Mr. Irresistible Page 9

  She ignored the inference. “Were your parents strict?”

  “What?” he asked lazily. “Are you going to psychoanalyze me now?”

  “I’m a journalist. I ask questions.”

  “Mum was adamant that all her kids would receive a good education. On Dad’s wages, and with five of us, that was quite some mission, so she got a job cleaning at our local college at about the age I started to care what people thought.”

  There was none of his usual flippancy as he stared out across the river. “For a while I managed to keep out of her way. Then one day she walked into the classroom, mop in hand, with my lunch—I’d forgotten it—and the secret was out.” He steered them around a snag.

  “Some of the boys gave me a hard time, and I thought they were right to. I even lectured her after school about staying the hell away from me.” He looked over at Kate. “I’m still making it up to her.”

  Jordan suddenly realized he was giving too much away. He dug his paddle into the water and grinned. “And the fact that it ties into a caveman fantasy for women is a bonus.” Her lovely mouth tightened in disapproval and he couldn’t resist winding her up some more. “But I only use my powers for good,” he assured her. “Good times.”

  Shaking her head, Kate returned to paddling.

  “I’m joking,” he said, then thought about it. “Well, mostly. C’mon, Kate. Don’t tell me you’ve never once capitalized on your looks.”

  Water splashed the side of the canoe as she mistimed her stroke. Didn’t she know she was gorgeous? Jordan dropped the banter. “What intrigues me most about you are the contrasts.” His gaze traveled over her straight back. “On the page you’re all passion, Joan of Arc willing to burn for a good cause. But in person you invest a hell of a lot of energy into being Ms. Prim, right down to straightening your red hair.”

  Automatically, her free hand went to flatten it. “It’s brown,” she corrected, without looking back. “And I’m not passionate. I’m sensible and responsible and careful.”

  He winced. “Why is passion such a bad word for you?”

  “Because too often it’s used as an excuse for bad behavior. You don’t hear about crimes of moderation.”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand why you’re with Peter.”

  Her back stiffened. “There’s a lot to be said for sharing the same worldview.”

  “Even if it’s black-and-white?”

  “My world is full of color,” she said irritably.

  “Sure, Red.” He leaned forward and tweaked a born-again curl. “As long as it’s brown.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “TELL ME HOW THE PEBBLE helps make decisions.” Dillon figured if he kept pestering Andrew long enough, sooner or later he’d grind him down. It usually worked that way with Mum. But Andrew had younger brothers and sisters, and was proving a harder nut to crack.

  “What’s it worth?”

  “My favorite marble?” Dillon knew it was a long shot, but it was the only treasure that had been small enough to bring on the trip. Andrew just laughed.

  “Two bucks,” said Mike, who was lying on the grass with his baseball cap pulled over his eyes. They’d stopped for lunch and everyone was taking the chance to rest except Jordan, who’d gone for a walk. Dillon had thought about going with him, but didn’t want to lose ground in his campaign to make Andrew tell.

  “Ten dollars,” Andrew countered.

  Mike snorted. “Dream on.”

  “Your loss,” said Andrew. Dillon’s hopes, which had begun to rise, sank again.

  Kate put down her book and winked at Dillon. “Five,” she said. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay.” Andrew shrugged. “But it’s not that exciting. Jordan told me he was twenty when his dad died and he had to be the man of the house ’cause he was the oldest and Nana wasn’t coping. And he had a heap of things to deal with that he didn’t have a clue about.”

  Andrew tossed the pebble in the air and then caught it again with the same hand.

  “When he couldn’t decide which decision was the right one, he’d choose according to the pebble in his pocket. He’d read it in some military book when he was a kid…some commander guy did it. If the pebble was smooth side up, decision A. Rough side up, decision B.”

  The adults seemed to get it; Dillon didn’t. “But what if the pebble was wrong?”

  “You have two choices,” Mike said, “both with equal merits. In the heat of battle, it doesn’t matter which one the commander picks, only that he picks one.”

  “I always watch the air hostess when there’s turbulence,” Kate said. “As long as she’s calm, I’m calm. When you’re scared, you want reassurance that the person in charge knows what they’re doing. It’s like that, Dillon.”

  He was disappointed. “Andrew was right. That’s not very exciting.” Secretly, he’d been hoping for magic.

  “Not worth five dollars, anyway.” Mike pulled the cap back over his eyes.

  “I think I got my money’s worth,” said Kate.

  Dillon thought of something and scooted closer to Andrew. “So why do you need the pebble?”

  Andrew groaned.

  “Just tell me,” Dillon coaxed, “and I’ll go away.”

  JORDAN CALLED A HALT midafternoon, and this time, no one argued. They were all weary. “How about a bush walk,” he suggested after they’d made camp. “It will loosen up sore muscles, and there’s a neat site only a forty-minute hike from here.”

  To his surprise, Mike accepted. “I need to stretch my legs.”

  Andrew took more persuading. He was back to brooding, which meant the pebble hadn’t told him what he wanted to hear.

  Last week he’d had a fight with his girlfriend, which had escalated into a breakup. It was Megan’s fault, he’d told Jordan, all outraged teen male. Andrew had accepted the river trip, then discovered it conflicted with Megan’s high-school dance at her private girls’ college.

  It had just gone downhill from there.

  Jordan liked Megan and had always thought his nephew took advantage of her conciliatory nature, but Andrew’s misery took away any pleasure in saying I told you so. Instead, Jordan had come up with a suggestion, which Andy was agonizing over. In the teenager’s eyes, it meant backing down. In his uncle’s, it meant growing up. It would be interesting to see what his nephew chose to do.

  In the meantime, everyone suffered. For the third time, Andy changed his mind about coming on the hike. “It’ll be boring.”

  “You know what?” Enough was enough. “Stay in camp…you’re cooking dinner.”

  Howls of protest followed them into the bush.

  “And I want it made with love,” Jordan yelled back. “That’s what my mother used to say to me,” he confided to Dillon, who was walking beside him. “Cooking dinner was always her punishment when I misbehaved.”

  “Is that why you’re so good at it?” Dillon asked.

  Kate and Mike burst out laughing.

  “You know,” said Jordan. “I believe it is.”

  The river disappeared as they followed the track through dense forest into a narrow valley hemmed in by steep bluffs, where green mosses, creepers and ferns colonized the ancient trees.

  It was like walking through prehistory until they came upon a solid concrete bridge spanning a deep gorge. Jordan stepped aside to enjoy everyone’s reaction. Kate stopped abruptly and checked behind her, possibly to confirm the rough track was still there. Mike looked ahead, beyond the bridge, to where the forest closed in again. Dillon said, “Cool,” ran straight onto it and jumped up and down to test its stability.

  “It’s okay,” Jordan said, when Mike started forward. “It’s safe.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Bridge to Nowhere.”

  They all followed Dillon onto the high span and leaned over the concrete balustrade.

  “I’ve read about it,” said Mike. “After World War I the government gave returning servicemen plots of land here, and the chance
to carve a new future out of the wilderness. Come look, Kate.”

  Jordan found a stand of exotic trees, all that remained of one former homestead. “Heartbreak allotments, they were called. Prone to erosion. Cut off from the outside world, the homesteaders struggled to make a living in the middle of the Depression.”

  He ran his hands over the rough surface, rutted by age.

  “Most of them walked off the land in the end, but not before the government built this bridge to service the valley. The bush reclaimed the road, and now the bridge is all that’s left of those farmers’ hopes and dreams—a novelty for hikers.”

  “You know a lot about this place,” Kate said curiously.

  “My grandparents were one of the few families that stayed. My mother grew up around here.”

  Mike gave a short laugh. “So bloody-mindedness is a family trait?”

  “We Kings prefer the word resolute.” Jordan smoothed a couple of stray hairs back out of his eyes. “But you’re right. Telling us something is impossible is like waving a red rag at a bull.” His gaze gravitated to Kate. When he looked back, Mike was watching him.

  “Interesting,” said Mike, and Jordan knew he wasn’t talking about his story.

  “This would be a great place for shooting practice,” Dillon said, running toward them. “You could set up cans on the ledge. They’d fall miles.”

  “And then you’d have to try to find them,” said Kate. “You can’t leave litter here.”

  “What do you know about guns, son?” Mike asked.

  “Jordan and I do target practice…and when I’m fourteen you’re going to buy me a gun, aren’t you, Jord?”

  “Oh no, he’s not,” Mike growled.

  “An air gun,” Jordan reassured him, “to be kept at my house and used under supervision.”

  “No son of mine will own a gun.”

  “Claire has no problem with it,” Jordan said pointedly.

  A tide of red swept up the other man’s face. “I don’t care, it’s not on.”

  “Dad, please,” Dillon begged. “I’m really careful. Jordan’s taught—”

  Mike lost his temper. “I don’t give a damn what Jordan’s taught you or what Jordan thinks. I’m your father and I say no guns.”

  Dillon’s lower lip jutted out, and unconsciously, he moved closer to Jordan. “We’ll sort it out with your mother, mate,” Jordan murmured, ruffling the boy’s hair.

  “Don’t try and undermine my authority, King.” Mike’s voice had become dangerously quiet.

  Jordan snorted. “Excuse me if I find it hard to muster respect, Mike. You haven’t been around for eleven years.”

  “Stop it,” Kate said. “You’re upsetting Dillon.”

  Both men ignored her. “Claire’s family kept me out,” said Mike.

  “And you accepted it,” Jordan sneered. “You see, that’s the difference between us. I wouldn’t have.”

  “I haven’t got your wealth, your influence.”

  “If I was as poor as dirt I’d never relinquish my child.”

  “Don’t you push me!” yelled Mike. “Not if you want to stay in Dillon’s life.”

  Jordan laughed scornfully. “Empty threats from a hollow man.”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Kate cradled Dillon, who was covering his ears.

  “Aww, no, Dil-boy.” Jordan started forward at the same time as Mike. The two stopped and glared at each other.

  Kate led Dillon away from them. “You’re standing on the Bridge to Nowhere and you still don’t get it. This is a child, not a bone to fight over, and there can never be too many people who love him. Come on, darling, let’s leave them to it.”

  “Shit,” said Jordan, after they’d gone. “Shit, shit!” He kicked at the concrete balustrade, furious at Mike, more furious at himself. “Why the hell did you come on this trip?” he demanded. “Why, when you hate me so much?”

  “Because Claire and I are talking of remarrying,” Mike snapped. “And she wanted us to bond, for Dillon’s sake.” Seeing Jordan’s shock, he added, “So don’t tell me I don’t have any power.”

  “I HATE MY DAD.”

  Alternatively sobbing and grinding his teeth, Dillon walked back to camp with Kate.

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “You don’t mean it.”

  “He keeps fighting with Jordan, and now he says I can’t have a gun.” Dillon’s chest heaved and he let loose another outburst of sobbing.

  “Oh, Dillon.” She stopped and hugged him, and because they were alone, he let her.

  “It’s only because Jordan wants to give it to me, that’s the only reason.”

  “Jordan is just as much to blame as your dad is.” Kate sounded mad, too. “He shouldn’t have said he’d only listen to your mum. You wouldn’t like it, would you, if your opinion got ignored?”

  But Jordan was perfect. “Dad’s been fighting with Jord the whole time,” he said. “It’s all his fault. I hate him.”

  “I don’t want to hear you say that again,” Kate reprimanded.

  “You hate your dad.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “I never said that.”

  “Why else wouldn’t you see him then?” In one of their many chats, Dillon had discovered Kate hadn’t seen her father for seven years. When he’d asked why, she’d refused to talk about it.

  She got flustered. “He lives in another country.”

  “Do you talk to him on the phone?”

  She struggled to answer, and Dillon recalled his own troubles. “The only thing I want in the whole world is a gun,” he whined, ignoring the fact that his birthday list was two pages long.

  “Well, you can’t have it.” Looking behind him, Dillon saw Mike striding to catch up to them. For a moment he worried that his dad had heard him say he hated him. Then he stuck out his lower lip. Mike looked at Kate. “Mind falling behind?”

  “Sure.” She stopped and settled by the side of the path. When the boy opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. “Go with your dad, Dillon.”

  Dillon stormed ahead. Well, he wasn’t going to talk to Mike, no way. For ten minutes they marched through the bush without speaking, while Dillon tried to leave his father behind. Mike started puffing, but kept up. The boy’s pace slowed as the anger worked its way through his system, until all that was left were bewilderment and sadness. He finally blinked away tears.

  “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll tell you a secret,” Mike said from behind him.

  Dillon’s interest was captured, but he feigned disinterest for another fifty yards. “What?” he grunted, slowing somewhat.

  Mike finally reached him and they walked side by side. “If I tell you, you must promise not to tell anyone, Dillon. The only other person who knows is your mother.”

  There was such gravity in his father’s tone that Dillon shivered. “Okay.”

  “I had a brother,” Mike said. “His name was Dave. He was a year older than me, and we were best friends. He and Dad used to love to go hunting, but I always tried to get out of it. I was a hopeless shot and I much preferred staying at home painting my model airplane.”

  “You see, Dad, you’re just saying I can’t because you don’t like it.”

  Mike put a hand on Dillon’s shoulder and they kept walking. “But this one time my dad made me go…I’d turned fourteen and he thought I should be doing more manly things, I guess. I was pretty sulky about it, and eventually he got mad and told me to go back to the car. I got bored, so while I was waiting for them I started shooting at trees. Stupid, thoughtless kids’ stuff. Except they were coming back…”

  Mike’s footsteps had slowed until they were barely moving, and suddenly Dillon wanted his dad to stop talking. He knew how this story was going to end, and maybe if Dillon interrupted before Dad said it, somehow it could end differently. But he couldn’t say a word, not even when Mike’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder.

  “I shot my brother and he died. That’s why I can’t let you have a gun, son.”
r />   CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR problem is?” Kate barely waited until Jordan was within earshot.

  “Don’t,” he interrupted wearily. “I can’t handle a lecture right now.”

  “Empathy,” she continued. “You’re a big, good-looking man with wealth and power, and you can’t relate to ordinary people’s insecurities.”

  “You’ve been practicing this, haven’t you?”

  But she wasn’t listening. “Most men are weaker than you, Jordan. They shouldn’t be despised for it. If Mike got pushed out of Dillon’s life by Claire’s family, he should be pitied. You accuse me of being judgmental. Well, I haven’t got a patch on you. And as for making Dillon listen to it…”

  Jordan flinched. “You don’t have to hit me over the head with that one. I’ve been doing that myself.”

  “He’s very upset.” Seeing the torment on Jordan’s face, Kate relented. “Don’t worry, Mike’s sorting it out.” Jordan still looked desperate, so she added, “And I’m sure he’ll apologize for you.”

  That won a weak smile. “Cheering up people is not one of your talents, is it?”

  “That depends on whether you think you’ve suffered enough.”

  “No,” he said, “but looks like I’m going to. Mike said he and Claire are considering remarrying, and he’s made it clear he’s going to try to influence my access to Dillon.”

  “Then it’s even more important that you apologize to him.”

  Jordan deliberately misunderstood her. “Dillon? I intend to.”

  “I’m talking about Mike.”

  “Well, it’s been lovely chatting,” he said. “We really must do it again. But I’m leaving now before I say something that might negatively influence your decision about my fitness as camp trustee.” To Kate’s annoyance he left the path and disappeared into the bush.

  “An apology to Mike might swing it for you,” she called after him, but Jordan didn’t answer. He probably knew she didn’t mean it.

  Oddly, her opinion was beginning to change. He was still the arrogant man he’d always been, but Andrew’s story about the pebble indicated Jordan had a vulnerable side. He just never showed it to her. Or Mike. She sighed. Every time he looked as if he was going to redeem himself, he did something stupid.