Jenny mounted the bike, her heart thundering with excitement
and the fear of the unknown. She had no idea what awaited
her at the end of this path, no idea what threats lay
lurking in the shadows. She knew only that for the first
time in her life she felt free, at peace. She could stay
here forever, breathing in the crisp sea air, listening to
the chirruping birds, losing herself in the gentle caress of
the breeze blowing against her face as she rode deeper and
deeper into the shivering forest.
Before long the house she sought loomed ahead, a rustic
wooden structure perched on the edge of a sea cliff. From
where she stood, it seemed as if one strong gust of wind
could send the two-story cottage tumbling down the jagged
rock into the hungry mouth of the ocean.
No lights shone inside the narrow windows, but she caught a
flash of movement on the porch. A tall, solitary figure
stood, bracketed by the falling sun. The wind whipped his
hair, the shoulder-length strands reminding her of a warrior
in an old movie she'd once seen.
Pedaling up the pebble-dotted path, she approached the
stranger. Somewhere in her rational brain she knew she
should be afraid. There was something unattainable, almost
forbidding about him. But fear didn't hold her back this
time. Fascination quickened her pulse, propelling her forward.
The wind rustled through the lofty maples and brittle pines,
masking the sound of Jenny's bike as she drew nearer. With a
surge of anticipation, she put the bike aside, strapped her
duffel bag over her shoulder, and climbed the wooden steps
of the porch. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet and the
man slowly turned toward her, his face shadowed by twilight
and a curtain of black hair falling across his left cheek.
Surprise shimmered in his eyes right before he looked away.
His grip tensed, tightening around the railing. Stunned,
Jenny watched him turn his back to her, his broad shoulders
taut with unease.
"What do you want?" Despite the words he spoke, his voice
wasn't harsh. It was calm, soothing like a lullaby.
"Are you Daniel Frost?"
He nodded, allowing her a scarce glimpse of his right
profile. It was a handsome profile, with a high, chiseled
cheekbone and a straight sculpted nose, which led down to a
pair of full lips and a powerful chin. Not a face one should
feel inclined to hide.
"I'm Jenny Logan," she said, a beehive of activity
fluttering in her chest. "The assistant you hired."
The first thought that lanced through Daniel's dazed mind
was that someone had made a horrible, horrible mistake.
Even though he hadn't specifically asked the employment
agency to send him a male assistant, he had emphasized that
the job could prove too strenuous for a woman. But right
now, the job requirements were the least of his worries. He
couldn't work with a woman, couldn't have a woman living in
his home.
Especially one so breathtakingly beautiful. When he first
saw her, for a brief moment he thought he'd dreamed
her—a specter from his wildest fantasies, gliding up
his front porch, her deep, solemn eyes asking him why he
stood alone gazing at the sunset. In that frozen moment he'd
forgotten about his face, had wanted nothing but to look at her.
"Assistant?" He stared at the sun sinking into the sea, its
vibrant colors bleeding into the sky only to fade like
threads of mist. As the last pulsing rays dimmed, dusk
finally fell, bringing with it the comforting cloak of darkness.
"Yes. You did hire an assistant, didn't you?"
He searched for something to say that would settle this mess
and send her back where she'd come from. All he managed was
a nod. Thick, empty silence swelled between them. "I wasn't
expecting you until tomorrow," he finally uttered. "I
thought I was picking you up at San Juan. How did you get here?"
"I have a friend who owns a boat. He dropped me off. I
wanted to get a head start on the job. Is that all right?"
No, it wasn't all right. Her presence here was nothing but a
huge mistake. Why wasn't she afraid? What kind of woman
accepted a job with a stranger on a remote island?
"You know, it's pretty hard to talk to someone when he has
his back turned to you."
His heart gave an involuntary jolt. He didn't want her to
look at him, didn't want to catch that inevitable flicker of
pity and revulsion in her eyes. But he knew he had to turn
around sooner or later, and nightfall had descended just in
time to conceal him. Slowly, he pivoted on his heels,
praying the wind wouldn't blow his hair off his face.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" She smiled at him
and her expression glimmered with humor and friendly warmth.
The darkening night had had the intended effect. He was
safe, for now.
"You just caught me off guard."
"Then let's do this again." Extending her hand, she waited
for him to meet it. "I'm Jenny Logan."
A swift, primal instinct urged him to wrap his fingers
around hers, but he hesitated. She seemed too perfect for
his touch, too ethereal to be breathing the same air as he.
Long dark locks swayed around a face as fine as a porcelain
doll's. Wide, curious hazel eyes fringed by long black
lashes gave her a childlike innocence, contrasted by a
moist, sensual mouth and a curvaceous body.
Aware that he was staring, he met her handshake, if only to
prove to himself she was flesh-and-blood real. An unfamiliar
heat instantly spread through him, drowning his voice.
"Daniel Frost," he whispered.
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