Читать книгу Always Valentine's Day - Kristin Hardy - Страница 10

“So how did you manage to get them to let you on?” Larkin asked Carter as a white-jacketed waiter appeared from behind them to top off their wineglasses. The main dining room filled the stern of the ship. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, crystal gleamed by candlelight. A wall of windows ran around the edge of the room, revealing the rocks and pines of the Alaskan coast in the preternatural 9:00 p.m. daylight.

“How did I get on? I had to run for it. Paid a couple of stevedores a day’s wages to carry my bags. A bargain, if you ask me.”

“And they let you through security and customs?”

He raised his glass. “Amazing how a few tips will grease the skids. I paid, we all ran and I got there just as they were starting to pull the gangway in.”

It was impossible to miss the gleam in his eyes. “You enjoyed it.”

“Anyone can do things the easy way,” he said by way of answer as their waiter set appetizers of saffron langoustine in puff pastry before them.

Larkin’s lips curved. “So where were you coming from this time?”

“Shenzhen, China. There’s a factory out there I wanted to get a look at.”

“A factory? I thought you worked the market.”

He forked up a langoustine. “I’ve been dipping into a little bit of venture cap activity the past few years. I’m looking at funding a company with operations out there.”

“You’re dealing with actual companies now? I thought you said hands-on stuff was for suckers,” she said, cutting into her puff pastry.

Carter shrugged. “Everything gets boring after a while, even making money.”

Fork in hand, Larkin stared. “Wait a minute, you can’t be my father. You must be an impostor.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still like working the market. That’s never going to go away. But I need a change of pace. Something different.”

“And was the factory different?”

“That’s one word for it,” he said in amusement.

“I take it you’re going to hold on to your money for now.”

“You take it right.” He took a swallow of wine. “Speaking of money, I talked with Walter a couple of weeks ago.”

At the name of her father’s lawyer—and her trust-fund administrator—Larkin glanced up. “Is that how you knew where to find me?”

Carter nodded. “He tells me your fund is getting pretty low. Says you’ve been tapping into the principal.”

She flushed. “Not much. I’m doing all right.” Okay, maybe that was overstating the case a little. The fund she’d come into when she’d turned eighteen hadn’t been enormous, and she could have been smarter in the way she’d managed it. She’d spent the better part of her early twenties living in one city after another, until one day she’d realized that she wasn’t looking for a home, she was looking for herself. That hadn’t made what she was looking for any easier to find, but it made it easier to stay in one place.

“You need more money?” Carter asked.

“I seem to remember you telling me once I needed to get a job,” she said. “I got one.”

“I heard. Modeling, right? I had the impression you were dabbling more than anything.”

“I’m happy to dabble for a thousand dollars an hour.” She gave a faint smile. “There’s a certain cachet to being the daughter of somebody who shows up on the power lists from time to time.”

“Nice to know I can be helpful,” Carter said dryly.

For a few moments they just toyed with the food on their plates. Larkin was the first to jump.

“So what made you pick up the phone?”

“Outside of the fact that we haven’t spoken in over five years?”

She looked down at the tablecloth. “I never wanted that to happen.”

“Neither did I.” Long seconds went by. “I suppose you heard that Celine and I split up.”

Larkin didn’t say anything.

“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” Carter said.

“What?”

“Not saying ‘I told you so.’”

She looked at him directly. “That was never what it was about.”

“What was it about?”

“Not wanting to see you make another mistake. Wanting you to be fair to yourself for once, to look at a wife as closely as you did a stock.” She stopped, aware she’d gone too far—and far too soon. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the place or the time…”

He watched her, eyes steady. “You’ve grown up.”

“Five years will do that.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You could have called sooner.”

“So could you.”

“Celine,” she said simply.

He sighed and looked out the window at the shoreline, white sand broken up with the dark lines of beached logs.

Bitter words, bitter times, hard to get past. Larkin remembered staring at the invitation written on handcrafted linen paper, announcing Carter’s impending wedding to a woman she’d distrusted on sight. Don’t do this, she’d pleaded. Give it time, for once. The argument had escalated, somehow turning back on her. Suddenly it wasn’t about Celine being after his money; it was about Larkin. For every point she’d taken Carter to task on, he’d returned a barb that had unerringly struck home. She had no business accusing him of being rash and impulsive when she’d never once finished anything. Who was she to talk about Celine when she’d never done anything constructive herself?

The battle had reverberated through both of their lives long after the echoes of the words had faded away. She hadn’t expected it to last, but somehow the years had worn on. And now, it appeared, bridging the gap wasn’t going to be as easy as either of them had hoped.

The silence stretched out as the waiters removed their plates and set out their entrées, chateaubriand for Carter and butter-poached lobster for Larkin. In the background, the pianist played “Blue Moon.” Across the room there was a burst of laughter from a large table, the enormous family she’d seen that afternoon. That was how it should be, she thought. Not silence but joy.

They were all grouped together any old way, brothers and sisters, fathers and daughters. The silver-haired matriarch threw back her head in delighted laughter. Larkin glanced over and realized that Carter was watching them, as well, her own wistfulness mirrored in his eyes. Once upon a time they’d been a family like that.

Once upon a time, when her mother had been alive.

Abruptly she had to get out. “Excuse me.” She rose. “I’ll be right back.”

In the ladies’ room, she washed her hands in cold water, touching her cool fingertips to her forehead, adjusting the straps of her ruby silk halter dress. Fifteen years had passed since Beth Hayes had been killed by a drunk driver. Months at a time could pass without Larkin thinking of her, but every once in a while, like an ambush, she’d find herself overwhelmed by a wave of loss, an absence screamingly present.

She shook her head. Pointless to think of what might have been. Carter had done what he’d been able to, and if it had left her permanently wary of any and all relationships, that was her problem.

She ran her fingers through her hair and walked out the door.

Her destination was the dining room. Somehow, though, she found herself climbing the stairs that led to the fantail, instead, stepping outside to gulp deep breaths of the cool air. To either side, tree-covered mountains rose straight up from the water in a landscape that looked too wild for human habitation. The sun was finally setting, its ruddy rays slanting across the deck. The space was empty, quiet, with just the breeze for company.

Something different, Carter had said. Larkin knew how he felt. The restlessness had been brewing for months. Usually when it hit, she moved to another city, but she’d sworn off that. A change of scenery wasn’t the cure. She needed something more.

There was a sound behind her. “I thought that was you,” a voice said.

And she turned to see Christopher Trask.

She’d breathe, Larkin thought, in a moment. When she’d met him that afternoon, he’d been casual, appealingly rumpled. Now he stood before her in black slacks and a charcoal-gray silk shirt that made his shoulders look very wide. The effect was simple, sophisticated and sexy as hell. The man she’d met that afternoon clearly worked with his hands; the man before her belonged in an expensive gallery or on the scene of a sleek nightclub so new that celebrities didn’t even know about it.

He grinned. “I told you the ship wasn’t that big.”

She turned to face him, her back to the rail. “Nice to see you’ve survived so far.”

“Nice to see you, period,” he said. “Dinner dress suits you.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“I do my best. So how’s the first night aboard going?”

“It’s been…interesting,” she decided.

“It can’t be too interesting if you’re standing up here all alone. Didn’t your father make it onto the ship? I thought I saw you with him earlier.”

“Oh, he’s here,” she said. “Back in the dining room, actually. I just wanted to step outside for a minute. I just can’t get over all the daylight.”

He stepped closer to her. “It’s that whole midnight sun thing. It must make it hard on kids. No sneaking out at night.”

“And why do I think that that was an integral part of your repertoire growing up?” she asked, slanting a look at him.

“Ah, come on, it’s a part of summer, like watermelon and baseball. Are you telling me you never snuck out at night when everyone else was asleep? Just to see what it felt like to be outside and on your own when nobody knew about it?”

She could feel that sense of freedom beckoning just outside the window, that breathless sense of adventure. Or maybe she just felt breathless because he was so near, close enough she could feel the heat from his body.

“You’ve sneaked out now, haven’t you?” His voice was low. “You’re supposed to be in at dinner but you’re here.”

“I just—” Wanted something different. “Wanted some air. What are you doing up here?”

“I saw you.” The sunset turned his skin copper and made his eyes look dark. For an instant, she couldn’t look away. For a humming moment, a kind of a pure, distilled need surged between them. On a ship with three thousand other people, it felt like they were alone in the fading light. She could get lost in this man, Larkin thought suddenly.

She swallowed. “I should get back,” she said and turned to the doors. The motion of the ship sent her steps off course.

Christopher caught her arm to stabilize her. “Careful.”

She felt the imprint of each individual finger on her skin, warm, distinct from the growing chill in the air. Anticipation jumped in her stomach. Careful.

“You don’t want to fall,” he added softly, slipping his fingers down to her hand and raising it to his lips.

Heat bloomed within her. The seconds spun out as it flared into desire, and all she could do was stare. There was something hypnotic about his eyes, the warmth of his lips against her hand, something that made it impossible to think of anything except how they would feel against hers. She didn’t intend to lean in toward him. She simply had no choice.

His mouth was soft on hers. It was barely a kiss, just a light brush, yet she felt it everywhere. That so little could take her so far would have been terrifying if she’d been able to think of anything except the flush of heat, the shiver of excitement, the coursing of a need that could become all-consuming.

He hadn’t moved to hold her. He didn’t touch her otherwise except for that tantalizing brush of lips, that light graze that fired up every neuron in her body, making her pulse with the need for more. It was tease. It was invitation.

It was promise.

The restlessness she’d been feeling flared into hunger. Intellectually, she knew that whatever it was she yearned for couldn’t come from another person, any more than a quartet of wives had done it for her father. But she wanted Christopher Trask, oh, she wanted him.

Behind them, the doors opened and a chattering group of people walked out. “Whoops,” someone said loudly, “looks like we’re interrupting.”

It had her stepping back, her eyes flying open only to leave her feeling that she was still in a dream. “Well,” she said blankly.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘wow.’”

Larkin shook her head to get her mind working again. “I should…”

“Have a drink with me,” he supplied.

Forget about the drink, she just wanted him. But she had obligations. “It’s the first night. I haven’t seen my father in forever. I need to go back in.”

Christopher nodded and touched his hand lightly to the small of her back as they started toward the doors. “Later, then.”

Just a flick of a glance from him was all it took to start the pull again, but she couldn’t just disappear on Carter. She wasn’t twenty years old and here to find a guy to hook up with.

But what a guy.

She moved a little bit away from him as they walked through the doors to the dining room, but when she glanced toward her table, she stopped.

“What?”

“My father’s gone.”

“You sure you’ve got the right table? It’s a big dining room.”

“Of course it’s the right table. Over by the window, beyond the planter.”

Christopher looked where she gestured and raised his eyebrows. “You were gone a long time. Maybe he had to go see a man about a dog.”

“I suppose,” she said, and hesitated. “Let me see how dinner goes. Maybe we can have that drink after all.”

“Better yet, come to our table.”

“But my fath—”

“At least until he comes back. You can protect me from the nieces and nephews. Show off some of your American Gladiators chops.” He steered them that way before she could protest further.

She shouldn’t have been even remotely surprised that he walked up to the family at the big table. Up close, the sense of fun and pleasure shimmered around them. Although they were finishing up dessert and coffee, nearly everyone in the Trask family appeared to be more interested in talking and laughing than in food. A blond beachboy type held a woman on his lap—girlfriend or wife, judging by the kiss he planted on her hair. A pair of men with enough similarity in their dark good looks to make them brothers held an energetic debate about baseball and someone named Papi. Sophia was absorbed in a fast, complicated version of patty-cake with a tow-headed little boy who was the spitting image of the delicate-looking white blonde next to her, who in turn laughed with a mischievous-looking woman with a pixie’s cap of brunette curls. It was a chaotic, all-ages blend of people thoroughly enjoying being together.

“Hi, Larkin!” Sophia broke off her hand-slapping to wave.

“Hey, guys,” Christopher said to them all. “I brought a stowaway for dessert. This is Larkin. Let’s see, Larkin, this is my sister Lainie and her husband J.J.—” He pointed to the beach boy. “You know Sophia, and she’s playing with Kelsey, who’s the son of Hadley, there, and my cousin Gabe.” One of the dark-haired men raised his hand. “The guy next to him is my other cousin Jacob, and his wife Celie’s the one talking to Hadley, and—”

“Stop, Christopher,” protested Celie, the brunette pixie. “You’ve got her head spinning. Just let the poor thing sit.” A hint of a French accent colored her words.

“So where’s Aunt Molly?” Christopher asked, standing near Larkin.

“She went to the ladies’ room. A while ago, now that I think about it. She should be back soon.”

“In fact, she’s here now,” said an amused voice.

Larkin turned, and found herself startled into silence. There was no doubt where the Trask boys had gotten their good looks. Molly Trask’s face held a quiet loveliness, enough to have attracted an escort, Larkin saw. She extended her hand. “I’m Larkin.”

“The one who caught Sophia? I’m so pleased to meet you, Larkin,” Molly said warmly. “I’m Molly Trask. And this is—”

“My father—”

“Carter Hayes,” Christopher said simultaneously.

“What?” Larkin whipped her head around to stare at him.

“What are you doing over here?” Carter asked.

“You weren’t at the table. I came over with—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“This is Larkin, my daughter,” Carter told Molly.

“We’re going to need a bigger table,” Gabe said.

There was an after-dinner quiet to the decks as they all walked back to their rooms. The group of them had lingered over coffee and liqueur until the children had started yawning, worn out by the excitement of the day. Now Jacob carried his youngest son while Celie and Hadley shepherded the rest.

“We’ll be leaving at nine tomorrow morning for the glacier flight,” Carter said to everyone as they stepped out of the elevator. “We’ve got four open seats, so whoever wants to come is welcome.”

Christopher wasn’t surprised that Carter and Larkin had rooms on the luxury deck. Carter probably could have booked every suite on the ship with his pocket change alone. He walked along with Molly now, to escort her to her room on the portside hallway. Judging by the weather eye Jacob gave him as the rest of the family followed, that was all he was going to do.

“I guess we’re on our own,” Christopher said to Larkin as they stood at the entrance to the starboard hallway. “I take it you guys are down here?”

“I am. Carter’s on the other hall. We only got our reservations a few weeks ago. We had to take what they had.”

He nodded. “It’s still early. How about that drink?”

“I don’t think so.”

There was a kind of tension gathered about her. It was different than the restless curiosity he’d sensed on the fantail. It hadn’t come from the kiss, that much he was sure of. He knew when he held a willing woman in his arms. Somewhere around the time Carter had shown up, though, it had started to simmer. Christopher found himself subtly on edge. Something was going on with her, and he wasn’t the type of man to just let it go.

“It’s a big ship. We don’t have to go to a bar. There are other things to do, the casino, the piano lounge, the show. What do you think?”

“You want to know what I think?” Larkin asked coolly. “I think it’s very strange that a farmer from Vermont would recognize a man like Carter Hayes.” She turned down the hallway toward her room.

Christopher blinked and followed. “It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He’s a prominent guy.”

“Only in some circles.” They moved aside for an older couple to pass. “Carter lives pretty quietly. He doesn’t show up in the news. It’s not like he’s Malcolm Forbes or Warren Buffett.”

“I think you underestimate him.”

“Apparently, I underestimate farmers in Vermont,” Larkin returned. “Here I figured you spent your time talking about the price of grain, not futures traders. Who knew?”

“We do talk about the price of grain. And at my old job, we talked about futures traders like Carter.”

“Your old job?” She stopped to stare at him.

“I was a lobbyist for the financial industry.”

“A lobbi—” Suspicion bloomed into anger. And betrayal. “So you know who Carter is.” Probably right down to his net worth, Larkin thought as she strode down to her door, key card in hand.

“I followed the industry, and Carter was a part of it,” Christopher responded. “I don’t get what the problem is here.”

“Let me catch up a minute. You were a Washington mover and shaker, and then one day you just decided to throw it all away to become a farmer?”

“I wouldn’t use the words throwing it all away,” he said curtly. “I decided I wanted something else.”

“Except it sounds like that something else isn’t treating you too well.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “If you knew anything about farming, you’d know that’s pretty common.”

“How convenient for you that you met me.”

He frowned. “Meaning?”

Larkin gave him a bright, hard, merciless smile. “It’s funny how it works when you’re the daughter of a man like Carter. The whole world wants to be your best friend. Every guy with any ambition wants to date you—hell, forget dating, they want marriage, as long as it comes with a piece of the pie. They want to get close to the man. I’ve been offered five-carat diamond engagement rings.” She ran her key card and opened her door. “And you thought you were making progress with just a kiss or two?”

She started to walk inside but he caught at her shoulder. “That’s nuts. Paranoid.”

She whirled on him. “You want a list of the times it happened?” She’d had a lifetime of sharp-eyed people who wanted to use her to get close to Carter and his money.

She just hadn’t expected Christopher to be one of them.

“Are you saying I kissed you because of Carter?” Christopher asked tightly, anger stirring in his words.

“Are you trying to say it had nothing to do with it?” She’d felt the chemistry when they’d met, but between the flirtation of the afternoon and the raging need that had flared that evening lay a vast gulf. Between the flirtation of the afternoon and the heat of the night, Christopher had seen her with Carter. Christopher, who knew exactly who Carter Hayes was, and how much money he had. “Why didn’t you tell me you recognized Carter?” she demanded, striding inside.

He stalked after her. “Because I didn’t. When I saw you guys before, you were down the hall. I didn’t get a good look.”

“Yeah, right.”

There was a subtle change in his stance, even though he didn’t move. If she’d been paying attention, Larkin would have seen it. “So I’m a hustler now, is that it?” he demanded.

Too caught up in her own fury, she didn’t register the gathering storm. “You tell me. All I know is that it’s kind of funny how things changed. One minute, you’re just some guy chatting on deck. Then you see me with Carter—or excuse me, someone,” she qualified elaborately, missing the narrowing of his eyes, “and suddenly the next time we’re together you go all continental with the hand kissing and the heavy stares and…” She swallowed, remembering the flare of heat and need, noticing for the first time the palpable tension that hung around him.

“And?” he bit off, a dangerous flash in his eyes.

She flushed. “And nothing. If you want to try to get to Carter through me, you’re going to have to do a lot more than just kiss my hand.”

“Gladly.” And before she knew what he was about, he’d dragged her to him, lips coming down hot and possessive on hers.

This wasn’t a soft whisper of invitation; it wasn’t about tempting. This was frustration and challenge, anger and need. It was an all-out assault on her senses. Desire whipped through her in those first few stunned seconds, and she was helpless to do anything but feel. Every fiber of her being focused on the hot press of his mouth, the demand of his hands, the male flavor of him as her lips parted and he took them both deeper.

He kissed her with an almost arrogant ownership, as though he’d already plundered every inch of her body. As though he already knew exactly how she liked to be touched.

And he did.

The ship moved beneath them, but it was the arousal surging through her veins that had her clinging to him as she swayed against him on legs that would no longer hold her. The feel of his palms running over her bare shoulders made her shiver. She breathed in, open mouth to his, as though it was him she needed, more than sustenance, more than air. Her world had reduced to just this: his lips, his hands, his body against her.

He had no business kissing her like this, Christopher knew. But he’d been holding back practically since he’d first seen her. Somewhere along the line, the goading had loosened the tight grip he kept on his control. It wasn’t just irritation at the insult that had the passion and frustration inside him bubbling over. He needed more. He needed for her to acknowledge this pull between them. He needed to know that it clawed at her, too.

She was soft and pliant against him. The silken strands of her hair brushed at his cheek. She tasted dark and sweet and sinfully delicious, like some stolen treat to be scooped up with a fingertip and savored.

He worked his way across her cheek to the line of her jaw, tasting her skin. With a helpless noise, she let her head fall back. He pressed his lips against the curving line of her throat, inhaling her scent, half devouring her. The desire drummed through him, the need to take, the compulsion to satisfy the howling demand.

She wrapped herself around him, mouth moving avidly under his, making soft purring noises of pleasure.

He could take her at this moment, he knew. The bed was mere steps away. He could have them both naked in seconds and be sliding into that purely female softness, sliding into heat and sensation and inevitability to take them both over the edge. Instead, he made himself pull away, leaving her to stare at him, eyes dazed, mouth swollen from his.

“Wha…” She blinked. “I…”

“Trust me, Larkin.” He looked down at her. “Whatever happens between you and me has absolutely nothing to do with Carter.”

And he pulled open the door and walked away.

While he still could.