The Road to Paradise Read online

  Ford jostled against her shoulder, moving between them and sticking his hand out to Philip. “I hope you don’t mind us crashing your little shindig here, Mr. Carmichael.”

  Philip returned the ranger’s grip. “On the contrary, I am delighted.” His focus bounced across Ford and came to rest on Margie. “And honored you chose to wear my gift, Margaret. I knew the gown would fit you like a glove. When I saw it presented at the fashion luncheon last week, I thought of you right away.”

  A surge of nausea rose in Margie’s stomach. Mother said the dress was new. She hadn’t considered it might be from someone else. “I…I didn’t…” She didn’t what? Know he was capable of such a pretentious gift? “How thoughtful of you.”

  He stepped close, touching her long strand of pearls. “It’s too bad you didn’t wear the necklace I picked out. You deserve diamonds, not these trinkets. Every flapper from here to New York is wearing pearls these days. Never be common, Margaret.” His knuckles brushed the tender skin at the base of her throat, his eyes lingering on the feathered trim on the less-than-modest neckline.

  Her fluttering stomach grew hard. She knocked his hand away and jerked back, bumping into Ford’s arm. “I prefer my own style, thank you. I’ll have the gems returned to you, immediately. I don’t find myself in need of such finery in my current situation.” The sensation of Ford’s fingers in the center of her back gave her strength. He might not desire to be a suitor, but at least he was a solid friend.

  One side of Philip’s mouth twisted up. “Yes, your current situation.” He cast a quick glance at Ford. “I must say, I’m a tad intrigued about that.”

  Ford’s voice sounded over her head. “We’re not here to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Carmichael. We’d like to speak to Senator Lane, if you’ll excuse us?”

  Margie slid her hand under Ford’s elbow once more, holding on to him as if he were a life preserver in a stormy sea.

  Ford tugged at the tourniquet-like collar as they made their way through the crowd toward Senator Lane. Why had Margie agreed to such tomfoolery? He no more belonged at this party than a penguin in the jungle. Philip Carmichael’s comments proved as much. And then the man had the audacity to caress his date.

  He glanced down at her delicate fingers, nestled against the fine fabric of his dinner jacket as the feathered fringe of her bodice brushed against his arm. A sickly feeling descended over Ford. Not only could Carmichael step in and take over companies, apparently he could choose fashions as well. What skills did Ford have? Felling trees and building campfires? He’d like to light one under that Beau Brummell right now.

  At least with Margie at his side, no one questioned his invitation. Otherwise he’d have been tossed out on his ear the moment he stepped foot on the Oriental rug in the lobby. He’d heard stories of the Tacoma Hotel, but had never had the opportunity—or desire, really—to see it for himself. This little lumber town had truly come into its own. Pretty soon it’d rank up there with San Francisco and Chicago.

  Senator Lane greeted his daughter with an enthusiastic embrace. “Margie, my dear, I’m so touched you would come all this way.” He set his glass down on a nearby table. “How are you?”

  Philip sidled up next to the senator. “Were you aware your daughter was going to honor us with her presence? She said nothing when I presented my ideas to the RNPC committee this morning.”

  Margie toyed with her pearls. “It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, I’m afraid, Papa. Philip mentioned how you two had reconciled. I had to see this miracle for myself.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his brow. “Yes, well. It was quite unexpected, I must admit.”

  Philip slapped a palm onto the senator’s shoulder. “We’ve been like family for so long you couldn’t expect a minor disagreement to keep us apart, now could you?”

  Ford folded his arms. A minor disagreement? The storm in Margie’s eyes suggested otherwise.

  Margie’s father coughed once before turning to greet Ford. “Ranger Brayden, isn’t it? I hardly recognized you out of uniform.”

  “Yes, sir. I wanted to make sure your daughter made it safely to Tacoma and back.”

  “Good man.” The senator snapped a quick nod in Ford’s direction. “Someone has to look after this girl. She sometimes gets strange notions of how the world works.”

  “Father,” Margie touched Senator Lane’s arm. “I’d like to speak privately with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Margaret,”—Philip’s pout crumpled his whole face downward—“we’re at a party. You can’t spirit him away. The senator’s much in demand here.” He grasped her hand. “You two can talk anytime. Now, dancing with me? That’s a rare opportunity one should never miss.”

  Margie’s mouth fell open. “Well, I…”

  Philip steered her to the dance floor where several other couples were busy foxtrotting up a storm. Several more moved that direction upon spotting Carmichael and Margie.

  Ford pushed down the instinct to follow and rip Margie’s hand from the man’s leech-like grasp. There was no need for a scene, and perhaps that’s why Margie hadn’t protested.

  At least Ford had her father alone. “Sir, I wanted to speak to you, as well.”

  The man’s expression grew serious. “I expected as much. I take it Philip unveiled his grand scheme this morning.”

  “Yes. Margie is quite concerned, as am I. Does this project actually have your support, as Carmichael insists?”

  Senator Lane swept a palm over his brow, as if wiping away perspiration. “I’d like to help you, Ranger Brayden. I truly would. But I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here.” He glanced around before leaning close. “I’ll try to find a way to explain to Margie when I get home tonight. But I don’t think I can be of much assistance. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

  A weight settled in Ford’s stomach. If someone as powerful as Lane couldn’t put the brakes on Carmichael’s plans, what luck would he have? He unbuttoned his jacket and turned to watch the dancers. The pretty flush on Margie’s cheeks as she danced sent a jab through Ford’s chest. “I’m sorry to hear that, Senator. But I have no intention of letting that man have his way at my park.” Or anywhere else.

  The pressure of Philip’s arm around her waist sent Margie’s breath ricocheting through her chest. He’d always been a fluid dancer, and even now she had little time to think where to place her feet. It was like riding a carousel—all you had to do was hold on.

  The band didn’t pause between numbers, and Philip swept her into the next dance without loosening his grip. “Margaret, it’s been too long since we’ve danced. Remember the Moonlight Merriment Ball at Union Station? We nearly closed the place down that night, you and I.”

  A lump rose in her throat. “How could I forget?” She’d just turned seventeen and he was packing for university. After a full year of trying to discourage their romance, Father had bought Philip off with the promise of an education.

  “You wore a blue gown that night, too. I still have the photograph on my desk—hand tinted.” He slid his fingers up her back, toying with the soft fringe on her dress. “But that was a dress for a girl. This one…” He drew her closer, the heat from his body obvious through the delicate material. His eyes wandered lower.

  She took advantage of the music’s syncopated beat to draw back a step. “That was a lifetime ago. Much has changed.”

  “I’d say improved. I’m not the cipher you befriended as a child. Thanks to your faith in me, I’ve risen to the top of society.” He tipped his head to the growing crowd on the dance floor. “People watch me now. They follow.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s your doing. You and your father. It’s my ambition for us to climb to the highest ranks—together. I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you for that early support. No, not repaying. Rewarding. It’s time for you to enjoy the bounty of what you’ve created.”

  Margie closed her eyes. What she’d created, indeed. “You don’t seem to understand, Philip; I’m no longer part of your life.�
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  He laughed, his head tipped back, garnering smiles from nearby couples. He lowered his chin and stared into her eyes. “Margie, you are the one who fails to understand. You don’t have a choice.”

  A chill swept over her, regardless of the exertion and the warm room. Surely Philip couldn’t be this delusional.

  He lowered his head until his mouth touched her ear. “Your park ranger is watching. He looks like he’s about to pop a cork.” He nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “You’d think a man who works so closely with nature would have a better understanding of it.”

  On the next beat, she brought her heel down hard on Philip’s oxford. As he jerked, Margie slipped from his grasp. “You know nothing about nature.” She wove through the middle of the crowd, desperate to put as many couples between her and Philip as possible.

  She needed to speak to her father and then get out of this place. Waltzing down memory lane had never been on the evening’s schedule. Margie ducked between dancing couples.

  A hand caught hers and she hopped back, her breath catching. There’s no way Philip could have followed, especially since every man—and woman—here seemed to want his attention. She glanced up into Ford’s face. “You surprised me.”

  “And you look as if you need a new partner.” Ford’s low voice carried just above the sound of the band. He tugged her close, her body folding neatly against his.

  She wrapped her wrist over his shoulder, the best she could do considering his height. “You said you didn’t dance.”

  “Is that any reason to abandon your date in the first fifteen minutes?” His brows lifted. “And I said I didn’t have much experience.”

  Within a few steps, she could confirm the truth of his statement. His trot was more buffalo than fox. She fought back a smile. “No problem. I can think of no one in this room I’d rather dance with.” The sensation of being held in Ford’s arms weakened every muscle in her body. She straightened. If she didn’t concentrate on keeping her toes out of stepping range, she might need medical attention by the end of the song.

  “Not going so well for poor Carmichael?”

  “Philip’s as persistent as a mustard plaster. He seems to live under the mistaken belief that with a few sweet words, I’ll fall into his arms.”

  Ford looked down at her. “And you disagree?”

  “With my whole heart.”

  “Good. I’d hate to think of you fraternizing with the enemy.” He pulled her closer, an unidentifiable expression flitting across his face.

  An ever-expanding ache lodged in her chest as she gazed at the ranger’s face. Even with his fancy clothes and his hair slicked back, she could see the touch of wilderness about him. She nestled closer to his chest. “I wish we were at Indian Henry’s.”

  His fingers rolled across her back. “I don’t think there’s one other woman in this room who would feel the same.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve always been a bit unusual.” Much to her mother’s dismay.

  Ford stumbled midstride, jostling against her hip, before regaining his footing. He shook his head. “Don’t I know it? No one else would be willing to risk her feet to a corn-shredder like me. Come on.” He stepped back, maintaining a grip on her hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a breath of fresh air?” He cocked his head toward the doorway. “Your father said he’d speak to you at the house. He doesn’t feel comfortable discussing the matter here.”

  “We just arrived.” Her desire to leave had eased somewhat, probably due to a more interesting dance partner. “And you went to such trouble to dress the part.” And to be the best-looking man in the room.

  “Just for a few minutes.” He tugged her a step toward the door. “It’s a nice evening, and I hear there’s a quiet walkway along the waterfront. I think that might be more my style.” His dimple deepened. “And if I know you at all, it’s yours, as well.”

  Her heart hitched upward. A romantic, moonlit walk? She couldn’t fight the smile bubbling up from within. “You do understand me, Ford Brayden.”

  Moonlight streaked the waters of Commencement Bay, as if beckoning Ford to walk straight out into the Puget Sound. The steady lapping of the water against the rocks chased the unpredictable jazz rhythms from his ears, settling his heart back to a familiar beat. Music like that could jar a man into doing something he never intended. Seeing Carmichael dancing with Margie had unhinged his better judgment. As soon as Ford had her in his arms, he could think of little else than what it would be like to kiss her lips. Best to get out into the fresh air before something crazy happened.

  Margie nestled her wrist in the crook of his arm and sighed. “Tacoma can be beautiful, especially the waterfront.”

  They’d been off the mountain for only eight hours and already he felt lost. “I hope you don’t mind that I dragged you away. All the noise was making me as nutty as a ground squirrel.”

  “I know what you mean. I only wanted to speak to my father. I never expected any of this.” She dropped his arm and gestured at her dress.

  He glanced away. One more look at her dress and all hope of sensible conversation would be gone. “I’m glad I got to see you in your natural environment.”

  “Don’t you understand? I don’t belong here. It’s in nature that I find my solace.”

  “No, I see that—I do. I recognized it the moment we entered the hotel.” He couldn’t resist reaching for her hand. “I just meant that this is where you found your beginning. It shaped you into someone who can truly appreciate the mountain’s solitude.”

  Rather than pulling free, she laced her fingers through his. “And I’ve appreciated seeing you out of your element.” A light smile teased at her lips. “You’ve truly risen to the occasion, Ford. I know you must be uncomfortable with all the fuss. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

  Her touch launched Ford’s remaining shreds of self-control headfirst into the bay. He stared down into her face, losing himself there. “I’m surprised to say this, but I’m actually enjoying myself.”

  “You are?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Not the gala. Being here with you.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his arm. “I feel the same.”

  “You do?” His breath hitched in his chest. Before she could move away, he slipped an arm around her waist. “Margie…”

  Margie stepped in closer, her shoulder fitting under his arm like a puzzle piece.

  Ford’s thoughts scattered like the surf against the rocks. “You look…you look beautiful tonight.” The expectation in her eyes was like strong drink. He brushed his thumb against her jaw. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  She tipped her cheek into his palm. “And what exactly are we doing?” A breeze from the water lifted her hair, tickling it against his wrist.

  Only a fool would let this moment escape. He bent closer, closing the distance between them, and brushing his lips against her cheekbone. The scent of her skin ratcheted his pulse another few notches.

  She turned to face him, meeting his mouth with an eagerness that caused his heart to jump to his throat.

  He kissed her with the hunger of one who never thought he’d have the honor. And once she came to her senses, he might never have again.

  Her senses. What about mine? Carmichael, Senator Lane…work. Ford gripped her arms and drew back slightly, allowing a wisp of air to pass between them.

  Margie gazed up at him for a long moment before reaching for his face, her hand trembling against his jaw. She leaned in and kissed him with feather-soft lips, the sensation nearly dropping him to his knees.

  A sound from behind Margie jarred him back to reality. He lifted his head, glancing over her shoulder.

  Carmichael stood near the hotel door, his unflinching stare sending a chill over Ford.

  “So that’s how it is?” The businessman’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  Margie spun around, stepping out of Ford’s arms. “Philip�
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  “I should have guessed.” He folded both arms across his chest. “Oh, wait. I did.”

  Ford stepped in front of Margie. “This is none of your concern.”

  “None of my…You’re jesting, right?” Carmichael scowled, deep grooves forming around his mouth. “I’m very concerned.” He turned to Margie. “Does your father know about this? And about your living situation?” His attention darted back to Ford. “I want her out of that cabin—and away from your influence.”

  Ford bristled. “I don’t think that’s your decision.”

  “Perhaps not yet, but I’m making it anyway.” He pointed a finger. “Move her out of there or I will.”

  Margie gasped. “Philip, stop this.”

  Carmichael lowered his hand. “We’re not done here, but what I have to say will have to wait. I thought Margaret might want to hear her father’s big announcement. I was just about to introduce him.”

  After Philip departed, Margie allowed herself one last glance over the dark waters of Commencement Bay, her emotions bubbling up like Longmire’s Soda Springs. Since their trip to Indian Henry’s, she’d attempted to put away her feelings for Ford, but right now she struggled to dredge up her logic on the matter. Logic and moonlight didn’t mix.

  Perhaps—no matter how unpleasant—Philip’s arrival was the splash of cold water she needed.

  Ford slipped an arm behind her. “That was unexpected.”

  The kiss or Philip’s interruption? She lowered her head against his side. “It’s been a rather surprising evening.”

  He rubbed her shoulder. “In many ways.”

  She couldn’t resist a smile, though the turmoil in her stomach nearly prevented it. “We should go in. Maybe my father’s remarks will help us make sense of everything.”

  “I’ll be right beside you.”

  The music had hushed by the time they returned, and Philip was already addressing the guests.

  They edged close to the crowd, finding a place where she could view the podium but remain inconspicuous.