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 Drake!
What in God’s name was he doing here? Didn’t the man have a sense of decency, or at the very least, an ounce of self-preservation? Her father would love to have a chance to throw him out of the hotel! Even though he’d been proved innocent of the charges Victor had leveled against him, Adam Drake was definitely on her father’s ten-least-wanted list.
Adam didn’t seem concerned. A slow, self-mocking smile stretched across his jaw as his gaze collided with hers. He winked lazily at her, then took a long swallow from his champagne.
Marnie almost grinned. She’d forgotten about his irreverence, his lack of concern for playing by society’s unwritten laws. Well, he’d really done himself in this time. Though she’d never really believed that he was a thief, there was a side to him that suggested danger, and she wondered just how much he knew about the half million dollars skimmed from the funds to build this very hotel. The guy had nerve, she’d grant him that!
Amused, she turned to see if her father had noticed their uninvited guest, but a crowd of well-wishers suddenly engulfed them. Victor tugged on Marnie’s arm, pulling her along as he wended his way to the circular fountain and stepped onto the marble base, hauling her up with him. Newspaper reporters followed, elbowing and jostling to thrust microphones into Victor’s face. Cameras flashed before her eyes as photographers clicked off dozens of pictures.
Victor laughed and answered each question crisply. Her father was always at his best in front of a crowd, but Marnie was uncomfortable in the spotlight. She tried to slip away unnoticed. However, Senator Mann, always hungry for press, fought his way through the throng to stand at her father’s side, blocking Marnie’s exit. Even Kent appeared. Predictably, he wended quickly through the tightening group to take his place next to her. She was trapped!
Gazing up at Kent’s even, practiced smile, Marnie decided this wasn’t the time to bring up the fact that Adam Drake had somehow turned up uninvited.
“Hi,” Kent whispered, flashing a thousand-watt grin at her, though Marnie suspected the smile was for the press. He tried to slide his arm around her waist.
Marnie sidestepped him and somehow managed to keep her balance. “Don’t,” she warned.
“Come on, Marnie,” he cajoled. “Just try to be reasonable—at least for appearances’ sake.”
“I can’t—”
“Kent! Congratulations!” Mayor Winthrop’s voice boomed as he approached and stretched out his hand. He was short and round, his straight gray hair painstakingly combed to cover a bald spot. “Beautiful hotel, Marnie, just beautiful!” he gushed, before turning all his attention on Victor and Kent.
Marnie managed a thin smile for the man, then, before Kent realized what she was doing, excused herself quickly and stepped into the sea of guests.
Enough with the spectacle, she thought, moving quickly away from the fountain. She had promised her father she’d show up at his party, but she wasn’t going to pretend to care about Kent. How could she have ever made the mistake of thinking she loved him? Or that he had loved her? She must’ve been desperate.
Unconsciously, she glanced back to the piano, but Adam had disappeared and the pianist, taking his cue from Victor, had stopped playing so that the mayor and other city dignitaries could publicly congratulate Victor Montgomery on another glamorous project well done.
Marnie felt little of the pride she’d experienced at the completion of other hotels. Puget West had been different from the beginning. There had been problems and delays with acquisition, zoning, planning,
