Sail Away (14 page)

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.

Shoving the hammer into an empty desk drawer, she muttered, “You’re hopeless, Montgomery.” Sighing, she flopped onto the edge of the credenza, clasped her hands between her knees and remembered their goodbyes.

“I’ll call you,” Adam had said, gathering her into his arms, smelling so earthy and male.

“Give me time to settle in—think things through,” she’d replied. “Remember I’m not really convinced that moving in next to my father is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“No,” he’d agreed, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at her. “Linking up with me is the smartest thing you’ve done.”

She’d laughed. “I’m afraid linking up with you will be the end of me.”

“Never.” He’d lifted her up, twirled her off her feet, and when she’d slid back to the floor, kissed her with such breathless passion that, even now, seated in the office, she tingled.

“Remember, we’re partners,” he’d reminded her.

“But I need time to be my own person before I can be partners with anyone,” she’d replied, and she’d left without him, wondering if he would return to Seattle.

Now, two weeks later she knew he, too, was living somewhere near the city. He’d tried to contact her, but she hadn’t been ready to talk to him or deal with the conflicting emotions that he always seemed to ignite. Their meetings had been brief. Sometimes she was sure she loved him. In other, more rational hours, she thought she hated him, or should hate him.

She brushed her hands on her skirt and stood in the middle of her office. It was small, even cramped, but was located in a decent part of town. It also came with a part-time secretary and wasn’t too expensive.

Marnie had found it herself after a week of reading the paper, talking to realtors and touring available sites. She’d repainted the walls, bought a desk, chairs and a credenza, and set out a few plants near the window. A skylight offered a view of the clouds shifting in the sky. “Home, sweet home,” she told herself.

So now all she had to do was drum up business. Her first appointment this afternoon was with her father.

“Fitting,” she muttered, checking her watch as her stomach clenched. She’d already approached two other hotel chains, the marina and a local restaurant without much success, but today she was scheduled to walk back through the hallowed halls of Montgomery Inns.

Adam’s idea. Right now, she wasn’t convinced working for the company again was such a great plan. As for Adam, she’d seen him briefly a couple of times when he’d stopped by the office, but she’d declined any chance to spend much time with him. Her feelings about him were still confused. She didn’t know whether she hated him or loved him, but she told herself that she couldn’t trust him.

So why did you take his advice and come back here? Because you “owed him one”? Because you want to start a business relationship with him, become “partners”? Get real, Marnie.

“Oh, shut up!” she grumbled at the nagging note of conscience that had been hounding her since she returned to Seattle.

“You talkin’ to me?” Donna’s voice carried through the partially opened door. Donna came with the building and was secretary-receptionist for Marnie, an accountant and an interior designer, all of whom occupied this floor of the Maynard Building.

“Just to myself,” Marnie sang back.

Grabbing her briefcase and purse, Marnie walked briskly through the door to her office. Donna, offbeat compared to the secretaries who pledged allegiance to Montgomery Inns, was bent over the keyboard of her computer terminal and fiddling with the keys. Somewhere close to twenty, with spiky red hair and outlandish jewelry, she managed to juggle her workload and keep all three offices running smoothly, though she spent a lot of time drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. So far, though, Marnie had no complaints. Donna was refreshing, outspoken and incredibly efficient.

“Damned thing,” Donna muttered, her pretty face a knot of frustration as she poked a long, bloodred finger between the keys of the keyboard.

The computer bleeped angrily.

“Problems?” Marnie asked.

“Always. Can’t get the printer to work. I’ve called the company a million times and they can’t seem to find the bug in the system.” She leaned back in her chair and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke to the ceiling and scowling at the machine as if she could will it to turn on and hum companionably.

“Wish I could help, but I’m definitely on the ‘user unfriendly’ list,” Marnie joked. “I’ll be at Montgomery Inns for a couple of hours. If it takes longer, I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll be here,” Donna replied, wrinkling her nose at the terminal. “Probably all night if I can’t get this thing to work.”

Marnie waved and walked outside, bracing herself for the battle that she was sure would erupt when she came face-to-face with her father again.

“Marnie!” Kate Delany clasped her hands together and grinned broadly as Marnie walked toward her desk. Piped-in music played softly from hidden speakers and recessed lighting offered soothing tones in the administrative offices of Montgomery Inns. “It’s good to see you again!” Kate enthused. “You know, it hasn’t been the same here without you—and him—” she motioned to the closed door of Victor’s private suite “—he’s been an absolute bear!”

“I can imagine,” Marnie drawled.

“Please, for the rest of us, reconsider and come back,” Kate begged, though her dark eyes sparkled with a teasing light. “If you were around, things would go
sooo
much smoother.”

Marnie laughed. She was surprised, but it felt good to be in familiar surroundings again. She relaxed a little as Kate rapped softly before shoving open one of the twin mahogany doors. “She’s here,” Kate said, closing the door behind Marnie and leaving father and daughter alone.

Victor was seated on the couch, pretending interest in a sailing magazine. “You’re late.”

“I don’t think so—”

He looked up then, his face a little paler than she remembered. “God, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too, Dad.” And she meant it. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds, and all the horrible words and accusations that had kept them apart seemed to fade away. She knew she should still be angry with him; he had, after all, encouraged Kent to lie to the press about their engagement, but despite all Victor’s faults, Marnie knew he loved her. Everything he did was simply because he was trying to make her life easier. “Oh, Dad,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight.

Tossing his magazine aside, he rose to his feet and hugged her so fiercely she nearly cried. “Sorry about all that business with Kent,” he said, his voice unusually gruff. “Kate advised me to ‘butt out of your love life.’”

“A wise woman, Ms. Delany. Maybe you should marry her,” Marnie said, lifting her head and swallowing back her tears. She held her father at arm’s length and cocked her head to one side. “What d’ya think?”

Victor chuckled as he released her and smoothed his jacket. “Far as I’m concerned, I am married.”

“Dad, Mom’s been gone a long time.”

“I know. And when I die, I’m going to be put into the ground right next to her.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and jangled his keys. “Well, have you come to your senses, yet?”

She felt a knot of anxiety tighten her nerves. “About what?”

“About coming back, that’s what! I thought you were here to talk business!”

“Yes and no,” she hedged. “Come on, Dad, let’s sit down.” She motioned toward his desk, and Victor, casting her a suspicious glance, settled into his wide leather chair.

“What’s this all about?”

“I do want to work for you,” she said, “but not as an employee. This is what I think we should do…” She launched into her speech, explained about her new business, how she wanted to free-lance, and how she hoped to develop her own set of clients.
And become publicist for the Hotel Drake?
she thought guiltily.

As she spoke, rapidly at first, her father said nothing, just tented his hands under his chin and, while his expression turned dark, stared at her over his fingertips.

When she finally finished, his lips were pursed tightly, and his nostrils had flared. With worried blue eyes, he continued staring at her, and the clock mounted on one wall struck three.

Marnie’s insides twisted. She couldn’t stand the suspense. “Well?”

He hesitated, but only slightly, and Marnie’s heart sank. “The answer is no.”

“No?” All her soaring hopes nose-dived back to earth and crashed on the stones of cold reality. What had she expected? She was, after all, still dealing with Victor Montgomery.

“You either work for me or you don’t. Period.”

“But, Dad—”

He shook his head. “I’ll not be used, and I won’t allow this corporation to be a springboard for you. This company has been good to you, and so have I. I’m willing to pay you top dollar to work for me as an executive, but I’m not going to subsidize your talent so that you can go out and work for the competition.”

“I’m only working for myself. Like you.”

“Bull.” His fist crashed onto the desk, jarring his humidor and photographs. “Unless I miss my guess, this has something to do with Drake, doesn’t it?”

“Adam’s not involved—”

“Like hell!” Victor’s face suffused with color. “That miserable bastard. First the company, then you. What’s the man got against me?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the way you convicted him without a trial,” she said sharply, surprised at her quick defense of a man she, herself, didn’t completely trust.

“So now you’re on his side. When he practically kidnapped you and God only knows what else?”

“He didn’t kidnap me, Dad. If anything, I took him where he didn’t want to go. And as for sides, I’m not on his or your—”

Her father made a dismissive sound just as Kate knocked and poked her head into the office. “Mr. Simms would like to see you. He asked that I interrupt.”

“Not now,” Victor snapped, but Kent had already brushed past Kate and strode into the office.

“You’re back?” Kent asked, his handsome face breaking into a smile of relief.

Marnie had to grit her teeth to be civil to him. “It doesn’t look that way.”

Kent stared from Marnie to Victor and back again. “But you’re here and…” He gestured toward her briefcase and she noticed him staring at her clothes—the neat black suit and royal blue silk blouse.

“I’m here on business, yes,” Marnie replied, lifting her chin, “but your boss isn’t interested.”

“Victor?” Kent asked.

Victor grumbled as he reached for his pipe and humidor. “She’s here because of Drake.”

“No, Dad. This is
my
business.”

“Humph.” He unscrewed the lid of the humidor and filled his pipe with his favorite blend of tobacco.

“Drake?” Kent repeated. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Nothing!” Marnie insisted.

“Everything. He’s behind this, you know.” Victor struck a match and puffed furiously as he tried to light his pipe. The flame burned his fingers, and he cursed around the stem of his pipe, waving the match out before lighting another. “He’s concocted some harebrained scheme about Marnie going out on her own, starting her own publicity business, for crying out loud, and then holding this company up for ransom while working for my competitors! Well, I won’t have it!” He shook out his match.

Marnie climbed to her feet and leaned over her father’s desk. Her temper was slowly getting the better of her. “You haven’t even heard me out,” she said, ignoring Kent. “You have no idea what I’d charge. Hiring me free-lance would be cheaper than paying me all those employee benefits and taxes you keep complaining about.”

“Hey—slow down. You want to work here?” Kent inquired, his gaze as skeptical as her father’s.

“On my terms.”

“Out of the question.” Victor tried to hand her back her proposal, but she reached for her briefcase, snapped it closed and turned her back on the neatly typed pages in her father’s fingers.

“Read it, Dad. You might find it interesting.” She crossed to the door, and Kent, with a high-sign to Victor, followed her past Kate’s desk and down the hall.

“Let me talk to him for you,” he suggested, once they were out of Kate’s earshot.

“No, thanks. I can speak for myself.” Kent was a good reason to be glad she didn’t have to work with Montgomery Inns. She wasn’t sure she could stand being around him.