Sail Away (4 page)

As Victor finished, Kate slipped through the crowd toward the fountain. The guests erupted with enthusiastic applause and good wishes while photographers shot rolls of film of her father with the mayor, or senator, or with a dour-faced city councilwoman wearing a simple linen suit and an outrageous magenta hat.

Marnie slid another glance in Adam’s direction and decided it was time she found out what he was doing here. They were compatriots, in a perverse way, she thought. Neither one of them belonged here. Only Adam had shown up despite the fact that he wasn’t wanted; she, on the other hand, was wanted and would do anything to leave.

She accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and then slipped through the guests toward the one man who had the guts to defy her father.

Adam saw her coming. He’d watched as she had disentangled herself from Kent and mingled among the clusters of people. She had been smiling at her father’s jokes but not really listening. It was almost as if she were playing a part, putting in her time, and she’d cast more than one curious glance in his direction. Good.

She was beautiful, he had to admit that. Her wavy hair was pale blond, almost silver, her eyes were an intense shade of blue and even though she was often serious, Adam remembered that she laughed easily.

But she wasn’t laughing tonight. No, Miss Montgomery appeared uncomfortable with all the hoopla, though she was dressed for the occasion in a silky dress that must have cost a fortune and in diamonds that sparkled around her wrist and neck. No one would doubt that she was Victor Montgomery’s spoiled daughter.

He found it interesting that when she’d first spotted him she hadn’t run to Daddy to tell him that a traitor was in their midst. Instead, she’d appeared mildly curious and now she was walking toward him.

The ghost of a smile crossed her full lips and her eyes twinkled for just a second. “Mr. Drake,” she said, stopping just short of him.

“It’s Adam, remember?”

“Impossible to forget,” she replied, showing off a dimple. “Your name will probably be whispered in the corridors of Montgomery Inns for years. You’re a legend, you know.”

“As part of the poor and infamous?”

She plucked a shrimp canapé from a tray. “What’re you doing here? Don’t you know you’ll be drawn and quartered before the night is out? That’s what they do to party crashers.” She plopped the canape into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of champagne.

He couldn’t believe that she was actually baiting him. Adam’s mouth slashed at a sardonic angle. “And here I thought my invitation had just gotten lost in the mail.”

“Right,” Marnie replied dryly, her ice blue dress glimmering seductively under the lights. “If I were you, this is the last place I would’ve shown up.”

“Never was one to miss a party.”

“You must be a glutton for punishment. My father will flip when he finds out you’re here—and he will, you know. It won’t take long.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Why?” For the first time, the teasing glint disappeared from her eyes. She lifted her glass to her lips and appraised him solemnly over the rim.

“He and I need to talk, and he’s been dodging my calls.” Adam glanced back to the fountain-cum-podium where Victor was introducing Kent Simms and congratulating him on his promotion to executive vice president. Adam finished his drink in one gulp, as Simms accepted Victor’s hearty congratulations, shook hands with the mayor and rained a brilliant pretty-boy smile on the crowd.

“You’ve
called
Dad?” Marnie asked, apparently stunned.

Adam swung his gaze back to her. “Several times. Never got past Kate. Victor didn’t bother to call me back.”

“But—”

“I even stopped in at the offices. Kate ran interference. Wouldn’t let me in to see him.”

Marnie couldn’t believe it. Her father hadn’t said a word about Adam trying to contact him, and she would have thought, given Victor’s feelings about Adam Drake, he would have ranted and raved for days at the younger man’s impertinence. “What did you want to talk to him about?”

“Believe me, I have a lot to discuss with your father—or if I can’t talk to him, Simms’ll do.” He cocked his head toward the fountain. “By the way, your fiancé seems to be enjoying himself. Shouldn’t you be up there, basking in some of the glory?”

“It got a little crowded,” she said, her lips tightening.

“I noticed.”

“Adam Drake?” Kate’s voice was low and cold. When he turned, her large eyes were suspicious, the color in her cheeks high. “What do you think you’re doing here?” she whispered, then before he could answer, asked, “How did you get past security?”

“I helped design this building, remember—including the security system.”

“You bastard,” she shot back, ignoring Marnie. “You want to ruin it for him, don’t you? This is Victor’s night, and you’re going to make sure that it blows up in his face!”

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Well, you can’t. Not tonight,” she said, her features hardening. “If the press gets wind that you’re here, it’ll ruin everything! You’ve got to leave! Now!” Her voice had taken on a frantic tone that seemed to surprise Marnie as she watched the exchange in stunned silence.

“I’m not taking off just yet.”

“But why would you want to stay? It’ll just cause problems.” Kate glanced nervously toward Victor.

Marnie laid a hand on her arm. “Relax, Kate,” Marnie said, as if she, too, were trying to avoid a scene, but Kate raged on.

“Please, Adam, just go quietly, before you do something that can’t be undone and everything’s dredged up again. This is Victor’s night. Please don’t spoil it!”

“I need to talk to him.”

“But not here—”

“I tried the office,” he replied, fighting to control his anger. “You wouldn’t let me see him.”

“My mistake. Come back next week, I’ll get you an appointment,” she promised, pinning a winning smile on her face and slipping her arm through his, obviously intending to escort him to the door.

“I’ll wait, just the same.”

Frustrated, Kate stormed away in a cloud of exasperation.

“I don’t think that’s the way to win friends and influence people,” Marnie said dryly.

“I’m not very popular around here, am I?”

She grinned. “I’m afraid you’re persona non grata at Montgomery Inns. But my father still keeps your picture in his office—taped over his dart board.”

He laughed, surprised that she would joke with him. The pianist began playing again, filling the lobby with a vaguely familiar big-band hit of the forties.

“Do you want me to tell my father you’re here?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“I think it would be better if you stay out of it.”

“Why?”

“It could get bloody.”

“Then I’d better be there,” she decided. “Someone—maybe you—might need a bandage.”

“And soon,” he said, spying Kent Simms, face flushed, plunging through the crowd and heading straight for Marnie. The glare in Kent’s eyes was unmistakable—the territorial pride of the spurned male.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kent demanded in a voice so low it was hard to hear over the crowd.

Adam finished his drink. “I was hoping to talk to Victor, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

“Forget it. Come on, Marnie, let’s go,” Kent ordered, grabbing her arm and propelling her toward a banquet room near the back of the lobby.

“Let go of me,” she whispered furiously, half running to keep up with his longer strides. She considered making a scene, but thought better of it. No reason to call undue attention to Adam—he’d do enough of that for himself.

In the banquet room, she whirled around and yanked her arm free of Kent’s possessive grasp. “What is it you want?”

His expression changed from anger to sadness. “You already know what I want,” he said quietly. “I just want you, Marnie.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. What did it take to make the man understand? “I already told you it’s over! I don’t need to be manhandled or made a spectacle of! Where do you get off, hauling me in here like some caveman claiming his woman?”

“Caveman?” he repeated. “Weren’t you just talking to Drake? Now there’s someone who’s primitive.” He shook his head, as if sorry that she was so dense. “You know, Marnie, sometimes you can be impossible.”

“Good!”

“You enjoy being perverse?”

“I just want you to leave me alone. I thought you understood that. If you don’t, let me make myself clear,” she said, drawing up to her full height and sending him an icy glare. “I’m sorry I ever got involved with you and I never want to see you again.”

He glanced to one of the chandeliers high overhead. “I made a mistake with Dolores.”

She didn’t respond. She’d learned that his affair with Dolores had been going on for over six months. All the time that she and Kent had been picking out china, planning a wedding, looking for a house, sailing in the boat Victor had bought them as an engagement present, Kent had been sleeping with his secretary.

“You know I still love you,” he said, and his expression was so sincere, she almost believed him. But she wasn’t a fool. Not any more. “Give me another chance,” he pleaded. “It’ll never happen again. I swear it.”

Marnie shook her head. “You can do what you damn well please, Kent. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”

“I prefer to think that you did me a favor.”

A light of challenge sparked in his hazel eyes. He leaned down as if to kiss her, and she ducked away. “Stop it!” she commanded, her tone frigid.

He ignored her and grabbed her quickly, yanking her hard against him. “Don’t tell me ‘no,’” he whispered, his face so close that his breath, smelling of liquor, fanned her face.

“Don’t pull this macho stuff on me!”

“You love it.” His grip tightened, and his eyes glittered in a way that frightened and sickened her. He
enjoyed
this fight.

Squirming, unable to wrench away, she stomped on his foot in frustration. The heel of her shoe snapped with the force. “Let go!”

Kent let out a yowl and backed up a step. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” he cried, reaching down to rub the top of his shoe, as if he could massage his wounded foot. Wincing, he turned furious eyes on her. “I thought we could work things out, you know? I thought tonight would be the perfect time. Did you see me with your father and Senator Mann? The man knew my name! God, what a rush! And I come back to share it with you—the woman I love—and what do I get?”

“Maybe you’re getting what you deserve,” Adam drawled, coming up behind Kent.

A wave of heat washed up Marnie’s neck. Oh, Lord! How much of their argument had he overheard?

Kent straightened, resting his foot gingerly on the floor as he eyed Adam. Adam was slightly taller, with harsher features, his hair a little longer, his whole demeanor laid-back and secure. Kent, on the other hand, looked military spit-and-polished, his tuxedo crisp, his hair clipped, his spine ramrod-stiff.

“I thought you were leaving,” Kent said, glowering at Adam.

“Not yet.”

Kent straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. “Does Victor know you’re here?”

Adam lifted a shoulder nonchalantly, but his features were set in stone. “I hope so.”

Instinctively, Marnie stepped closer to Adam, and Kent shot her an irritated glance, his eyes slitting. “Just what is it you want, Drake?” he demanded, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his pants and angling his face upward to meet Adam’s hard glare. “Why don’t you just leave?”

“Not until I ask Victor if he knows who Gerald Henderson is?”

“Henderson?” Kent repeated, his expression so bland it had to be false. “Didn’t he work for us?”

“In accounting,” Adam clarified.

“I remember him,” Marnie interjected, refusing to be left out of the conversation. “He left because he had health problems—asthma, I think. He had to leave the damp Northwest. And he got a better job with a hotel in San Diego.”

“Still lives in Seattle,” Adam replied. “Spends a lot of time fishing. If I’m not wrong, I think he’s drawing some sort of disability or retirement.”

Marnie glanced from one stern face to the other. “Didn’t the job in California work out?”

“Who cares?” Kent replied. “Henderson’s history.”

“Maybe,” Adam said, and the undercurrents in his voice jarred her. She was missing something in this conversation, something important.

Kent swallowed. “I don’t think Victor would be interested,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Not even if Gerald had an idea about the missing funds?”

“What?” Marnie demanded, shocked.

“It’s nothing,” Kent snapped. “Henderson couldn’t possibly know—”

“Adam Drake?” Judith Marx, a reporter for the
Seattle Observer
who had obviously seen some of the hubbub, walked briskly into the banquet room. “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said, her eyes taking in the scene in one quick glance.