Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (21 page)

“Thanks, Dad.”

She started the ignition, but Victor hesitated before closing the door. “I don't suppose you've heard anything from Drake, have you?”

“I thought you didn't want his name mentioned.”

“I don't.”

“Well, since you brought up the subject, you may as well know. I will be seeing him,” Marnie said, deciding that she had to be honest with her father from the beginning. Not that it was any of his business, but she wanted to start off on the right foot.

Her father's face drooped. “I was afraid of that.”

“Trust me, Dad. I'm a big girl now.”

Glancing over the hood of the car, Victor sighed. “Whatever you do, Marnie, just don't let that bastard hurt you.” He slammed the door shut, and as Marnie backed out of her parking space, she caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He looked older and paler than he had earlier, as if all his vigor had been drained by the mere mention of Adam's name.

She steered the car out of the lot and joined the thread of late-afternoon traffic clogging the city streets. Mist seemed to rise like ghosts from the streets as fog settled over the bay and crept steadily up the steep hills of Seattle.

Pleased that she finally had a paying client, she nevertheless felt a little niggle of guilt. Just how far away from Victor's influence had she really gotten? And was she making her own decisions or allowing Adam to manipulate her? Seeking Montgomery Inns for a client had been Adam's idea. Maybe, like the fog settling against the hill-side, she was clinging to the past.

Refusing to be glum, she flipped on the radio and hummed along to soft rock as she followed the line of taillights leading out of the heart of the city. Pulling into the reserved carport of her apartment unit, she switched off the engine, her thoughts turning once more to Adam and her father. Oil and water. Suspect and victim. Her lover and her next of kin.

Raincoat tucked under her arm, she hurried up the exterior stairs to her second-story unit.

Adam was waiting for her.

She saw him seated against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and she nearly dropped through the floor. He glanced up at her. A warm grin stretched slowly across his face, and his eyes seemed a shade darker with the coming night. His black hair gleamed an inky blue in the glow from the security lights, and Marnie's heart leaped at the sight of him.

“'Bout time you showed up,” he drawled, rising to stand next to her as she unlocked the door.

“I wasn't expecting company.” She slid a glance his way, and her pulse skyrocketed at the sight of his angular jaw and sensual lower lip. “But that's how you operate, isn't it? Always showing up where you're not expected.”

“Keeps people off guard.”

“Keeps you in trouble.” She shoved the door open. “Come on inside. You'll talk your way in anyway. And this way maybe we can keep from being the gossip of Pine Terrace Apartments.” Inviting him inside wasn't the greatest idea she'd ever come up with, but she felt like celebrating and the fact that he was here, sitting in the dark, waiting for her, touched a very feminine and romantic side of her nature.

He followed her inside. She heard his footsteps, and her heart thrilled at the familiar sound. “I thought I'd take you out to dinner.”

“A bona fide date?” she mocked, glimpsing him over her shoulder.

His grin slashed white against his dark jaw. “That surprises you?”

“More like knocks me off my feet.”

“Well, true, our relationship has hardly been flowers, wine, poetry—”

“Oh,
pleeease…
” She tossed her raincoat over the back of the couch and turned to face him. Her tongue was
loosened by the champagne, and she was in a mood for honesty. “We don't even have a ‘relationship,' remember? Just ‘sex.' Isn't that what you said?”

He had the decency to frown. “I was oversimplifying.”

“Oh.” She lifted her brows, silently inviting him to explain himself.

“We're partners.”

“Unwilling,” Marnie reminded him, but he touched her then, his fingers surrounding her nape as he drew her to him.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” he whispered.

Staring into his intense gold-brown eyes, she hesitated only a second. “It might be because you have a history of lies,” she managed, her voice trembling a little. “I have a long memory, Adam, and it seems that you hang around me whenever it's convenient for you. Most of the time I think you're interested in me because I'm Victor Montgomery's daughter.”

His eyes searched her face. “It would be easier if I hated you.”

“Don't you?”

“What do you think?” he said, his gaze delving deep into hers.

“I wish I knew, Adam.”

“Unfortunately, I find you the most fascinating woman I've ever met.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I never wanted to care about you, Marnie. Not even a little.” His eyes swept her lips, and her stomach knotted at the thought that he might kiss her. “Believe that I never intended to hurt you.”

“You couldn't,” she lied easily, though her pulse was fluttering wildly. “I don't care enough.”

“Good,” he replied with a knowing smile that accused her of the lie. “Then you'll go out with me.”

Of course she would. Was there any doubt that, if she saw him again, she'd go along with any of his wild schemes? When Adam Drake was around, it seemed as if all of her hard-fought independence disappeared, that she willingly cast away any vestiges of being her own self-reliant woman. “Why not?” she said, “just give me time to change.”

“You don't have to. You've dressed perfectly for what I have in mind.”

“I hate to ask,” she said, but decided that her white dress with a wide leather belt looked professional and tailored, dressy enough for a nice restaurant but a little too sophisticated for corn dogs on the beach.

Adam took her arm and whirled her around, propelling her back down the stairs to his car, some sort of four-wheel-drive rig that looked as if it should be tearing up some winding mountain road rather than racing from red light to red light only to idle in the city.

He threw the truck into gear and drove south, through the hilly streets toward the waterfront. Curling fingers of fog climbed over the water and into the alleys, creating a gauzy mist that seemed opalescent as it shimmered beneath the street lamps. Neon signs winked through the thin veil of fog, and the city seemed to shrink in upon itself.

Adam drove to the waterfront and they dined in a funky old restaurant located on one of the piers. Adam had requested a specific table with a window that offered a panoramic view of the dark waters of the bay. The bowed glass was angled enough that through the rising mist some of the city was visible. The tower of Montgomery Inns, Seattle, with its glass-domed ceiling, rose like a thirty-story cathedral on the shores of the sound.

“You must've hunted all over the city for this view,”
she remarked as the waiter poured white wine into their glasses.

“Nope. I used to come here often when I worked there.” He hooked a finger toward the corporate headquarters of Victor's empire. “Remember?”

She didn't bother answering, just sipped her wine as the waiter concentrated on other diners. They ordered salmon, clams and crab, drank Riesling wine, and avoided any reference to Montgomery Inns. Some of Adam's hard edges seemed to retreat in the flickering light from the sconces on the wall. Or was it the wine that caused her perception of him to change? Or maybe the cozy restaurant with its rough cedar walls and eccentric antiques caused her to be a little less critical, slightly nostalgic, more forgiving.

“I saw Henderson today,” he finally said, after the waiter had cleared their plates and they were left with two mugs of Irish coffee.

“And? Did he help you, ‘unravel the mystery'?” she quipped, unable to keep a trace of scorn from her voice.

Adam scoffed, swigged from his cup and swallowed slowly, his Adam's apple moving sensually in his neck. Marnie tore her gaze away from his throat, but not before her stomach tightened a fraction and the shadows of the darkened restaurant seemed to close around them. She heard the clink of silver, the rattle of dishes, the soft laughter of other patrons. There was also the sound of soft-rock music drifting from the bar and the hint of smoke lingering in the air, but she was so aware of Adam that everything else seemed distant and faded.

Adam's gaze touched hers for a heart-stopping second, and without thinking, she took a swallow of her drink, then licked a lingering dab of whipped cream from her lips.

A fire sparked in his eyes, and she cleared her throat. “You were talking about Henderson?” she prodded, hating
the breathless quality of her voice. If only she could feel cool and sophisticated and completely immune to his earthy sensuality.

“Right. Henderson.” He swallowed again, his eyes shifting to the window and the dark night beyond. “Well, Henderson's not as much help as I'd hoped he'd be.” He told her about his meeting with the man at Ilwaco, purposely omitting Henderson's hunch about a woman, wanting to wait a few minutes before he dropped that particular bomb.

“He thinks Fred Ainger took the money?” Marnie shook her head. “No way. The man's too loyal.”

“But to whom? Victor or Bernice?”

“I don't believe it.” She drained her mug.

“You don't believe anyone at Montgomery Inns would steal,” he said, then amended, “except maybe for me.”

“No,” she said slowly, running a finger over the still-warm rim of her empty cup, “I don't think you took the cash.”

“Well, someone did.”

“I know.” She sighed, hating to think about it, wishing the money could just be found—discovered to be only misplaced—and they could all get on with their lives.

She glanced up at him sharply and caught him examining her with such absorbed concentration that her skin prickled. She looked quickly away.

Adam paid the bill and they walked outside, along the wet docks into the deep purple night. The wind teased her hair, and along with the odor of the sea, it carried the very real and masculine scent of Adam Drake.

When he stopped before they reached the car and his fingers laced with hers, her heart began to pump more wildly than she ever thought possible. Beneath the hazy glow of a street lamp, with the vapor swirling around them, he caught her around the waist, lowered his head
and kissed her, hard and fast, his lips seeking hers with such hunger that she felt dizzy.

Lord, why was it always this way with him? What was it about him that literally took her breath away? She felt the fog clinging to her hair and skin, tasted the coffee and whiskey still clinging to his lips, heard the thunder of blood rushing through her ears.

“Come home with me, Marnie,” he whispered against her ear.

She trembled, trying to find the strength to say no. “I don't think I can.”

“Sure you can.”

“This is dangerous, Adam.”

“Why?”

She gathered all her courage and tried to break free of his restraining embrace. “I—I can't be involved with a man just for sex. There has to be more.”

“Moonlight and roses? Champagne and promises?” he asked, his eyes darkening with the night. “Diamonds and gold bands?”

“Trust and love,” she said, her voice quavering. “That's hard to have when your entire relationship—excuse me,
non
-relationship—is centered around one person using another,” she said, disentangling herself so that she could breathe, so that she could think.

His jaw grew hard and she could see from his expression that he was fighting an inner battle. “You know I care about you. Damn it, it wasn't what I wanted, what I'd planned, but I
do
care.” He jammed both hands into his pockets. “I can't tell you what you want to hear. I can't make you promises, Marnie. And I can't pretend to be something I'm not. You just have to accept me for what I am.”

“And what's that?” she asked.

His lips twitched. “A man who can't seem to keep his hands off you.”

Her heart melted and she wanted to fling herself back into his arms, but she resisted, knowing that loving him would only cause more heartache. All of a sudden loving him seemed so easy. Or was it a lie—was she confusing love with sexual desire? She'd thought she had once loved Kent, but that had been a fantasy and her feelings for Kent hadn't scratched the surface of her emotions for this man. As for Adam, at least he wasn't pretending to feel undying passion and love for her. But was his brutal honesty about his very reserved feelings any better?

She sucked in her breath and gathered her courage before she poured out her heart. “I'm too old-fashioned for quick affairs or one-night stands or any of the above,” she said, smiling faintly at this ridiculous maidenly retreat after their nights of passion. But she couldn't lie.

“You want me to marry you?”

The question echoed off the bay and through her heart. “No!”

His dark brow arched insolently, silently accusing her of lying through her teeth.

“I—I just need more of a commitment than that I'll wake up with you in the morning and then, maybe, never see you again. Call me old-fashioned, but that's the way I feel.”

He sighed, frustrated. “I don't think it's possible to consider you a one-night stand or a quick affair, Marnie. But I'm in no position to promise you a future that just doesn't exist—and that's because of your father. I don't even know what my future will be. I can't promise you anything. Come on.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across the street to his rig.

They drove in tense silence back to her apartment. He flicked the radio on, and tunes from the “fabulous
fifties, sensational sixties and spectacular seventies” filtered through the interior between blasts of some inane radio announcer trying to be a comedian. Marnie was in no mood for jokes.