Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (16 page)

Victor's reaction had been predictable. As had Marnie's. The odd man out had been Simms. Everyone else had acted right in character. Victor had been the indignant, furious father; Marnie a proud woman who'd discovered that her lover hadn't cared for her. But Simms had been strangely quiet and subdued for a jilted fiancé.

Thinking of Marnie, Adam winced. She had been an innocent in all this. Sure, she'd been in love with Simms, but she'd never done anything directly against Adam. In fact, if she were telling him the truth, she'd protested his innocence to the board of directors of Montgomery Inns and she'd trusted him not to hurt her.

He closed his eyes, willing the image of Marnie's beautiful face from his mind and concentrating instead on Simms—the man she was supposed to marry. Simms's reaction to the scene at the lodge had been odd, to say the least. Instead of being pleased with Adam's dressing down by Victor, instead of reveling in Adam's verbal lashing, Simms had seemed more interested in Marnie and their damned boat. It had been all Victor could do to restrain Simms from chasing down the path after Marnie. No smug
smile cast in Adam's direction, no supercilious look down Simms's nose. No, in fact, once over the initial shock of seeing Adam, Simms had only been interested in Marnie, the yacht and the well-being of both.

Maybe the bastard really did care for her, Adam thought with a grimace, as he checked out of the motel. He handed the cashier his credit card, hastily scribbled his name and stuffed the receipt in the pocket of his stiff new jeans.

Outside, the weather was warm, sunlight spangling the waters of the marina several blocks downhill. Boats of all sizes and shapes were tethered to the docks. The shipmasts looked like telephone poles spaced too closely together. Hulls gleamed in the sunlight, and sails flapped noisily before catching the breeze that blew steadily across the harbor. The air was thick with the smells of fish and seaweed, the cloudless sky littered with gulls and terns.

He spotted the
Marnie Lee
as he walked toward the waterfront. Chinook Harbor was a sleepy little village where people knew everything about each other and loved to gossip. Adam, from nights spent at a local watering hole and from days lingering over coffee at a popular diner, had learned from a few discreet inquiries that Marnie had placed her yacht in the care of Ryan Barns, a sailor with a reputation of caring more for boats than for his wife and small daughter.

He'd also learned that the repairs would take several weeks.

Marnie would either have to stay on the island and wait, or return to Seattle, or continue on her flight for freedom by some other means of transportation. Though she'd never fully confessed that she'd left Montgomery Inns to start a life of her own, Adam had guessed as much. Her argument with Victor at the lodge had confirmed his suspicions. Her bid for independence won his grudging
approval. Few women, or men for that matter, would give up the good life just to prove themselves.

Yep. Marnie was one helluva woman.

Marnie, Marnie, Marnie. It would be best if he stayed away from her. But right now, he couldn't. Not yet. Despite all the pain he'd already caused her, he had to convince her to help him again.

Fat chance,
he thought, irritated with how he'd bungled their relationship.
What relationship?
he thought irritably, and sighed in self-disgust. He'd destroyed any chance of her trusting him again.

A few tourists and townspeople wandered along the streets of Chinook Harbor. The air was clean and clear, the only evidence of the storm of the past week the streaks of mud lining the sidewalks and clogging the gutters.

Adam trekked the two blocks to the pier, hoping to spy Marnie, but was disappointed. The woman behind the desk of Barns's Charters and Repairs, Renada, if the smudged nameplate on her desk could be believed, cast him the same patient smile she always gave him, but she wouldn't let him near the
Marnie Lee.

“Sorry, Mr. Drake, no can do,” Renada said, as she had each time he'd visited. “You know the rules. Now, if you'd like to talk to Mr. Barns, I'll just call him…” She reached for the phone on the corner of her desk, but Adam shook his head. He'd already talked to Barns and gotten nowhere.

He turned to leave just as Ryan Barns himself swung through a back door. The man was short, wiry, with several tattoos decorating his beefy forearms. Sweat stains darkened the faded blue material of a T-shirt that matched the color of his eyes.

“Mr. Drake, back again, I see,” Barns drawled, snapping a grimy cloth from the hip pocket of sagging jeans and wiping black oil from his hands on the rag. He smelled
of diesel and tobacco. “Don't tell me. Ya come wantin' to get on board the
Marnie Lee
again.”

“I'm looking for Miss Montgomery.”

Barns sniffed and stuffed the oily rag back into his pocket. “She ain't here, but I told her you came snooping around here the other day and she was fit to be tied. Told me in no uncertain terms that you weren't allowed on her boat, that you and some guy named Simms were strictly off-limits.”

“Is that so?”

Barns nodded and let out a whistle between slightly gapped front teeth. “I don't know what you did to that little lady, but she's madder'n hell at you.”

“Just tell her I'd like to talk to her.”

“Already did,” Barns replied amiably. “And she told me to tell you to—” he glanced at his secretary who was just lighting a cigarette “—how'd she put it, Rennie? Something about buying a one-way ticket to hell—no, no, that wasn't it.”

Renada let the smoke roll out her nostrils. “I think it was more like, ‘Tell Mr. Drake he can stow away on the next steamer bound for hell, but he's not to set foot on the
Marnie Lee.
'”

“That was it!” Barns grinned and snapped his fingers. “I thought she was jokin', but she never once cracked a smile.”

“Just tell her I was here again,” Adam said as he left Renada and Barns chuckling at his expense.

In the motel's parking lot, Adam tossed his bag into the trunk of his rental car, then climbed behind the wheel. He knew where Marnie was staying, he'd just wanted to give her time to cool down before he showed up on her doorstep. But she'd refused to return his phone calls, and the one time he'd stopped by her hotel, she'd refused to meet him for a drink.

Adam couldn't wait any longer. He had to talk to her. Whether she wanted to see him or not.

So what're you going to do? Shanghai her?
That particular thought brought a lift to the corners of his mouth and a warm feeling deep in his gut. Though he'd tried, he couldn't forget making love to her—hot and wild, savage and yet laced with tenderness, their lovemaking had burned bright in his mind. Especially at night.

He'd thought about finding himself another woman; there were lots of bored women in this town who had cast interested glances in his direction, but he'd never so much as tried to catch their eyes. No, right now, all of his sexual fantasies were tied up with Victor Montgomery's daughter.

Forbidden fruit.

Nonetheless, no other woman would do. Not until this mess with Montgomery Inns was resolved and Marnie was out of his blood forever. He flicked on the Ford's engine and edged into the slow flow of traffic.

One way or another, he had to convince Marnie to see things his way.

* * *

T
HE NOON SUN BEAT
down with the intensity of July rather than late May, though no one had jumped into the pool, which sparkled invitingly near Marnie's table. Beneath a striped umbrella, Marnie sipped her tea and finished the crumbs of her croissant. She scanned the headlines of a Seattle paper she'd purchased in the lobby, unable to keep from looking for any information on Montgomery Inns.

The last time she'd seen her father, he'd been as angry as she'd ever seen him.

And Adam. She couldn't think of him without hurting inside.

“Moron,” she muttered at herself as she sipped her tea. For the first time in days she'd felt like eating. So she'd
ordered lunch on the veranda and settled in at this table flanked by planters overflowing with pink-and-white tulips and pale yellow daffodils. Only a few feet away, the aquamarine water in the pool shimmered invitingly.

Maybe she was finally getting over Adam, she thought, still scanning the paper.

Right. And maybe horses have learned to fly.
Idly, she stirred her tea.

Somehow, she had to get on with her life. Without Adam Drake messing it up. She thought about how he'd planned her seduction, how he'd played with her emotions and how gullible she'd been. Believing him. Trusting him. She'd even fantasized that she'd been falling in love with him.

Silly, spoiled little girl. Used to getting your way. Well, when it comes to men and love, you just don't seem to learn. First Kent. Now Adam. What a pathetic list of men to fall in love with!

“I'm not, never have been and never will be in love with Adam Drake.” She shoved her plate aside, licked her fingers and flipped through the classified section of the paper. Maybe having the
Marnie Lee
put up for repairs was a turn of good luck. She couldn't just climb on the boat and sail away from her problems. She had to face her future. A future without Kent, without Montgomery Inns and definitely without Adam.

She could move anywhere she chose. She had enough money to start her own public-relations firm, and if she were frugal, she could manage for nearly a year before she'd have to get a job to supplement her income.

She couldn't just take off on the boat and put off her decision about where she was going to live forever. She ran her fingers down the classified section of “business opportunities.” Maybe there was a firm she could buy—on a contract, of course—and in time…

“Marnie?”

The sound of Adam's voice was like a jolt of electricity. She visibly jumped and snapped her head around to find him standing just outside the shade of the umbrella.
Oh, please, God, no!
Her heart thumped crazily at the sight of him, but she set her jaw and eyed him coolly. “I thought I made it clear—I don't want to speak to you.”

“I got the message.” He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, twisted it around and straddled it, his eyes squinting against the sun as he looked at her.

“I don't think you did. I never want to see you again.”

“Never's a long time.”

“Not long enough.” She scooted her chair back, intending to leave, but he reacted too quickly, reaching out with the speed of a striking snake, his fingers closing tightly over her wrist. “Just hear me out, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because it's important.”

“Believe me, Mr. Drake, we don't have anything to discuss.”

“I don't blame you for being angry.”

“I'm
way
past angry, Adam. In fact, I'm beyond furious and enraged. Even livid doesn't quite describe—”

“Just listen to me.”

“No—”

“Please,” he said softly, and her heart turned to mush.

She had to remind herself what a black-souled bastard he really was. “There's no point, Adam,” she said, pulling hard on her hand, but he didn't budge. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“I'll call security.”

“And cause a scene?”

“Yes! You don't have an exclusive on creating a scandal, you know,” she gambled. She'd been brought up
believing in decorum and doing the right thing, but Adam blew all her beliefs right out of the water.

“Don't I?” His mouth stretched into a crooked, dangerous smile, and his golden brown eyes seemed to catch the rays of the sun. “We'll see about that,” he drawled, standing, the pads of his fingers moving slightly against the inside of her arm. Marnie's pulse trembled and he felt it; she knew he did, by the spark of recognition in his gaze.

“What're you doing?” she whispered, conscious of more than a few pairs of eyes turned in their direction.

“Convincing you to listen to me.”

“How?” she asked, her heart fluttering tremulously though she was still trying to draw away as she realized he intended to kiss her! “Oh, no—”

“See that man in the corner—about forty, round glasses?”

She couldn't help casting a glance to the edge of the veranda where the man, wearing a plaid sport jacket and brown slacks, was watching them intently. She froze.

“He's a photographer for the local paper.”

“Sure,” she said, hoping to sound sarcastic.

“He is.”

“I don't have to listen to this,” she said quickly, though she spied a camera on the table next to the man in question. She tried to yank away again and Adam, standing, drew her from her chair, wrenching her close so that her body slammed into his. His arms surrounded her, and he lowered his head as if he were going to kiss her. “Adam, don't—”

“Struggle if you want to. Make a scene. But think about it,” he whispered against her ear. “Because if that man takes your picture and it somehow finds its way to the front page of the
Seattle Observer,
your father will probably see it.”

“You're bluffing,” she accused, but her heart nearly stopped when the man in the corner, as if looking for a cue
from Adam, picked up his camera. Adam nodded imperceptibly and Marnie gulped. “You hired him, didn't you?” she whispered, horrified at the realization. “You hired him to do this so that—”

“Now listen, Marnie,” Adam cut in, all humor leaving his face. “He's not going to do anything unless I give him the high sign.”

“You wouldn't!” she whispered. How devious was Adam? To what lengths would he go?

“Watch me.” His lips brushed over hers and even though a part of her was mortified, her body, at least, was thrilled. Her skin tingled where he touched her.

“Let go of me,” she commanded. But if anything his grip tightened, and when he kissed her again, her breath was lost somewhere between her lungs and her throat, her mind caught between now and forever.