It was a great place for kids.”

“Rachel? Playing pirates?”

“The most bloodthirsty of the lot.” His stance became a little less rigid, a faint smile playing around his mouth. “And adventurous—the kid didn’t know the meaning of fear. Anything Ben and I did, she wanted to do too. We had to watch out for her all the time, and she still collected a fair number of cuts and scrapes and bruises.”

“Really?” Rachel as a tomboy?

“Scared the wits out of us a couple of times.” Jase’s smile turned ruefully reminiscent. “There are things our parents to this day don’t know. Apart from the fact we were actually quite fond of the little brat, Dad would have skinned us alive if we’d let anything serious happen to her.”

Something twisted painfully inside her. Bizarrely, without right or reason, she was jealous of his
sister
. He’d obviously never grown out of the imperative to protect her. And “fond” was a deliberate understatement. He would willingly die for her if necessary. Without a doubt. She was family, and that was all Jase needed to give his unstinting loyalty and love.

He said, “It was Rachel who started getting library books about real pirates. That’s what sparked her interest in history. And mine, although I didn’t make a career of it.”

“That’s how you came to invent pirate games?” she said.

“What else was I going to do with all that information once I got hooked on computers? Interestingly, piracy in the so-called Golden Age was really all about economics and trade wars, supply and demand. You might appreciate that. I made the games as authentic as possible. Most of the characters and events in them are real.”

“Educational games?”

“Primarily they’re for fun.” He shrugged. “If people learn from them, it’s a side effect.”

“I’ve never seen your games,” she confessed. “I only use computers for work.”

He shook his head as though she were some kind of freakish, previously unknown specimen. “Sit down over there.”

He picked up what looked like a TV remote, and one of the sofas in the U swung aside and lined itself up against another, leaving a clear space between a solid, square coffee table and a large screen in the wall like the one in his bedroom. He used the same gadget to light up the screen.

For the next hour and a half she became a Spanish sea captain trying to get a cargo of gold and gems from the Atlantic coast of America to the mother country, while warding off a horde of swashbuckling, rip-roaring pirates.

At first Jase helped her, patiently explaining what to do. She found it easy enough to follow his instructions and soon got the idea. She knew he was holding off at first, letting her get the hang of the game, but once she managed to disable the pirate ship with a direct hit from her cannons, her competitive streak took over and she leaned forward in her seat, intent on using everything Jase had taught her in a determined effort to destroy the enemy.

Of course Jase won, but she had bloodied him and killed half his crew.

“Not bad for a beginner,” he said as he leaned back after capturing the Spanish ship and surrounding her “avatar,” alias the Spanish captain, with a bunch of fierce and victorious pirates. “I’m afraid your only choice now is surrender.”

“Not on your life.”

“It’s
your
life that’s at stake,” he said.

“I won’t give in. I’m sure the captain would accept death rather than give up his ship.”

“He’s already lost that,” Jase pointed out.

“But not his self-respect. Go on. Do your worst.”

Jase lounged in a corner of the sofa, his eyes alert and watchful beneath half-closed lids. He said softly, “I don’t want to put a sword through your heart, Samantha.”

H
IS
lopsided grin was teasing, but effortlessly sexy, and his tone had changed. Samantha met his eyes, saw unmistakable desire in them and her heart took a startled leap into her throat.

She swallowed, then said huskily, “Aren’t you supposed to give me a chance? Set me adrift in a ship’s boat or something?”

He laughed, a little ruefully, and the heat left his eyes. “Pirates were a pretty ruthless lot. Is a slow death by starvation and thirst better than a quick one by the sword?” He pressed a switch and the screen went blank. He said, “It’s a nice day outside. We could take a walk across the farm. There’s a bit of bush, with a waterfall and a deep pool. We could even swim if you like.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’d be quite safe, I promise.”

Safe? Nothing about being with Jase Moore felt safe. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Afraid of getting out of your depth?” His eyes challenged her.

“I didn’t think you were serious—about swimming.”

He laughed again at her evasion. “A walk then,” he said. “Are you up for that?”

She should say no, tell him she wanted to go home. Back
to the city and her apartment where she could close herself off in her own small world. Where no one dared her to step outside her comfort zone and into new experiences, or delved behind the surface of her carefully cultivated social face to stir up the emotions beneath.

Yet something held her, a feeling that maybe she’d regret taking the coward’s way out.

Perhaps sensing her ambivalence, Jase said, “It’ll be good for you. Country air.”

Jase took her hand to help her over a stile that spanned an electrified fence. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers as they skirted cowpats and tiny blue and salmon-pink wildflowers peeking through the grass. She didn’t object. The ground was uneven and she didn’t want to trip and make a fool of herself. And, honesty whispered, she liked the feel of his strong hand holding hers.

He paused to attack a thistle with the heel of his boot, cutting it off ruthlessly at the root. He’d been brought up on farms and she supposed such things were second nature to him. A wind had sprung up, lifting Samantha’s hair from the back of her neck, and blowing it round her face. She put a hand up to clear her eyes.

A grazing herd of white-faced black cattle stopped to stare in a solid phalanx at the intruders walking past. They looked so comical that Samantha laughed, still trying to deal with her hair. Jase smiled down at her and his hand tightened slightly on hers.

Eventually they entered a gully fenced off from the pasture land, their footfalls silent on moss and fallen leaves under trees growing thick and dark green beside a narrow path, cutting the wind. The sound of rushing water grew louder until they reached a shallow stream strewn with big, smooth stones,
the water leaping and foaming around them and then abruptly sliding over a rocky ledge.

Jase led her on a steep downhill path to the pool below the falls, and they stood so close to the plunging water that fine droplets of spray cooled Samantha’s face.

Something long and black and sinuous stirred in the water at their feet and she backed up instinctively, but Jase had her hand firmly in his. “Just an eel,” he said.

Samantha suppressed a shudder. “And you suggested swimming?”

“Nothing’s going to hurt you here,” he said. “I promise.” Abruptly he took a couple of steps away from her, dropping to the coarse grass at the water’s edge and sitting with one leg straight out in front of him as he rested a forearm on the other knee. “Why don’t you sit down?” he said, indicating the grass beside him.

Samantha hesitated, then sat down nearby but not too close, wrapping both arms about her raised knees.

A tui somewhere in the trees nearby sent a few rich, contralto notes into the air, followed by its distinctive throaty gurgle, as though mocking its own song. A couple of tiny fantails flirted nearby, swooping and darting. Something jumped from the water in a flash of silver and twisted back with a small splash.

“Was that a trout?” Samantha asked, startled.

“There’re a few of them around.” Jase shifted his position, leaning on one forearm as he turned to see her face. “Ever been fishing?”

“I like my fish cooked and on a plate, not wriggling on a hook. I suppose that means I’m a hypocrite, but some things I prefer not to think about.”

“So don’t.”

“It isn’t always that easy.”

“Tell me about it!” he said under his breath. Then, “What are you thinking about now?”

She evaded his eyes, the lazy curiosity in them. “Nothing, except how peaceful it is here.” She returned her gaze to the hypnotically rushing water endlessly hurling itself over the rock face. Jagged shards of sunlight danced through the trees onto the surface of the pool.

Jase watched her profile, the line of her nose, the long lashes that brushed her cheek when she blinked, the curve of her mouth, and the sun glinting on her hair, which had fallen back into its sleek style, to gently brush along her chin. He had a powerful urge to pull her down beside him and make love to her, bury his fingers in her sun-warmed hair, see those almost translucent blue eyes widen and darken, feel her skin heat beneath his hands, her firm but enticingly feminine mouth open for him.

It wouldn’t happen. For one thing, she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. And for another…did she still carry a torch for Bryn?

The thought made him angry, and it was time to quit fooling himself that the anger, smouldering away like white-hot coals inside him for months, was all on his sister’s behalf. The brutal truth was he wanted Samantha for himself. Sometimes he was sure she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended. Or—he considered the alternative—he was an arrogant fool, deceiving himself.

The thought of her opening her heart to the other man—any other man—made Jase’s fists curl.

He said, just to capture her attention, try to gauge her mood, “Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

For a moment she didn’t respond, and when she looked at him briefly her eyes seemed dreamy, as if it wasn’t him she
saw but something inside herself. “Not yet. Unless you want to go,” she said and, when he shook his head, she resumed staring at the water.

His fingers closed around a grass stalk, snapped it from its root. What he wanted to do right now was grab hold of Samantha and kiss her senseless. For a start. For a few moments he enjoyed the thought processes that followed that.

Watching the waterfall, she was apparently oblivious to everything else, including him.

Throwing down the piece of grass he’d mangled, Jase sat up. Samantha turned to him and blinked, as if just remembering his presence. Which didn’t improve his mood. If he’d followed his primal instincts, she’d have damn well noticed him, had something to remember. Maybe he should do it. Find out once and for all if that sexual spark he suspected she was trying to snuff out could be fanned into a consuming flame. The very idea made his body react. He moved restlessly.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked.

“No.” What he wanted wasn’t an option. He’d promised she’d be safe. And whatever she was so afraid of, he knew it included any sexual advances from him. He stood up and strolled away from her, pretending to get a better view of the falls.

Finally Samantha sighed and stood up. The sun had lowered, and as they retraced their steps through the trees the light grew dimmer. They spoke little and Jase merely took her arm a few times when the going was rough.

Entering his apartment again, Samantha saw he’d been right about the sunset. The edges of the clouds were shining gold, and while she and Jase watched from the big window the sun sank lower, turning the clouds fiery red.

As the colours faded from the sky, Jase said, “Sit down and I’ll get us something to eat.”

“You didn’t invite me for dinner,” she protested. “You don’t have to feed me again.”

“Aren’t you hungry? I am. Unless you’d rather stop at a restaurant on the way…”

“No, we’ll eat here if you don’t want to wait. Can you cook?”

Jase laughed. “It might not be haute cuisine, but I can rustle up something.”

“I’ll help.”

“Nope. Trust me. You like rice?”

“Yes.”

“Prawns?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine to enjoy while I get dinner. White or red?”

She asked for white, and as he left the room he clicked his fingers and muted music—light classical—filtered into the room. It took her minutes to spot the discreet speakers inset into the ceiling. More of his computerised gadgetry.

He brought in a bottle and a glass, and after pouring for her left the bottle. Te Mata Elston Chardonnay, she noted. Not a cheap wine.

Presently, as the shadows drew in around the corners of the room, a lamp automatically came on beside the sofa where she’d been leafing through a copy of
Science
magazine, and when delicious aromas began coming from the kitchen she realised she
was
hungry.

Drawn by curiosity, she put the magazine aside, poured herself a second glass of Chardonnay, picked up the bottle and went to the kitchen door. Steam rose from a pan on the state-
of-the-art cooker, and Jase was laying cutlery on a small table in the corner.

He looked up and said, “You don’t mind eating here?”

Samantha shook her head. “No.” It looked rather…intimate but she could hardly object on that ground. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

He nodded to a tray on the counter holding salt, pepper and three sauces. “Put those on the table if you like.”

She arranged the condiments on the table and Jase said, “Sit. It’s ready.”

He brought two plates and placed one in front of her. “The prawns were frozen,” he said, “but fresh out of the sea when they went into the freezer.”

Samantha tasted one from the top of the pile of rice and vegetables on her plate. “It’s delicious,” she told him. The rice was subtly spiced and equally good.

Jase picked up a bottle of Kaitaia Fire chilli sauce and poured it liberally over his rice.

“That’ll burn the roof of your mouth off!” Samantha said, watching.

“I like it hot,” Jase answered. “A bit of spice in your life won’t do any harm.”

“
My
life?”

He looked up, a pink prawn on the end of his fork. “Anyone’s,” he said. “Including yours.”

Samantha looked down at her rice, stirring it. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Want to tell me?”

“No.” She forked up a mouthful of rice, an excuse not to say more.

Jase shrugged, and turned his attention to his own food.

For a while they ate in silence, sipping at their wine, then he said, “Have you enjoyed yourself today?”

“Yes,” she said, unable to keep surprise from her reply. “Very much.”

He finished the last few grains on his plate and said, “Will cheese and fruit do instead of dessert?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

He watched her scoop up the rest of her rice and put her fork down. “You’d say that anyway,” he said, “wouldn’t you? You’ve been properly brought up.”

“And you haven’t?” she countered.

“My mother tried. It’s not her fault it didn’t take.”

She said, “There’s nothing wrong with your manners.” He actually had a better grasp of the courtesies than many men. He opened doors for her, had made sure she didn’t trip on the unfamiliar stairs, and when they walked over the farm had steered her around the cowpats and rough ground. “I’m sure your mother’s proud of you.”

“I hope so.” He pushed back his chair and took her plate, to place it with his own in the dishwasher before opening the refrigerator.

He put three cheeses before her on a platter, and presented a bowl of apples, pears and grapes. “Sorry, I’m out of crackers.”

“This is fine.” She picked up the cheese knife and cut a sliver of Kapiti Kahurangi Blue. Rich and creamy, not too strong, it melted on her tongue. “Mmm,” she said appreciatively, savouring the taste before picking up her wine, to find the glass already three-quarters empty.

When she put it down Jase refilled it, not for the first time, and she didn’t protest. While he cut himself a generous wedge of blue, she kept sipping at the wine, nibbled a couple of
grapes and chose a piece of marigold-coloured hard cheese. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Aged Gouda from the Mahoe cheese factory up north.”

She put it in her mouth and found it crunchy and utterly delicious. Momentarily she closed her eyes, the better to enjoy the flavour before swallowing. “It’s
wonderful!
” she said reverently, reaching for another slice. “I haven’t had this particular one before.”

“You’re a cheese buff?”

“I’m no expert, but I know a good cheese when I taste one.”

“The other one’s a vintage Cheddar,” he said. “I buy most of my cheese from the Vintage Cheese Company at Mercer, on my way between here and Auckland. A pity it’ll be too late when we head back up there. Unless you’d care to stay the night.” His voice was casual.

She had picked up her wine again, but her hand stilled in midair. His eyes when she met them were dark and serious, his gaze steady.

Keeping her voice light, she asked, “Is that a proposition?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “Or you could have the bed and I’ll take a sofa.”

For a moment she had a vision of lying in that big bed, gazing up at the stars, with Jase at her side—after making love.

Carefully she put the almost empty glass back on the table. “I could get a taxi,” she said, “if you don’t want to drive back.”

“It would cost a fortune. But you have one, don’t you? What was it like, being a poor little rich girl?”

“I wasn’t a poor little rich girl.” Her voice was crisp. “And I’m not the only one worth a fortune. I hear you’re close to joining the billionaires’ club. And all your own work too,” she added mockingly.

“A slight exaggeration. At least you know I’m not after your money.”

“I didn’t think you were after anything from me.” Except a promise to keep away from his sister’s husband. Or had they moved on from that? She wasn’t sure.