Sail Away

Her father grumbled, “Next thing I know you’ll be trading in your Beemer for a ‘69 Volkswagen.”

She smothered a sad smile. He didn’t know that she’d sold the BMW just last week, though she wasn’t in the market for a VW bug—well, at least not yet.

“So it’s settled, right?” he said, as if grateful to have finished a drawn-out negotiation. “When you get back, we’ll talk.”

“And if I still want to quit?”

“Then we’ll talk some more.” He fiddled in his pocket for his tobacco, stuffed a wad into the bowl of his pipe, and clamping the pipe between his teeth, searched in his pockets for a match. Trying to light the pipe, he walked quickly down the pier where his yacht, the Vanessa, was docked. “Maybe by the time you think things over, you’ll come to your senses about Kent.”

“I already have,” she said, controlling the fury that still burned deep inside her. Kent had played her for a fool; he wouldn’t get a second chance.

“Okay, okay, just promise me you’ll stick around until the new hotel is open.”

“It’s a promise,” she said, catching up to him. “But you’re not talking me out of this. As soon as Puget West opens its doors, I’m history.”

“For a while.” He puffed on the pipe, sending up tiny clouds of smoke.

“Maybe,” she said, unwilling to concede too much. Her father wasn’t a bad man, just determined, especially when it came to her and his hotel chain. But she could be just as stubborn as he. She climbed aboard his favorite plaything as the wind off the sound whipped her hair in front of her face. Someday, whether he wanted to or not, Victor Montgomery would be proud of her for her independence; he just didn’t know it yet. She’d prove to him, and everyone else who thought she was just another pampered rich girl, that she could make it on her own.

According to the Seattle Observer, the grand opening of Puget West Montgomery Inn was to be the social event of the year. Invitations had been sent to the rich and the beautiful, from New York to L.A., though most of the guests were from the Pacific Northwest.

The mayor of Seattle as well as Senator Mann, the State of Washington’s reigning Republican, were to attend. Local celebrities, the press and a few Hollywood types were rumored to be on hand to sip champagne and congratulate Victor Montgomery on the latest and most glittery link in the ever-expanding chain of Montgomery Inns.

Adam Drake wasn’t invited.

In fact, he was probably the last person good old Victor wanted to see walk through the glass doors of the main lobby. But Victor was in for the surprise of his life, Adam thought with a grim smile. Because Adam wouldn’t have missed the grand opening of Puget West for the world!

As the prow of his small boat sliced through the night-blackened waters of Puget Sound, he guided the craft toward his destination, the hotel itself. Lit like the proverbial Christmas tree, twenty-seven stories of Puget West rose against a stygian sky.

Wind ripped over the water, blasting his bare face and hands, but Adam barely felt the cold. He was too immersed in his own dark thoughts. Anger tightened a knot in his gut. He’d helped design this building; hell, he’d even outbid a Japanese investor for the land, all for the sake of Montgomery Inns and Victor Montgomery!

And he’d been kicked in the face for his efforts—framed for a crime he’d never committed. Well, he’d just spent the past three weeks of his life dredging up all the evidence again, talking with even the most obscure employees who had once worked for the company, and he’d started to unravel the web of lies, one string at a time. He didn’t have all the answers, just vague suspicions, but he was hell-bent to prove them true. Only then would he be able to get on with his own life.

And never again would he depend upon a man like Victor Montgomery for his livelihood. From this point on, Adam intended to be his own boss.

Close to the docks, Adam cut the boat’s engine and slung ropes around the moorings. Before he could second-guess himself, he hopped onto the new deck and walked briskly beneath the Japanese lanterns glowing red, green and orange. Tiny crystal lights, twinkling as if it were the holiday season instead of the end of May, winked in the shrubbery.

His jaw tightened, and a cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he considered his reasons for showing up uninvited. Adrenaline surged through his veins. What was the phrase—revenge was always best when it was served up cold?

He’d soon find out.

Nearly a year had passed since he’d been hung by his heels in public, humiliated and stripped bare, and tonight he’d seek his own form of justice.

Thunder cracked over the angry waters, and Adam cast one final look at the inky sound. He found poetic justice in the fact that a spring storm was brewing on the night Victor Montgomery was opening his latest resort.

He didn’t waste any time. The pant legs of his tuxedo brushed against the wet leaves of blossoming rhododendrons and azaleas as he walked briskly, moving instinctively toward the side entrance and the French doors he knew would be unlocked and, with any luck, unguarded.

Music and laughter floated through the night as he stepped onto the terrace. Through the open doors, he saw that the party was in full swing, bejeweled guests talking, dancing, laughing and drinking from monogrammed fluted glasses.

Adam tugged on his tight black tie, plowed his fingers through his wind-tossed hair, then slipped into the opulent foyer. No one seemed to notice. As a liveried waiter passed, Adam snagged a glass of champagne from a silver tray and scoped out the milling guests.

A piano player sat at a shiny baby grand, and the nostalgic notes of “As Time Goes By” drifted through the crowd. Silver and red balloons, tied together with long white ribbons, floated dreamily to the windowed ceiling four stories above the foyer. Near the back wall a glass elevator carried guests to the balconies surrounding the lobby, and on the opposite wall an elegant staircase curved upward to the second story. In the center of the room, the trademark Montgomery fountain, complete with marble base, spouted water eight feet high.

Oh, yes, this hotel was just as grand as Victor Montgomery had envisioned it, the opening party already a success. Adam tamped down any trace of bitterness as he wandered through the crowd. It took a cool mind to get even.

In one corner of the lobby near a restaurant, a ten-foot ice sculpture of King Neptune, trident aloft, sea monsters curling in the waves near his feet, stood guard.

Just like good old Victor, Adam thought to himself as he spied Kate Delany, Victor’s administrative assistant and, as rumor had it, lover. Dressed in shimmering white, her dark hair piled high on her head, Kate acted as hostess. Her smile was practiced but friendly, and her eyes sparkled enough to invite conversation as she drifted from one knot of guests to the next.

Scanning the crowd, Adam decided Victor hadn’t made his grand entrance yet. Nor had his daughter. He looked again, hoping for a glimpse of Marnie. Spoiled, rich, beautiful Marnie Montgomery was the one possession Victor valued more than his damned hotels. An only child, she’d been pampered, sent to the best schools and given the post of “public-relations administrator” upon graduation from some Ivy League school back east.

Despite his bitterness toward anything loosely associated with Montgomery Inns, Adam had found Marnie appealing. Regardless of her lap-of-leisure upbringing, there had been something—a spark of laughter in her eyes, a trace of wistfulness in her smile, an intelligence in her wit and a mystique to her silences—which had half convinced him that she was more than just another rich brat coddled by an overindulgent father and raised by nannies. Tall and slender, with pale blond hair and eyes a clear crystal blue, Marnie was as hauntingly beautiful as she was wealthy. And as he understood it, she’d become engaged to Kent Simms, one of Victor’s “yes” men.

Bad choice, Marnie, Adam thought as he took a long swallow of champagne. Maybe he’d been kidding himself all along. Marnie Montgomery was probably cut from the same expensive weave of cloth as was her father.

Kent Simms fit into the picture neatly. Too ambitious for his own good, Kent was more interested in the fast lane and big bucks than in loving a wife. Even if she happened to be the boss’s daughter. The marriage wouldn’t last.

But Kent Simms was Marnie’s problem. Adam had his own.

He heard a gasp behind him. From the corner of his eye he caught the quickly averted look of a wasp-thin woman with dark eyes and a black velvet dress.

So she recognizes me, he thought in satisfaction, and lifted his champagne glass in silent salute to her. Her name was Rose Trullinger, and she was an interior decorator for the corporation.

Rose’s cheeks flooded with color, and she turned quickly away before casting a sharp glance over her shoulder and heading toward a group of eight or nine people lingering around the bar.

Adam watched as she whispered something to a woman draped in blue silk and dripping with diamonds. The woman in blue turned, lifted a finely arched brow and sent Adam a curious look. There was more than mild amusement in her eyes. Adam noticed an invitation. Some women were attracted to men who were considered forbidden or dangerous. The woman in blue was obviously one of those.

She whispered something to Rose.

Perfect, Adam thought with a grim twist of his lips. It wouldn’t be long before Victor knew he was here.

Chapter Two

Marnie jabbed a glittery comb into her hair, then glowered at her reflection as the comb slid slowly down. Shaking her head, she yanked out the comb and tossed it onto the vanity. So much for glamour. She brushed her shoulder-length curls with a vengeance and eyed the string of diamonds and sapphires surrounding her throat. The necklace and matching earrings had been her mother’s; Victor had pleaded with her to wear them and she had, on this, the last night of her employment at Montgomery Inns. Just being in the new hotel made her feel like a hypocrite, but she only had a few more hours and, then, freedom!

“Marnie?” Her father tapped softly on the door connecting her smaller bedroom to the rest of his suite. “It’s about time.”

“I’ll be right out,” she replied, dreading the party. On the bed, a single suitcase lay open. She tossed her comb, brush and makeup bag into the soft-sided case and snapped it shut.

Sliding into a pair of silver heels, she opened the door to find her father, a drink in one hand, pacing near the door. He glanced up as she entered the room, and the smile that creased his face was filled with genuine admiration. He swallowed and blinked. “I really hadn’t realized how much you look like Vanessa,” he said quietly.

Marnie felt an inner glow. He was complimenting her. Her father had never gotten over his wife and he’d vowed on her grave that he’d never remarry. And he hadn’t. Even though Kate Delany had been in love with him for years, he wouldn’t marry her. Marnie knew it as well as she knew she herself would never marry Kent Simms.

He reached for the door but paused. “Kent’s already here.”

“I know.”

“He’s been asking to see you.”

She knew that, too. But she was through talking to Kent about anything other than business. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

Victor tugged on his lower lip as if weighing his next words. Marnie braced herself. She knew what was coming. “Kent loves you, and he’s been with the company for ten years. That man is loyal.”

“To Montgomery Inns.”

“Well, that’s something. The years he’s worked for me—”

“If longevity with Montgomery Inns has anything to do with my future husband, then I should marry Fred Ainger.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her father scoffed, leaving his glass on a table near the door, but Marnie could tell her comment had hit its mark. Fred Ainger, a tiny bespectacled accountant in bookkeeping, was about to retire at age sixty-five. He’d been with Montgomery Inns since Victor had purchased his first hotel.

“Okay, okay. We both know that Kent’s time with the company doesn’t really matter when you’re choosing a husband,” her father reluctantly agreed, smoothing his hair with the flat of his hand. He looked out the window to the city of Port Stanton flanking the banks of the sound. Smaller than Seattle, Tacoma or Olympia, Port Stanton, as gateway to the sound, was growing by leaps and bounds, and Montgomery Inns was ready and waiting with the Puget West as the city required more hotels for businessmen and travelers. “But Kent is loyal to the company.”

Bully for Kent, she thought, but held her tongue on that point. “I’d rather have a husband who’s committed to me.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe Kent is committed to you, honey.”

Marnie knew differently. She also realized that she was going to have to tell her father why she was so adamant about rejecting Kent, or her father would badger her forever. In Victor’s eyes, Kent was the perfect son-in-law. “I didn’t love him, Dad.” That much wasn’t a lie, though she’d convinced herself during the duration of their engagement that she had. “Kent wasn’t the man for me. He was your choice, not mine.”

For a few seconds Victor didn’t speak, and Marnie could almost hear the gears whirling in his mind. Her father didn’t back down quickly.

He made a big show of glancing at his watch and pursing his lips. “Come on,” he said, his keen eyes glinting. “Let’s go downstairs. We can talk about Kent later.”

Marnie shook her head. “You can talk about him later. I’m done.”

Victor held up a hand to forestall any further arguments. “Whatever you say. It’s your life.”

Marnie wasn’t fooled, and cast him a glance that told him so.

Victor held open the door for her, and Marnie stepped onto the balcony. The sounds of the party drifted up the four flights from the lobby. Even from this distance she recognized a few employees of the hotel chain, dancing or laughing with guests who had been sent special invitations, the chosen few who mattered in the Northwest—the mayor of Seattle and Senator Mann, several city council members as well as reporters for local television and newspapers. There were only a few faces Marnie didn’t recognize.

All of Seattle’s social elite had come to Puget West, drinking and laughing and showing off their most expensive gowns and jewelry, hoping that their names and pictures might find a way into the society columns of the Seattle Observer and the Port Stanton Herald.

Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Marnie stepped into the glass elevator, her father at her side. As the car descended, she stared through the windows, noticing the lights in the trees in the lobby, the ice sculpture of King Neptune and the three-tiered fountain of champagne wedged between tables laden with hors d’oeuvres. A pianist was playing from a polished ebony piano where a man listened, a handsome man, she guessed from the back of him. She noticed the wide breadth of his shoulders, the narrowing of his hips, the way his wavy black hair gleamed under a thousand winking lights.

There was something familiar about him, something about his stance, that brought back hazy memories. He turned to reach for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and as the elevator doors opened, Marnie found herself staring across the room. A pair of mocking, gold-brown eyes met hers, and she nearly missed a step.

Adam Drake!

What in God’s name was he doing here? Didn’t the man have a sense of decency, or at the very least, an ounce of self-preservation? Her father would love to have a chance to throw him out of the hotel! Even though he’d been proved innocent of the charges Victor had leveled against him, Adam Drake was definitely on her father’s ten-least-wanted list.

Adam didn’t seem concerned. A slow, self-mocking smile stretched across his jaw as his gaze collided with hers. He winked lazily at her, then took a long swallow from his champagne.

Marnie almost grinned. She’d forgotten about his irreverence, his lack of concern for playing by society’s unwritten laws. Well, he’d really done himself in this time. Though she’d never really believed that he was a thief, there was a side to him that suggested danger, and she wondered just how much he knew about the half million dollars skimmed from the funds to build this very hotel. The guy had nerve, she’d grant him that!

Amused, she turned to see if her father had noticed their uninvited guest, but a crowd of well-wishers suddenly engulfed them. Victor tugged on Marnie’s arm, pulling her along as he wended his way to the circular fountain and stepped onto the marble base, hauling her up with him. Newspaper reporters followed, elbowing and jostling to thrust microphones into Victor’s face. Cameras flashed before her eyes as photographers clicked off dozens of pictures.

Victor laughed and answered each question crisply. Her father was always at his best in front of a crowd, but Marnie was uncomfortable in the spotlight. She tried to slip away unnoticed. However, Senator Mann, always hungry for press, fought his way through the throng to stand at her father’s side, blocking Marnie’s exit. Even Kent appeared. Predictably, he wended quickly through the tightening group to take his place next to her. She was trapped!

Gazing up at Kent’s even, practiced smile, Marnie decided this wasn’t the time to bring up the fact that Adam Drake had somehow turned up uninvited.

“Hi,” Kent whispered, flashing a thousand-watt grin at her, though Marnie suspected the smile was for the press. He tried to slide his arm around her waist.

Marnie sidestepped him and somehow managed to keep her balance. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Come on, Marnie,” he cajoled. “Just try to be reasonable—at least for appearances’ sake.”

“I can’t—”

“Kent! Congratulations!” Mayor Winthrop’s voice boomed as he approached and stretched out his hand. He was short and round, his straight gray hair painstakingly combed to cover a bald spot. “Beautiful hotel, Marnie, just beautiful!” he gushed, before turning all his attention on Victor and Kent.

Marnie managed a thin smile for the man, then, before Kent realized what she was doing, excused herself quickly and stepped into the sea of guests.

Enough with the spectacle, she thought, moving quickly away from the fountain. She had promised her father she’d show up at his party, but she wasn’t going to pretend to care about Kent. How could she have ever made the mistake of thinking she loved him? Or that he had loved her? She must’ve been desperate.

Unconsciously, she glanced back to the piano, but Adam had disappeared and the pianist, taking his cue from Victor, had stopped playing so that the mayor and other city dignitaries could publicly congratulate Victor Montgomery on another glamorous project well done.

Marnie felt little of the pride she’d experienced at the completion of other hotels. Puget West had been different from the beginning. There had been problems and delays with acquisition, zoning, planning, architecture and then, of course, the scandal. At first Adam Drake, Victor’s personal choice to supervise the project, had smoothed out the bumps, but later, when Kate Delany had discovered the errors in the books, all hell had broken loose and her father had blamed Adam for the mismanaged money.

The money had never been located. Over five hundred thousand dollars had seemed to vanish into thin air. Marnie had never believed Adam to be a thief, but no one had been able to explain what had happened to the missing funds.

Adam had never been indicted, but the public humiliation had been tremendous, the scandal reported daily in the business section of the Seattle Observer. And now he was here? Why?

Scanning the waves of people, she found Adam again. With one shoulder propped against a marble pillar, the jacket of his tux open, his tie loosened, his black hair wind-tossed, he looked rakish and self-satisfied. A small smile played on his thin, sensual lips. His eyes, dark above chiseled cheekbones, were trained on the fountain where Victor stood.

It was strange that he’d decided to come, but fitting, in a way. Adam Drake, before his downfall, had been invaluable to the company, one of the few in Victor’s small circle of advisers. Adam had been the man who had found this very piece of land on the western shore of the sound and had negotiated a very good deal for Montgomery Inns. Without Adam Drake, Puget West never would have been built.

Marnie wondered why he had risked having his reputation blackened again. The man must be certifiable.

With difficulty, she forced her gaze away from him. Unfortunately she discovered Dolores Tate, Kent’s secretary, lingering near the open bar, her wide brown eyes focused lovingly on Kent.

Marnie thought she might be sick.

Dolores didn’t notice her; she was too involved with the scene at the fountain and her own appearance. Unconsciously, she lifted a hand to the springy brown curls that framed her Kewpie-doll face. Draped in a dress of gold sequins and chiffon, Dolores moved gracefully among the people near the fountain, smiling and stopping to talk with this group and that, seeming more a part of this party than Marnie felt herself.

Dolores probably was more at home here, Marnie thought as she tore her gaze away from the woman Kent had chosen as his mistress. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel any surge of jealousy, just an annoying embarrassment that she could have been duped by Kent.

Rather than dwell on Kent, Marnie half listened to her father’s prepared speech. Victor, public smile in place, was heartily thanking the community leaders for the privilege of building this “…dream-come-true on the banks of the sound for our fair community…”

On and on he went, interrupted occasionally by bursts of clapping or laughter as he related some funny anecdotes about the construction of the hotel. Marnie had heard similar speeches dozens of times before. For her father’s sake, she hoped she appeared interested, though she couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering across the expansive foyer to the pillar against which Adam leaned.

Marnie could almost feel Adam’s hostility sizzling across the room. But Victor went blithely on, unaware that the man he was sure had tried to cheat him was present.

Kate Delany, too, didn’t seem to notice Adam as she found Marnie and joined her. “Your father’s pleased,” Kate whispered into Marnie’s ear.

“He should be,” Marnie answered automatically.

“Mmm.” Kate nodded. Her auburn hair was piled in loose curls atop her head, her silk dress shimmered as it draped over one shoulder. Emerald earrings, shaped like teardrops, matched the bracelet encircling one slim wrist—gifts from Marnie’s father. The small white lines of disappointment near her lips were barely visible.

Marnie felt a pang of pity for Kate. She obviously still clung to the hope that she would someday become Mrs. Victor Montgomery.

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.