Summer Days

by Lisa Jackson

  “Me?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Throwing myself at . . . oh, no, you don’t think I’m interested in Stewart.” She giggled again, and the back of his neck turned scarlet. “That’s rich, Hale. Very rich. Stewart and me?” Her stomach quivered and laughter bubbled up from her throat.

  He yanked roughly at his tie. “Looked that way to me.”

  “Stewart was flirting, yes, but—”

  “And you were leading him on!”

  “Never.”

  “Come on, you enjoyed every minute of it.”

  “Don’t you think you’re carrying this jealous-lover bit a little too far?” she asked, shaking her head. “No one’s here to overhear you, so you’re just wasting your breath!”

  “It doesn’t matter if someone overhears us or not!” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  Dear Lord, he was really playing this to the hilt! If Valerie didn’t know better, she’d swear he was actually jealous! Of Stewart! She tried to swallow her laughter, but couldn’t. The idea was so preposterous that she giggled again. “For your information, Stewart is not my type.”

  “And who is?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Look, we had an agreement,” he said, his eyes snapping as he turned and faced her, clamping one hand over her fingers. “And that agreement states that for every single hour of the day and night, you play your part. You don’t flirt with other men, you dote on me, you act as if the very core of your existence depends on the fact that we’re in love.”

  Valerie’s laughter died in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No way!”

  “But no one in today’s world acts like that.”

  “My future wife would!”

  “Then I’m afraid, Mr. Donovan, you’re going to spend the rest of your life a very lonely man. Because no sane woman in this day and age is going to bow and serve and grovel—”

  “I don’t expect groveling.”

  “Well, praise the Lord!” she said sarcastically.

  “Look, Valerie, we’re doing this my way.”

  “Oh, yes, sir!” she snapped. “Wouldn’t think of doing it any other way, sir!”

  His nostrils flared, his eyes grew dark, and he started for the stairs.

  “And by the way, Mr. Donovan, sir,” she challenged, reaching the stairs before he did. “You can take all your dresses and jewelry and throw them overboard for all I care, because I won’t be wearing them!” Shaking with anger, she reached behind her neck and fumbled with the clasp of her necklace, intending to hurl the damn crystal beads in his face. But one finger caught in her hair and she succeeded in loosening only a couple of pins. A thick curl tumbled freely to her shoulders.

  “The dresses stay,” he insisted, but his eyes had darkened and his gaze was fastened on the lock of hair hanging against her skin.

  “Like hell!”

  He swore, muttering under his breath as if he were trying to fight a rising tide of desire. But despite his efforts, he gave in, seeming unable to fight a force stronger than his own will. With one quick movement he encircled her in his arms and yanked her against him so hard, the breath expelled from her lungs in a rush. Valerie gasped just as he lowered his lips to hers with an intensity that caused her knees to turn to liquid. Her heart went wild, her pulse thundered, and she wound her arms around his neck, not because she thought someone was watching, but because she had to steady herself.

  His lips were warm and wet and sensual. Closing her eyes, she was lost in the scent of his after-shave, the cool breath of the sea, the lull of the rocking boat. He moved his hands over her bare back and delicately invaded the intimate cavern of her mouth as if he were tasting some delirious, forbidden fruit.

  “Oh, Valerie,” he whispered, dragging his mouth from hers and running shaking fingers through his wind-tossed hair. “This—this was a mistake.”

  Heart still quivering, she glanced around, wondering where the audience was. But the deck was empty. She looked into his eyes again and noticed the passion—hot and unbridled—lingering in his gaze.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she asked. “No one’s here.”

  He clamped his jaw tight and turned from her, staring instead at The Regina’s frothy wake. “I wish I knew,” he said so softly the words were nearly lost to her. He jammed his hands into his pockets, and the tails of his jacket flapped in the breeze. “I wish to God I knew!”

  CHAPTER 9

  “We’re stopping in Portland,” William announced the very next morning.

  “What on earth for?” Stewart asked lazily. Flopped on one of the striped chaise lounges on the deck, he winced as he spoke, shading his eyes as if even sunlight were painful.

  Valerie, after a horrid night’s sleep, was glad for a chance to get off the close quarters of The Regina. The tension between herself and Hale was too thick, and she needed a break.

  “Astoria’s closer,” Stewart grumbled.

  “I know, I know, but your sister wants to go shopping, and Portland’s a larger city.”

  “And a long way inland. Can’t she shop when we get back to San Francisco? Now, that’s a bigger city.”

  “The rest of the trip won’t change. In fact, we’ll be in Victoria when we planned,” William replied.

  “Whoop-de-do,” Stewart muttered.

  Beth joined them and scowled affectionately at her son. “Oh, quit whining, Stewart. If you let yourself, you might just enjoy this trip. What’s your hurry anyway?”

  “Good point,” Stewart agreed with a glower. “If Dad’s really selling out to Donovan, I don’t have a job to race back to, do I?”

  Beth wasn’t in the mood to pamper her son. “I guess you’ll have to find yourself a new one.”

  At that remark, Stewart lowered the brim of his captain’s hat, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

  Valerie pretended interest in a magazine, though the antics of the Stowells amused her to no end. How a down-to-earth woman like Beth and a stalwart businessman such as William could have raised such spoiled children was beyond her.

  As for Hale and William, they were once again holed up in the den, hammering out the smaller details of the buy-out, and Valerie was grateful. She needed time away from Hale. Thinking about last night’s kiss had kept her awake all night. What had he meant? Was it possible he was actually falling for her? She couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t delude herself into thinking for one minute that he cared the least little bit for her.

  The Regina sailed inland through the mouth of the Columbia River, a huge expanse of gray-green water that divided Oregon from Washington. On either side, forested hills rose from the water, and Valerie was happy at the thought of giving up her sea legs for dry land.

  Sunlight washed the hills and glinted on the river. Valerie leaned against a mast and tried not to dwell on the fact that Hale Donovan was the most charming, witty, handsome and downright infuriating man she’d ever met. His humor appealed to her, except, of course, when it was at her expense, and his unconventionality intrigued her. Were the situation different, she decided ruefully, she could fall in love with a man like Donovan. “Good thing it’s all a charade,” she muttered to herself, scuffing the toe of her sandal against the deck and feeling the wind catch in her hair.

  As the captain guided the boat from the Columbia into the deep channel of the Willamette River, Valerie tossed her hair out of her eyes and squinted at the changing shoreline. But as she did, she caught a glimpse of Hale standing not ten feet from her.

  He was resting his jean-clad hips on the rail and staring at her from behind his mirrored sunglasses. “‘Mornin’,” he drawled with a grin.

  “Good morning,” she replied briskly, self-conscious that he’d been watching her. “How long have you been here?”

  “Only a couple of minutes.” Slowly rubbing his freshly shaved jaw, he said, “While we’re alone, I think we’d better get a few things straight.”

  Here it comes—another royal edict,
she thought ungratefully. “Such as?”

  “I’m serious about you not flirting with Stewart—”

  She started to protest, but he held up his hand to cut her off. “Just for the future, okay? I know I came on like Attila the Hun last night and I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t want to blow this deal with Stowell.”

  “I know, I know.” She tried to keep her eyes off the thin, seductive line of his lips, but her gaze seemed drawn to his face and his rough-hewn features. “Let’s just forget about last night.”

  As if I could, he thought wryly. That kiss had all but twisted his guts inside out. He’d lain awake most of the night filled with a craving he couldn’t begin to trust. “That might be easier said than done.”

  “We don’t have much longer.”

  And it was sure to be torture—sheer torture. Just being here with her, seeing her slim, tanned legs move easily beneath the hem of her shorts, watching as the wind tangled and snatched at her hair, observing the tiny span of her waist, was more than he could take. She was getting to him, and his willpower was being slowly eroded day by day, minute by precious minute. Sooner or later something would have to give.

  They cruised into Portland under a web of bridges spanning the Willamette. Skyscrapers in brick and mortar, concrete and steel, glass and marble, lined the banks. On the west side, a park, lush, green and resplendent with fountains, stretched along a seawall, beyond which the skyscrapers gave way to sharp, verdant hills. To the east and beyond the city, the spine of the smoky-blue Cascade Mountains provided a rugged horizon.

  Valerie couldn’t wait to go ashore. After promising to meet Hale and Stewart in a courtyard restaurant, she and Regina disembarked and set out to explore the stores near the waterfront. She mailed a quick postcard to her mother, then followed Regina, who apparently knew the shopping district.

  Regina was definitely in her element. They passed through one towering department store to the next. “Well, they’re not as elaborate as the stores in San Francisco or L.A.,” she said, pausing to sniff a fragrance at a perfume counter, “but some of them are quaint and unusual.”

  Valerie agreed when Regina discovered a tiny, but well-stocked boutique on 23rd Avenue, after they explored an area known as the Pearl district. The store boasted two floors of the most exotic and expensive clothes in Portland. Regina managed to find two hats, three pairs of shoes, some skinny designer jeans, two pairs of earrings and yet another drop-dead black dress. She handed the salesclerk her charge card, then, as the sale was rung up, turned to Valerie. “This is fabulous,” she proclaimed, regenerated. “Aren’t you going to try anything on?”

  Valerie thought guiltily of her overflowing closet aboard The Regina. The last thing she needed, at least for the present, was more clothes. “Not today,” she said evasively, helping Regina with her packages.

  “Come again,” the clerk said, a pleased grin stretching from one side of her pert face to the other.

  Regina flashed her a thousand-watt smile and promised, “Next time I’m in town.”

  Overloaded with packages, they took a cab to the waterfront, then wandered along the seawall, watching sailboats, barges and tugs move upstream against the Willamette’s current. Trees shaded the walk, and a dry easterly wind rustled through the leaves.

  The restaurant, a narrow brick building with a walled-in courtyard, overlooked the river. Planters filled with colorful petunias, impatiens and ivy were interspersed between the tables. Hale and Stewart were seated at a table shaded by a striped umbrella. They sipped from tall glasses and, surprisingly, seemed congenial.

  “Buy out the town?” Stewart asked, eyeing his sister’s bags and packages.

  “Not yet.” Refreshed from the excursion, Regina plopped into a vacant chair and ordered a drink. “But just give me a couple of days!”

  “Ah,” Stewart joked, “the great American buy-out!”

  Valerie chuckled, and even Hale laughed. As a foursome they lunched on crab salads and hot rolls, and for the first time since the cruise began, Valerie felt a camaraderie within the group. Even Hale was on his best behavior, laughing and teasing, winking at Valerie and clasping her hand as if he really did love her.

  Later, while Regina and Stewart headed back to the yacht, Hale and Valerie strolled along the waterfront, not touching, but only inches from each other. A jazz band was playing in the park, and they stopped to listen. Couples with children, and lots of single people, were stretched out on blankets in the thick grass, listening to the intricate melodies. The sky turned from blue to amber to a dusky shade of rose.

  Hale spread his jacket on the ground, and they sat together, listening, not saying a word, shoulders touching, enjoying the calm summer evening. Slowly, as if by magic, the street lamps lit the ever-darkening night. Skyscrapers became grids of illumination, their squares of light reflected in the Willamette’s black depths. Jets of water in fountains sprayed skyward, bathed in the colorful beams of concealed lamps.

  Valerie leaned against Hale, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He looped his arm around her shoulders.

  “I guess Regina was wrong about the rain in Oregon,” she said, staring up at a clear midnight-blue sky. “It doesn’t pour all the time.”

  He chuckled and plucked at a piece of grass as the music continued. “I’ve been here two or three times a year for the past ten or twelve. I’ve only seen it rain once.”

  “So it’s just a myth.”

  “Or I’ve been lucky.” He stared into her eyes for a second, then glanced past the band to the river.

  Valerie stared at the column of his throat, so close, so masculine. The shadow of his beard darkened his chin, and the smell of him, musky and male, was ever present. She tried to ignore his masculinity, but the erratic beat of her heart wouldn’t quit and her eyes were drawn to the curve of his neck and the dark hair peeking from beneath his collar. Oh, he was male, all right, very male!

  As the music stopped and the band packed their instruments, Hale said, “I guess we’d better go.”

  “I guess.” She stood and brushed the dust from her shorts.

  A breeze swept over the water, catching his hair and bringing the heavy scent of the river with it. Valerie rubbed her bare arms, and without asking, Hale dropped his jacket over her shoulders. “You’re cold?”

  “No—not really.” But the warmth of his jacket filled with the scent of him felt natural and right. She glanced up at him and found his face relaxed and thoughtful.

  “This has been an . . . interesting day,” he said.

  “Hasn’t it?” I wish it would never end, she thought ruefully. Why couldn’t this sense of closeness, this tenderness be with them always? Why did they continually go for each other’s throats?

  They walked to the marina together, and Hale helped her onto The Regina as the craft rocked gently. Downstairs, in the main salon, Beth and William were involved in a cutthroat game of cribbage.

  “Well, there you are!” Beth said beaming as she won and her husband tossed down his cards in disgust. “You missed dinner, you know.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  Beth waved Valerie’s apology aside. “Don’t worry about it.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m just glad you two finally spent some time alone together.”

  Hale squeezed her waist and cast her an adoring glance. Real or fake? True emotions or part of the charade? Valerie couldn’t tell. She wound her arm around his and returned his smile with a radiant grin of her own. “We did have a good time,” she admitted softly.

  “Wonderful! William and I spent the day shopping for supplies and sight-seeing. Then we decided to play some cards—”

  “Which was a big mistake,” William cut in, grumbling good-naturedly.

  Beth rolled her eyes and continued, “William wants our next stop to be Victoria. Then on the return trip we’ll cruise through the San Juan Islands to Vancouver, British Columbia, down into Puget Sound to Seattle before finally returning to San Francisco.”

  “
It sounds like heaven,” Valerie said, thinking ahead. If she could keep her relationship with Hale on an even keel, and if Regina’s good mood continued, the rest of the journey would be wonderful—if, of course, she didn’t do anything as foolish as let herself fall in love with Hale Donovan.

  “Never,” she vowed in a whisper, removing her arm from Hale’s. This trip was just a preliminary test. When they finally returned to San Francisco, she’d begin her real job and then she could prove to Hale just how trustworthy and efficient and valuable an employee she really was.

  The next three days were the happiest of Valerie’s life. The weather was perfect, Regina charming, Stewart subdued and Hale the most attentive and charming fiancé a woman could hope for. He stayed at her side, and they talked for hours about business, world politics, the economy, sailing, horseback riding and anything else that came up. The only subject that seemed off-limits was his past. Never once did he mention his childhood, nor did he have an anecdote about his teens. Though Valerie learned a lot about Regina and Stewart, she knew no more of Hale Donovan’s childhood than she had on the first day of the cruise.

  The following day the wind shifted and with it, everyone’s good mood. The air turned breathless and sultry, and tempers flared. Regina was sullen again, her tone with Valerie sharp throughout the day.

  Stewart, who had given up drinking before dinner, began mixing martinis again that afternoon. And Hale grew strangely quiet. Valerie felt his gaze on her, but instead of a twinkle in his eyes, she saw something else in those gray depths—something dangerous and brooding. He didn’t smile once that day. He drew his brows together, and though he was polite, he never once initiated a conversation.

  At dinner Regina was peevish, poking at her poached salmon and complaining bitterly to Hans. “It’s not done enough,” she said, pronging a flaky piece of lemon-drizzled fish. “If I’d wanted sushi, I would have asked for it!”

  There was, of course, nothing wrong with the salmon steak, and Hans, his face bright orange, brought her another piece, at which she wrinkled her nose but mashed all over her plate.