Sail Away

by Lisa Jackson

  She tucked her chin on her hand. Adam Drake was a complication she hadn’t anticipated, a wrinkle in her life she wasn’t prepared to deal with. They’d become lovers, but she could hardly call them friends. Their lovemaking had been so explosive, so fierce and savage, that she felt drained afterward, as if she’d been in an emotional battle in which both sides were victorious.

  “Silly girl,” she chided herself, and brushed a pebble off the rail and onto the damp earth surrounding the porch. She’d never been a romantic and she wasn’t about to start having idle fantasies now. She couldn’t stay up here with Adam forever, and yet, as anxious as she’d been to leave Montgomery Inns behind, she now felt ready to settle in for a while, let this love affair run its natural course…But that was impossible. They hadn’t talked much, though he had asked her questions about the company, questions she wouldn’t answer. He’d brought up the embezzlement, but she wouldn’t speculate about what had happened, not with the man her father presumed to be the thief.

  She heard the sound of footsteps and trained her eyes on the stone-strewn path, which cut through the thick stands of trees and lush ferns. Within seconds Adam appeared and her stupid heart did a quick little flip at the sight of him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this lust, but she couldn’t seem to control her emotions.

  “Did you go back to the Marnie Lee?” she asked, dusting off the seat of her jeans as he stepped onto the porch and shifted the bag he’d slung over his back from one shoulder to the other.

  He sent a quasi-smile her direction. “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “And she’s still above water,” he answered. For a millisecond a hint of reluctance glimmered in his eyes.

  “But everything was okay?” Marnie pursued, sensing he was holding back on her, that he was hiding something from her, protecting her from bad news.

  “Everything’s fine,” was his gruff reply. Shoving open the door, he hauled his bag of supplies into the lobby and dropped the heavy bundle on the floor. Without another word, he walked into the dining room, and Marnie had the odd sensation that something was terribly wrong. Suddenly Adam had grown sullen and distant.

  Because of last night? she wondered. Did he think she’d expect some sort of commitment from him now? Nothing could be further from the truth. She was her own woman, able to make decisions regarding her body on her own.

  But still his glum mood bothered her. And he was now in the dining room, where their first explosive encounter had occurred. Marnie struggled to keep her breathing even.

  Knowing that he was avoiding her, but unable to leave well enough alone, she followed him and found him seated on an old bar stool near the window, the opened bottle of liquor in one hand, a half-full glass in the other.

  “Something happened,” she stated, boldly pulling up a stool next to his and straddling it.

  He flicked a glance her way, then drained his glass.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered, and she noticed that his expression was as hard-edged as ever, any sign of tenderness wiped away.

  “For God’s sake, Adam, something’s going on.”

  He stared at her a long while, his eyes going over every contour of her face, as if he were memorizing each tiny detail. “I just think it’s time to celebrate,” he said, his jaw sliding to the side.

  “Celebrate?” she repeated, a kernel of fear settling in her heart. “Celebrate what?”

  “The cavalry.”

  He was making no sense whatsoever, and yet there was something in the way he considered his words that indicated he wasn’t telling her everything—that indeed he did have a secret he hadn’t shared with her. “What cavalry?”

  His lips quirked. “Oh, you know. Those mighty fighting men from Montgomery Inns.”

  Marnie’s stomach contracted as he poured a second glass. She shivered from the sudden coolness in the room, as if they’d never shared a second of passion, a drop of love, as if they were, again, mortal enemies. “Someone’s coming here? Someone from the company?” she whispered.

  “Good old Victor, unless I miss my guess.”

  She was suddenly stone-cold. He had to be kidding. “My father’s in Seattle.”

  “Correction. He was in Seattle.”

  “He wouldn’t come up here.”

  “I invited him.”

  “You what?” she cried, her voice as rough as the whiskey he’d poured into his glass. “But how?”

  “Through the Coast Guard.”

  “But why?” She thought about their passionate lovemaking. It had all been an act, a way to bend her will to his so that she would trust him, and the minute she let down her guard he had the nerve to contact her father! “You used me!”

  For a flickering moment she thought she caught a glimpse of regret in his face, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined a shred of remorse in his hard features. “What have you done, Drake? What did you say to him?”

  “Only enough to get him here.”

  “You told him about us?” she nearly screamed, denying the overpowering urge to lunge at him. “You had no right—”

  “I just said I didn’t think we’d be back for a while. That’s all.”

  “But you intimated that there was something going on between us!” she guessed, livid. Who was this…this beast she’d slept with? Warm and loving one minute, treacherous and deceitful the next! “How could you?”

  “I didn’t say anything about last night,” he shot back.

  “But you said enough to get him up here!”

  “I might be wrong,” he replied, his gaze cutting. “Maybe Kent will come to the rescue on his white steed. That would be better yet.” He studied his liquor for a second, then took a long swallow. “Nah,” he said finally, “Simms doesn’t have the nerve. Not unless he shows up with Victor.”

  Marnie’s entire world tilted. “Oh, God,” she groaned, her future suddenly bleak. Her father would be furious. He’d label her a traitor, brand her as disloyal for openly consorting with the enemy. “You’re out of your mind,” she whispered, trying to think straight.

  “I think you could use a drink,” he said, and his voice was kinder. He touched her hand, but she drew quickly away.

  “Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t touch me!”

  He started to hand her his drink, but she swatted the glass to the floor, and liquor spattered his jeans and splashed against the window to drizzle down rough pine walls. She wanted to cry but wouldn’t let herself, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. Slowly inching up her chin to meet his gaze, she demanded, “Why do you hate me? What have I done to you?”

  “I don’t hate you, Marnie,” he said quietly, and a fleeting sliver of conscience showed in his expression. “But you’re Victor’s daughter.”

  “And for that you’re trying to ruin my life?” Agony mingled with remorse in his expression, before his face turned hard again. He started to pour yet another drink, then, cursing, screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “You slept with me, damn it,” she charged, outraged and wounded.

  “And you slept with me!”

  She opened her mouth, then let it snap closed. She’d been a fool to let him get close enough to hurt her. “Yes, I did. As if that makes what you did all right. Don’t turn this argument around!”

  In frustration, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes squeezed closed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. “I had no intention of—”

  “Seducing me?” she cut in, remembering the first time he’d kissed her. “Or forcing me?”

  His eyes flew open, and purple color suffused his neck. “I didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to!”

  That was true enough, she supposed, but she was aching inside from the wounds he’d inflicted. “You didn’t hurt me,” she lied, managing to keep her voice steady.

  “I hope not, Marnie.” The way he said her name was like a balm. He stared into hi
s glass. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not very proud of, some of them happened in the last couple of days, but I’ve never stolen from your father and I’ve never forced any woman to sleep with me.”

  “So why don’t you leave?” she said, hoping to pull together a little of her shredded dignity.

  “I thought you could help me find some answers, and if you couldn’t, then I knew Victor or Kent could supply them.”

  “So you did use me,” she said, her voice tight and weak.

  “Yes, damn it!” he exploded, leaping from his bar stool and striding back to the bar where he slammed the bottle on the counter next to the mirror. “I only want my life back, my self-respect!”

  “So do I,” she threw back at him. “And I’d like to think that what we shared last night was more than a cheap trick to lure me into a compromising position with my father. What is it you want from me, Drake?” she finally asked, her voice shaking as she climbed off her stool and marched up to him. She stopped when she was mere inches away, the toes of her shoes close to his battered sneakers.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” he said slowly. “I’m after Simms or whoever the hell set me up. I just thought you could give me some information.”

  “About what?” she demanded.

  “About who in the corporation would be a suspect.”

  “I thought you’d decided Kent was your scapegoat.”

  He sent her a look that was absolutely chilling. “I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted with a cold smile. “And I’d put money on Simms being the culprit, but I don’t understand his motive. Unless he had debts I don’t know about, I don’t know why he’d jeopardize having it all—by marrying you—for half a million.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone.”

  “That’s encouraging,” he said, and his mouth shifted into his first honest smile of the day.

  “I can’t tell you anything about Kent that you don’t already know. I thought I loved him and that he loved me, but I was mistaken and I thank my lucky stars that I wasn’t foolish enough to marry him. But I don’t think he stole from my father. He’s not that stupid…and it would take a lot more money for him to betray Dad.”

  “But he would do it?”

  “Loyalty isn’t Kent’s strongest quality,” she said grimly, thinking of Kent’s affair with Dolores.

  “So what about Fred Ainger? He’s about to retire and he lives the good life. I don’t think Social Security and his pension at Montgomery Inns will cover his wife’s extravagances.”

  “Fred’s too honest.”

  “Is he?” Obviously Adam wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as if he were squinting to read extremely small print. “How well do you know Rose Trullinger?”

  “Well enough. You can’t possibly imagine she would embezzle. She’s in interior design. How could she possibly juggle the books?”

  “Doesn’t she have access to a computer terminal?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And isn’t it linked to the entire Montgomery Inns chain?”

  “By secret access codes.” This was too farfetched. Adam was really reaching.

  “Rose has an ailing husband who can’t hold a job, and three daughters in college.”

  “Just because people need money, doesn’t mean they’d steal!” she said in exasperation. This conversation was getting them nowhere, and they were avoiding the issue that was on both their minds. Marnie could think of nothing but their lovemaking, and though Adam had changed the topic, she wasn’t finished having it out with him.

  “I have a question for you,” she finally admitted.

  “Shoot.”

  His golden brown gaze held hers. “What about sleeping with me?” she demanded, bracing herself for the pain of his rejection. “Didn’t it mean anything?”

  He hesitated just a second before answering coldly. “Last night was sex.”

  “And that’s all?”

  His eyes bored into hers, and the air between them fairly sizzled with electricity. He swirled his drink, tossed it back and slammed the empty glass on the bar. “That’s all it could ever be.”

  She wanted to hit him. To slap him so hard he would take back the ugly words, but she couldn’t. Because he was speaking the truth. They had no future together, no love, just sex.

  “They’re right about you,” she finally said, her jaw wobbling ever so slightly and hot tears building behind her eyes. “You’re just as bad as Dad and Kent think.”

  “Probably,” he agreed as she spun and stumbled blindly up the steps and through the lobby. She had to get away from him, had to pull herself together. She shoved open the door with her shoulder as tears started to stream down her face. She couldn’t break down in front of him, wouldn’t let him see her cry.

  “Marnie!”

  Oh, God, he was following her!

  She ran, around the corner to the back of the lodge. His footsteps crunched in the gravel behind her, and he caught up with her at the weed-strewn parking lot, near a spreading maple tree with branches that provided a green canopy. “Marnie—wait. Just listen to me.” He grabbed hold of her arm, and though she tried to pull away from him, he was much stronger than she, and she was wrenched back against the solid wall of his chest.

  His arms surrounded her. “Marnie, Marnie, Marnie,” he whispered against her hair. “Don’t hate me.”

  “I do!” she lied, wishing she could pull away. “All you are is trouble. My father was right!”

  “Your father’s wrong about a lot of things, and so are you.” He stared down into her shimmering eyes, and she wanted to collapse against him, to beg him to take back the cruel words, but of course he wouldn’t.

  “Just leave me alone!”

  But he didn’t. Instead his lips crashed down on hers, possessive and hard, demanding and comforting, and she struggled hard to pull away. But his arms were powerful, his mouth hot and wet, his will as strong as her own.

  Her body reacted, sagging against his hard male contours, her arms slackening until she fought no longer and was aware of only Adam. The smell of the sea wafted over the musky scent of him, and deep in the distance she heard birds startled at the sound of a car’s engine. Closing out all sounds, she clung to him and molded her body tight against his.

  Groaning, he moved so that her back was pressed hard against the rough bark of the maple, but she didn’t care, and when his hands moved upward along her arms, she shuddered with want. Her mouth opened easily to his practiced tongue.

  Vaguely she was aware that something was wrong, that the sounds of the day had changed, but she didn’t know or care why. She was lost in a savage storm of emotion, and as his hand surrounded her breast, gently massaging her flesh through her sweater while his tongue tickled the inside of her mouth, she gave in to all the wanton pulses firing her blood.

  Until he stopped. As quickly as he’d pulled her to him, he released her. “Someone’s coming,” he said as the whine of a car’s engine split the air and the nose of a white sedan rounded the final curve in the gravel lane.

  Quickly Marnie straightened the hem of her sweater and swiped at the tears still standing in her eyes, but not before she met the furious gaze of the driver of the sedan. Her heart plummeted. Right now, she wasn’t ready to face her father.

  Victor’s polished leather shoes landed on the gravel as the car rolled to a stop. “What the hell’s going on here?” he said in a voice so low and menacing Marnie could barely hear it over the dull pounding of the surf. His gaze landed in contemptuous force on Adam. “Well, Drake, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now what?”

  “I just want to talk to you.”

  Marnie hadn’t even noticed Kent in the passenger seat of the car, but there he was, climbing out of the sedan, his shoulders stiff, his mouth a white, uncompromising line. His whole attitude reeked of disdain, as if he could barely stomach the scene unfolding before him. However, Marnie knew him better than most and she saw something more than he’d like to show
, something he was trying to hide, something akin to fear that touched his features.

  The wind picked up, shoving Marnie’s hair in front of her eyes, as her father reached her side. “Are you all right?” Victor asked, grabbing her in a huge bear hug. His face was filled with fatherly concern, and Marnie realized she’d wounded him bitterly by leaving with Adam.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure?” He held her at arm’s length, as if he could see the scars on her soul, scars inflicted by Adam Drake.

  “Dad, believe me. I never felt better.” From the corner of her eye she saw Adam stiffen.

  “And what about him?” He motioned to Adam, and Marnie recognized a spark of rebellion in Adam’s eyes. “He treat you right?”

  “No one ‘treated’ anyone,” she said evenly. “And you’re here now. Why not talk to him yourself?”

  A muscle flexed in Victor’s cheek, and the wind blew his tie over his shoulder. He hesitated just a second, but finally said, “All right, Drake. Let’s get this over with. What’s on your mind?”

  Adam told him. Right there in the old parking lot with the first few storm clouds rolling in from the west. Rain began to fall from the dark sky as Adam explained his theory of being set up and he didn’t stop, not even when Kent scoffed at him.

  Victor listened, though Marnie guessed he wasn’t buying any of Adam’s theories.

  “All I want is another chance to prove that I’m innocent,” Adam finally said, “and a public apology from you, absolving me of all guilt when that proof is uncovered.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Kent said. “You’ve got no proof of a conspiracy against you or whatever you think happened. You’re grasping at straws, man.”

  “Maybe your straw,” Adam said with a slow, cold smile, challenging Kent without so much as lifting a finger. Kent rose to the bait, his jaw set and his handsome face flushed dark. He was ready to fling himself at Adam, but he must have thought better of his actions, for he straightened his tie instead and backed down. For the moment.