Summer Days

by Lisa Jackson

“Isn’t he?” Unable to resist, Valerie picked up a copy of San Francisco Today, turned to a dog-eared page and found a glossy black-and-white photo of Hale staring up at her. The article was entitled “The Master Mind behind Donovan Enterprises.”

  Anna sighed. “All I learned is that the man’s a workaholic. It sounds like he spends twenty out of twenty-four hours at the office or wheeling and dealing.”

  “That’s about right,” Valerie agreed.

  “There’s not one word about his family.”

  “He’s a very private person.”

  “So now he needs a wife?” Anna asked skeptically.

  “You know how it is—”

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I know this is kind of sudden.”

  “Kind of?” her mother repeated, rolling her eyes. “Kind of, she says! I knew your father for ten years before I started dating him. A year later we were engaged and we waited until he’d finished college before we got married.”

  “Not everyone grows up in the same small town,” Valerie retorted, hearing a defensive note creep into her voice and hating it. This lying had to end!

  “I just hope this isn’t a reaction to Luke,” her mother went on. “A rebound thing.”

  “Hale Donovan is a far cry from Luke Walters.”

  “I know, but . . .” Her mother threw up her hands. “As you so succinctly put it, this marriage business is happening so fast I can barely believe it.”

  “We haven’t eloped, have we?”

  “Not yet.” Anna narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “But I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  Valerie laughed. “Believe me, that’s something you don’t have to worry about.”

  “Don’t ship captains have the authority?”

  “This is a private yacht, Mom, not an ocean liner. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

  “That’s what mothers do best.”

  “Then worry about yourself. Just try to get better so you can get back on your feet.”

  “I’m doing my best,” Anna replied a little testily.

  “I know you are.” Valerie squeezed her mother’s frail shoulders. “Now, I promise I’ll call and e-mail, and the minute I get home I’ll race over here with tons of useless souvenirs you won’t possibly ever need or want.”

  Anna Pryce laughed and looked directly into her daughter’s eyes. “Just be happy, Val,” she said as Valerie walked back to the door. “That’s all that matters.”

  “I will, Mom. Ciao.” She breezed out of her mother’s apartment and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that this trip with Hale would prove to be anything but happy.

  Hale arrived promptly at ten-thirty. She half expected to see him in a blue, double-breasted jacket, white slacks and jaunty sailing cap, but was pleased to find him dressed in faded Levi’s, an unbleached cotton, cable-knit sweater and leather jacket.

  “Casual, aren’t we?” she teased as he reached for her large suitcase.

  His lips twitched. “I didn’t want you to feel underdressed.”

  “I wouldn’t have, believe me.” She’d thought about her outfit long and hard and decided upon layering clothes she could peel off if the temperature climbed: khaki slacks, a striped T-shirt, peach sweater and three-quarter-length coat. Not exactly yachting apparel, but simple, practical and comfortable. Besides, Valerie figured, she’d leave the fashion statements to Regina.

  He loaded her two suitcases into the Jaguar, and Valerie tossed her coat behind the seat. Hale gunned the engine. With a roar, the powerful car took off through the steep hills of the city and across the bay, to Tiburon.

  The morning was clear and bright, the rays from a brilliant sun streaming from the sky to fleck the water and warm the air. Wearing sunglasses and feeling the wind catch in her hair, Valerie felt an exhilaration she hadn’t expected. This trip, no matter how it turned out, would be an adventure she wouldn’t forget for the rest of her life.

  She purloined a glance at Hale and nearly laughed. His face was relaxed and one arm was resting on the open window. His shirtsleeves had been thrust up over his elbows, and his aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. Handsome, confident, a little on the arrogant side, Hale Donovan was a very interesting man and this trip was bound to be memorable. She only hoped it wouldn’t end up a fiasco.

  They rounded a final turn and drove through tall, wrought-iron gates, which were now wide open. “There’s Stowell,” he said, his features tensing perceptibly.

  A small group of people were clustered on the deck of one of the largest boats moored in the yacht club. William Stowell, a short, rotund man dressed in full yachting regalia, held up his hand when he noticed Hale’s car. A slender, gorgeous girl grinned widely and began waving frantically.

  “Regina?” Valerie guessed.

  “Regina.”

  “Enthusiastic,” she said dryly.

  “Very.”

  Regina was dressed in a fuchsia-colored tube top and white slacks. A broad-brimmed hat covered her head. She flicked one disinterested glance at Valerie before turning all her attention to Hale.

  Valerie clamped her back teeth together. This might not go as well as she and Hale had planned. What if Regina didn’t know about the engagement? Worse yet, what if she didn’t care? With a confidence she didn’t feel, Valerie climbed out of the car and helped Hale with her bags. “I assume you brought a change of clothes?” she asked.

  “I sent my bags earlier. Come on, it’s now or never.”

  Together, with the eyes of father and daughter Stowell watching, they made their way aboard The Regina. The deck, polished teak, gleamed under the sun’s warm rays. Built-in lounges and chairs surrounded a table laden with fruit, croissants, champagne and coffee.

  William Stowell, a short, puffy-faced man with wiry gray hair surrounding a bald pate, greeted them. “Just in time for breakfast,” he said, smiling warmly at Hale and pumping his hand. Spying a deckhand nearby, he said, “Here—let me get someone to take your bags below . . . Jim, see to Mr. Donovan’s bags, would you?”

  “They belong to Valerie,” Hale said, but handed the bags to the shipmate, anyway.

  “Oh, yes, Ms. Pryce . . .” William Stowell turned warm eyes on Valerie. “I’ve been reading about you.”

  “My fiancée,” Hale said, making quick introductions.

  Regina paled visibly. Her tanned skin whitened, and she blinked rapidly. “Glad to meet you,” she said, forcing a trembling smile.

  “You, too,” Valerie said.

  Regina shot a killing glance at her father. “You knew Hale was engaged?”

  “Just read about it yesterday.”

  “It would have been nice if you’d said something.”

  “Hale!”

  Valerie turned, squinting against the sun. A tall, stately woman with a cloud of white hair was walking briskly toward them, her arms extended.

  Hale clasped both the older woman’s hands in his. “How’re you, Beth?”

  She smothered a smile and proclaimed, “Absolutely wretched! I planned what I thought would be a nice vacation and that damned husband of mine has turned it into a business meeting!”

  “You knew it all along,” William protested, chuckling. He glanced at Valerie and winked. “She’s always grumpy before she’s had her first cup of coffee.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  William’s eyes twinkled. “Quit griping and meet Hale’s future bride.”

  “Bride?” Beth’s smile wavered a bit, and she turned interested gold-colored eyes on Valerie. “Well, well, well . . . we knew he was bringing a friend, of course, but a fiancée?” Taking Val’s hand in hers, she stage-whispered, “It’s about time someone hog-tied this one.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Regina moaned.

  “Forgive my wife,” William said, “she can’t let me forget she grew up on a ranch in Montana.”

  Beth’s lips twitched. “After thirty years he’s still trying to make a lady out of me.”

  “And fa
iling miserably,” William confided, but Beth didn’t seem to notice. She poured a cup of coffee from the service. “Well, William is right about one thing—”

  “Only one?” her husband inquired.

  Beth ignored him. “I’m not really awake until I’ve had my second cup. How about you?” She offered the cup to Valerie.

  “Thank you.” Valerie took a sip and, above the rim, caught Hale’s gaze. Amusement danced in his eyes, and he had trouble hiding a smile.

  “Let’s have some breakfast, then I’ll show you to your rooms. Maybe by then Stewart will have deigned to join us.” Beth motioned everyone to the small, shaded table on deck.

  “Stewart’s joining us?” Hale asked.

  “So he says, but he’s late,” Beth replied.

  “Again,” William agreed. “I swear that boy is always a day late and a dollar short.”

  “More like a hundred dollars,” Regina said coldly, then turned to Valerie. “Wait until you meet my brother, then you’ll know what we’re all talking about.”

  “Well, let’s change the subject,” Beth decreed. “I’m sure Hale’s fiancée isn’t the least bit interested in our family squabbles.”

  Hale sat next to Valerie, where they made small talk and brunched on fresh strawberries, flaky croissants and pastries.

  Drawing her finely arched brows into a petulant frown, Regina sat across from Valerie and Hale as she poured herself a glass of champagne. “So when’s the wedding?” she asked as Valerie pushed her plate aside.

  To Valerie’s surprise, Hale linked his fingers through hers. “After the first of the year,” he said easily.

  “Why wait?” Beth asked.

  Valerie’s throat went dry. “We, uh, thought we should give it a little time. We haven’t known each other all that long . . .”

  “So? I knew the minute I set eyes on William that I was going to marry him.”

  William grinned. “I guess I didn’t have a chance.”

  “Best thing that ever happened to you,” Beth insisted.

  Valerie had to suppress a giggle.

  “Some people like to take their time,” Regina said, brightening a little and flashing a beautiful smile in Hale’s direction.

  “Not like you, though, is it, Donovan?” Stowell muttered. He poured himself a second cup of coffee and added a thin stream of cream. “You seem the type to see what you want and go after it—the way you did with my company.”

  “Marriage is a little different,” Hale responded. Casually he draped his arm over the back of Valerie’s chair. His sweater sleeve touched her hair, but she didn’t move as he went on, “Marriage is a lifetime commitment.”

  Regina seemed amused. “Is it? Not according to Stewart!”

  Beth sighed and shot Regina a killing look, before explaining, “Our son has had a few . . . problems . . settling down.”

  “The black sheep of the family,” Regina added, obviously enjoying the turn of the conversation as she fingered her long-stemmed glass and sipped champagne.

  “He’s just a little misguided right now.” Beth set down her cup to end the conversation and turned her attention to Valerie. “If you’re ready, I’ll show you your rooms.”

  “I’ll do it,” Regina offered sweetly. Standing, she held on to her hat as a stiff breeze caught the broad brim. “This way.”

  She motioned with her free hand and led them down a short flight of stairs to the main salon. Though not particularly spacious, the room was well planned. A television, radio, computer, and audio system were mounted in a gleaming bookcase. Lavish built-in settees lined three walls, and a few movable chairs and tables were clustered throughout the room. The cream-colored carpet was thick but durable, and contrasted with the leather chairs and tucked upholstery. “Through here,” Regina said, waving them into a short hallway toward the stern.

  She shoved open a small door. “This is your stateroom,” she said to Valerie. “Hale is right next door—unless you two would prefer to bunk together.”

  Hale slid his arm around Valerie’s waist. “Maybe—”

  “This will be fine,” Valerie cut in before Hale could say anything else. Sleeping in the room next to Hale’s would be bad enough, but she shuddered to think what would happen if they were housed in the same stateroom. Though she didn’t consider herself the least bit prudish, she knew danger when she saw it. And being close to Hale both day and night was bound to spell trouble.

  Regina smiled knowingly. “Then I’ll see you topside later.” Her gaze lingered on Hale for a second before she disappeared.

  When Regina was out of earshot, Valerie pulled away from Hale. “I don’t think she believes us.”

  “She would have if you hadn’t acted like such a nineteenth-century prig, for crying out loud!”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Oh, no? The way I saw it, you nearly came apart when she suggested we sleep together. You couldn’t wait to set her straight.” He grabbed her arm, propelled her into her room and slammed the door tightly shut behind him. “Now listen to me, Pryce. You don’t have anything to worry about from me. Your precious virtue isn’t in any danger. But I expect you to act like you want me. We’re supposed to be getting married, for God’s sake, so don’t play up this frightened little virgin act. It won’t wash with the Stowells and it doesn’t wash with me!”

  “I’m not a frightened, little anything! And as for the sleeping arrangements, even people who sleep together sometimes keep separate rooms for appearances’ sake!” she fumed.

  “Only those with something to hide!”

  “Like us?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “Now, are you finished ranting and raving like a lunatic?”

  “I was just pointing out your mistake.”

  “It’s not a mistake. I agreed to pretend to be in love with you and enjoy your company, but I don’t remember signing anything that stated I should act like some hot-to-trot coed plotting ways to jump into your bed!”

  “Just don’t play up the ice-maiden bit!”

  She drew back her arm and felt her hands curl into fists. “Ice maiden—”

  There was a sharp rap on the door. Before she knew what was happening, Hale stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her and ground his lips on hers with such a fury she couldn’t speak. Her pulse jumped as he splayed his hands possessively on her back. He shifted then, pressing tight, instinctively molding her against him. The world seemed to spin . . .

  The door to the cabin was prodded open gently, and Beth, blushing to the roots of her snow-white hair, peeked inside. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  Hale snapped his head up, and he grinned wickedly, looking for all the world like a devilish boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t be.”

  “I was just seeing that all your things were in the right rooms—well, you can let me know later.”

  “No, really, it’s all right,” Valerie sputtered. Dear Lord, was that her heart slamming against her ribs?

  Beth shut the door discreetly behind her.

  Hale let her go, and Valerie whirled on him. “What was that all about?”

  “I was just undoing some of the damage you caused.”

  “By mortifying me?” she challenged, ready to do battle.

  “By showing my affection, my undying love,” he mocked.

  “Oh, save it, Donovan!” Dropping onto the edge of her bed and catching sight of her reflection in a mirror over the built-in dresser, she felt totally ashamed. Her eyes were wide and luminous, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, her hair falling around her face in loose, unruly curls. She looked wanton and willing and ready. Groaning, she shoved her hair out of her face, then skewered him with an angry glare. “We’re alone now, you don’t have an audience to play to. You don’t have to pretend to be smitten.”

  “Just remember our contract,” he suggested, his expression grave, his skin whiter than it had been.

  Raising her chin a fraction, she surveyed him through narrowed, furious eyes. “How could I forget it?”


  His jaw worked a second, and he seemed about to lash out at her. Bracing herself, she waited, ready for the next attack, which, thankfully, didn’t come. He yanked open the door and strode through, letting it slam behind him.

  “Thank God,” she whispered, sighing and lying back on her bed. This was worse than she’d ever imagined! His kiss had turned her legs to jelly. Never would she have expected her reaction to be so soul jarring, so violent. Her heart was still hammering out of control!

  Slowly she drew in several deep, calming breaths, then propped herself on one elbow and studied her room for the first time. It was compact but comfortable. The raised bed was tucked into the outside wall, and beneath it were three large drawers. There was a small closet near the foot of the bed, a built-in bureau and lamps mounted overhead near the bed and center of the room.

  Were the situation different, Valerie knew she would easily be able to enjoy herself here. She stripped off her sweater, found her two bags, placed her clothes in the drawers beneath her bed, then opened a door to what she assumed would be a bathroom. However, as the door swung inward, she realized she was staring into another stateroom—Hale’s.

  The room was identical to hers, except that the furniture arrangement was reversed.

  “Great,” she muttered, noting three large suitcases and two trunks propped against the bed. “He must be moving in permanently.”

  Rather than take a chance on being caught in Hale’s room, Valerie hurried back through the door, turned the lock, then spent the next few minutes locating the bathroom and linen closets.

  “Find everything?” Beth asked her as she reentered the salon.

  “I think so.”

  “Well, now that you’re settled, let me give you the grand tour. William and Hale are already talking business—can you believe it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Valerie replied. Nothing, but nothing, was more important to Hale than his precious company—or, in this case, Stowell’s company.

  Beth walked toward the bow, showing her a dining salon, the galley, two more staterooms similar to hers, and the owner’s quarters, larger than the others with a double bed, two closets, built-in desks, television set and separate bath. Through another door a small study was tucked against the hull.