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The next morning, Jemma was up before Miriam. Leaving her grandmother sleeping peacefully, she grabbed her laptop and headed for the coffee shop. It was the first Date Day for Paul and his chosen partner. They were going on a whale-watching tour, and Jemma needed to be at the Steveston Pier by one-thirty. But first she had to figure out how to get there.
The scent of cinnamon and the growling of an espresso machine greeted her as she walked in the door. Colin swirled caramel sauce onto whipped topping and handed the mug to a customer. Jemma stepped to the counter.
“Good morning, sweetie,” he said in his gravelly baritone.
“Not really.” She dug in her pocket, pulling out enough change for her usual small. “I have car trouble, which I can’t afford. So I need your Internet, and your printer if I can beg it of you.”
“No problem. Chocolate will help. Have a cookie.” He slid one the size of Jemma’s palm onto a saucer and waved away her cash. “Today, it’s on me. People with car troubles get a free pass.”
The guy waiting his turn behind Jemma said, “I have car troubles, too.”
Colin pointed a finger. “Her, I know. You, I don’t. You come into my shop a few more times, you might get a free cookie when you have problems. Today, de nada.”
Googling “car won’t start makes clicking noise” gave Jemma hope. As a backup plan she also plotted out the route by public transit from the sound stage to Steveston Pier, while crossing all her fingers—and her toes—she wouldn’t need to use it. She wiped crumbs off her keyboard and swallowed the last of her coffee before running off a few pages on Colin’s printer and dashing home.
Miriam sat at the kitchenette table with her morning toast. “Where were you?”
“Using the Internet at the cafe. I had to figure out what is wrong with your car.”
“My car?”
Jemma rummaged under the sink for rags and a wire brush and put them in a bag. “It broke down, remember? I couldn’t get it started after work last night.”
“Since when do you drive my car to work? You always take a bus to Spoonful.”
Jemma stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Took a bus to Spoonful. I don’t work there anymore.”
“You don’t?” Confusion clouded Miriam’s baby blue eyes and wrinkled her forehead.
Jemma returned and knelt in front of her. “I haven’t worked there for weeks. Don’t you remember?” She patted Miriam’s hand as it lay in her lap, delicate bones close to bursting through the paper-thin skin.
“Of...of course I do.”
But Jemma knew she didn’t.
“Gramma, I have to go. When I get back tonight, we’ll talk, okay?” She kissed her gently on the forehead. “Don’t worry about anything right now.”
––––––––
Jemma took a bus to the Skytrain station, transferred to another bus at the other end of the run, and transferred one more time before finally arriving at the stop within walking distance of the sound stage. By the time she reached the parking lot she was disgruntled, cranky and pessimistic.
She released the hood on the Civic. After wrestling with the gunked up connections on the car’s battery, she managed to yank them off. Using the wire brush, she scrubbed the terminals and the connectors, wiped them with a rag, and reconnected them. Using images she’d found on the web, she located the starter and randomly wiggled the wires attached to it.
Not daring to do any more, she climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition.
Moment of truth.
The engine stuttered and groaned. Jemma held her breath.
It settled into its normal complaining whine.
She lowered her head to the steering wheel and sent a quick thank you to whichever spirits watched over cash-strapped production assistants. All she had to do was baby it a couple more weeks. Then she might have enough money to let a mechanic look at it.
“I knew you could do it, Greta.” She patted the dash. “Now, let’s go to work.”
––––––––
Salt spray leaped into Paul’s face and he laughed. The Zodiac, large enough for forty people, included a large open deck as well as a glass-walled cabin. He and Fenella stood at the prow dressed in bright red survival suits. Fenella’s hair whipped about her face, the strands glinting golden in the bright sunshine. She smiled, but her hands squeezed the railing with desperate pressure.
“Are you having a good time?” he shouted above the noise of the wind and water and engine.
“Fantastic.” Her brown eyes, tinged with trepidation, gave away the lie.
“There’s nothing to worry about.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. “We’re completely safe.”
“We’re on a boat made of rubber and air. We’re searching for enormous creatures with extremely sharp teeth. Creatures that hunt by propelling themselves onto land and snatching seals off rocks.”
He gave her a quick hug. “It’s a big boat, Fenella. I don’t think the orcas are going to launch onto it and start chomping.” Her arm clutched his waist.
Behind her, a blank black lens stared at him. The camera it belonged to perched on the shoulder of one of the videographers, who was working hard to keep his balance as the boat rode the waves.
Time to start earning his money. This was a dating show, and viewers wanted to see a romance blossom. He did his best to remember the advice Lainie had given him earlier.
“Where are you from, Fenella?”
“Saskatoon.” The boat slammed into a wave and she clung to him with both arms. “We don’t have oceans in Saskatchewan.”
As the boat plowed on, he kept Fenella chatting about her life before the show. He wasn’t too surprised to discover she wanted to be an actress. As she told him about her career to date he let his mind wander. He felt itchy, knowing he was under the scrutiny of numerous cameras and the entire television crew. He wondered where Jemma was. He’d caught a glimpse of her, also clad in a bright red suit, as she boarded with everyone else. She hadn’t looked his way. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had. He couldn’t ignore her, even if that was what she wanted. She intrigued him as much as she irritated him.
The loudspeaker over his head squawked. “We sighted a pod of orcas about here yesterday,” the captain said from his station at the rear. “Once we come around this point...” The line of dark green trees edging the ocean gave way to a rocky prominence. The Zodiac swung left. “And there you are.”
Six or seven inky blue-black blades cut through the water. Paul clapped Fenella’s shoulder. “Look!”
An enormous, sleek body broke the surface of the water. Not broke. Surged. It pushed aside the ocean, rocketing to the sky, twisting and rolling before smashing down in a fountain of spray. Its magnificence punched him in the gut, a body-blow of awe and wonder. He looked at Fenella, eager to share his delight. She watched with nothing more than a pasted-on smile, fear shimmering in her eyes.
Disappointed, more for her than himself, he turned back to the display, revelling in the athleticism, the artistry. The boat turned to put the animals off the port side. As he swung around to keep them in view, a different flash of movement drew his attention.
Jemma’s pink bangs fluttered wildly around her face. She stood twenty feet away, tucked behind crew and equipment, outside the door leading into the covered viewing area. She gripped the railing circling the edge of the boat, leaning over as far as she could, as though she wanted to throw herself into the water and join the incredible creatures.
The boat plummeted into a deep wave trough, and she rocked on her feet. As she regained her footing, she looked toward the front of the boat. Straight into his eyes.
His breath jammed. That wide-eyed stare, that unearthly blue, smashed into him. Her face, pale except for bright patches of red flushed there by the wind, paled even more. Her chest heaved, as if she, too, was unable to draw in air. Then she dropped off the rail and was gone, disappearing through the door into the cabin beyond.
––––––––
What the hell. What the hell!
Jemma gasped, her lungs sucking in oxygen. She dropped heavily onto a shiny scooped seat inside the cabin.
What the hell had changed in that one vital, vibrant second?
She’d seen Paul arrive, seen him stride across the pavement with Lainie, and had released a breath of relief when he disappeared inside the tour office. If only he was always that easy to avoid. But once on the boat, and without chores to keep herself occupied, she found herself studying him.
She sensed no chemistry between him and the female contestant. Not that she was surprised. Who could be themselves with cameras and boom mics and producers and a dozen others watching?
When she spotted the orca pod, she was mesmerized. Their freedom, their balletic agility drew her in, called to her at a deep, primitive level. She yearned to be with them, to flow through the water like they did, as if it was part of her being.
Then she stumbled, and when she regained her footing found herself staring into Paul’s eyes.
The sensual tug was primal, elemental. A recognition of man to woman, woman to man.
It terrified her.
She hunkered down and let her breathing settle, her pulse slow.
Since the first time they’d met she’d been so busy surviving—escaping Dane, finding work, dealing with a car that wouldn’t start, worrying about Miriam—she hadn’t allowed herself to pay too much attention to him as a man. Sure, he was attractive. She’d noticed from the first. But this was more than attraction. This was lust, deep, undeniable lust for a hot, sexy, nibbly man.
A man she couldn’t have, and didn’t want to want.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
“Are you okay? You’re not seasick, are you?” Lainie’s voice broke into her flurrying thoughts.
Jemma opened her eyes a slit. “I’m fine. How’s it going?”
Lainie frowned. “Fenella looks petrified, which isn’t what we were going for. Paul, on the other hand, is great. Handsome, smart, charming. Viewers are going to cheer for him to find the right woman.” She looked at Jemma sharply. “You sure you’re okay?”
Jemma suppressed another groan and rose to her feet. “Did you need anything?”
“No. We’re coming into shore. Stay out of Paul and Fenella’s way, so you don’t end up in the shot.”
“No problem.” No problem at all. Staying out of Paul’s way was exactly what Jemma planned to do.