The Wedding Promise. Grace Green
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tanned. Travis’s eyes were tawny; the stranger’s were green.
Green and cold and hostile. And when they skimmed from Zach to her she detected a flicker of contempt.
Her hackles rose, and she felt Zach’s arm tighten around her shoulders, deliberately, warningly.
‘This is Madronna Island?’ he asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘And this is the Logan Hunter estate?’ Zach raised his brows.
‘Right again.’ The stranger rammed his hands into the pockets of his grey cotton shorts. Despite his casual attire every line of his body, from the arrogant set of his head to the confident set of his wide shoulders, indicated authority. ‘I’m Hunter, and this is my private property.’
‘The house.’ Zach nodded towards the enormous white house situated up on the crest of the hill. ‘You live there, I assume. But the cottage—’
Sara, for the first time, noticed the cottage. It was huddled beside a stand of trees, the setting sun pinking the white-painted stucco walls and glancing off the window-panes.
‘Yeah, the cottage?’ The man sounded as if he was having a struggle to control his temper. ‘What about it?’
‘I’ve rented it for the next couple of weeks. Till the middle of July.’ Zach withdrew a neatly folded form from the breast pocket of his black T-shirt. “Through—’ he glanced at the form ‘—Hunter West Realty in Vancouver.’
‘No way! Not this cottage, you haven’t—’
‘Yes.’ Sara finally found her voice. ‘We have. Zach, tie up the boat and let’s get settled in.’
‘Right, love.’ Zach scooped up the line and started to secure the vessel.
Sara put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and stepped off the deck onto the jetty.
She could feel the stranger’s hostility coming at her in almost palpable waves.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, lifting her chin haughtily and making to go past him.
He moved to stand in her way.
Resentment formed tight bands around her skull. ‘Do you mind?’
He didn’t budge. ‘There’s been a mistake.’ His tone brooked no argument. ‘The cottage is not for rent.’
Zach heaved a large red cooler, a box of groceries and a travel bag onto the jetty. He bounded after them, and the wooden structure shuddered under the impact of his weight.
‘If there’s been a mistake,’ he said firmly, ‘it’s not mine. OK, you obviously didn’t want the place rented out, but somebody in your office screwed up. You are the owner of Hunter West Realty?’ He held out the contract.
After a tense moment, the other man took it. He scanned it. His lips tightened. He thrust back the form.
‘Somebody’s head’s going to roll,’ he snapped. ‘But in the meantime I’ll fax my Vancouver office; we’ll find you somewhere else—and since the mistake was ours it’ll be a five-star chalet, and I’ll absorb the difference in price—’
‘Here we are—’ Zach tucked the contract back into his pocket ‘—and here we stay. You’re going to have to make the best of it.’ He swung up the cooler and travel bag. ‘Sara, can you manage the groceries? Good, then let’s get going. Sun’s well over the yardarm—time for us to have a drink.’
Logan Hunter stood his ground. ‘I’m putting this property up for sale. I need to have ready access to the cottage, to show prospective customers around.’
‘No problem.’ Zach took off along the jetty, with Sara at a half-run to keep up with him. She could hear Hunter; he was right behind her. ‘Sara, love, have you the key?’
Sara slipped it from the deep pocket of her dress as they crossed the beach. When she and Zach reached the cottage, she had the key ready. She unlocked the door quickly and stepped inside, with Zach at her heels.
‘Wait!’ Hunter’s voice had a distinctly frustrated edge. ‘We need to talk.’
‘You know what they say,’ Zach called back over his shoulder. ‘Possession is nine tenths of the law.’
He slammed the door shut, and ushered Sara through to the shabby living room. Dropping the bag on the worn beige carpet, he looked at her with twinkling blue eyes.
‘The man thinks you’re one of my floozies.’ He slapped his hand solidly against his thigh as he chuckled. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘Of course not!’ Sara kept her tone light, made it slightly scornful. The last thing she wanted was for Zach to guess how off-balance Logan Hunter had made her feel. ‘I don’t give a toot what he thinks of me. He’s the most hateful man I’ve ever met!’
Her lips twisted cynically. No, not the most hateful. Travis occupied that position. But certainly the second most hateful. And what rotten luck that Zach should have happened to choose this particular cottage for her holiday. He and her mother had wanted to give her a break, now that her divorce from Travis had finally come through. A time alone, a time for healing, a time for her to regain some peace of mind.
Peace of mind? With Logan Hunter sending hostile vibes her way from his rambling two-storey house on the hill?
Fat chance!
‘Daddy.’ Andrea Logan skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen doorway. ‘There’s somebody down there on our beach!’
Logan tightened his grip on the handle of the vegetable knife, sliced the blade viciously through the hothouse tomato on the cutting board, and turned to his daughter.
‘Yeah, I—’ He stared disbelievingly. ‘What the hell have you done to your hair?’
She put a hand up to the cropped brown strands that now raggedly cupped her head, dropped it again. And shrugged.
‘Cut it.’
But the careless twist of her thin shoulders was belied by the unmistakable welling of tears in her huge brown eyes. Tears she blinked back, but not before Logan had seen them.
She padded in her bare feet to the sink, and stood looking out, her back to her father.
Logan put down the knife, closed his eyes, suppressed an oath.
You’ve done it again, Hunter, he jeered silently: opened your big mouth and jammed both size eleven feet right in it.
Being the father of a motherless thirteen-year-old, he was fast discovering, wasn’t any cakewalk. Andy had been so easy to bring up...until she’d hit her teens. Then—wham! Overnight change, from angel to—
‘It’s Zach Grant!’ Andrea whirled round, her eyes no longer shining with tears, but with excitement. ‘Daddy, the man on the beach, it’s—’
‘Zach Grant. I know.’
‘But what’s he doing here? Did you invite him? Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you knew him. When did he arrive?’
‘He’s here because somebody in one of my offices screwed up,’ he muttered. At least Grant was good for one thing—taking Andy’s mind off his reaction to her new hairstyle. ‘I did not invite him—I have never met the man before. They arrived when you were burning up the phone talking to your friend Chrissie in Vancouver; he’s rented the cottage for two weeks—’
‘And the lady with him—’
Logan snorted. Lady! That was a joke.
‘—she must be his latest girlfriend. Ooh,’ she squealed, ‘he must’ve dumped Felicia Mosscov already. Wait till I tell Chrissie!’ She swivelled back to the window again and all but climbed up onto the sink, to