Sail Away. Lisa Jackson

held up his hands, as if in surrender. “One step at a time, okay? Let’s just call this…sabbatical…of yours, a leave of absence.”

      She wanted to argue, but didn’t. Maybe he needed time to adjust. Her leaving, after all, was as hard on him as it was on her.

      Her expression softened, and she touched his arm. “You and Montgomery Inns will survive.”

      “Lord, I hope so,” he murmured. “But I’m not accepting anything official like a resignation. And I want you to wait just a couple of weeks, until Puget West opens. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” he queried, pocketing his keys as they both climbed out of the car.

      Together, hands shoved in the pockets of their coats, they walked quickly along the time-weathered planks of the waterfront. Marnie breathed in the scents of the marina. She’d grown up around boats, and the odors of salt and seaweed, brine and diesel brought back happy childhood memories of when her father had taken as much interest in her as he had in his company. Things had changed, of course. She’d gone to college, hadn’t needed him so much, and Montgomery Inns had developed into a large corporation with hotels stretched as far away as L.A. and Houston.

      A stiff breeze snapped the flags on the moored vessels. High overhead sea gulls wheeled, their desolate cries barely audible over the sounds of throbbing engines. Free, she thought, smiling at the birds, they’re free. And lonely.

      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