Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [99]
Jake leaned back in his chair, one long, graceful hand toying idly with her queen. “You know that you could be much better than you are?” he asked quietly. “All you need is a little self-discipline.”
“I know,” she agreed, making a face. “It was drummed into me often enough by my grandfather. But I can't bring myself to play that way. It would take all the fun out of it.”
“Even if it would eventually furnish you with the fruits of victory?” His eyes were curiously searching.
“I'm not that goal-oriented,” she said casually. “I'd much rather enjoy myself along the way.”
“I'm afraid I can't agree with your philosophy.” His mouth curved in that familiar mocking smile. “I always find winning worthwhile. I make a habit of it.”
She already knew that. Jake Dominic had devoted the same single-minded effort to his chess game that he would to any more serious project.
Jane smiled happily as she helped him to collect the ivory chess pieces and replace them in their velvet-lined box. “Well, the contrast of viewpoints makes for an interesting game,” she commented, and concentrated on putting each piece properly in its indented place in the box.
Dominic's eyes flickered with amusement as they fixed on the girl's almost childishly intent face, her pink tongue unconsciously protruding from the corner of her mouth as she gravely put the last piece in the box and closed the lid carefully.
“Yes, it makes for an interesting game,” he repeated slowly, accepting the box from her and replacing it in the drawer.
Jane smothered a yawn as she pushed back her chair and stood up. Now that the tension of the game had ended she was suddenly overpoweringly sleepy. “Thank you for the game, Mr. Dominic,” she said, sounding like a polite little girl. “If you don't mind, I'll say good night now.”
“Would you like some more coffee?” he offered lazily, rising to his feet. He looked at his watch. “It's only a little after eleven.”
She shook her head firmly. “I must get to bed,” she said with a grimace. “I have to get up at six.”
“Oh, yes, I'd forgotten,” he replied absently, with a trace of annoyance in his voice. “Run along to bed, then,” he said curtly. “But be sure you report here at eight sharp tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked, smothering another yawn. “You want me to come again tomorrow evening?”
“I said so, didn't I?” he asked testily, his expression half amused, half annoyed at her obvious lack of appreciation of his desire for her company.
“Okay,” she muttered inelegantly, turning to leave.
“Jane!”
She half turned, to gaze at him like a sleepy kitten from those great golden eyes.
“See that you eat dinner tomorrow. I refuse to wait on any woman two nights in a row.”
four
THAT FIRST DAY SET THE PATTERN FOR THE ones that were to follow. Jane's second day scrubbing decks was even more uncomfortable than the first. The pain in her bruised knees was agonizing, and seemed to grow in intensity as the day wore on. The only relief from the misery of pain and exhaustion came from the increasingly open display of sympathy and support from the other members of the crew.
Simon had introduced her to a number of the crew at breakfast that morning, and Jane had found them to be a genial and friendly group, altogether different from the rough, tough, blustery image she had always had of men who made their livelihood on the sea. That they all possessed a streak of gallantry she was to