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Always Valentine's Day
Kristin Hardy
Had his ship finally come in?Tall, dark and handsome bachelor Christopher Trask’s holiday was looking promising, especially once he met beautiful “it” girl Larkin. She seemed suspicious of Christopher from the start – and her father falling for his aunt was certainly complicating matters!Still, a cruise ship wasn’t real life…so what was the harm in a holiday romance? Surely her common sense would return once she was back on dry land…
Excerpt
“So I’m a hustler now, is that it?”
Too caught up in her own fury, Larkin missed the gathering tension. “I don’t know, are you? Kind of funny how things changed. One minute, you’re just some guy flirting. Then you see me with my father, the futures trader, and suddenly you go all continental on me, 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?” Christopher bit off, a dangerous flash in his eyes.
She flushed. “And nothing. If you’re going to try to get alongside my father through me, you’re going to have to do a lot more to convince me 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.
Kristin Hardy has always wanted to write, and started her first novel while still in grade school. Although she became a laser engineer by training, she never gave up her dream of being an author. In 2002, her first completed manuscript debuted in the Mills & Boon
Blaze
line; it was subsequently made into a movie by the Oxygen network. Kristin lives in New Hampshire with her husband and collaborator. Check out her website at www.kristinhardy.com.
Always Valentine’s Day
By
Kristin Hardy
MILLS & BOON®
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
To the usual suspects for doing what they usually do (you know who you are), to Least Goat, for daring to dream, to Harlequin, for giving us happily ever after for sixty years, and to Stephen, for giving me happily ever after for eleven years. And counting.
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u6767fd46-a4a4-5004-a24b-d79dfcd22d5b)
Excerpt (#u20747770-78c5-59f2-8630-3769f4dac0cf)
About The Author (#ud8e13368-b5ac-5710-bca9-025d9477794e)
Title Page (#u68fa0627-e75f-57a0-be95-417cc8c6798c)
Dedication (#ud4dff013-b1db-518b-82c9-c9c048f8bc61)
Acknowledgements (#u603dbb36-6de1-5370-a367-0eabe67c7e76)
Chapter One (#uef596f5d-dec3-59c4-92ea-d95b8e4a3213)
Chapter Two (#u6cdb049d-3c13-5e37-998f-b042a10105b9)
Chapter Three (#u08d00bbe-ea6c-520d-beeb-9955a7bcdd09)
Chapter Four (#u404b455a-0ed1-5339-af49-2e6f93809743)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Preview (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements Thanks go to Laini Fondiller of Lazy Lady Farm, and Kristan Doolan and Layla Masant of Doe’s Leap Farm (www.vtcheese.com) for teaching me about goat dairying, and to Andy and Jenny Tapper of Via Lactea Farm (www.vialacteafarm.com) for introducing me to their goats and showing me what life on a working farm is like.
Chapter One
Larkin Hayes looked across the glassed-in lido deck of the Alaskan Voyager to Vancouver Bay beyond. When she’d left L.A. that morning, the mercury had been headed for the mid-nineties. Here in Vancouver, it hadn’t even cracked sixty degrees.
A snatch of the Lost theme song had her pulling her BlackBerry from her pocket.
“Hello?”
“I’m just leaving the airport,” a voice said without preamble.
Five years might have passed since she and her father had spoken regularly, but Carter Hayes seemed to have no doubt that she’d recognize his voice.
And she did. She just couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You’re only now leaving the airport?”
“My flight got delayed in Tokyo.”
“You’re aware the ship sails in a little over half an hour, right? We’ve already done the lifeboat drill.”
“I think I can find a lifeboat on my own.”
“The question is whether you’re going to be able to find the ship in time.” Then again, Carter had always been able to do just about anything he wanted—except maybe make a marriage last.
“They won’t sail without me,” he said confidently.
“If you’re lucky.”
“I’ll be lucky.”
One corner of her mouth tugged up. Quintessentially Carter. What wasn’t quintessentially Carter was booking fare on a commercial cruise line for their trip. He could have chartered a yacht; hell, he probably could have bought a few dozen of them.
Except that cruising for a week or two on even the largest yacht would have left them with a few too many silences to fill.
Across the way, a family had commandeered two tables and still spilled over the edges in a three-generational confusion of bodies and laughter. What would it be like to be a part of that kind of happy tangle of relations? she wondered enviously. Someone to joust with, someone to travel with. Someone else to try to talk some sense into Carter. Instead, she had a handful of disgruntled stepbrothers and sisters, all of whom wanted no part of the man they now loathed, except for maybe his money.
Larkin shook her head. No point wasting time on pointless thinking. “Our first port of call is Juneau,” she said. “You can always catch up with the ship there.”
“Forget Juneau. The cab driver tells me we’re twenty minutes away. I’ll be there.”
“In that case, you’ll find me on the lido deck.”
“Good. Order a bottle of Clicquot. We’ll drink to the future.”
To the future, Carter’s favorite toast. Not surprising for a man who’d made the bulk of his fortune from futures trading.
Larkin ended the call and walked through the doors that led outside onto the fantail, not sure whether she was amused or annoyed. Then again, Carter had that effect on people. He could be, by turns, infuriating, surprising, generous, charming, brilliant and astonishingly pigheaded. As a husband, he’d been a miserable failure in marriages two, three, four and, she assumed, five. As a father, he’d been like a football team—good seasons and bad seasons.
And, for the previous five years, off seasons.
She pulled her duster-style coat more tightly around her to ward off the chill and shook her head. A trip to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, he’d said, but she’d recognized it for what it was—an olive branch. A fine idea, in theory. What she and Carter were going to do with one another for a week solid, though, heaven only knew.
Staring at the islands across the bay, Larkin watched a floatplane as it dropped down from the sky and scudded along the waves. How did it feel to land on water the first time, on shifting waves instead of the solid concrete of a runway?
Like finding out she was going to be living with a new stepmother. And another. And another.
“Stop right now!”
The man’s shout had Larkin whirling to see a small girl pelting out of the doors, glancing back over her shoulder and laughing. And then it seemed to happen in slow motion, the girl tripping, falling, pitching toward the deck with a yelp.
“Hey!” Reflexively, Larkin reached out to catch the wiry little body before it hit. She didn’t reckon on the momentum, though, and instead wound up tumbling to the deck with her, her BlackBerry spinning away.
“Whoops.” The girl grinned at her from under a mop of curly dark hair.
There was a rush of steps. “What the hell?” A man skidded to a stop and stared down at them a little out of breath. “Sophia, you know you’re not supposed to run.”
“Maman says hell is a bad word.”
“Then I guess you shouldn’t say it.” He hoisted her to her feet.
His cropped hair was as dark as his daughter’s, Larkin saw. Matching stubble darkened his jaw, a frankly delectable jaw with a chin that had just a hint of a cleft, the kind that made Larkin want to nibble it.
Lucky Maman.
He held out a hand as Larkin sat up. “Need a lift?”
He might have had the cheekbones of a model but he had the beat-up hands of a man who worked for a living, scarred, sinewy. She was prepared for his palm to feel hard and callused. She wasn’t prepared for the jolt of heat that surged through her, as though he were connected to some hidden power source. She swayed as she stood.
“Easy, there. Take a minute to get your sea legs.”
“We’re not at sea yet.”
“Which is why you should start now.”
He retrieved her BlackBerry and handed it to her. An irresistible humor hovered around the corners of his mouth, glimmered in his brown eyes. “Christopher Trask,” he said. “And this little heathen, who will be apologizing any minute, is my niece, Sophia.”
Niece.
“I already apologized,” Sophia complained, squirming.
He gave her a stern look. “What did I hear your mother tell you about running?”
“That you were supposed to stop me,” she returned with an impudent look. “Anyway, you said a bad word.”
They stared at each other a moment, at an impasse. “How old are you again?” Christopher asked finally.
“You know I’m six.”
“Do you want to live to blackmail again at seven? Apologize.”
Sophia eyed him. “You won’t tell Maman I was running?”
“Not if you say you’re sorry.” And not if she didn’t out him, Larkin realized with silent laughter. “Now please apologize properly to Ms.…”
“Hayes,” she replied obediently. “Larkin Hayes.”
Christopher folded his arms and cleared his throat.
Sophia shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry I knocked you down. I shouldn’ta been running.” She looked up at Christopher beguilingly. “Can I go tell Keegan about the stuffed penguins now?”
“Sure, but don’t…run,” he finished as Sophia dashed back inside. He watched her for a moment, then nodded to himself as she apparently reached her destination. He turned back to Larkin, dusting off his hands. “You can see how she respects me.”
