Read Online Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel) by Anna Sullivan - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Sullivan
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precious reputation was in tatters.
But there were cameras down at the Horizon, and Paige Walker wasn’t the only famous name with a Windfall Island connection. In Maggie’s estimation, she wasn’t even the worst.
“You going down there, Maggie?”
“No.” But as she turned away from Martha and walked out the door, she knew she didn’t really have a choice.
Maggie pulled her Mustang to the curb a block away from the Horizon, then sat there until her legs were steady. The sky was the clear, aching blue of a bright fall day, the air wafted in crisply through the open window, and she could smell the tang of the sea. Everything was familiar and dear to her. And the heart she’d thought was shattered beyond repair was breaking again.
A fair-sized crowd of Windfallers had gathered in front of the inn. She couldn’t see who they’d gathered around, but she knew. If Paige Walker, star of stage, screen and, just lately, the Internet, had set foot on the island, there’d have been enough paparazzi swarming around her to pick up the island and carry it away.
And if she’d had any brains at all, any inherent sense of self-preservation, Maggie told herself, she’d turn the car around and give the Horizon and its plague of reporters a wide berth, just get the hell out of Dodge. It would have been the smart thing to do, easier on her nerves, better for her pride, even if slinking out of town made her feel like a felon. Better a felon than a tool.
And better, she thought with a vicious oath, to be a tool than a coward. She slammed out of the car, strode the half-block with her mind carefully blanked, and if her stomach was swimming sickly, if her legs wanted to buckle, who had to know? Definitely not the man who appeared at the other end of the narrow aisle that opened when those in the crowd caught sight of her.
Phillip Ashworth Solomon, Admiral of the United States Navy and her father, was nearly blinding in his dress whites. He was handsome and fit, his hair threadedwith just the right amount of silver to denote the wisdom and experience of age without diminishing his strength one iota. He wore command like a comfortable old shirt, held himself uncompromisingly straight; and Maggie knew there was no softness in him, no pity for anything he judged a weakness. Like emotion.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t feign a good sentiment if he thought it useful. He caught her into a hug that had the camera flashes, press and civilian, firing wildly.
And in her ear he hissed, “Behave yourself.”
All she could think was how much it hurt. She couldn’t even be angry, just sick and achy and feeling like a kid again, too young to understand why she seemed to disappoint him, just by being.
He turned her to face the reporters, and she froze, miserable and lost and indecisive, telling herself it was the lights flashing in her face that made her eyes want to tear up.
“For God’s sake, Margaret, smile.”
The words struck her like knives, but when he reached for her, it was too much. She tried to push him off, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled it behind her back, as though he’d slung an arm around her waist.
“Don’t go rebellious on me now,” he murmured with a wide smile on his face, keeping his voice just under the level of the crowd. “I won’t let you ruin this, too.”
Too?
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“Of course it does. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Maggie,” he all but crowed, the smile on his face sincere this time, and just a little fanatical. “To the president.”
“No. You mean the actual president?”
His eyes narrowed, but he kept his smile firmly in place. “You stand to benefit, too, rightly so as the daughter of a high-ranking man. All you have to do is fall in line. For once.”
Maggie twisted her arm free. She wrenched her shoulder in the process, but the pain was worth it. She should have known he wouldn’t be thwarted so easily. He took her by the upper arms, turned her so her
But there were cameras down at the Horizon, and Paige Walker wasn’t the only famous name with a Windfall Island connection. In Maggie’s estimation, she wasn’t even the worst.
“You going down there, Maggie?”
“No.” But as she turned away from Martha and walked out the door, she knew she didn’t really have a choice.
Maggie pulled her Mustang to the curb a block away from the Horizon, then sat there until her legs were steady. The sky was the clear, aching blue of a bright fall day, the air wafted in crisply through the open window, and she could smell the tang of the sea. Everything was familiar and dear to her. And the heart she’d thought was shattered beyond repair was breaking again.
A fair-sized crowd of Windfallers had gathered in front of the inn. She couldn’t see who they’d gathered around, but she knew. If Paige Walker, star of stage, screen and, just lately, the Internet, had set foot on the island, there’d have been enough paparazzi swarming around her to pick up the island and carry it away.
And if she’d had any brains at all, any inherent sense of self-preservation, Maggie told herself, she’d turn the car around and give the Horizon and its plague of reporters a wide berth, just get the hell out of Dodge. It would have been the smart thing to do, easier on her nerves, better for her pride, even if slinking out of town made her feel like a felon. Better a felon than a tool.
And better, she thought with a vicious oath, to be a tool than a coward. She slammed out of the car, strode the half-block with her mind carefully blanked, and if her stomach was swimming sickly, if her legs wanted to buckle, who had to know? Definitely not the man who appeared at the other end of the narrow aisle that opened when those in the crowd caught sight of her.
Phillip Ashworth Solomon, Admiral of the United States Navy and her father, was nearly blinding in his dress whites. He was handsome and fit, his hair threadedwith just the right amount of silver to denote the wisdom and experience of age without diminishing his strength one iota. He wore command like a comfortable old shirt, held himself uncompromisingly straight; and Maggie knew there was no softness in him, no pity for anything he judged a weakness. Like emotion.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t feign a good sentiment if he thought it useful. He caught her into a hug that had the camera flashes, press and civilian, firing wildly.
And in her ear he hissed, “Behave yourself.”
All she could think was how much it hurt. She couldn’t even be angry, just sick and achy and feeling like a kid again, too young to understand why she seemed to disappoint him, just by being.
He turned her to face the reporters, and she froze, miserable and lost and indecisive, telling herself it was the lights flashing in her face that made her eyes want to tear up.
“For God’s sake, Margaret, smile.”
The words struck her like knives, but when he reached for her, it was too much. She tried to push him off, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled it behind her back, as though he’d slung an arm around her waist.
“Don’t go rebellious on me now,” he murmured with a wide smile on his face, keeping his voice just under the level of the crowd. “I won’t let you ruin this, too.”
Too?
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“Of course it does. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Maggie,” he all but crowed, the smile on his face sincere this time, and just a little fanatical. “To the president.”
“No. You mean the actual president?”
His eyes narrowed, but he kept his smile firmly in place. “You stand to benefit, too, rightly so as the daughter of a high-ranking man. All you have to do is fall in line. For once.”
Maggie twisted her arm free. She wrenched her shoulder in the process, but the pain was worth it. She should have known he wouldn’t be thwarted so easily. He took her by the upper arms, turned her so her
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