by Lisa Jackson
He slid a questioning glance in her direction. “This isn’t the Victorian era.”
Valerie stared straight ahead. “Not to you, maybe, but my mother and I don’t discuss my sex life. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Good. Now, what’s our story?” She cringed inside. This was getting more complicated by the minute. Sighing, she leaned back in her seat. Maybe after the first lie, it would get easier.
“How about this,” Hale suggested. “We kept the fact that we were in love a secret because we wanted to be sure of our feelings before we told the world we’d found each other.”
Rolling her eyes, Valerie muttered, “This sounds like a story line for Life’s Golden Sands.”
At that be looked perplexed.
“It’s a soap opera, the one on which I played a minor part for six months—a fact you’d better remember if you want to pull this off. I was Tess, the tortured stepdaughter of rich Trevor Billings, whose natural son was always coming on to me—”
“Enough! Spare me all the grisly details,” Hale growled. “I get the idea.”
He found a parking space within two blocks of the apartment building, and before Valerie could catch her breath, she was letting herself into her mother’s second-story unit.
“Val? That you?” her mother called.
“Yep! And I brought a . . . friend.” She closed the door behind Hale and saw her mother seated on the living room couch, an open book on her lap. Valerie took a deep breath. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Hale Donovan.”
“The man who . . . ?”
Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Valerie said, “The man who wouldn’t hire me. And there’s a reason for that—”
“I’m in love with your daughter, Mrs. Pryce,” Hale said, stepping forward and placing his arm possessively across Valerie’s shoulders. “And we have a strict policy at Donovan Enterprises. We don’t allow close relatives to work together. That goes for the boss, too.”
“But . . . ? Val?” her mother asked, confused.
Valerie felt horrid. “I think I should explain—”
Hale cut her off. “I’ve asked your daughter to be my wife and she’s accepted,” he said to her mother. The words sounded so sincere Valerie nearly believed him.
Anna Pryce’s mouth dropped open. “You’re getting married?” Her gaze, clouded with suspicion, flicked from Valerie to Hale and back again.
“Yes.”
“When?” she asked, stunned.
“Soon,” Hale said vaguely.
“Now wait a minute.” Anna shoved her book aside and pinned her daughter with her unconvinced stare. “Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
“It, uh, is sudden,” Valerie offered lamely.
“That’s the understatement of the century.” Anna’s eyes snapped. “Now let’s start all over. At the beginning. And don’t tell me the beginning happened between this afternoon and this evening, because I just won’t believe it. What’s going on here?”
Valerie swallowed hard. She’d always been a lousy liar. “Look, Mom,” she said, sitting on the couch and touching her mother’s arm. “I should have told you all about this sooner, I guess, but we just decided to make our engagement official this afternoon.”
“After you left here,” her mother clarified.
“Right. And I know it’s kind of a shock.”
“A big shock.”
“Right—I know, but I just want you to trust me on this, okay?” She took her mother’s hands between her own.
“Marriage is a big step.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-four.”
“And you almost made a mistake once before, remember?”
From the corner of her eye, Valerie saw Hale’s muscles stiffen. “That was a long time ago.”
“So now two years is a long time—”
“Mom, please. Believe me, I know what I want.”
Anna sighed tiredly and pinched her eyebrows into a suspicious frown. “I guess I don’t have much choice, do I? You’ve always been a stubborn thing.”
“Amen,” Hale whispered.
“We won’t rush into anything,” Valerie promised, shooting him a warning glance.
“Good,” her mother replied.
There was more she wanted to say—a lot more. Valerie could sense it.
Feeling guilty, Valerie said, “I do have one favor to ask you. Hale and I are going on a cruise—just up the coast with some friends and business associates of his.” To her surprise, her mother didn’t bat an eye. She was probably still in shock. “Would you mind taking care of Shamus for a couple of weeks?”
“That beast? He hates me.”
“And you adore him.”
Anna glanced at Valerie’s left hand, where the diamond glittered mockingly. “Of course I will,” she said gently, though her forehead was still creased. “But when you get back, let’s talk. I mean, really talk.”
“We will,” Valerie promised, wondering how she could tell her mother that everything she’d said was a bald-faced lie.
CHAPTER 4
“Did I pass inspection?” Hale asked once they were back in his car. He slid the Jaguar into gear and pulled into traffic. The sun, leaving a blaze of gold and magenta in its wake, had settled into the Pacific.
Valerie shook her head. “If you’re asking if my mom bought our story, I think the answer is no. But she’s going along with it just to humor me. And that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
Valerie leaned back in her seat, and as dusk settled, the interior of the car seemed smaller still—more intimate. Hale’s carved features were shadowed with the coming night. His jaw appeared even stronger, his eyes more deep set, his lips thin, nearly cruel.
She noticed his hands on the steering wheel, large and strong. And his legs, with the fabric of his jeans pulling taut over his thighs, were dangerously close to hers. Swallowing uncomfortably, she fidgeted with the strap of her purse and shifted away from him, pressing her right side against the passenger door to assure her as much space as possible between his body and hers, then forced her gaze to the windshield.
She wasn’t usually uncomfortable around men, but Hale had a way of making her restless; his sidelong glances were unnerving, his innate sexuality impossible to ignore.
He found a parking space not far from her apartment house and walked with her to the front door.
“You don’t have to come up,” she said as she twisted her key in the lock and felt the dead bolt give way.
“No,” he drawled, “I suppose I don’t.” Leaning one shoulder against the door, he studied her for several heart-stopping seconds. “But we still have a lot of work to do. Your mother was just the first hurdle, you know.”
“But a biggie.”
Hale smiled, and in the night his flash of white teeth seemed genuine. It touched a spot in her heart she had thought no longer existed—a spot Luke had destroyed.
Suddenly she wanted to know all about Hale. “What about your family? Won’t you have to tell them anything?”
His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I don’t have any family.”
“None?” she said.
“My folks are both dead.”
“I’m sorry—”
“It happened a long time ago. I don’t really remember them. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he clipped.
“But don’t you have any brothers or sisters or cousins?”
“None.” Under the twin bulbs mounted over the doors, his black hair gleamed and his eyes turned stone-cold.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Valerie said quickly, embarrassed, “but I think I should know a little about you, too. If the Stowells are going to believe I’m engaged to you, it would only make sense that I know your history—at least part of it.”
He took a few seconds to answer. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Well, I’d look pretty stupid if I showed up on the yacht and all I
knew about the man I intended to spend the rest of my life with was that he owned an investment company.”
He shrugged and held the door open for her. “You’re right. I’ll fill you in tomorrow morning.”
“What’re we doing tomorrow?”
He laughed, and started down the steps. “You’ll find out then,” he said, his voice filled with amusement as she shut the door behind him and turned the key.
Climbing the three steep flights, she wondered if she’d made a colossal mistake linking up with someone as unpredictable as Hale Donovan. Surprisingly, she felt lighthearted at the prospect of seeing him again, and that bothered her. It bothered her a lot.
The next morning Valerie yanked every garment she owned from her closet and tossed each piece onto her open daybed. She had small piles of skirts, dresses, blouses, jackets, sweaters and slacks, all very tailored and nice enough, though nothing extravagant or particularly expensive.
“So who cares?” she muttered, staring at an even more dismal stack of jeans, shorts and T-shirts. Shamus hopped onto the bed and settled between two of the piles. “Thank you, but I don’t think I need cat hair all over my wardrobe.” Gently she lifted the fat tabby and stroked his silky head. “So what d’ya think? Will I pass as the illustrious Hale Donovan’s bride?”
Shamus yawned, scrambled out of her arms and flopped on the floor where the sunlight filtered through the window to warm the old oak boards.
“Yeah, a lot of help you are,” she mumbled, realizing as she sorted through her clothes and came up with a few suitable outfits that Hale had been right. She didn’t have much in the way of yachting attire—and she didn’t really care.
She packed two sun dresses, a couple of pairs of slacks and matching sweaters, then tossed her favorite pair of jeans and her only decent shorts into her suitcase. As an afterthought she found her one silk blouse, added it to the case and sorted through her shoes. After organizing her meager wardrobe, she flipped on the coffee maker.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang, and Shamus, a streak of greased lightning, made a beeline for the open French doors.
Valerie checked the peephole, saw Hale’s handsome face and braced herself. Dealing with Hale reminded her of going into battle. Unlatching the door, she asked, “Are you always this prompt?”
“A habit I can’t break.” He strode into the room, slapped a newspaper onto the table, then smiling, surveyed the mess on the bed. “Packing?”
“If you can call it that.”
He motioned to the suitcase. “Need anything?”
“Nothing I can’t buy myself.”
“You’re sure about that?” To her mortification, he walked over to her open case and took stock. “Where’s the rest?”
“The rest of what?”
“Your other bags.”
“I don’t have any other bags. I thought I’d pick up a few more things and that would be it.”
“This isn’t an overnight camp-out on the beach, you know.”
Valerie bristled. “And you know that I’m not going to pretend I’m some kind of rich debutante. I don’t have that kind of money and I think I’m a few years too old. I’m a working girl, I come from middle-class roots, and if William Stowell doesn’t like it, he can damn well lump it!”
Hale’s mouth twitched.
“I don’t think he’ll care where I came from as long as you convince him that you’re involved with me and that you’re not interested in his daughter or her money.”
His head snapped up. He dropped her clothes. “Her money?”
“That is what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve got to prove I’ve got the money behind me to keep you interested. Otherwise Stowell won’t believe that Hale Donovan, who worships the almighty dollar above all else, is seriously going to marry me!”
“That wasn’t the reason.”
“No—then what was?” she demanded, crossing the room to stand so close to him she could smell his cologne, see the flecks of blue in his steel-gray eyes.
“I just wanted you to feel like you fitted in.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m positive,” she said, angling her face up to his defiantly. “You chose me, Donovan, so I expect you to take me as I am.”
“It’s ‘honey,’ not ‘Donovan,’ remember?” A twinge of a smile tugged at his lips.
“This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?”
“I don’t joke when business is involved,” he said, “but I think we may as well enjoy ourselves as much as possible. We can spend the next couple of weeks pretending to like each other in front of everyone and lunging for each other’s throats when we’re alone, or we can try to get along. I think you were the one who suggested a ‘truce.’ ”
“Call me an idealist,” she mocked, but smiled in spite of herself.
“Let me pour you a cup of coffee,” he suggested, opening first one cupboard, then the next, until he found two ceramic mugs labeled UCLA. “From college?”
“Umm.” Not only from college, but from Luke. The first gift he’d ever given her. She felt her face drain of color, but accepted a cup and sipped gratefully.
“We made page one of the society section,” Hale announced, then poured another cup for himself.
Valerie’s stomach dropped as she flipped open the newspaper he’d brought in with him. On the first page of the society section in bold black letters, the headline read: DONOVAN TO WED.
“Oh, great,” she whispered, scanning the article, which listed her name, that she was a graduate of UCLA and a resident of San Francisco. Other than that, she was fairly anonymous. The article stated that no date had been picked for the wedding, then went on to sketch out a little of Hale’s success in business. “It’s not too bad,” she admitted.
“A little on the vague side,” he said, “but it covers all the bases.”
“Don’t you mean it covers your backside—as far as Stowell is concerned.”
“That, too.” Hale took a swallow and gulped, nearly sputtering. “What is this stuff?”
Valerie wasn’t in the mood to be razzed about her coffee. With a sweet smile she didn’t feel, she said, “It’s a mild decaffeinated Colombian blend mixed with Viennese mocha.”
“Well, it’s horrible.”
“Thanks a lot—it’s my special brew.”
“Yeah, well, it needs work—like a complete overhaul.”
She lifted her brows innocently. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not really getting married, or you’d have to live with it.”
“Nope. I’d make the coffee. Come on, I’ll take you out for a real breakfast.”
She should have been angry, she supposed. His high-handedness was uncalled for. But the dimple in his cheek and the glint in his eyes convinced her he’d only been teasing. “Breakfast and then what?” she asked, locking Shamus inside.
“Whatever the day brings.”
“Is this the surprise you told me about?”
“The first of many,” he said with a laugh.
Outside, the morning fog was beginning to burn off. Wisps still hung over the water, but most of the hilly city was exposed to the August sun’s warm rays.
Hale drove down the steep streets to the waterfront, where they took a ferry north across San Francisco Bay to Tiburon. There they left the Jaguar and stood on the upper deck of the boat, near the prow. Salt spray filled Valerie’s nostrils with the scent of the sea, and the wind was strong enough to burn her cheeks. The water was clear and smooth, and she had to shout to Hale to be heard over the heavy drone of the ferry’s huge engines.
Hale didn’t touch her, but stood close, the breeze ruffling his hair as they passed Alcatraz, stopped at Angel Island, headed north again and finally docked at Tiburon.
Hale drove into the town and parked in a parking lot near the waterfront.
Valerie slipped out of the car, and felt warm rays of the sun beat against her crown. Hale took her
hand, and though she was surprised, she didn’t protest, but followed as he guided her along a cement walkway to the docks and a tiny café perched over the water.
His fingers felt strong and warm, and despite the fact that his touch wasn’t the least bit intimate, Valerie felt her pulse accelerate.
He shoved open the door, and a small bell tinkled. Spying Hale, a plump waitress with freckles and short-cropped brown hair snatched a couple of menus and smiled broadly. “Well, Mr. Donovan,” she said with a grin. “Long time no see.”
“Hi, Rose. It has been a while.”
“Well, don’t make yourself such a stranger.” Her bright gaze rested on Valerie, and as they walked through a back door to a covered patio, Hale made introductions.
“I read where you were finally tying the big one,” Rose said. “High time.”
“Mmm,” Hale replied noncommittally.
Rose handed Valerie a menu. “You’re a lucky lady,” she said, pouring water for each of them as the doorbell chimed again. “I’ll be back for your order in a minute.”
“Another fraternity brother?” Valerie asked once Rose was out of sight.
“Very funny.”
“Why did we come all the way over here for breakfast?” she asked.
“Atmosphere, for one thing.”
The small café had plenty of that. The few tables scattered over the flagstones were shaded by a trellis over which fragrant lilacs blossomed in purple clusters. Beyond the porch was a path leading to the dock and an open view to the bay, where gleaming yachts plowed through the blue water.
“Tomorrow we’ll be boarding The Regina—”
“The what?”
“Stowell named his boat after his daughter.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you’d like a sneak preview. After breakfast we’ll go down to the dock and I’ll point her out to you.”
A cold knot tightened in Valerie’s stomach. Until that moment she hadn’t really thought about sailing away with Hale—or what fourteen days cooped up with him could do to her. In just twenty-four hours he’d managed to unnerve her. What would happen in two weeks?
“Have you decided?” Rose asked, breezing back to the patio, notepad poised and ready.