Free The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: by Rachael Stapleton Page A

wanted to show me?”
    “What?” John looked up, perplexed.
    “That thing—you know.”
    “I don’t remember any thing, unless you want me to model my new swimsuit for you upstairs.”
    “Oh, John,” Lucille said, tugging his arm. “Let the kids be. Come on.”
    “All right by me,” John said, standing quickly and sweeping Lucille into his arms.
    “Goodnight,” Lucille called, giggling as John carried her into the house.
    “Your parents are amazing.”
    “The old ones are something else, to be sure,” Cullen said, cutting off another huge chunk of meat.
    “To be in love like that after so many years.”
    “Oh God, let’s not be after talkin’ more about them. They do enough of that themselves.”
    I finished my dinner, pushed my plate away and pulled my towel up around my shoulders, wrapping it tight to my body. The air had cooled, and I was beginning to feel chilled in my bikini.
    “Are ye cold?” he said. He suddenly got up and flipping on the outdoor lights. Flames shot up and lit the fireplace to my left.
    “You have an outdoor fireplace?”
    “What did you think it was?” he said, laughing and disappearing into the kitchen.
    It even crackled like a real fire.
    Cullen returned, covering me with a velvety soft black blanket. He topped up my wine.
    “Thank you. You’re spoiling me.”
    “Maybe you deserve to be spoiled.”
    I blushed and looked down at the patio stones.
    “So, what’s the craic?”
    “Pardon?”
    “What’s happenin’? You know, like what’s up with that fella from the hospital? Is that your man?”
    “He was. Not anymore.”
    “Ye’re better off. He seems like a real cad.”
    I smiled, unsure if it was electricity crackling between us or the fire.
    “I’m just thankful you pulled me from the water.”
    “What fella wouldn’a?”
    “Plenty.”
    For what seemed like an eternity he just sat there looking at me. Then he stood up and came and sat in the chair next to me.
    “I know we don’t really know each other, but—” he said, stopping short.
    “It feels like we do,” I said, finishing his sentence.
    “Yes.”
    I took a quick breath and thought about his conversation with his brother. Sapphira. His dream.
    He leaned forward, and I realized he might kiss me. I jumped to my feet, almost spilling my wine.
    “Well, it’s getting late. I should go to bed.”
    He let out a deep breath and set his glass down on the table with a clack.
    “Yeah, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” Standing and stretching his legs, he moved around the table, walking so close behind me I could almost feel his breath on my neck as he gathered up the plates.
    “Did you get your flight booked?” he asked before carrying our dishes into the kitchen.
    “Yes. Sorry, I meant to ask you if you knew a car service I could use tomorrow.”
    “I’ll take you. What time?”
    “Noon, but you don’t have to do that.”
    “It’s all right. I want te.”
    I helped him load the dishwasher, and he walked me to my room, lingering for a moment before walking away.
    I imagined what it would be like to kiss him but shook the idea away. With everything going on, I didn’t need anything to further complicate my life.
    I closed the door, and then I pulled down the sheets; fatigue tugged at my eyes. I was asleep before my head even sunk into the pillow. My last impression was of the faint smell of tobacco lingering in the air.

    He stood in the shadows, puffing away and running a hand through his dark hair. Yesterday had changed everything. She’d gotten away from him in the hospital. The bitch! He wasn’t about to let that happen again. He’d hung around all night, near enough to overhear the conversations in the backyard yet far enough away to be hidden by all the trees and shrubs. He rolled his shoulders in an effort to dislodge the growing tension and took a cleansing breath that brought with it the waft of tobacco.
    She walked past the window, turning away as she undid her bathing suit