Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (10 page)

Or maybe not. He hadn't exactly made a beeline to get off the boat when he'd found her at the wheel. Sure, there'd been a storm, and he couldn't have done anything
but stay on board, and yet once he'd gotten over the shock of discovering her on board, he hadn't been in a hurry to abandon her.

Not that she cared, she told herself as she poked at the smoldering logs. Right now, Adam Drake was just extra baggage.

She grabbed the handle of the metal pot and sucked in her breath as she burned her fingers. Dropping the kettle, she stuck her fingers in her mouth. Some of the water spilled onto the coals, hissing loudly. “Son of a…gun!” she muttered, shaking her hand to cool her reddened skin. “Smooth move, Marnie. Real smart. Now you know why you should have been a Boy Scout!”

One step backward for independence, she thought wryly as she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting Adam to appear on the balcony and laugh at her. But there wasn't so much as the scrape of leather on the dusty floorboards, not the flicker of a shadow. He'd obviously taken off early this morning while she'd slept. Lord, she must've been dead to the world. Hard to believe. Marnie Montgomery, the world's greatest insomniac, sleeping as if drugged, while a strange man—perhaps a thief—was stretched out only a few feet away. She hadn't even surfaced when he'd rattled around with the coffeepot.

Slowly the pain in her hand retreated to a dull ache. She wondered about Adam and his cockamamy story. Why unearth all that scandal about the embezzling again? Was he really so innocent that it mattered? The fire popped, and she kicked at a spark that spewed onto the hearth. Adam Drake, the eternal mystery and bane of Montgomery Inns.

What would her father say? She could picture Victor now, his face suffused in red, his lower lip trembling in rage when she told him she'd spent the night with Adam Drake. It would be better if Victor never knew. After all, this whole trip was about her bid for freedom, wasn't it?

Wrapping her hand in an old towel, she picked up the coffeepot more carefully this time and poured a stream of hot water into the chipped cup. Steam rolled from the hot water as she stirred in a spoonful of the dark crystals. The smell of coffee mingled with the scent of burning wood, and surprisingly, she relaxed, sipping from her cup.

Despite a night on a lumpy, dusty couch, no food for hours, the feel of grit against her skin and her disturbing companion, Marnie Montgomery felt better than she had in a long, long time. She was on her way to being her own woman, she could feel it in her bones. Tucking her knees to her chin, she cradled her cup and let the steam caress her face.

For years she had craved adventure. And now, feeling the hot coffee burn down her throat, she'd gotten the adventure of a lifetime. With some twists she hadn't expected. Between last night's storm and Adam Drake, all her plans had been shot to shreds. And the surprising part was, she wasn't even worried.

She, who had fussed that every press release, every meeting, every party be perfect down to the very tiniest detail. She, who had spent hours color-coordinating napkins and linen, balloons and flower arrangements, seeking out opinions from Rose Trullinger, her father's interior decorator. She'd labored over brochures, and if one line wasn't to her liking, she'd insisted it be fixed. At the news conferences she'd been poised, every hair in place, wearing expensive suits, her speeches prepared to the letter.

And why wouldn't she be a perfectionist? After her mother's death she'd been raised by several nannies, all of whom had assured her that to win her father's approval she should be the new “lady” of Montgomery Manor, the little girl who acted like an adult. Miss Ellison, her favorite nanny, the one who had marched into her father's palatial home a week after her mother had died, had taught
eleven-year-old Marnie how to fold her napkin on her lap, which utensil to eat with, and how to write proper thankyou notes on her engraved stationery. Never was she to wear anything wrinkled or soiled, and no dress could be worn twice to a Montgomery Inn function.

Her education had been planned since her birth, and though at college she'd rebelled a little and worn her jeans one whole week without washing them, all her lessons were so deeply ingrained that she was still the epitome of social decorum.

If it hadn't been for those summer vacations with her father, when he taught her how to fish and swim and steer a boat, she might have turned into the perfect little angel Miss Ellison had tried to mold.

No wonder a man like Kent had been attracted to her… and repulsed. The Ice Maiden, as she'd heard herself called on more than one occasion.

Spontaneity hadn't been a part of her vocabulary. Until she'd written her letter of resignation to her father. Well, she'd certainly changed. Almost overnight. She swallowed a smile when she thought of feisty, birdlike Miss Ellison. In her own way, Marnie had loved the pert Englishwoman with her smooth, implacable expression and warm eyes that were always partially hidden behind rimless glasses. Miss Ellison had been kind and warm to Marnie, though unbending in her perception of who Victor Montgomery's daughter should be. Miss Ellison's interpretation was that Marnie was to become the princess of Montgomery Inns and heir to the throne—that worn boardroom chair now occupied by Marnie's father. Of course, Miss Ellison had anticipated that Marnie would marry well, and her husband, the new prince of the Montgomery empire, would be handsome and intelligent and kind and ride up on his white charger to swoop Marnie away.

With a short laugh, Marnie glanced down at her hands
and noticed the small wedges of dirt beneath her nails. If only Miss Ellison could see her now. How appalled the tiny Englishwoman would be. Miss Ellison had never approved of Victor teaching Marnie how to tie a half hitch, use a jackknife or site a gun. In fact, Miss Ellison would have been absolutely apoplectic if she could have witnessed Marnie last night as she'd attempted to steer her boat through the driving rain and howling wind.

As for Adam Drake, surely Miss Ellison would cluck her tongue and find him “…entirely unsuitable! Too earthy, darling, too dangerous. Mark my words, he's the type of man who uses women to get what he wants. And we all know that he was involved in that nasty business with your father. Stole from him, he did. No matter what the court decided. You can see it in his eyes. He's no good. No
breeding,
you know. I don't trust him. Not at all…”

Marnie rotated her cup in her hands and pondered her situation. Standing, she stretched her spine and heard the bones in her back pop. The first order of business, she realized with a frown, was to get rid of Adam Drake. She didn't want him and he didn't want her. He had been shocked to his socks to find her behind the helm last night. At the thought of his stricken, rain-washed face, she smiled. He'd been ready to tear Kent limb from limb, and he'd ended up facing Victor Montgomery's daughter.

She finished her coffee, poured another cup and wondered what Adam hoped to learn by talking to Kent. Kent knew nothing of the embezzlement; he'd even admitted feeling foolish having not discovered the discrepancies in the books himself. Fortunately, Kate Delany, Victor's ever-vigilant assistant, had noticed that certain receipts hadn't balanced with actual checks and that the computer entries had been tampered with.

Kent had been flabbergasted. He'd never been fond of
Adam, that much was true. They were both too competitive, and Adam had always outshined Kent.

Marnie thought back to those days when she'd been in business meetings with Adam. He'd been the apple of her father's eye. Always on the lookout for a new hotel site, first with the figures on the competition. He had a way of explaining a future project so that everyone in the room understood him.

Adam had been popular with the employees, especially the women, who found his hard edge and competitive spirit a challenge. Even Marnie had considered him attractive, though she hadn't let him know it. No, until Kent had started wooing her so relentlessly, she'd made it a personal policy not to date anyone remotely connected with the company. If only she had stuck with her own unwritten law and never gone out with Kent.

Refusing to dwell on the humiliation that being engaged to Kent Simms had caused, she walked onto the front porch, half expecting to find Adam, but he was nowhere to be seen. She strolled across the wet beach grass of the headland and stared down sheer cliffs to the restless sea churning wildly over fifty feet below. Angry blue gray waves pounded the rocky shoreline, sending up a salty spray that smelled of brine and kelp. Sea gulls floated on the gusts high overhead, and far in the horizon, blending eerily into the fog, fishing boats trolled the waters.

Knowing the fishermen were out there comforted her a little. She and Adam weren't entirely alone in this deserted stretch of the islands. But she was free. Looking south, she spotted the
Marnie Lee,
not listing, thank God, but rocking gently on the swells. The boat's white hull gleamed in the morning's gray light. She thought she spied the inflatable raft riding the waves near the yacht and realized Adam had gone back to the boat, probably to check the damage to the craft. For a heart-stopping second, she
wondered if he intended to take off and leave her stranded. Panic seized her, but she forced herself to calm down. If Adam's intention had been to abandon her and steal the boat, he could have left at any time last night. And he probably wouldn't have taken the time to leave hot water and coffee for her. Relaxing, she realized that whether she liked it or not, she had no choice but to trust him.

Her brows drew together. Trust a man her father considered a traitor of the worst order? “This could get messy,” she thought aloud.

She considered Adam again. There was certainly something dangerous about him, a hidden side to him that was as dark as it was ruthless. A fascinating side.

* * *

S
O THIS WAS WHERE
Simms spent his hours away from the office, Adam thought harshly as he eyed the largest cabin on the
Marnie Lee.
He scowled at the brass fittings, oiled teak furniture, all bolted down, of course, and the silk bedspread and sheets. Yep, Simms really knew how to live in style.

With Marnie.

How many hours had Marnie spent lying in this very bed, making love to Simms? Adam's stomach clenched, and a sour taste inched up his throat. She claimed she was through with Simms, and Adam was inclined to believe her. And yet, she'd once been Kent Simms's lover, had once intended to become his wife. “No accounting for bad taste,” he muttered, leaving the room and ignoring the pounding in his head at the thought of Marnie and Simms making love. It wasn't any of his business. Period. She was Victor's daughter and Simms's ex-fiancée. Nothing more.

She might have information that would help him get to the bottom of the embezzling scam, but then again, she might know nothing of the vanished half million. He'd have to find out one way or another because he was
running out of time. Brodie, Peterson and the rest of that particular investment group had slipped through his fingers. And the next group would, too, unless he proved himself innocent.

He made his way to the galley. Checking his handiwork on the hull, he noted the
Marnie Lee
seemed watertight. She wasn't in any immediate danger of sinking, which was good, because the plan that was forming in his mind wouldn't work unless the boat remained afloat.

He grabbed some more provisions, clean towels and a couple of sleeping bags. Up in the bridge he radioed the Coast Guard again, this time identifying himself at the captain's insistence and explaining that he and Marnie would be taking the boat in for repairs as soon as possible. He asked for the weather report and was told that there wasn't another storm front coming in for at least three days.

“It's supposed to be overcast, a little rain, but nothing serious for a while,” Captain Spencer assured him. “You sure you don't need any assistance?”

“I'll call if there's trouble. We'll put up at Chinook Harbor within a couple of days,” Adam replied, his mind spinning the lies that were part of his scheme.

“Anything else?”

Adam thought for a second and smiled slowly, gripping the microphone until his hands ached. “Just one more thing,” he said slowly. “Pass the word along to Victor Montgomery at the Puget West in Port Stanton. If you can't reach him there, he's probably at corporate headquarters in Seattle. Tell him that I'm with Marnie and we're both fine. We'll spend a couple of days up at Deception Lodge while the boat is being repaired. I wouldn't want him to worry about his daughter.”

“Will do, Mr. Drake. I'll let him know you radioed.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, wondering if Victor would show
up in the company helicopter to personally throw Adam out of the lodge and make sure that Marnie's virtue remained intact. After all, in Victor's opinion, Marnie was keeping company with a thief and traitor—the very devil himself. That thought warmed the cockles of Adam's vengeful heart. There was a chance that Victor would confide in Simms, and Simms, outraged that his lady fair was in the hands of a criminal, would come charging up to the island as well. That would be even better.

Adam would be waiting. But he had to convince Marnie to spend another couple of days in the lodge. That shouldn't be too hard; he'd just have to lie a little, and lying was becoming easier all the time. As he saw the situation, he was battling for his reputation, for his ability to make a living. He thought of the California investors who'd dismissed him so summarily. Brodie had said it all. “We can't very well hand over several million dollars until we're absolutely certain that what happened over at Montgomery Inns won't happen to us.”

So Adam had to clear his name, and the only man who had been able to help him at all had been Gerald Henderson. But even Henderson's information had been sketchy. Gerald had been a CPA and worked in accounting with Fred Ainger. He was convinced that Adam was innocent, but Adam hadn't been able to pry any more information out of him. Either Gerald didn't know who the guilty parties were or he was afraid of retribution.