Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

God! Jake, there’s really a fish on the other end of this line!”
    “Sure is. Reel, buttercup.”

11
    I T WAS FULL dark by the time Jake buttoned up the Tomorrow for the night and drove to his own cabin to check the answering machine. There was no news from Emerging Resources, but there was a surly message from Ellen on the subject of racing boats and their testosterone-freak drivers.
    “Tough kibble, lady,” he said. “If you can’t run with the wolves, stay in your kennel.”
    Smiling with a wolfish kind of satisfaction, he grabbed some wine and headed back to Honor. There was another message, of sorts, at the turnoff to her driveway—an unmarked car parked in a little turnout just off the county road. In case anyone wondered what the car was doing there, a radar unit poked out the open window.
    Jake wasn’t the only one who had noticed the cop’s presence. Local traffic, which normally went at least ten miles over the twenty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit on the little road, was going precisely what the law allowed. In Washington State, speed traps were considered a valuable, ecologically sound, endlessly renewable resource that was nourished by ridiculously low speed limits.
    Honor opened the front door as soon as the truck coasted to a stop. It shouldn’t have pleased Jake that she was watching for him, but it did. What pleased him even more was that, like him, she had showered and changed her clothes. Her hair looked slightly damp and she was wearing casual slacks and a loose blouse that were the same color as her green-and-golden eyes. Talk about looking good enough to eat . . .
    Jake wrenched his mind out of its single track and got out of the car. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
    “No. The charcoal is ready and so am I.”
    He blinked. “For what?”
    “Salmon, what else? I’m starved.”
    So was he, but salmon was distant second to what he really wanted—Honor Donovan, naked, in bed. He grabbed the bottle of cold Chardonnay he had brought from his cabin and followed her into the cottage.
    While he made a marinade for the salmon and put it on the barbecue, Honor was right on his heels, proud as a duck with fourteen ducklings.
    “Well, the day wasn’t entirely wasted,” she said, gloating over the fish. “But it’s too bad you didn’t catch one.”
    Jake smiled, remembering her dancing excitement when she finally managed to reel in her fish. She had lit up like a Christmas tree. Just watching her had been more fun than he could remember having in a long, long time.
    “It doesn’t matter,” he said, putting the cover on the barbecue. “There will be other salmon for me.”
    Honor looked uncertain as she followed Jake back into the house. None of the Donovan males had been worried about being outdone by a woman, but some of her dates hadn’t taken it very well.
    “You’re sure?” she asked, shutting the back door.
    “Uh huh,” Jake said, tugging lightly on a strand of her hair. “I don’t mind, honey. Even if I caught a salmon, I would have turned it loose.”
    “Why?”
    “Even after I cleaned it, yours weighed fourteen pounds. By the time you finish eating it in sandwiches, pastas, omelets, and salads, you’ll be thinking salmon is another name for too much of a good thing.”
    “Ha! I’ve never gotten my fill of fresh salmon. Or good smoked salmon, either.”
    “In that case, we’ll have to get you a big salmon.”
    “A big one? What do you call that?” She gestured toward the barbecue.
    “Good eating. But if you’re going to get the best smoking fish, you go for ones over twenty-five pounds. Thirty and up, way up, is best. Unfortunately, there aren’t many that big left in the San Juans.”
    “Thirty pounds?” Her eyes widened. “Good grief. I better start lifting weights. I had a heck of a time bringing this little shrimp to the boat.”
    “You did fine.”
    “Really? Then why were you always yelling at me to keep my rod tip up?”
    “I wasn’t yelling.”
    “Ha! I thought Captain Conroy was going to fall out of his Zodiac laughing.”
    “That’s because he’d never seen anyone trying to hold a net full of struggling salmon in one hand and an armful of over-the-moon woman in the other.”
    “Don’t forget the fishing rod.”
    “It’s hard to forget holding that in my teeth,” Jake said dryly.
    It was the only thing that had prevented him from returning Honor’s excited kiss. That was just as well. He had a feeling the kiss would