Always Valentine's Day (Holiday Hearts #5) Read online

  “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.

  Dear Reader,

  The hardest part of finishing a book is saying goodbye to the characters. That was nowhere as true as when I finished Under His Spell, the last book in HOLIDAY HEARTS, and had to say goodbye to the Trask family. Imagine how thrilled I was when my editor invited me to bring them back one more time as part of the Famous Families promotion to celebrate Harlequin’s sixtieth anniversary. I loved spending time with all the characters again, finding out what’s happened in their lives since the last book ended. The best part is that there are a few more Trask cousins where this one came from, so who knows—maybe we’ll see the family back again, by popular demand.

  I’d love to hear what you think of the story, so drop me a line at [email protected]. And don’t forget to watch for the rest of THE MCBAINS OF GRACE HARBOR series, coming in 2010. In the meantime, stop by www.kristinhardy.com for news, recipes and contests, or to sign up for my newsletter to be informed of new releases.

  Enjoy!

  Kristin Hardy

  KRISTIN HARDY

  Always Valentine’s Day

  Books by Kristin Hardy

  Silhouette Special Edition

  ††Where There’s Smoke #1720

  ††Under the Mistletoe #1725

  ††Vermont Valentine #1739

  ††Under His Spell #1786

  **Always a Bridesmaid #1832

  Her Christmas Surprise #1871

  ‡‡The Chef’s Choice #1919

  ††Always Valentine’s Day #1951

  Harlequin Blaze

  My Sexiest Mistake #44

  *Scoring #78

  *As Bad As Can Be #86

  *Slippery When Wet #94

  †Turn Me On #148

  †Cutting Loose #156

  †Nothing but the Best #164

  §Certified Male #187

  §U.S. Male #199

  Caught #242

  Bad Influence #295

  Hot Moves #307

  Bad Behavior #319

  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, My Sexiest Mistake, debuted in Harlequin’s 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 Web site at www.kristinhardy.com.

  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 60 years,

  and to Stephen, for giving me

  happily ever after for eleven years.

  And counting.

  Acknowledgments

  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.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  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 mig
ht 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.”

  Larkin gave him an amused look. “Your mastery of the situation is obvious.”

  “I was afraid of that.” He scrubbed at his hair ruefully. “It’s harder than it looks, you know. Especially when they run in packs.”

  “Family vacation?”

  He nodded. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.”

  “It always does.” She walked over to the rail. “I take it you don’t have experience with kids?”

  “Nope. Bachelor uncle. Or, I don’t know, first cousin twice removed? They’re my cousins’ kids, whatever that makes me.”

  “Uncle Soft Touch?” she suggested.

  “Not if I can help it.” He came to a stop beside her.

  “Of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said sweetly as she leaned on the varnished wood.

  “The trick is to break their spirits while they’re young.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “And I can see how good you are at it. Shouldn’t you be getting back inside? Their parents must be desperate without you.”

  His glance at the doors was a little hunted. “I’m sure they won’t miss me. I’ll just soak up a little more sun.”

  “You’re aware it’s fifty-eight degrees and cloudy, right?”

  “I’m an eternal optimist.”

  This time she grinned outright. “So how many of them are you up against?”

  “Five. All under the age of seven. If you see me in a bar later mainlining Shirley Temples, you’ll know I cracked.”

  “I’ll be sure to send over some peanuts.”

  Gulls circled over the whitecap-dotted water. Christopher wore only khakis and a deep blue flannel shirt against the fresh breeze that sent the pennants over their heads snapping, but he seemed not to mind it.

  “Do you work outside?”

  He blinked. “Why do you ask?”

  “You don’t seem to mind the cold.”

  His teeth gleamed. “I run a farm in Vermont. This is balmy.”

  “Vermont,” she said. “Maple syrup.”

  “You’ll warm my cousin Jacob’s heart. He and my aunt have a sugar bush. They make maple syrup,” Christopher elaborated at her uncomprehending look.

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, someone’s got to. Or are you one of those people who thinks that food comes from the grocery store?”

  “Of course not. Everybody knows it comes from restaurant kitchens.”

  It was his turn to grin. “You take some keeping up with, Larkin Hayes.”

  “Get your running shoes handy. So what do you farm?”

  “These days mostly bills.”

  “Not much money in that,” she observed.

  “There is for my creditors. For me, it’s a miracle cure for being rich. Anyway, what about you? What’s your story?”

  Improbable, at best. “Not nearly as colorful as yours. I’m traveling with my father. It’s his birthday.”

  “Figured it would be nice to celebrate?”

  “Yes.” And even nicer if Carter actually made it onto the ship.

  “So where is he?”

  “Oh, around,” she said vaguely.

  “Had to take a breather already? We haven’t even sailed.”

  Larkin gave him a sharp look. “He’s not here yet. He got delayed. We were coming from different cities.” Different continents, actually, but the less said about that the better. She pushed away from the rail to walk.

  Christopher ambled alongside her. “So what was your city?”

  “L.A.”

  “Yeah? You an actress?”

  She laughed. “Why would you ask that?”

  Humor glimmered in his eyes. “Because you’re not big enough to be on American Gladiators.”

  “It’s not the size, it’s the viciousness. I’ve got tricks up my sleeve that would turn your hair white.”

  “In that case, could you show me a few so I can defend myself against my nieces and nephews?”

  She gave him a sly look. “I only use my powers for good.”

  “Oh, come on, I need all the help I can get.”

  “Sorry, Gladiators’ code.”

  He shook his head sadly. “You didn’t look like a cruel woman when I picked you off the deck.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “In other words, you really are an actor.”

  “Isn’t everybody?” She glanced beyond him to see Sophia giggling at the door, next to a little boy with the same midnight hair. “I think you’re being summoned.”

  Christopher turned to see them both waving madly at him. “Time to go play uncle,” he said.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you.” She put out her hand. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  His look held pure devilry. “Just how big do you think this ocean liner is?”

  Small, he thought as he followed Sophia back inside to the staterooms. With luck, as small as a tugboat. Larkin Hayes was far and away the most interesting person he’d met on the cruise so far. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? She was far and away the most interesting woman he’d met in years. Four years, to be exact. There was something about her that made it hard to look away, some inner sparkle, a confidence in the way she stood, long and slim. Not to mention the fact that she was flat-out gorgeous with that wide, generous mouth and that mane of blond hair that made a man want to sink his hands into it. It wasn’t that that got to him, though (really), but the smarts. Was there anything sexier than a clever-tongued woman?

  She put that intelligence to good use, he figured, judging by her outfit: pea-size diamonds in her ears, a cashmere coat and, unless he was very much mistaken, a forty-thousand-dollar Patek Philippe watch. You noticed that kind of thing when you’d spent over eleven years as a financial industry lobbyist. Between Washington and Wall Street, he’d seen pretty much all the trappings of wealth that were out there.