At Any Price. Margaret AllisonЧитать онлайн книгу.
still be seen on the mountains that framed Newport Falls. But in the valley, where they had been fishing, the sky was clear and the sun was bright. She had mentioned that she was getting warm and Jack had looked at her, his blue eyes sparking mischief.
He set down his pole and jumped up, pulling off his shirt. He looked at the creek, then back to her again. “You’re right. A swim might be nice.”
“Not that warm,” she said. “The creek is still freezing.”
“Come on. A little swim will do you good.” He took a step toward her, his face lit in a devilish grin. Back then, Jack had the kind of looks sexy movie star heroes were made of: chiseled features, piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. As she looked at him, she could feel her resolve melt. She had always had a hard time saying no to him. But, she reminded herself, this was not going to be one of those times.
“No thanks,” she said. She was willing to suffer to be alone with Jack, but she was fairly certain a dip in freezing cold water would add little to their romance.
“The secret,” he said, taking another step toward her, “is to jump in fast. Real fast.”
She had no doubt that Jack had every intention of dropping her right into the water. Jack cared little for polite gestures. Still, he had every girl in town clamoring to be near him, for although he was a little rough and wild, he was also the most intelligent and charming boy around.
“Jack Reilly!” she said, holding her fishing pole in front of her like a sword. “Don’t even think about it! I’ll…I’ll poke you, I will!”
He plucked the pole out of her hand and tossed it on the ground. “With what?”
She turned and ran away from the stream as fast as she could, hurdling a pile of rocks and hitting the path without losing stride. She was gaining her lead when her foot hit a stump, sending her flying over the path and into a patch of wild strawberries. Jack bounded after her, landing on his feet. He looked at her berry-splattered T-shirt. “You’re hurt,” he said, mistaking the red juice for blood. His tan, handsome face turned a pale white.
But as he leaned in to find the source of the “blood,” she couldn’t withhold her laughter any longer. She pushed him as hard as she could, sending him back on his rear. With a splat he landed smack in the berries. Then she took off running again.
But she wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her from behind. His berry-stained arms wrapped around her like two bands of steel and picked her up, but instead of carrying her off into the sunset, he began walking back toward the stream. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Devonworth,” he said.
“I swear, Jack,” she said, trying to loosen his grip on her. “If you so much as get my little toe damp, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
They were eye-to-eye. The world once again faded away. It was just she and Jack, together. “I’ll, well, I’ll…”
“Idle threats,” he said, his mouth so close she could feel his breath. He paused, then leaned forward as if he was about to kiss her. She closed her eyes, waiting. Maybe not so much as waiting, but willing. Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me, Jack Reilly.
But her fantasy was dashed with the rush of icy water. “Jack!” she yelled as her rear end hit the creek. When he yanked her back up, she pulled him toward her and stuck out her knee, tripping him and sending him into the cold stream.
“There’s no escape,” he said, pulling himself out of the water. As Katie reached the beach, Jack tackled her. He straddled her on the sand, holding her arms above her head. “Give it up, Devonworth.”
Suddenly, Jack paused. He leaned over her, his eyes full of fire as he gazed at her as if for the first time. He stared at the wet T-shirt that clung to her like a second skin, revealing the shape of her breasts. “Katie,” he said hoarsely.
She did what she’d been wanting to do for years: she kissed him. He responded hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands slipped under her shirt. She could feel his raw energy press against her as his fingers gently touched her erect nipples. Although she was a virgin, she was not frightened. She wanted Jack. She needed to feel him inside her, making love to her. She was ready. Her hands clutched the top of his jeans as she fumbled for the snap.
Then, as fast as their passion flared, it banked. Jack pulled away and sat up. “What are we doing?” he asked, running his hand through his thick hair.
She was silent for a minute. Then she said, “I love you, Jack. I always have.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his wet jeans. Without saying a word, he walked away.
Katie heard a noise and turned. Matt was standing behind her, his arms crossed. She looked away, ashamed that he had witnessed such a personal humiliation.
“It’s okay,” Matt said. “I know you love him. I’ve known for a long time. Everyone has. Everyone except Jack.”
Katie could still remember the terrible feeling that engulfed her. Everyone in Newport Falls knew. Knew that she suffered a case of unrequited love.
Matt held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.” She accepted his hand and he pulled her to her feet. He said, “You should know that he doesn’t love you. I mean, he cares about you, but not like that. He never will.”
And Matt was right. Because as soon as Jack was able, he left Newport Falls.
Katie went on to college locally, and when her father died, she took over his struggling newspaper. Then she did the only sensible thing left to do: she married Matt.
“Ms. Devonworth?”
Katie snapped back to reality to see a beautiful blond woman standing in front of her. “Mr. Reilly will see you now,” the woman said.
Katie felt a surge of jealousy as she wondered if the blonde was dating Jack. But so what if she was? Jack was nothing to her anymore. Nothing.
Still, her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain the woman could hear.
She walked through the open doors and into a set from Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Jack’s personal office was every bit as impressive as the building. Huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows, it had a sitting area with a couch and chairs, and a meeting area with a large conference table. The centerpiece of the office, however, was the elaborate, hand-carved desk that sat like a throne in front of a spectacular view of Central Park.
Jack sat at his desk, his back to her. He was facing the window, one hand behind his head as he spoke on the phone.
Being within arm’s reach of him after all this time was enough to take her breath away. But apparently she had little, if any, effect on him. He appeared unaware that she was standing there, and continued talking on the phone as if she was invisible.
She stood for a few minutes, twitching her fingers nervously. Why had the secretary told her to come in if he wasn’t ready? And how dare he treat her as if she was some sort of nobody! She was Katie Devonworth. She had beaten him in almost every game of chess they had ever played. She knew that he was the one who had broken Mrs. Watkins’s window. She knew that he had cried when his father had been sent to jail. She knew—
Jack spun around to face her. He smiled as he hung up the phone. He had changed little in the past nine years. His eyes may have had a few more wrinkles and his hair a few streaks of gray, but the effect was every bit as devastating as it had always been. He was still the most handsome man Katie had ever laid eyes on.
“Katie,” he said, walking around the desk to greet her. He held out his hand. “It’s nice to see you.”
She felt a charge as he touched her. The physical connection, no matter how innocent, was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “And you,” she managed to say, pulling her hand away.
“I was surprised to hear from you.” His tone