Bad choice, Marnie, Adam thought as he took a long swallow of champagne. Maybe he’d been kidding himself all along. Marnie Montgomery was probably cut from the same expensive weave of cloth as was her father.
Kent Simms fit into the picture neatly. Too ambitious for his own good, Kent was more interested in the fast lane and big bucks than in loving a wife. Even if she happened to be the boss’s daughter. The marriage wouldn’t last.
But Kent Simms was Marnie’s problem. Adam had his own.
He heard a gasp behind him. From the corner of his eye he caught the quickly averted look of a wasp-thin woman with dark eyes and a black velvet dress.
So she recognizes me, he thought in satisfaction, and lifted his champagne glass in silent salute to her. Her name was Rose Trullinger, and she was an interior decorator for the corporation.
Rose’s cheeks flooded with color, and she turned quickly away before casting a sharp glance over her shoulder and heading toward a group of eight or nine people lingering around the bar.
Adam watched as she whispered something to a woman draped in blue silk and dripping with diamonds. The woman in blue turned, lifted a finely arched brow and sent Adam a curious look. There was more than mild amusement in her eyes. Adam noticed an invitation. Some women were attracted to men who were considered forbidden or dangerous. The woman in blue was obviously one of those.
She whispered something to Rose.
Perfect, Adam thought with a grim twist of his lips. It wouldn’t be long before Victor knew he was here.
Chapter Two
Marnie jabbed a glittery comb into her hair, then glowered at her reflection as the comb slid slowly down. Shaking her head, she yanked out the comb and tossed it onto the vanity. So much for glamour. She brushed her shoulder-length curls with a vengeance and eyed the string of diamonds and sapphires surrounding her throat. The necklace and matching earrings had been her mother’s; Victor had pleaded with her to wear them and she had, on this, the last night of her employment at Montgomery Inns. Just being in the new hotel made her feel like a hypocrite, but she only had a few more hours and, then, freedom!
“Marnie?” Her father tapped softly on the door connecting her smaller bedroom to the rest of his suite. “It’s about time.”
“I’ll be right out,” she replied, dreading the party. On the bed, a single suitcase lay open. She tossed her comb, brush and makeup bag into the soft-sided case and snapped it shut.
Sliding into a pair of silver heels, she opened the door to find her father, a drink in one hand, pacing near the door. He glanced up as she entered the room, and the smile that creased his face was filled with genuine admiration. He swallowed and blinked. “I really hadn’t realized how much you look like Vanessa,” he said quietly.
Marnie felt an inner glow. He was complimenting her. Her father had never gotten over his wife and he’d vowed on her grave that he’d never remarry. And he hadn’t. Even though Kate Delany had been in love with him for years, he wouldn’t marry her. Marnie knew it as well as she knew she herself would never marry Kent Simms.
He reached for the door but paused. “Kent’s already here.”
“I know.”
“He’s been asking to see you.”
She knew that, too. But she was through talking to Kent about anything other than business. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”
Victor tugged on his lower lip as if weighing his next words. Marnie braced herself. She knew what was coming. “Kent loves you, and he’s been with the company for ten years. That man is loyal.”
“To Montgomery Inns.”
“Well, that’s something. The years he’s worked for me—”
“If longevity with Montgomery Inns has anything to do with my future husband, then I should marry Fred Ainger.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her father scoffed, leaving his glass on a table near the door, but Marnie could tell her comment had hit its mark. Fred Ainger, a tiny bespectacled accountant in bookkeeping, was about to retire at age sixty-five. He’d been with Montgomery Inns since Victor had purchased his first hotel.
“Okay, okay. We both know that Kent’s time with the company doesn’t really matter when you’re choosing a husband,” her father reluctantly agreed, smoothing his hair with the flat of his hand. He looked out the window to the city of Port Stanton flanking the banks of the sound. Smaller than Seattle, Tacoma or Olympia, Port Stanton, as gateway to the sound, was growing by leaps and bounds, and Montgomery Inns was ready and waiting with the Puget West as the city required more hotels for businessmen and travelers. “But Kent is loyal to the company.”
Bully for Kent, she thought, but held her tongue on that point. “I’d rather have a husband who’s committed to me.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe Kent is committed to you, honey.”
Marnie knew differently. She also realized that she was going to have to tell her father why she was so adamant about rejecting Kent, or her father would badger her forever. In Victor’s eyes, Kent was the perfect son-in-law. “I didn’t love him, Dad.” That much wasn’t a lie, though she’d convinced herself during the duration of their engagement that she had. “Kent wasn’t the man for me. He was your choice, not mine.”
For a few seconds Victor didn’t speak, and Marnie could almost hear the gears whirling in his mind. Her father didn’t back down quickly.
He made a big show of glancing at his watch and pursing his lips. “Come on,” he said, his keen eyes glinting. “Let’s go downstairs. We can talk about Kent later.”
Marnie shook her head. “You can talk about him later. I’m done.”
Victor held up a hand to forestall any further arguments. “Whatever you say. It’s your life.”
Marnie wasn’t fooled, and cast him a glance that told him so.
Victor held open the door for her, and Marnie stepped onto the balcony. The sounds of the party drifted up the four flights from the lobby. Even from this distance she recognized a few employees of the hotel chain, dancing or laughing with guests who had been sent special invitations, the chosen few who mattered in the Northwest—the mayor of Seattle and Senator Mann, several city council members as well as reporters for local television and newspapers. There were only a few faces Marnie didn’t recognize.
All of Seattle’s social elite had come to Puget West, drinking and laughing and showing off their most expensive gowns and jewelry, hoping that their names and pictures might find a way into the society columns of the Seattle Observer and the Port Stanton Herald.
Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Marnie stepped into the glass elevator, her father at her side. As the car descended, she stared through the windows, noticing the lights in the trees in the lobby, the ice sculpture of King Neptune and the three-tiered fountain of champagne wedged between tables laden with hors d’oeuvres. A pianist was playing from a polished ebony piano where a man listened, a handsome man, she guessed from the back of him. She noticed the wide breadth of his shoulders, the narrowing of his hips, the way his wavy black hair gleamed under a thousand winking lights.
There was something familiar about him, something about his stance, that brought back hazy memories. He turned to reach for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and as the elevator doors opened, Marnie found herself staring across the room. A pair of mocking, gold-brown eyes met hers, and she nearly missed a step.
Adam