PluckingthePearl (3 page)

“What? Heaven help us all,” Wilma exclaimed. “I just knew
you were nothing but trouble. Now we be going to lose our jobs because of you.”

Feeling that familiar mantle of dignity around her again,
Pearl told her everything would be all right in a calm voice and walked away.
When she reached her stall, Leroy looked at her with tired, troubled eyes but
didn’t say anything. The pail she’d dropped was clean and back in its place.

Pearl’s hands resumed her work but her mind was still
outside, looking into those impossibly pale eyes. Why wasn’t she afraid of
their upcoming meeting? And why was he so different from the other white men
she’d met during her life? Maybe it was because he was the first who’d looked
at her as a real person, an equal.

To her surprise, she did better at shucking. Before long,
she had a full pail of relatively undamaged oysters to take to the window for
processing. How could talking to a man have changed her so much in so little
time? Maybe she’d been thinking too much this morning, trying so hard not to
fail she couldn’t do anything but. The distraction from the unusual encounter
must have done her some good.

All she knew was that she couldn’t wait to see Mr. Rockfield
again.

Caleb had been sitting behind his desk in his upstairs
office for a couple of hours but part of him was still down on the dock talking
to that intriguing young woman. There was something different about her.

He flipped through some delivery records but instead of
reading the numbers, he saw her face on the pages. Her delicate cheekbones and
expressive lips, which seemed to broadcast every emotion, were the best things
he’d seen in a while.

And her eyes. So haunting yet strong. They were the color of
that green water out there and pulled him in headfirst as if he’d fallen off
the pier. The rest of her looked strong too despite her small stature.

Where had she come from? He needed to know everything about
her.

Booted footsteps on the wooden floorboards of his office
broke him out of his trance. Henry, his younger brother, handed him the tally
sheet from his latest delivery of oysters.

Caleb blinked at the quantity. “I didn’t expect so many
bushels so soon.”

Henry operated the company buy-boat,
Easy Pickings
,
which he used to both dredge for oysters from Rockfield’s leased beds and buy
oysters from other boats. He took off his cap, which was adorned with fish
hooks, revealing wavy brown hair that was too long. As usual, his faded overalls
were dirty with oyster mud and boat engine grease.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a good harvest this year,” he
replied. “Have you thought about my idea to expand the bulkhead and dock? We’re
running out of room with all those discarded shells out there. On busy days the
boats trip all over each other.”

What does she taste like?
Caleb wondered. How would
that kissable mouth feel beneath his own? How would that tiny slip of a body
feel in his arms? And did the skin on her shapely calves feel as soft as it looked?
An erection swelled inside his pants with no warning. He scooted his chair
closer to the desk to hide it.

Henry waved a hand in front of his face. “Caleb? Are you
there?”

Caleb blinked until the image of Pearl disappeared. “Sorry.
I’m not myself today.”

His brother laughed. “Sometimes I wonder if all this is
starting to bore you.”

Caleb couldn’t help wondering the same thing. The plant
expansions and big harvests had been so exciting at first. Why was he thinking
about Pearl instead of the bulkhead?

Henry nodded toward the door. “Looks like you’ve got a new
employee down there. She looks young.”

Caleb opened his mouth to comment but stopped himself. Henry
didn’t need to know how taken he was with her.

“Draw me up a plan of the bulkhead expansion and estimate
the cost,” he said instead.

“You’re the king.” Henry put his cap back on and left.

Caleb turned to the window behind him, which gave him a
bird’s-eye view of the narrow spit of land called Oyster Island. He could see
both the plant’s unloading dock on the left and Oyster Harbor up to the right.

King.
He couldn’t help smiling with pride every time
he heard the nickname he’d earned here. His daddy had established this oyster
house over thirty years ago and Caleb made it more prosperous every year. Everyone
said he was the most successful man on the island.

At the moment, his cock didn’t care about success. It was
still semi-hard despite everything. What was going on? A widower for the past
five years, he’d lived the life of a monk. The small island didn’t have many
eligible women and he was usually too busy with his work to care. Even his past
marriage had lacked passion.

Pearl.
Who would ever have thought he’d find a pearl
among all the oyster shells?

She’s forbidden
, his common sense told him. He had to
get these crazy, lust-filled thoughts out of his head before they got him into
serious trouble. Why had he asked her to stay late? Being alone with her after
hours was the last thing he needed.

Was she married? He hadn’t seen a ring but that didn’t mean
much in these hard times. Jewelry was a luxury many couldn’t afford.

Turning around, he drummed his fingers on his desk. He just
needed to talk to her and get to know her a little better without a bunch of
people around watching, listening and judging. That was all. Once his curiosity
was satisfied, he’d surely come back to his senses and forget all about her.

When he looked at his watch, realizing it was almost
quitting time, his unruly cock surged again. He would see her soon.

Bill Murdock, the floor supervisor, entered to give him an
afternoon status report but Caleb barely listened.

“I see there’s a new one for me to keep in line,” the man
said.

A new one.
It made Pearl sound like livestock.

“Why did you hire a skinny little colored girl anyway? She
can’t shuck worth a hill of beans.”

A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw. “She’ll learn.”

Murdock scratched his cheek and looked with distaste at his
fingernails. “If you ask me, they’re all worthless and can’t be trusted.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Caleb replied. “Go tell Leroy Johnson to
come up here.”

Heat prickled across his face after the man left. He’d never
liked him but why did he especially feel like punching him today?

“You sent for me, sir?” Leroy said when he arrived a few
minutes later.

“Yes, Pearl Wilson will be staying late tonight.” Caleb held
out some money. “Row your mother and sister home. Then come back and go to the
Sapphire Crab. Have yourself a leisurely dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s
time for you to take Pearl home.”

The young man’s round eyes grew wider. “But, sir. That’s a
fine restaurant. I can’t take your money.”

“Leroy, when a gift comes your way, don’t question it. Just
take it. You’d be doing me a big favor.”

After he left, Caleb scattered the papers all over his desk,
making the biggest mess he could. He had a plan for Pearl Wilson because he had
a feeling his curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied in a couple of hours.

* * * * *

Pearl shifted in the hard wooden chair across from Mr.
Rockfield’s desk. As soon as she’d arrived, he’d told her to wait for him and
rushed off. He’d been gone nearly an hour already.

Through the open door, she heard the floor men below,
whistling as they cleaned the dirty floor and oyster tables. Today she’d
learned these were the same workers who hauled oysters and shells in
wheelbarrows during the day. The smell of sea water drifted in the open window.
She could see the whole island from here and watched the white boats turn pink
as the sun set.

Even though the man wasn’t here, she felt his essence in the
massive desk, important-looking filing cabinets and date book filled with
meetings. It made her blood sing in that strange way it had when she’d met him
on the unloading dock, just not as strongly. A big wall poster with curly edges
from the humidity advertised the oyster house.

The other wall held a picture of Mr. Rockfield in a boat
holding a large fish. He looked strong and in charge, as if he could catch
anything he wanted. At the bottom,
Caleb Rockfield, King of Oyster Island
was written in pen. King?

She closed her eyes, imagining the two of them alone on a
boat with his arms locked around her, conquering her. Pulling up her dress with
those strong, tanned hands and…

Pearl stood, unable to sit and fall prey to such wicked
thoughts any longer. She must have clasped and unclasped her hands a hundred
times already. What did he want with her? If he planned to fire her, she was
sure he would have done it already, but surely she must be in some type of
trouble?

The last thing she wanted was to give Wilma bad news. She didn’t
want to let the family down since they’d opened their home to her.
Nevertheless, she was not sorry to be away from the Johnson cottage this
evening.

Mr. Rockfield certainly wasn’t very tidy, she thought as she
glanced at the mess on his desk again. The housekeeper in her needed to clean
it up but she didn’t want to anger him by touching his things. Unless this was
a test. Maybe he
wanted
her to clean it up. If only life weren’t so
complicated on Oyster Island.

The building was quiet now. The floor men must have finished
and gone home. Unable to stand any more idleness, she dared to pick up papers
from the floor and put them on the desk. Bolder now, she put the papers into
neat piles, using the oyster-shell paperweights to hold them in place.

Oysters, she thought as she ran her finger over the rough
edge of one of the shells. They were everywhere.

The office door closed with a thud, causing Pearl to gasp.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Rockfield took off his boater hat
and hung it on a hook by the door.

Pearl took a deep breath to slow her racing heart. “I didn’t
want to be idle so I straightened things up. I hope you don’t mind.”

His face looked solemn and unreadable again, as it had when
they’d first met. When he finally smiled she was so relieved she wanted to hug
him.

“Thanks,” he said. “It looks much better. Things get pretty
messy during the day.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said.

When he touched her bare arm, the unexpected feel of him
nearly sent her out of her skin.

“Stop looking so worried.” He winked at her. “You’re making
me
nervous.”

He set the basket he’d been holding near the edge of the
desk. The scent of fried chicken made Pearl’s mouth water.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Your dinner. You didn’t think I was going to keep you here
without feeding you, did you?” he asked as he sat down behind his desk.

“Thank you. I’ll take it downstairs to the lunchroom,” she
said.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said easily. “Eat it on the
desk where I set it so we can talk.”

Pearl couldn’t help smiling at the small feast when she took
the cover off the basket. The chicken, fried a deep, golden brown, a biscuit,
corn, and a small container of milk looked better than anything she’d eaten
since leaving home.

She took a bite of chicken but having that pale gaze fixed
on her from across the desk nearly made her forget how to swallow.

“What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

He leaned forward and folded his hands. “I want to know more
about you. Where are you from? What brought you here?”

She wiped her hands with the cloth napkin from the basket.
“I’m afraid my life isn’t very interesting, Mr. Rockfield.”

“It is to me and I have all night,” he said, leaning back in
his chair. “And you can call me Caleb when we’re alone like this.”

Permission to use his first name? She could hardly believe
it. He had to be the most unusual white man she’d ever met, not to mention the
handsomest. With his hat off, she was able to study his hair. It was short on
the sides and longer on top. She couldn’t help wondering how the dark, shiny
locks would feel sliding through her fingers.

She looked at the fishing picture again. “But if you’re a
king, don’t you have a title?”

He looked at the picture too and smiled. “People around the
island just call me that because I’ve been successful.”

She concentrated on swallowing the last of her biscuit
instead. It was hard to stop looking at his face, serious one moment and jovial
the next. Not knowing what to expect from him was like balancing on the sharp
edge of an oyster shell. He looked very serious now so she had to at least tell
him something about her life as he requested.

“I’m from Annapolis,” she began. “My mother was a
housekeeper.”

“Then straightening my desk must have been second nature for
you,” he commented. “Tell me more. Where is your mother now?”

She didn’t want to tell him about the sad circumstances that
brought her here but his pale stare was relentless. Everything came out, from
Mr. Stuart’s furniture auction to the heart attack Mama had not long after
hearing the news she’d lost her job and home.

Pearl finished her meal and stood to put the cover back over
the basket. “Thank you for the dinner. It was delicious but I should be getting
home now. You said you’d make arrangements for that?”

The chair squeaked as he stood and walked over to her. Her
breathing grew rapid as he stood close to her, closer than he had on the dock.

“We have some time yet.” He reached out and caressed her
chin with a hooked index finger. “I want to tell you how sorry I am about your
loss.”

“Th-thank you.” Heat flooded her veins as his touch
resonated in every part of her body. She had to back away. This wasn’t
appropriate behavior for either of them but it seemed as if her feet were glued
to the floor.

“It must be hard to go from that sort of life to a loud, dirty
plant like this on top of losing a loved one.”

“I’m determined to make the best of my circumstances. I have
no choice.”

She finally found the courage to turn away from his hand but
that made it brush her cheek, which affected her even more. She barely
suppressed the shiver of delight that went through her. Why did his nearness
and touch have such an impact on her?

And where had the wetness between her legs come from?
Caleb’s fresh, breezy scent was muskier than it had been earlier. Maybe that
was because her face was so close to the patch of tanned skin exposed by the
top of his shirt. The top button was undone and she had an insane urge to
unbutton the rest of it and run her fingers across his chest.

He caught hold of her hand and held it up, rubbing his thumb
in slow circles over her palm. A small, keening sound threatened to spill from
her throat but she managed to stop it. Her step-in panties grew even wetter,
and something hot and very insistent pulsed between her thighs. She had to get
away from this man before she lost all sense of dignity. If he had any idea how
wild and stirred up she was inside, he’d think she’d lost her mind.