Land's End. Marta Perry

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      “Both you and Trent lost a great deal.” He patted her hand sympathetically. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

      She didn’t agree, but she subsided. She’d probably pushed as much as she could for the moment.

      At least she’d learned something. Jonathan wouldn’t talk, but Adriana would. She had to find a way of seeing her alone.

      She slid her chair back. “Please excuse me. I’m afraid I’m exhausted from the trip. Maybe we can get together again soon.” She stood, looking at Adriana as she said the words, and thought she saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

      “Oh, honey, of course.” Jonathan got up. “Don’t you forget now, we’re here if you need anything.”

      Anything but the truth. Well, she could get around that. Trent might think he could stop her, but people would talk. No matter how painful, that was better than silence.

      She walked into the lobby feeling more hopeful than she had an hour earlier. But it didn’t last. The lobby now held something that hadn’t been there before—her luggage stood forlornly against the desk.

      The manager wore an expression of mixed embarrassment and determination. “I’m sorry, Dr. Wainwright. I’m afraid we have to ask you to vacate your room.”

      Sarah stared at him, her mind as blank as she knew her face must be. “What on earth are you talking about?”

      He shuffled a sheaf of computer printouts on the desktop. “This is very embarrassing.” He looked everywhere but at her. “The entire inn is booked for a business meeting.”

      Cold rage stiffened her spine. “Let me guess. This business meeting…It wouldn’t be Donner Enterprises, would it?”

      “There’ll be no charge for the room, of course, or for your dinner.” He attempted a smile, fastening his gaze somewhere over her head. “Maybe you’ll come back another time.”

      “And if I did? Would you find the inn full again?”

      For a moment his eyes met hers and he was a human being, instead of Trent Donner’s tool. “I’m sorry.” He spread his hands out helplessly. “There’s nothing I can do.”

      “Sarah?”

      She turned, realizing that Jonathan and Adriana had come out of the dining room. Jonathan stared at her bags.

      “You’re not leaving already, are you? You just got here.”

      “Not willingly. The manager has suddenly discovered that all the rooms have been booked by Trent’s company. In other words, Trent is having me evicted.”

      She probably shouldn’t be so blunt. They were Trent’s friends. She couldn’t expect them to side with her.

      Jonathan turned on the manager. “Dunphries, you can’t ask Dr. Wainwright to leave at this hour of the night.”

      The man reddened. “I don’t have a choice.”

      “You mean you’re afraid to make one.” Jonathan’s black eyes snapped. “Donner provides a lot of your business.”

      “It’s not his fault.” She remembered Trent’s stinging accusation. “I was naive not to expect it. I’ll go elsewhere.”

      The manager cleared his throat. “I understand Mr. Donner booked all the rooms on the island for this business meeting.”

      She’d underestimated Trent. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. “It looks as if I’ll be sleeping on the beach tonight.”

      “Don’t be silly.” Adriana’s entry into the conversation startled Sarah. “You can stay in our guesthouse.”

      Sarah could only hope her mouth didn’t gape. Adriana had barely spoken two sentences to her in the time she’d been on the island. Why on earth was she extending an invitation now?

      Jonathan smiled. “Of course. That’s the perfect solution.” He reached for Sarah’s bags. “Come on. You’re coming home with us.”

      “Trent won’t be very happy with you.”

      “It won’t hurt Trent not to get his own way for once.” Jonathan picked up her bags. “Our car’s out in the lot.”

      She’d better stop protesting, or they might change their minds. “I have my car, so I’ll follow you.”

      The manager sprang to open the lobby door for them, probably with a sigh of relief. She’d blame him, but she knew the power Trent wielded here. He was the one who deserved her anger, not people who depended on him for their livelihoods.

      Adriana fell into step with Sarah. “Don’t worry about our relationship with Trent.” Her voice was cool and light, almost amused. “Your staying with us won’t make it any worse.”

      That seemed fairly ambiguous. What was Adriana thinking? “It’s very kind of you.”

      “Not at all.” That definitely was amusement in her tone. “Your presence might make life more…interesting.”

      Interesting.

      She weighed Adriana’s words later as she followed their car down the black, winding road. Streetlights were nonexistent on the island, and street signs rare. You either knew where you were going at night, or you got lost, just as she felt lost in the tangle of ambiguities and hidden meanings in nearly everything that had been said tonight.

      What was Adriana up to? She hadn’t invited Sarah to stay based on her ideas of Southern hospitality. Still, staying with them should open some doors to her. Whatever Adriana’s motives, she had to be grateful for that.

      He ought to feel pleased. The problem presented by Sarah Wainwright had been taken care of.

      Trent leaned back in his leather desk chair, looking over the computer to the wide windows. A silvery moon rode low on the ocean, sending a path of light toward the shore.

      He didn’t feel anything of the kind. He couldn’t rejoice that Sarah was ending an exhausting day by driving off the island to the nearest motel. She’d have to go all the way to the interstate to find one that wasn’t inexplicably full.

      No, he wasn’t pleased, but he was satisfied. He’d done what he had to do. Some would say he’d been ruthless, but that was because he did what other people only thought about. Sarah Wainwright would not open up the busy lines of gossip again.

      In the long run, he’d done her a favor. She’d have found more grief if she’d stayed here.

      Faint music filtered through the study door he’d left ajar. Derek must be playing the piano in the living room, since Melissa had already gone up to her room. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad or not that Derek was at his suite of rooms here instead of at his waterfront apartment in Savannah.

      Trent’s first instinct, after Lynette’s death, had been to have that grand piano of hers chopped into firewood. He hadn’t, of course. Melissa had her mother’s talent, and it wouldn’t be fair СКАЧАТЬ