Four Weeks (3 page)

She shifted her gaze away from him to the slice of water visible out the window.

"You said you came about the job.” Her tone softened the slightest bit. “Please say what you came to, so I can get settled.” She peered at him and he saw in her eyes something he never would have expected, a touch of vulnerability. He watched her mouth when she spoke again. “I've had a long morning."

She looked so young, huddled in the cushions and waiting for his response. Strange as it was, he didn't want to tell her she couldn't have the job she'd come for. But he had to.

Why couldn't he get the words past his lips? What did he care if she had to take the next ferry back home? She probably had her pick of jobs. She couldn't need this one. He'd seen young, vulnerable-looking women before and they weren't usually what they seemed. For all he knew Miss Hart had the act perfected.

Unable to keep himself from learning what he could about her, he hedged around a bit. “My father won't be coming to the island.” He watched her closely, ready to study her response, knowing her reaction would reveal her character.

She took a moment to consider his statement. “At all?"

"Old Mr. Parker definitely won't be coming. Not at all.” He heard the pain in his voice and hated himself for letting out the emotion.

She shifted on the couch and tucked her slender legs underneath her. “Are you taking his place?"

He covered his true feelings by lifting one shoulder nonchalantly. “Lucky me, I own the place now. So I guess I'm taking his place whether I want to or not."

"So I report to you."

"That's right."

She pressed her lips together as if in thought. Her chin jerked up. “Is that what you came to tell me?"

"No.” She wanted more, but he was selfishly enjoying this cat and mouse game too much. Maybe he was taking the resentment he carried for his father out on Louise. If so, did he care? He had a lot of experience ignoring things like conflicting emotions.

"Well then, Mr. Parker what is it? Is there a problem?"

Time to see what she's made of
. “I'm planning on selling Hawk's to a developer. He says it's a nice corner, big enough for a few cozy shops."

"Your father hired me to run the stable two weeks ago, right after he bought it. When I spoke with him—"

"A week ago my father had a heart attack and died."

The hostility in her gaze vanished and she seemed to take in all of him, as if she was trying to see his pain. But there was no pain to see, only frustration at having to deal with this whole stable mess.

"I'm sorry, Trent. I had no idea."

For a moment he forgot about their oppositional situation and thought only of how his name sounded different when it came from her lips, not harsh and cold the way it usually did coming from a stranger's. Reality came crashing back. That didn't matter. “Of course you didn't know. How could you?"

She leaned forward. “Maybe you'd like to talk about the stable later? His passing must have happened so suddenly, I'm sure you're still...” She paused, leaving the sentence half-spoken. She smoothed her hands over her legs. “I'm sure you don't want to talk business right now."

With one quick motion she rose to her feet. She meant to leave him alone, with his supposed grief, but he didn't want her to go. To keep her from leaving, he stood to block her way.

The sweet scent of pear blossoms filled his nose when he took his next breath. She stepped back, but the couch kept her from getting very far. The closeness of her body made him smile. The reaction didn't make sense, but he didn't care. He simply wasn't finished with her yet, even if he didn't know why.

She tilted her head, maybe to put some distance between them. Maybe to see him better. “What is it Mr. Parker? Are you playing some game with me?"

"Of course not, Miss Hart.” Even he knew his reply was a lie. The spirited expression brightening her pleasingly rounded face intrigued him and he took pleasure in her intelligent gaze.

"Excuse me.” She reached out and placed her right palm across his arm.

She planned to push him aside, but her hand stayed a split second too long and he took the opportunity to cover her hand with his. His nerves, rubbed raw ever since his father's death, pulled tightly and made it impossible to think straight. The need to be with her pressed hard. “I do want to talk later. I'll pick you up for dinner at six.” Inspiration struck. “Dress. We'll go to The Majestic."

He'd do this his way. First he'd have the pleasure of her company, then he'd tell her she didn't have a job. Before she had a chance to reply, he released her hand and stepped back. He passed through Sally's door using his quick exit to prevent her from refusing.

LOUISE DROPPED ONTO the couch. When Sally bustled into the room at the exact moment the door slammed behind Trent, Louise had the distinct impression her hostess had overheard the entire conversation.

Half-melted ice floated in the tall glass Sally held. “Did you two have a nice chat?” she asked.

Instead of answering Sally's question, Louise asked one of her own. “Did you know Mr. Parker had died?"

"Yes, I did.” She sighed and leaned against the wall. “That's why I called Trent after you arrived. I'm sorry if that seems underhanded, but honestly, I wasn't sure how to handle your arrangements. Seeing as the older Mr. Parker made them, and Trent doesn't want...” she let the words trail off and stepped back out of the room to put the unneeded glass of lemonade on the kitchen table. “Never mind that. I can see Trent means for you to stay, so let's get you settled shall we?"

Louise balked at the phrase
Trent means for you to stay
, but the idea of getting settled sounded perfect. She desperately needed a few minutes to herself. In a heartbeat she was on her feet, across the floor, and reaching for her bag.

"So ... did you and Trent have a nice talk?” Sally asked again as she led the way down a narrow hall.

Louise decided to go ahead and answer the question. “He came to tell me something."

"That his father passed on?"

"No, I don't think that was it.” It couldn't be that he was selling the stable. He didn't really mean that, did he? The possibility was too awful to consider, so she wouldn't. “Anyway, we're meeting for dinner. I guess we'll talk business then."

She followed Sally as they rounded a curving staircase. “I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time.” She noted the lack of surprise in the other woman's voice. “Did he mention where you'll be going?"

Because her hostess already knew the answer, replying would be pointless, but not answering would be rude and she certainly didn't need any more enemies. “The Majestic."

Sally stopped at the upper landing and turned. Her wide-eyed expression and surprised smile unnerved Louise.

Okay, maybe she didn't eavesdrop after all.
Something about the appraising look the older woman turned on her made her wonder what she'd gotten herself into.

"You won't be talking business then, dear.” She looked doubtfully at the overstuffed bag dangling from Louise's shoulder. “Wear the best thing you brought. Everyone dresses for dinner at The Majestic."

Louise concentrated on not looking as anxious as she felt. “I'll do that."

Sally nodded in approval and moved across the upstairs landing. Lightly colored floral wallpaper surrounded them as they stepped down the hall. The smell of fresh wax from the polished wood floors lingered in the air.

Obviously her hostess was one of those ladies who always thought she knew what was happening with people before they did. But this time she was wrong because apparently the older woman was reading something into her business dinner with Trent that was not there.

"Here you are.” Sally stopped and pushed open a door. Louise followed her into a small, tidy room. The roll of the waves called to her through an open window and the scent of fresh air eased her nerves.

"I'll give you some time to yourself. Please don't hesitate to let me know what I can do to make your stay more comfortable.” With that, Mrs. Lovell left Louise to do the only thing she wanted to do now—throw herself onto the bed and stare out the window.

The view offered her no answers, but it couldn't possibly produce any more questions.

TRENT MARCHED THROUGH the aisle for the hundredth time and asked himself the same thing he'd been considering ever since he stepped foot on the island a few days ago. Why had his father, a hard charging and competitive businessman, bought an old, rundown stable on a secluded tourist island?

Mr. Parker had never owned a small business. His father wasn't one to slow down, so retirement was out of the question. He'd worked ten-hour days right up until his last and Trent had no doubt that his father had wanted it that way.

Some flies buzzed over Trent's head. He waved them away and resumed his pacing. He knew next to nothing about horses, but from what he could tell the horses were well cared for. He was thankful for that.

The barn was another story. Boards nailed at odd angles barely kept the other half-rotten boards from falling down. The roof leaked. The floor sagged. Maybe if he got some skilled carpenters in he could...

What did his father see in the old place? Did he have plans to tear it down and build a hotel on the property? That didn't seem likely. Even though it was close to town and within easy walking distance to many popular sights, the corner lot wasn't big enough to build a hotel large enough to turn a healthy profit. Turning a profit had to enter into the picture somewhere.

Before talking with Louise, Trent had been sure he wanted to sell the place and get on with his life. Now he was reluctantly reconsidering. It bothered him that his father saw some business potential where he did not.

He paused to watch Pete move along the fence line, dragging the hose behind him as he filled water buckets for the horses in the back area. For a fleeting moment Trent mulled over the idea that his father bought the place with the plan of somehow helping the man who worked there, but that was absurd. Although the rickety old man worked long hours without complaining and lived in the attached apartment so he could keep an eye on the place at night, his father wouldn't have cared. Mr. Parker never put people before business.

That was the one lesson Trent had never learned. He understood his father's desire to see an idea grow from an idea on a piece of paper to a service or product that made millions in the market, but he'd never do what his father did—put everything and everyone in second place behind success and money. Competitive drive was one thing. Obsession was another.

Trent knew so little about his father's activities. How had his father even found out about Hawk's Riding Stable? He certainly hadn't visited it on vacation. Mr. Parker didn't take vacations. The possibility that a friend told him about it was remote. Friendships required time.

Realizing the answers to the questions that plagued him weren't coming, he turned away from the window. Maybe he could find something out by digging through the papers in the office. He headed down the aisle.

As he made his way past the horse stalls an inspiration struck. He could learn more about the stable from the alluring Miss Hart. After all, his father must have told her something about the business to entice her to come manage it. Maybe he'd told her his plans for the future.

Trent dropped into the office chair and started pulling papers from drawers. He'd find out what he could and then plan a strategy for his dinner date tonight.

The evening ahead promised to be good for both business and pleasure.

LOUISE STRETCHED AND rolled over. Somewhere in the back of her mind the song of birds and the gentle lull of lapping water whispered to her. The lonely call of a gull pressed at her. Opening a sleepy eye, she focused through the afternoon sunlight streaming in the lace-bordered window.

She wasn't at home. She was at Lovell's Rooming House on Mackinac Island, where she had evening plans with the handsome, but aggravating Trent Parker.

With a jerk, she twisted to the small clock on the bedside table. To her surprise, she'd slept way past lunch. Luckily she still had more than enough time to get ready for dinner.

Trent probably wanted to discuss the business or find out more about her experience. The thought of spending an entire evening answering his questions made her queasy.

She pushed herself upright and moved to the window to take in the postcard perfect view. Some birds called out as they dove through the air. A few others hopped along the shore. Louise pulled in a deep breath and savored the fresh moisture. She loved the island, but there was no telling how long she'd get to stay. She hadn't wanted to accept it earlier, but she had to face facts.

If Trent did sell to a developer, she'd be out of a job. Again.

This opportunity was more than a summer job to her. It was a chance to prove she could succeed and face challenges. So many times she'd accepted new positions with great expectations. In the past year and a half she'd been the manager of a small dress shop, a baker's assistant, and a preschool teacher's aide.

Since graduating from high school, she'd had so many first days she could barely remember them all. Each new job had seemed like a welcome chance to achieve the dream she believed in. But sooner or later the shine wore off and her disillusions were exposed. Each time she put in her two-week notice, she'd promised herself that the next job would be the one that made all her dreams come true.

Maybe she was chasing rainbows, but she had to keep searching. All she wanted was to be on her own, to be happy. She just needed the right job to start her up the career ladder. With hard work she'd get to the top and earn the things being up there had to offer.

After all, that's why she'd struggled through those business courses in community college. Her career was supposed to bring new excitement and fulfillment. Not disappointment and frustration.

The gulls flew off as a couple strolled along the beach. The woman had her pants rolled up to her knees while the man walked higher up on the shore. The intimate music of their laughter drifted up to Louise and she flushed. Longing tugged at her heart.