“Hey, you’re supposed to be helping me, not gobbling up the competition with your eyeballs.”
Lissa swung around and grinned sheepishly at Caroline, who grinned back. “Though I have to admit,” Caroline continued, “he is good to look at. Are you bringing him to the committee lunch today? He deserves it. He’s worked as hard as any of the rest of us.”
Lissa nodded. “He’s coming.” If he hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have attended. It scared her, how much she needed to be near Steve. She hated to be out of range of his voice, not to be able to reach out and know he’d be there to touch. It even scared her that she sensed he felt exactly the same about her, that his feelings were genuine, deep, and for the long haul. They hadn’t discussed the future, not really, but it was there between then, unspoken, yet almost tangible. One way or another, they would be together.
An hour later, they returned to her boat to shower away the sweat and grime of their morning’s labor. “I suppose,” he said, sliding his wet body against hers in the small cubicle, “we could have gone to my room to shower.”
She pushed herself up against him. “Isn’t this more fun?”
He sat on the lid of the commode and pulled her astride him. “Do you want to be late for lunch?” she asked.
“Hell, yes!”
She gasped as he slipped inside her, and rocked against him as powerful tremors of pleasure shuddered through them. They both climaxed fast and hard, and when it was over, Lissa couldn’t move. She could only nestle close to her lover, her head on his shoulder, her arms around his back.
They missed lunch altogether, but made it to the inn in time to walk in on an altercation between Pete and a well-dressed woman in her mid-fifties, who appeared to be unwilling to take no for an answer.
Pete planted his pudgy hands on the desk. “I’m telling you, lady, if someone was supposed to have made reservations for you within the last two days, there’s no record of it here and—” He broke off, spotting Lissa. “You!” he said. “I bet it was you. Did you promise this lady a room and forget to make a note of it?”
Lissa took a step back and bumped into Steve, whose arms came around her from behind. “No,” she said. “If you recall, Pete, I haven’t been on duty for the past two days.”
“Then it was probably on your last night. You screwed up, Lissa. Admit it.”
“I did no such thing!”
“You think you can get away with anything, don’t you, just because your family once owned this dump? Well, let me tell you, miss, your days here are numbered and—”
Frank and Rosa came out of the dining room just then. “What’s all this bellowing?” Frank asked. “We have guests in the inn, I might remind you.” His gaze lit on the woman. His shoulders went back. His chest went out. He sucked his belly in. Lissa stared at him.
“This is none of your business, Frank Wilkins. You’re not in charge here anymore, remember?” Pete’s contempt for Frank was obvious.
“Please, it was clearly a mistake,” the lady said. “I’m sure I can find a bed-and-breakfast somewhere nearby. Can anyone suggest one?”
Pete snorted. Frank rubbed his chin and continued to gaze at the woman—as if he’d never seen one before. Silence hung loud in the lobby for a moment until Lissa spoke, “I’m sorry, Mrs. …?”
“Forsythe. Loretta Forsythe.” She smiled at the group and Lissa noted that her gaze lingered on Steve. But then it focused intently on Lissa’s father, and she seemed just as taken with him as he was with her. She actually patted her perfectly coiffed dark gold hair and lowered her lashes as she looked at Frank from under them and smiled coquettishly.
Rosa, Lissa could see by her bristling, noticed that little detail, too.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Forsythe,” Lissa repeated, “but we’re preparing for our town’s birthday bash on the weekend, and there’s absolutely no accommodation to be had on the island. I wish we could help you, but …” She shrugged. Her apology was false. She didn’t like the way her father was acting. How could he be such a dork, ogling the stranger, hurting Rosa this way?
“She can have my room,” Steve said, right out of the blue.
Lissa gaped at him. “But—”
He squeezed her shoulder as he stepped around her. “I’ve been invited to spend the rest of my vacation aboard a boat in the marina, so I was planning on checking out today, anyway. That is, Mrs. Forsythe, if you don’t mind three flights of stairs and antique furnishings. You’ll be sleeping in a genuine sleigh bed.”
She beamed. “Why, thank you, Mr.…?”
“Jackson.” He grinned. “Steve Jackson. And this is Frank Wilkins.”
“Mr. Wilkins,” she cooed. “I’m so pleased to meet you.” She smiled, eyes an unlikely shade of turquoise—unless one gave credit to colored contact lenses—blazing with what appeared to be genuine delight. “I understand your family built this inn. I bought a fascinating book about Madrona Cove on the ferry and read it all the way from Horseshoe Bay to Vancouver Island.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, too,” Frank said, taking both her hands in his. “My mother wrote the original history of the inn, then I added a few chapters later. This is my daughter, Lissa, who I hope will bring the book up to date for its next printing.”
Not wanting to comment on that, and wanting to drag her father back to reality, Lissa said, “And this is Rosa—” She broke off. Rosa was gone.
“I’ll go and pack,” Steve said. “It won’t take me long, Mrs. Forsythe. I’m sure you’ll want to get settled.” He grinned. “I bet Frank could find you a comfortable chair in the lounge, and possibly a drink. Right, Frank?” Without waiting for a reply, he took the stairs two at a time.
“I don’t have any chambermaids on at this time of day,” Pete said, sullen and uncooperative. “What do you expect me to do, climb those stairs myself and fix up the room?”
Lissa slid a glance over his bulk. Pete had never climbed a stair that she’d ever heard of. She wasn’t sure he was able, which was why he’d never taken the option of occupying the top floor, as was the manager’s right. Instead, he’d taken the best cabin and ate in the dining room. And ate and ate and ate …
“Liss’ll take care of it, won’t you, honey?” her father said. “She spent most of her high-school vacations chambermaiding for me when I managed the place, and I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten how. Now, let’s see about that drink, Mrs. Forsythe.”
“Call me Loretta,” she said. “And I’ll call you Frank. I have a feeling we’re about to become very good friends.”
As Lissa headed by on the way to the stairs, the dining room doors squeaked and she saw Rosa’s stricken face peering out through the crack.
Damn her father! She couldn’t believe the way he was acting.
“Thanks a lot,” she said to Steve, slamming a stack of bedding down on the dresser.
He stared at her. “What’s eating you?”
“You. Giving your room up to that … that more-than-middle-aged femme fatale! My father’s gone into orbit over her, and poor Rosa’s heartbroken. Couldn’t you see he’d gone gaga over her the minute he laid eyes on her?”
“Rosa? Your dad and Rosa are an item?”
“They were. Till you interfered. If that woman had been forced to go elsewhere for a room, Dad wouldn’t have become instantly infatuated and—”
He caught her in a bear hug, winked, then dropped his lashes to half-mast. “And you wouldn’t have the sexiest roommate in town. I saw this as a serendipitous opportunity. I give up my room for a lady in distress, and get to legitimately spend my nights aboard your boat. Of course,” he added with another wink, “I’ll put my gear in one of the aft cabins just in case you want your reputation protected.”
Lissa sighed and snuggled against him, unable to resist. And of course he hadn’t known about her dad and Rosa. He hadn’t been here long enough to have noticed all the little nuances everyone else could see.
“I don’t think I have a bit of reputation left. Th
ere probably isn’t a soul in Madrona Cove who’ll believe you’re sleeping in an aft cabin.”
He kissed her. “Do you mind?”
She laughed. “The only thing I’d mind was if you really did want to sleep back there.”
“Rosa!” Lissa exclaimed as she opened the door of her boat two days later. Tears streaked down Rosa’s face. “What’s wrong?” As if she didn’t know. “Come sit down. I’ll make some tea.”
Rosa had herself under better control by the time Lissa returned with the tea. She sniffed and sat up straight in her chair. “Your father’s fallen in love with that woman.”
“Oh, Rosa, maybe he’s just going through a mid-life crisis.”
“Hah! He left mid-life behind fifteen years ago. Trouble is, I’m older than he is and now he’s set his sights on someone younger. He’s been with her almost constantly for the last two days. They’ve had every meal together, he’s spent hours up in her room—talking, supposedly, but I know better. Frank Wilkins isn’t that much of a talker. He’s more of a—” She broke off, turning her face away.
Lissa poured two cups of herbal tea and put one in Rosa’s trembling hands.
“I never asked, because I didn’t think it was my business, but well, you and Dad … for years I’ve wondered why you didn’t marry.”
“I couldn’t.” Rosa lifted a tragic face to Lissa. “I was married till just a couple of years ago. My husband was in a home. He died the month before your dad had his stroke. I was free then, but Frank wouldn’t marry me ’cause he was sick and didn’t think he had anything to offer me.”
“He’s not sick now, Rosa.”
“But he still doesn’t think he has anything to offer me.” She sipped her tea, then set it down. “I wonder what he thinks he’s got to offer that woman? Or maybe he doesn’t have to offer her anything. She looks rich, doesn’t she? Maybe she’s offering him something he can’t refuse. Maybe she’s going to buy the inn for him or something. How can I compete with that? I’m sixty-four. I’ll have my old-age pension next year. But it sure won’t make me rich. It won’t help me buy the inn for him.”
“We’re going to buy the inn, Rosa. This festival is going to be the best one ever. Just you wait. And when Dad’s reinstated as manager, you and he will move into the manager’s suite—together.”
“Nice try, Lissa, but don’t hold your breath.”
It was Thursday at ten in the morning when John Drysdale, the Realtor, sauntered up to Lissa and dropped his bombshell. Wearing brightly polished shoes, a blue suit and a red tie, with his professionally styled hair perfect as always, he looked completely out of place amid the bustle of jeans-clad townsfolk rushing around getting ready for the festival.
“Well,” he said. “You got till five-thirty Saturday to make good on your offer.”
She dropped the archery target she was nailing to a post. She also dropped the hammer. It landed on her toe. She scarcely felt the pain. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
“The seventy-two-hour clause. It’s been invoked. Someone made an offer as of five-thirty, yesterday afternoon. I got over here to tell you as soon as I could.”
“It can’t be true! You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. Lissa closed her eyes tight. She didn’t know why her brain kept insisting on denying the truth. Her stomach already knew it. It lay so heavily within her she was one big ache. Her head spun. How could this be happening? Steve had said … No! Her every instinct told her he hadn’t lied. He loved her. She had to trust him. It was not his father who’d put in the offer. Someone else had. “But who?”
She didn’t realize she’d said it aloud until Drysdale spoke cheerfully, cutting into her chaotic thoughts, “You know I can’t tell you that, Lissa. But if you and your committee can come up with the money before half-past five on Saturday, you’re in. If not, you’re out.”
How could he sound so uncaring, so unfeeling? Didn’t he know what this meant to the community, to her father? “But John! You know we won’t have the tally from the festival until Sunday at the earliest! You can’t do this to us!”
“It’s not personal, Lissa. It’s business. I represent the vendor. I have to accept the offer of anyone who comes to me with the cash.”
“But we’ll have it!” she protested. “We will!”
He shrugged. “Maybe so, but if you don’t have it by Saturday, it’ll be too late. Sorry, Lissa. See you.”
“Wait!” she said, taking two running steps after him. “John, don’t … don’t tell anyone else about this. Not yet. Please. Not with the festival so close.” Was there a chance, some small, remote chance, they could pull it off?
He shrugged, “No skin off my nose. I don’t want to rain on your parade. Just so long as you realize I’ll need a check by five-thirty Saturday afternoon.” He paused. “Certified.”
She closed her eyes again. When she opened them, John Drysdale was gone.
Twenty minutes later, she sat staring in dismay at the figures Debra Hix, treasurer of the committee, showed her. Debra, a canny businesswoman, owner of the hardware store, and successful accountant in her “spare” time, knew what she was talking about. Her gray eyes gazed compassionately into Lissa’s as she ran a hand through her short, crisp hair. “I don’t see any way, honey.”
“Not even if we collect the cash from all the community-sponsored booths just before five on Saturday?”
Sadly, Debbie shook her head. “It won’t be enough. We’ll still need the percentage we get from all the other booths, and even then, it’ll be a squeaker. And we won’t see any of that for at least three days. Most of it will take a couple of weeks to get to us. And the bank’s not even open on Saturday afternoon at that time to certify a check even if we could get enough cash in the account.”
“Then it’s game over.”
Debbie studied the figures, tapped the paper with her pencil, and said, “Maybe we could try for a loan again. Damn! If the hardware store wasn’t so heavily mortgaged, I’d offer to put it up as collateral, but …”
Lissa hugged her. She knew how hopeless it was to try to get a loan. They’d tried. But as a group, they had no assets. The bank wouldn’t talk to them.
“Thanks, Deb. I’d do the same with Boss Lady, only she’s got a mortgage as big as some small countries’ national debt. I just don’t know how I’m going to tell my dad.”
Debbie nodded with understanding. “Then don’t. Not yet. Let him enjoy as much of the festival as he can. Deals have fallen through before, you know, and until the last minute of those seventy-two hours has run out, we really haven’t lost.”
Unconvinced, Lissa left the hardware store.
All she wanted now was to crawl into Steve’s arms, have him hold her, comfort her, tell her it would be all right. The depth of her need for him scared her.
She went to him anyway.
She found him exactly where she’d expected to. “I’ll have a kid down here,” he was saying as she approached his booth. She couldn’t see him, so he must be crouched behind the counter. “He’ll hook a shoe on each time someone puts a line down, but every third shoe will be that Birkenstock sandal I told you about, since every ticket buys three chances.”
The woman he addressed laughed. “Since you know who was in the attic, darling, why does it matter who owns the sandal?”
Lissa stopped in her tracks. Darling?
“It doesn’t,” he said. “but someone has to win the grand prize, Mom, since I’ve already offered it.” Lissa stared at Loretta Forsythe’s elegant, silk-bloused back. Mom?
Her ears hummed so loud she almost missed Steve’s next words. “It may as well be the woman who fits the sandal, in true Cinderella fashion. Dad’s offered a two week, all-expenses vacation. Someone might as well enjoy it.”
“Too bad it’s not your Lissa’s sandal, Stevie. The hot-springs resort would make a good place for a honeymoon. Almost as good as the Madrona Inn.”
&n
bsp; Steve thumped something under the counter, then stood, his normal grin on his face. “You let me worry about that, Mom. The last thing I want is—Lissa!”
She stared at him, reading the guilt on his face, the shock, the truth.
Still, she had to say it. “Mom? This woman is your mother?”
“Yes.” He scrambled out from behind the counter. “Lissa, God, don’t look at me like that! Please, listen to me. I can explain. I—”
“Go to hell, Steve Jackson,” she said, and her words seemed to stop him in midstride. “Just go to hell. I was a total idiot to believe you, to trust you. Well, never again.” She laughed, her voice cracking. “And to think I came to you for comfort when I heard someone had invoked the seventy-two hour clause! Okay, fine. You’ve won. We won’t have enough money to make good our bid for several days after that. I hope you and your family enjoy your new acquisition.”
She spun on her heel and marched across the park, seeing no one, hearing no one. It took her all of five minutes to unplug everything, cast off and head Boss Lady out of Madrona Cove. Okay, so she was running away. She knew it, and she didn’t care.
How many dragons was one woman supposed to try to slay in a lifetime? She’d taken on her last one and she’d lost. Funny how she’d never before noticed how much a dragon could resemble a snake.
If only she didn’t have to go back to the Cove for the festival, Lissa thought. She’d just keep right on traveling. Desolation Sound would make an appropriate destination, wouldn’t it, given the state of her emotions?
But her father would be devastated enough to learn of the loss of his last shot at regaining the inn. She couldn’t desert him when he needed her the most. Still, she needed some time to herself before the festival began. She’d anchor out until Saturday morning. She was entitled to time and space to lick her wounds.
Chapter Ten
HE MADE A BEAUTIFUL Prince Charming. Steve looked better in purple tights and puffy pantaloons than Lissa could possibly have imagined. The knee-length pants, gold with royal-purple insets, matched his ermine trimmed gold crown, and his gold tunic molded to his chest like paint.
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