Amber Beach

419 Pages·2011·1.18 MB·English

by  Lowell Elizabeth

Elizabeth Lowell
Amber Beach
Dedication
For Sunny and Al Runnells,
Friends for all the seasons of life
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
HONOR DONOVAN TOOK one look and knew the man was…
Chapter 2
OFF TO THE southwest, a bank of clouds lay like…
Chapter 3
JAKE TURNED HIS battered four-wheel-drive truck into the…
Chapter 4
PRETTY AS A postcard, isn’t it?” Jake asked.
Chapter 5
THE SALTY LOG was an old hangout for the loggers,…
Chapter 6
“IT’S JAKE MALLORY.”
Chapter 7
IT WAS STILL dark when Honor’s alarm clock went off.
Chapter 8
THE SOUND OF the SeaSport’s engine deepened and expanded like…
Chapter 9
THIS TIME JAKE took the helm. Honor didn’t argue.
Chapter 10
TEN HOURS AND fifteen fishing spots later, Jake still had…
Chapter 11
IT WAS FULL dark by the time Jake buttoned up…
Chapter 12
IT WAS STILL dark when Honor was startled awake.
Chapter 13
HONOR’S HORRIFIED EXPRESSION told Jake everything he didn’t want
to…
Chapter 14
THE WEATHER WAS better than Jake’s mood, which wasn’t saying…
Chapter 15
SILENTLY JAKE TURNED off the ignition of his truck. He…
Chapter 16
RESNIKOV SPREAD HIS fine-boned hands on the table as…
Chapter 17
“TURN HERE,” JAKE said. “We’re going to my cabin.”
Chapter 18
“WELL?” HONOR ASKED impatiently, trying to look past Jake’s shoulders.
Chapter 19
AFTER MARJU LEFT, Honor started making salmon salad in an…
Chapter 20
WHEN JAKE EMERGED from the bathroom he was wearing fresh…
Chapter 21
WHEN JAKE CAME into the kitchen carrying his duffel, Honor…
Chapter 22
TOOK AN hour for Honor and Jake to get to…
Chapter 23
HONOR WAS SO furious with the two bullheaded men in…
Chapter 24
“I STILL THINK you should have gone to the hospital,”…
About the Author
Other Books by Elizabeth Lowell
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
H
ONOR DONOVAN TOOK one look and knew the man was trouble. On the other
hand, she was already in the kind of trouble even her family’s company,
Donovan International, couldn’t handle.
“If you’re from the police, shut the door on your way out,” she said. “If you’re a
reporter, go to hell.”
“Been there. Done that.”
“You have the T-shirt to prove it?”
He reached for the buttons on his stained denim jacket.
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “Are you a reporter?”
“No. I’m a fishing guide.”
“Piranha?”
“You are the Ms. Honor Donovan who advertised for ‘a person with expertise in
Pacific Northwest waters in general and SeaSport boats in particular’?”
She sighed and accepted the inevitable. The big man with the black beard
stubble, light eyes, scarred left eyebrow, and clean fingernails hadn’t wandered
by accident into her missing brother’s Puget Sound cottage. Despite this man’s
less-than-cozy looks, her instincts said he was a better candidate than the others
who had come looking for the job.
One of the men had been a cop trying to pass for a fisherman. Another was a
One of the men had been a cop trying to pass for a fisherman. Another was a
recent immigrant whose English defied understanding. A third man was
convinced she really wanted the body he was so proud of. The fourth man’s
English was good, but his eyes had made her think of things that lived in
swamps.
It had been three days since anyone else had applied for the job. She was going
nuts counting minutes and waiting for Kyle to appear suddenly in the doorway
with his crooked grin and a good explanation of why the cops thought he had
stolen a million bucks in amber. She refused to consider any other reason for his
disappearance, especially the one that kept her from sleeping, the one that made
her throat close around tears she wouldn’t cry.
Kyle had to be alive. He just had to be.
“Miss Donovan?”
Belatedly Honor realized that the most recent applicant was still waiting for her
to say that she was indeed the one who had posted ads all over the small town of
Anacortes.
“I’m the one,” she said.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
She looked at his mouth and knew how Little Red Riding Hood felt when she
first saw “grandmother’s” teeth.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Your ad could have been written with me in mind,” he explained.
“Do you have references?”
“Driver’s license? Fishing license? Boat handler’s ticket? Tetanus shot?”
“How about rabies?”
The retort popped out before Honor could think better of it. It came from a
lifetime of dealing with big brothers.
“Sorry, Mr . . . .”
“Mallory.”
“Mr. Mallory.”
“Try Jake. Saves time.”
“Um, Jake. I meant references given by people you worked for in the past.”
“You don’t know much about fishing guides, do you?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have to hire one, would I?”
He smiled.
She thought of poor Little Red. “You should work on that smile. It really isn’t
reassuring.”
Jake tried to look downcast. It wasn’t any more convincing than his smile.
“If your hands are half as quick as your tongue,” he said, “I’ll make a fisherman
out of you in no time.”
“Fisherwoman.”
“Ain’t no such animal.”
“Fishersan, then.”
“Fishersan?”
“Man and woman both end in an. Do you want the job?”
“Fishersan,” he said, rolling the word around on his tongue. “Yeah, I want the
job. We’ll be the only fishersen on the water.”
This time Jake’s smile was slow, warm, amused, and something more. It
reminded Honor that she was a woman as well as the scared younger sister of a
missing man. She looked down at her hands and cleared her throat.
“Fishersen?” she asked, distracted. “Oh, I get it. En. Plural. Men and women.
You’re pretty quick yourself. When can you start?”
“Do you have a fishing license?”
“No.”
“Then we can’t start yet. Too bad. The sun is out. The wind isn’t. Slack tide in a
few hours. It doesn’t get any better than this in the San Juan Islands.”
“What would we be fishing for?”
“Whatever we catch. Less disappointment that way.”
“Is that your life philosophy?”
“Only after I grew up.”
She lifted her head and looked at him intently.
“What’s the matter?” Jake asked. “Are my ears on backwards?”
“I was just trying to imagine you as a child in need of growing up.”
“Funny. I have no problem imagining you that way. Can you swim?”
“Like a fish.”
“Considering my profession and all, you might want to rethink that description.”
“You have a point.”
“It’s on the business end of the hook. First lesson of fishing.”
Ambushed by Jake’s slow, unexpected smile and deadpan humor, Honor
laughed almost helplessly. Then she had to fight tears that were burning behind
her eyes.
In the past few weeks she had been through too many sleepless nights. That was
why after only two minutes with Jake Mallory she felt like she had been hit by a
truck. His particular combination of rough edges, male warmth, and wry
intelligence would have appealed to her under any circumstances. Right now,