Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (17 page)

“Just listen to me,” he said softly, when he raised his head from hers and she was conscious only of the rush of blood in her ears, the dizzy sensation in her mind.

“You're crazy! If you think I'm going to—”

“Come on, Marnie, what've you got to lose?” he asked, and when his gaze found hers, her throat squeezed at the tenderness in his eyes.
It's all an act! He's using you again! Don't let him! Marnie, use your head!

“Just hear me out. I promise I'll be good.”

“I don't think that's possible,” she said, her voice sounding odd when she finally found it again. “Just remember I don't
owe
you this, you know.”

“Of course not. You're doing it out of the goodness of your heart,” he quipped, but when she looked for a spark of levity in his expression, she found none.

She tried to remember why she should be furious with him, and though the reasons flitted through her mind, she refused to listen to them. And her temper, usually quick to
flare, wouldn't ignite. Not with everyone on the verandah staring at them. “Let's get out of here.”

“Now you're talking.” He slid his fingers to the crook of her elbow and propelled her forward on a straight path between the tables to the foyer of the hotel. She scrabbled for her purse, but didn't put up any further argument. In her peripheral vision she noticed the blur of red-and-white flowers, early petunias, she guessed, and heard the clink of glasses as diners turned their attention back to their lunches, but everything else, save Adam's strong presence, faded into the background.

This is nuts,
Marnie kept telling herself as he guided her past the front desk and into the elevator.

“What floor are you on?”

“Four.”

He slapped the button, and the elevator doors closed before he finally trusted her not to bolt and released her. Her head started to clear. She realized they were headed for her hotel room and trouble. Big trouble. She couldn't be confined in a small room with a bed with Adam Drake! She couldn't trust him and she certainly couldn't trust herself!

The elevator stopped with a thump. The doors parted, and Adam stepped onto the floral carpet of the corridor. Marnie didn't move. Before the doors closed again, Adam reached inside, grabbed her and hauled her out of the elevator car.

“Don't!”

“Come on, we don't have all day.”

“For what?” she replied, her old fire returning as she jerked her arm back.

“For me to convince you to help me.”

“W-what?” she sputtered, then laughed. “You're not serious, are you? You think
I,
after the way you treated me, would help
you.
Oh, come on, Drake! Never.”

“Don't you want to know the truth?”

“I think I do. You were involved. Period. I don't know how deeply. I'm not sure if you were the brains behind the operation or just plain duped by someone else. Whatever the explanation is, I don't care.”

“I don't believe you.”

She turned a corner and stopped at 431, her room. But she didn't unlock the door. “Thanks for the escort. Not that I needed one. And as for that dirty trick—the one with the photographer—it was your last!”

He grinned at that. “Don't count on it.”

His smile touched a corner of her heart, but she refused to be drawn into his web of lies again. “As far as I'm concerned, you're out of my life.”

“Remember, you owe me one.”

“I—what? As I said I don't owe you anything—”

He leaned closer, and his thumb touched the slope of her jaw. “I remember distinctly you telling me that you owed me. Remember the deal we made? In the storm? You wanted me to help you get the boat to shore…”

His breath swept across her ear, and she licked her lips as she remembered that first fateful night of the storm and the pitching deck of the
Marnie Lee
when Adam had told her of the crack in the hull. “All deals are off,” she said firmly.

“I never thought you'd be the kind to welsh, Ms. Montgomery.”

“And I never thought you'd sleep with me just to get back at my father!”

He sucked in his breath. “Marnie, I—”

“I think you should leave.”

He didn't move so much as an inch. “Then you don't want a partner?”

She was reaching into her bag, searching for the room key. “Partner? What kind of partner. Never mind—” she
held out her palm and shook her head “—I don't want to know.”

“A business partner.”

Her heart dropped to the floor in disappointment. “Now I
know
you're joking,” she said, finding her key and trying to sound cool and sophisticated. She couldn't let him know that she cared for him—even a little.

“I'm dead serious. I need you and you need me.”

“I don't
need
anyone,” she said, “especially not you.” She shoved her key into the lock. Glancing over her shoulder, she said simply, “You're too much trouble, Mr. Drake, and right now I don't want or
need
any more trouble than I already have.”

She took one step across the threshold before his hands grabbed her hard on the shoulders and spun her around, pushing her against the door frame. She barely caught her breath before his mouth crashed down on hers with a kiss as strong and demanding as the waves pounding the shore. His lips moved expertly along the contours of her mouth, gliding easily, molding to her skin until slowly her stiff resistance yielded and she kissed him back. Her mouth opened slightly, and his tongue darted between her parted lips, flicking and teasing as he pressed her body hard against the doorjamb, the wood cutting into her back as his hips pushed forward to pin her abdomen tight against him. “You're a liar,” he breathed into her hair, and a familiar warm ache began to throb deep inside her. “You do need me.”

“No.” Oh, God, why did she sound so weak?

“And I get the feeling you like trouble. You need some spark in your life—a little shot of danger to spice up that dreary existence of the spoiled little rich girl.”

“You bastard,” she hissed, struggling again. “You don't know anything about me! How dare you—ooh!” Cupping her nape, he drew her head to his and kissed her so
hungrily her knees threatened to buckle. She tried to resist, to fight him, but her arms and legs wouldn't respond and all her defiance slipped away.

She sagged against him, suddenly anxious to feel the sinewy muscles of his body straining through his clothes. When he at last dragged his mouth from hers, her breathing came in short gulps and her mind was reeling out of control, stumbling into risky territory, a region where she might just let herself trust Adam again. Her hands trembled as she pushed him away. “I…hate you.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, and she couldn't breathe.

“You…I…we can't do this.”

“Sure we can,” he drawled.

“
I
can't. This madness has got to stop.”

“Not yet, Marnie. Not until I convince you that it's not madness. I need your help.”

“We tried this once before. It didn't work! It'll never work!”

A lock clicked two doors down the hall.

What now?

An elderly man, wearing a fedora and carrying a wooden cane and newspaper tucked under his arm, stepped into the hallway from his room. Locking his door, he sent a cursory glance in Adam and Marnie's direction. A soft smile bowed beneath his snowy moustache as he passed, and Marnie blushed to the roots of her hair as she guessed his thoughts. He probably concluded that she and Adam were involved in a lovers' spat.

Ridiculous! But close enough to the truth to bother her. “I don't have anything else to say to you,” she insisted, as, over the top of Adam's shoulder, she observed the elderly gentleman pushing the elevator call button before leaning on his cane.

“Just hear me out.”

The elevator doors opened and a family of four exited,
two boys clamoring down the hall while their parents struggled with shopping bags.

This was outlandish! She hated the scene they were making, inwardly wincing at the knowing glance the twelve-year-old boy sent her as he raced past.

“Okay—but you've got five minutes,” she said, already deciding that listening to him was a mistake. She shoved open her door and they stepped inside. Adam locked the door behind him, and Marnie felt an overwhelming sense of desperation. She crossed to the bureau and rested her hips against the polished edge, refusing to even acknowledge the queen-size bed dominating the small suite.

“What I've got is a simple business proposition for you,” Adam said.

“I'm all ears.” She couldn't help the sarcasm.

“Oh, no, Marnie, there's more to your body than that,” he drawled, sitting on a corner of the bed and staring at her with those golden brown eyes.

“Just get to the point.” She walked to the window and fiddled nervously with the blinds. She felt his gaze on her backside, and her skin prickled.

“Okay,” he said, smiling at her obvious discomfort. “I know you want to start your own business and that you haven't quite figured out where to land yet.”

“How do you—oh, never mind. Go on.”

“So—why not settle in Seattle?”

She snorted. “Are you crazy? I'm trying to get away from Montgomery Inns.”

“I know, but maybe that's a mistake.” He stretched out on the bed, and Marnie was aware of how good he looked. Freshly shaven, with clean clothes, his body long and lean against the slate blue spread, he smiled up at her, and her heart melted.

“A—a mistake?”

“You're killing the golden goose. I bet your father
would hire you as a freelance publicist. You could have the Montgomery Inn account, as well as drumming up your own business. You could cultivate other accounts, start your own little empire.”

“My father demands absolute loyalty.”

“You wouldn't be disloyal.”

She hurled him a glance that called him a liar. “He doesn't like sharing.”

“You're freelancing. It's not a matter of sharing. Besides, what better way to build client confidence than by snagging one of the best accounts in the business?”

“Because I'm Victor's daughter. Back to square one.” She yanked hard on the blinds, drawing them open before sitting on the window ledge and staring out at the warm afternoon. From her vantage point, she saw the glittery waters of the bay and the fishing boats and sailing vessels moving along the horizon. “So where do you come in? What was all this talk of a partnership?” She glanced over her shoulder.

His eyes locked with hers, and an indecent flame flickered in those sienna orbs. “I can think of a few ways,” he said, smoothing a wrinkle from the quilt.

“Name them.”

“I'd hire you.”

“As what?” she asked suspiciously, while dragging her eyes away from the seductive movement of his hand against the bedspread.

“As a publicist for the first Hotel Drake.”

“Which doesn't yet exist,” she pointed out.

“It will, once I've settled a few things.”

“And this fictitious hotel—will it be located in Seattle?”

“It would be easiest for me. After all, I already live there.”

She knew that he resided in Seattle in a condominium on the shore of Lake Washington, complete with a
mooring for his own boat—the boat he'd probably left in Port Stanton when he'd stowed away on the
Marnie Lee.
“And if you never get this hotel off the ground—”

“I will,” he said emphatically, then sighed. “Look, I know a lot of people—more than you,” he added, when she was about to point out that she'd been around people in the hotel business for years. “Contacts that could get you off your feet and away from the golden handcuffs of Montgomery Inns.”

“I'm already there,” she said.

“But you've got to start somewhere.”

That much was true.

“And if things don't work out in Seattle, you're no worse off than you are now.”

Except you'll be near Dad again.
That part she could handle, as long as she was her own boss.
And Kent?
She'd avoid him. And wouldn't it be pleasant showing him that she could make it on her own? Without a man.

Adam Drake's a man.

Dealing with Adam would be the hardest part in all of this. She'd just have to find a way to keep him at arm's length. “This would be strictly business?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.”

Her voice wouldn't work for a second. “Our relationship would have to be only professional.”

“What else?”

She blushed, damn it, but managed a cool, sophisticated loft of her brow. “There isn't anything, is there?”

“Just the fact that you still owe me one.”

“Don't remind me.”

Slowly he rolled off the bed, crossed the small expanse of carpet and placed one hand on either side of the windowsill, holding her prisoner. “Then we have a deal?”

Nodding, she tried to shrink away, but was drawn by the magnetism in his eyes. “We have a deal.” She thrust
out her hand, expecting him to take it, but a crooked smile slowly curved his mouth.

“I think we should seal this bargain with a kiss.” Before she could answer, his mouth found hers again and she didn't even try to stop him. She felt her body molding to his of its own accord, and she lost herself in the feel and taste of him.

A partnership with Adam Drake would be no better than dealing with the devil, but right now, wrapped in his arms, Marnie didn't care.

T
RYING TO FORGET
the memory of making love to Adam, Marnie hammered another nail into the freshly painted wall of her new office and carefully hung a painting she'd picked up at a local gallery.

Why couldn't she forget him? she wondered, surveying her work with a critical eye. It had been two weeks since she'd awoken in the hotel room alone in Port Chinook. Though she hadn't slept with him, his image had lingered in her mind and had been imprinted on her heart. She'd forced herself to leave him, but she hadn't gone far. In fact she'd taken his advice and located her new business in Seattle, less than a mile from the corporate headquarters of Montgomery Inns. And she couldn't stop thinking about him.