Always Valentine's Day

“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.

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 debuted in the Mills & Boon^>® 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 website 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 sixty years, and to Stephen, for giving me happily ever after for eleven years. And counting.

Cover Page

Excerpt

About The Author

Title Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

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

Preview

Copyright

Acknowledgements 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.

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.