Sail Away. Lisa Jackson

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.

      She was beautiful, he had to admit that. Her wavy hair was pale blond, almost silver, her eyes were an intense shade of blue and even though she was often serious, Adam remembered that she laughed easily.

      But she wasn’t laughing tonight. No, Miss Montgomery appeared uncomfortable with all the hoopla, though she was dressed for the occasion in a silky dress that must have cost a fortune and in diamonds that sparkled around her wrist and neck. No one would doubt that she was Victor Montgomery’s spoiled daughter.

      He found it interesting that when she’d first spotted him she hadn’t run to Daddy to tell him that a traitor was in their midst. Instead, she’d appeared mildly curious and now she was walking toward him.

      The ghost of a smile crossed her full lips and her eyes twinkled for just a second. “Mr. Drake,” she said, stopping just short of him.

      “It’s Adam, remember?”

      “Impossible to forget,” she replied, showing off a dimple. “Your name will probably be whispered in the corridors of Montgomery Inns for years. You’re a legend, you know.”

      “As part of the poor and infamous?”

      She plucked a shrimp canapé from a tray. “What’re you doing here? Don’t you know you’ll be drawn and quartered before the night is out? That’s what they do to party crashers.” She plopped the canape into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of champagne.

      He couldn’t believe that she was actually baiting him. Adam’s mouth slashed at a sardonic angle. “And here I thought my invitation had just gotten lost in the mail.”

      “Right,” Marnie replied dryly, her ice blue dress glimmering seductively under the lights. “If I were you, this is the last place I would’ve shown up.”

      “Never was one to miss a party.”

      “You must be a glutton for punishment. My father will flip when he finds out you’re here—and he will, you know. It won’t take long.”

      “I’m counting on it.”

      “Why?” For the first time, the teasing glint disappeared from her eyes. She lifted her glass to her lips and appraised him solemnly over the rim.

      “He and I need to talk, and he’s been dodging my calls.” Adam glanced back to the fountain-cum-podium where Victor was introducing Kent Simms and congratulating him on his promotion to executive vice president. Adam finished his drink in one gulp, as Simms accepted Victor’s hearty congratulations, shook hands with the mayor and rained a brilliant pretty-boy smile on the crowd.

      “You’ve called Dad?” Marnie asked, apparently stunned.

      Adam swung his gaze back to her. “Several times. Never got past Kate. Victor didn’t bother to call me back.”

      “But—”

      “I even stopped in at the offices. Kate ran interference. Wouldn’t let me in to see him.”

      Marnie couldn’t believe it. Her father hadn’t said a word about Adam trying to contact him, and she would have thought, given Victor’s feelings about Adam Drake, he would have ranted and raved for days at the younger man’s impertinence. “What did you want to talk to him about?”

      “Believe me, I have a lot to discuss with your father—or if I can’t talk to him, Simms’ll do.” He cocked his head toward the fountain. “By the way, your fiancé seems to be enjoying himself. Shouldn’t you be up there, basking in some of the glory?”

      “It got a little crowded,” she said, her lips tightening.

      “I noticed.”

      “Adam Drake?” Kate’s voice was low and cold. When he turned, her large eyes were suspicious, the color in her cheeks high. “What do you think you’re doing here?” she whispered, then before he could answer, asked, “How did you get past security?”

      “I helped design this building, remember—including the security system.”

      “You bastard,” she shot back, ignoring Marnie. “You want to ruin it for him, don’t you? This is Victor’s night, and you’re going to make sure that it blows up in his face!”

      “I just want to talk to him.”

      “Well, you can’t. Not tonight,” she said, her features hardening. “If the press gets wind that you’re here, it’ll ruin everything! You’ve got to leave! Now!” Her voice had taken on a frantic tone that seemed to surprise Marnie as she watched the exchange in stunned silence.

      “I’m not taking off just yet.”

      “But why would you want to stay? It’ll just cause problems.” Kate glanced nervously toward Victor.

      Marnie laid a hand on her arm. “Relax, Kate,” Marnie said, as if she, too, were trying to avoid a scene, but Kate raged on.

      “Please, Adam, just go quietly, before you do something that can’t be undone and everything’s dredged up again. This is Victor’s night. Please don’t spoil it!”

      “I need to talk to him.”

      “But not here—”

      “I tried the office,” he replied, fighting to control his anger. “You wouldn’t let me see him.”

      “My mistake. Come back next week, I’ll get you an appointment,” she promised, pinning a winning smile on her face and slipping her arm through his, obviously intending to escort him to the door.

      “I’ll wait, just the same.”

      Frustrated, Kate stormed away in a cloud of exasperation.

      “I don’t think that’s the way to win friends and influence people,” Marnie said dryly.

      “I’m not very popular around here, am I?”

      She grinned. “I’m afraid you’re persona non grata at Montgomery Inns. But my father still keeps your picture in his office—taped over his dart board.”

      He laughed, surprised that she would joke with him. The pianist began playing again, filling the lobby with a vaguely familiar big-band hit of the forties.

      “Do you want me to tell my father you’re here?” she asked, and he shook his head.

      “I think it would be better if you stay out of it.”

      “Why?”

      “It could get bloody.”

      “Then I’d better be there,” she decided. “Someone—maybe you—might need a bandage.”

      “And soon,” he said, spying Kent Simms, face flushed, plunging through the crowd and heading straight for Marnie. The glare in Kent’s eyes was unmistakable—the territorial pride of the spurned male.

      “What the hell are you doing here?” Kent demanded in a voice so low it was hard to hear over the crowd.

      Adam finished his drink. “I was hoping to talk to Victor, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

      “Forget