Summer Days

by Lisa Jackson

  “It’s beautiful,” Valerie said as they climbed to the top deck, where Hale and William were deep in discussion, sipping drinks, laughing and talking. Regina, having changed into a pink bikini, was stretched out on a chaise, sunglasses covering her eyes.

  “I hope you’re not all waiting on me!” A handsome man, cocky grin steadfastly in place, climbed on board.

  “We were about to set sail without you!” Beth snapped, though her eyes grew warm.

  This, Valerie guessed, must be Stewart. With coffee-brown hair and tawny eyes, strong, square jaw and deep tan, he grinned warmly as he saw her. “You didn’t tell me we were going to have a special guest,” he said, ignoring his mother’s waspish tone. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sauntered up to Valerie. “I’m Stewart.”

  “Valerie Pryce.”

  “Hale’s fiancée,” Beth clarified.

  “Fiancée? Well, how about that?” Stewart, not the least bit ruffled, slid a glance at his sister. “So someone’s managed to tame the wild Donovan beast.”

  At that moment Valerie felt a proprietary hand slip around her waist. Hale had disengaged himself from William and was standing behind her, linking his fingers possessively over her abdomen. He made it visible to everyone aboard the yacht that she was his. Through the cotton of her slacks, his fingertips pressed hot and hard against her skin. She could feel their bold impression as if there were no barrier keeping her flesh from his. Her pulse reacted crazily, and it was all she could do to keep her mind on the conversation.

  “I guess congratulations are in order!” Stewart said heartily. “Let’s toast the bride and groom.” With a flourish, he swept a linen napkin from the table, covered the neck of a champagne bottle chilling in the bucket and struggled with the cork. It popped. Frothy bubbles foamed out of the bottle, and Stewart, without missing a beat, poured several glasses.

  “Regina . . . ?” Beth asked, and mulishly Regina took a glass.

  Stewart held one out to Hale, another to Valerie, then lifted his glass high into the air. “To the future Mrs. Donovan,” he said, ignoring his sister’s black look. “May she always be happy and as beautiful as she is today.”

  “Here, here!” William agreed.

  “To love,” Beth chimed in, her eyes glowing.

  Valerie forced a sad smile. She felt a fraud. Already she liked Beth and William Stowell, and she hated lying to them.

  “And to a safe trip,” William interjected.

  They all lifted their glasses to their lips.

  Hale tightened his fingers around Valerie’s waist. “And a prosperous one,” he added.

  Valerie’s spirits sank to the bottom of the bay. Even in the merriment and celebration of their “engagement,” Hale’s mind was on his deal with William Stowell and the money he would make from it.

  Strangely she felt let down. Her disappointment was ludicrous, of course; Hale’s mind was always on business—she’d known that from the first time she’d met him. She wasn’t going to change him, and she shouldn’t even want to. Yet the warm fingers on her waist coupled with a giddy champagne-induced glow caused her heart to beat a little faster. What if? she wondered, leaning back against Hale and feeling the hard wall of his chest against her shoulder blades. What if, during the course of their voyage . . . Hale’s priorities reversed and money wasn’t his all-consuming need?

  Impossible! Or was it?

  “More?” Stewart lifted the half-empty bottle from its silver bucket and cocked his head in Valerie’s direction.

  “I don’t think I should,” Valerie replied.

  “Live a little,” Hale suggested, his breath light against her ear. Delicious tingles skittered down her spine.

  “My motto exactly,” Stewart said, ignoring his father’s dark glare. “We may as well enjoy ourselves since we’re stuck with one another for the next couple of weeks!” He grabbed the neck of the opened bottle and poured more champagne into Valerie’s glass.

  The yacht’s engines rumbled loudly. “About time,” Hale said under his breath.

  “Anxious?” she murmured.

  “Aren’t you?”

  Turning, she planted a playful kiss on his cheek and whispered, “The sooner this is over, the better.”

  “Amen,” Hale agreed, his eyes growing dark. He slipped his sunglasses onto his nose and finished his drink, but kept one arm closed around her, and no one on board could miss the implication. Valerie was his. And she was, she realized, bought and paid for like a slab of beef.

  Uncomfortable, Valerie slipped away from him and moved to the side of the deck, where she leaned over the rail and watched the smaller boats and the marina disappear. Ahead, the dark waters of the bay beckoned. Sunlight sparkled on the surface, and sloops, their colorful sails billowing with the wind, sailed by.

  Sea gulls floated on the breeze as The Regina knifed through the bay, turning westward to the open waters of the Pacific Ocean, where she would spend the next two weeks.

  Valerie experienced an unfamiliar weakness in her knees. As she watched the harbor recede, she realized that for the next two weeks there was no turning back.

  CHAPTER 6

  To Valerie’s surprise, her sea legs didn’t fail her. She hadn’t been aboard a boat since she was twelve, the summer before her father had died, and she’d expected to experience a little bit of seasickness, but she didn’t. In fact, the salt sea air and gentle rumble of the ship’s engines agreed with her.

  That first afternoon she didn’t see Hale for more than fifteen minutes. He and William Stowell locked themselves into Stowell’s den and didn’t so much as poke their heads out on deck. Beth was busy going over meal plans with the cook, so Valerie spent a couple of hours sunbathing not far from Regina. Several times she tried to draw the younger woman into conversation, but was met with only monosyllabic responses.

  She sipped iced tea and read until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “So,” she finally said, closing her mystery novel and looking over at Regina, “where do you live?”

  Regina, lying supine on a mattress, didn’t so much as blink. “The city.”

  “An apartment?”

  “Umm.”

  “Where?”

  With a sigh, Regina lifted her sunglasses. Her expression bored, she asked, “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing—I was just making conversation.”

  “Okay—well, I live in a two-bedroom condo near the Presidio. I had a roommate, we didn’t get along, so she moved out. For the time being, I’m alone.”

  “Oh.”

  With a frown, Regina turned onto her stomach, untied the back of her bikini and lay motionless, her oiled body glistening a deep bronze color. “Anything else you want to know? You know, like where I work, if I’m dating, that kind of thing?”

  “I guess not,” Valerie said, sticking her nose back into the worn paperback she’d found in her cabin. She didn’t expect Regina to continue the conversation, but the younger woman slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and observed Valerie over the rims. “So what gives?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With you and Hale.” Regina didn’t so much as blink her dark brown eyes.

  “We’re going to be married.”

  “Oh, right,” Regina said. “But you have separate rooms.”

  Valerie smiled. “We’re not married yet.”

  “Seriously? How . . . old-school.” Regina rubbed some coconut oil onto her shoulder. “Sorry. That sounded a little nasty. I didn’t mean it. I just think that it’s kind of weird that you’re not sharing a cabin.”

  Valerie smiled coolly. “I guess I’m old-fashioned.”

  “And Hale?” Regina’s dark eyes narrowed.

  “Deep down he’s very conservative.”

  “Sure he is,” Regina replied. “That’s why he’s considered a rebel in the investment world. The man is known for taking risks—big risks. I don’t think ‘conservative’ is in his vocabulary.”

  Lifting a shoulder, Valerie tur
ned her attention back to her book and pretended interest in the dogged attempts of detective Matt Connery to solve a murder in Detroit.

  “You know, we were expecting Hale to bring along a ‘friend.’ In fact, I was sure Leigh Carmichael might be joining us.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know who Leigh Carmichael is?” Regina’s teeth flashed in the sun.

  “I’ve never heard of her.” But Valerie felt every muscle in her body tighten. There was a studied casualness in Regina’s tone—a cool disinterest that contrasted with the gleam in her dark eyes.

  “Just how well do you know Hale Donovan?”

  Valerie shifted uneasily in her chair. “Hale and I only met a few weeks ago.”

  “And he never told you about Leigh?”

  “Not a word,” Valerie admitted, her temper starting to flare.

  “Well, at one time she thought she was going to be Mrs. Hale Donovan. I guess she was wrong.”

  “I guess,” Valerie said, turning back to her book, as if she couldn’t care in the least about Leigh Carmichael or any other woman in Hale’s past.

  Regina wasn’t about to give up. “I heard she was coming back to San Francisco—she’s been in Europe all summer—and the rumor was that she intended to settle down with Hale.” She twisted on the cap of her tanning oil and readjusted herself on the chaise lounge.

  Valerie sighed patiently, but didn’t comment.

  “I just wish I could see her face when she reads that Hale’s going to be married. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll cut her trip short and come storming back to San Francisco.”

  By that time the deception would be over, Valerie thought, feeling an unlikely twinge of sadness. Then it wouldn’t matter if Hale and Leigh resumed whatever relationship they’d had.

  Though she tried to concentrate on the plot of the mystery, Valerie’s thoughts kept straying to Hale and Leigh and Regina. Frowning, she was reading the same paragraph for possibly the twentieth time when Beth stormed onto the deck, poured herself a tall glass of iced tea, plopped onto a deck chair and held the cold glass against her perspiring forehead. “I tell you, that man is a moron!” she said with a sigh.

  “What man?” Regina asked, eyeing her mother.

  “The chef your father hired! I swear he doesn’t know a frappé from a flambé!”

  “Do you?” Regina asked, smiling.

  “Well, no, not really,” her mother admitted. “But it’s not my job to know!” She took a long sip from her glass and sank back in the chair. “You know how your father wants his meals.”

  Regina glanced at Valerie. “On board, dinner isn’t a meal, it’s an event.”

  “It would serve him right if I took over the galley,” Beth said fervently. “Wouldn’t he be surprised if I handed him a leather-tough steak, corn bread and chuckwagon beans?”

  Regina giggled. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, I would. If Hans—can you believe that? A French chef named Hans—gets too uppity, watch out!”

  Three hours later, Valerie changed into a white skirt and silk blouse. She wore her one pair of diamond earrings and clamped a wide gold chain around her throat. Eyeing her reflection, she touched up her lipstick and caught one side of her hair over her ear. “Good enough,” she muttered as a soft knock sounded on the door that separated her room from Hale’s.

  “Val?” he asked quietly.

  Her pulse jumped a little as she quickly flipped the lock. Hale stood on the other side, freshly shaven, his hair combed neatly. He wore a stiff white shirt, crimson tie and black dinner jacket. “You didn’t need to lock me out,” he said, smiling.

  “Maybe I was locking myself in.”

  “Maybe you’re afraid of me.” Rubbing his chin, he let his gaze drift slowly down her body, then up again.

  Valerie’s heart went wild. Pumping crazily, it thundered in her chest. To hide her reaction, she slipped a bracelet over her wrist and laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Donovan.”

  “I won’t—just as long as you don’t kid yourself.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she retorted, but noticed the amusement lingering in his eyes. Arrogant bastard! she thought, ready to engage in verbal battle again but managing somehow to hold her tongue. There wasn’t any reason to antagonize him. Yet.

  Together they walked through the main salon to the dining area, where fresh flowers and glass-encased candles adorned a linen-clad dining table.

  “Oh, there you are!” Beth cried.

  Valerie’s heart sank. Hale hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her the Stowells dressed for dinner. Beth had on a shimmering, floor-length white gown. Emeralds encircled her throat, and her hair was pinned away from her face.

  As for Regina, who entered seconds after Hale and Valerie, she was dressed to the teeth in red chiffon that draped over one shoulder and swirled to her knees. Her long hair was swept away from her face and pulled into an elegant French braid. She rained a positively dazzling smile on Valerie, who felt dull in comparison.

  Chin up, she silently told herself, refusing to feel low class just because her skirt and blouse weren’t designer originals.

  “Drinks?” William asked, opening a small mirrored bar on the sideboard.

  “Just white wine,” Valerie replied.

  “Manhattan for me,” Stewart announced as he swept into the room in a wine-colored dinner jacket and charcoal-gray slacks.

  William mixed the drinks, and Beth insisted everyone find his place at the table.

  “Right here, honey,” Hale said, patting the chair next to his.

  Valerie swallowed back a hot retort. Instead she smiled demurely and pretended she didn’t in the least feel uncomfortable, though her stomach was in knots and a thin layer of perspiration covered her skin.

  “No sign of seasickness?” William asked.

  “Not yet,” she said. “My father used to take me sailing.”

  “Did he?” Stewart leaned forward, interested.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  As the chef-cum-waiter ladled bouillabaisse into their bowls from a tureen, William said, “I’m just glad you’re used to the sea. Unfortunately we might be in for some bad weather.”

  “But today was beautiful!” Regina argued.

  “I know, but according to the weather service and Coast Guard, there’s a storm brewing off the coast of Oregon.”

  “Great,” Regina grumbled.

  “Well, no use worrying about it until it breaks,” her father said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  As the dinner progressed, Valerie listened to the conversation and observed the members of this voyage.

  Hale was absolutely charming throughout the meal. From the spicy fish stew and crisp salad through dessert, he kept the conversation rolling and even took the time to compliment the chef for the main course—succulent prawns cooked in wine. He seemed oblivious to Regina and Stewart, both of whom watched him throughout the meal. Regina tried her best to be carefree and witty, smiling at Hale’s jokes and never once making eye contact with Valerie. On the other hand, Stewart’s gaze moved restlessly around the table and he seemed uncomfortable, yanking at his collar, frowning into his drink, his gold eyes wary and suspicious.

  Valerie, nervous, picked at her meal. She barely tasted her soup, salad, shrimp or dessert of strawberry mousse.

  “Let’s have coffee in the main salon,” Beth suggested.

  “Good idea.” William winked at Valerie. “Maybe we could interest Hale and Valerie in a quick game of bridge.”

  Chuckling, Hale walked with Valerie to the salon. “Don’t let these two con you,” he warned, his eyes dancing. “They’ll play for quarters and by the end of the evening you’ll be broke.”

  “Sounds like the voice of experience talking,” she murmured.

  “It is.”

  “Come on, Donovan, you’re a gambler,” Stewart cut in, his eyes narrowing as he poured himself an after-dinner brandy. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” />
  “Not when the cards are stacked against me.”

  “Only bet on sure things?” Stewart goaded.

  “I try.” Hale offered Stewart a lazy smile, but his jaw was clenched.

  Valerie, to diffuse the tension crackling between the two men, said, “I’d love to play bridge, but I don’t know how.”

  Beth waved away her excuses. “Time you learned.”

  “I’ll be glad to show her how to play,” Stewart offered amiably.

  “Good idea!” William boomed, already settling in at a small table in the corner. “While Stewart’s coaching Valerie, the rest of us can play. Regina, you and I’ll take on your mother and Donovan.” He settled his eyes on Hale. “How about a small wager?”

  One of Hale’s brows arched. “How small?”

  “A hundred?”

  “You’re on.”

  For the next hour Stewart explained the game to her, showing her different hands, bids and cues. Valerie tried to keep her attention on the game, but her gaze wandered often across the room to the table of four. Hale’s eyes gleamed. Caught in a fast-paced game, he loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar and cuffs and rolled his sleeves up over his elbows.

  Regina’s laugh tinkled through the salon, and Valerie felt a stab of jealousy.

  “So, you and Donovan are getting married,” Stewart said, shuffling the cards again.

  “Umm.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “What?” Valerie turned back to Stewart.

  “I said I don’t believe it.”

  Valerie’s throat went dry. “Why not?”

  “I’ve heard rumors before.”

  Just like Regina.

  “No woman’s ever managed to get him to walk down the aisle.” He leaned back and surveyed her through lowered lids. “What makes you think you’ve changed him?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of changing him,” Valerie purred, goaded nonetheless.

  “Then you won’t be getting married.”

  “Only time will tell, won’t it?”

  Still studying her, Stewart set the cards on the table, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I may as well be honest with you.”