Vacation for Two

by Arline Chase

A single mother wins a two-week vacation in Hawaii. Through a series of complications she finds herself sharing the trip with a man she hardly knows and with whom she shares nothing besides a fear of flying.

ISBN 978-1-59431-882-5 Romance/ Contemporary

Chapter 1

On what should have been one of the happiest days of my life, I noticed Lee Templar standing two back from the counter as I took my place in the line at the Onancock Airways flight desk in Boston’s Logan Airport. That man! Why did he have to get involved and spoil the fantasy vacation I’d been dreaming about for years.

He glanced around and tucked his scarred hand in his raincoat pocket. Darn, he was good-looking.

Too good-looking. The same old tug, every time I saw him. I squared my shoulders, and pushed the bangs out of my eyes. Pekinese bangs, Lee Templar had called them on the day we first met at Helgasen’s Body Shop, in the small western Massachusetts town where we both live.

Even with his face red with anger and his deep voice yelling at me, I had felt the attraction. On the job I’m usually cool, detached and competent, but not that day. A woman who is twenty-seven and looks younger is at a disadvantage working as an insurance claims adjuster. I thought he was going to self-destruct when I offered him no more than the original purchase price on his classic ’56 Jaguar XK140. He towered over me, his too-handsome face twisted in anger, and insisted his classic car was worth a lot more now than when it was brand new, even though it hasn’t been listed in the Blue Book for years. I knew my job was toast if they had to get someone out of Boston to come down and settle this thing. Purchase price was as high as we could ever go on an estimate. I gave him my stubborn look and crossed my arms on my chest.

“If you’re going to be difficult, the settlement could take a long time.” I wasn’t about to give in. After all, I couldn’t afford to lose my job for incompetence when I had a young son to support and an eagle-eyed boss breathing down my neck.

“You work for Ralph Caraway, right? The Independent Agency?”

There it was. The usual threat to have me fired. Darn.