It Happened One Week Read Online Free Page A

could at least pretend to be pleased,” she complained. “Besides, it’s not that bad. We’ve plenty of time to get ready.”
    “What, exactly, do you consider plenty of time?”
    “Three days.”
    “Three days?” He dragged his hand through his hair.
    “Well, technically four. Including this one.”
    It was already four in the afternoon. “Damn it, Reva—”
    “You’re the one who’s been bitching about needing bookings,” she reminded Dane. “Well, now you’ve got some. Or would you rather me call the woman back and tell her that we’re full?”
    Reminding himself that the difficult could be accomplished immediately, while the impossible might take a bit longer, he said, “You did good, lady.”
    Another thought, beyond the necessary repairs, occurred to him. “You’d better warn Mom.” He’d taken his mother out of a forced retirement and put her back in the remodeled kitchen, where she had happily begun stocking the pantry and whipping up recipes that rivaled those of any five-star resort in the country.
    “I already did,” she assured him, reminding him why he’d hired the former night manager away from the world-famous Whitfield Palace hotel chain. “Which reminds me, she told me to tell you that you’ll have to drive into town for supplies.”
    “Tell her to make out a list and I’ll do it as soon as I finish with the roof.”
    Dane returned to his hammering. And even as he wondered exactly how he was going to get everything done in time for the arrival of all those guests, he allowed himself to believe that things around Smugglers’ Inn were definitely beginning to look up.

2
    Portland
    “Y ou were right about every motel, hotel, resort and cottage up and down the coast being booked to the rafters,” Susan reported to Amanda. “Every place with the exception of Smugglers’ Inn, which, I’ll have to admit, made me a little nervous. But the woman from the Satan’s Cove visitors’ bureau assured me that it’s listed on the historical register.”
    “It is,” Amanda murmured, thinking back to that wonderful summer she’d spent at Satan’s Cove.
    The memory was, as always, bittersweet—part pleasure and part pain. She’d never been happier than she’d been that summer of her first love. Nor more heartbroken than on the day she’d driven away from Smugglers’ Inn—and Dane Cutter—back to Los Angeles with her family.
    He’d promised to write; and trusting him implicitly, Amanda had believed him. For the first two weeks after arriving home, she’d waited for a letter assuring her that she was not alone in her feelings—that the kisses they’d shared, along with the desperate promises, had been more than just a summer romance.
    When three weeks passed without so much as a single postcard, Amanda had screwed up enough nerve to telephoneDane at the inn. But the woman working the desk informed her that he’d left Satan’s Cove to return to college. No, the woman had insisted, in a bored tone, he hadn’t left any forwarding address.
    She’d thought about asking to talk to his mother, who’d been the inn’s cook. But youthful pride kept her from inquiring further. So, believing she’d simply been one more conquest for a drop-dead-gorgeous college boy who already had more than his share of girls throwing themselves at him, Amanda tried to write the intense, short-lived romance off to experience.
    And mostly, she’d been successful. But there were still times, when she would least expect it, that she’d think back on that summer with a mixture of wistfulness and embarrassment.
    “I’m surprised they could take us,” she said now, recalling the inn’s popularity. Her father had had to book their rooms six months in advance. “They must have had a huge cancellation.”
    “According to the reservations clerk, the place has been closed for several years,” Susan revealed. “Apparently it’s recently changed hands. This is the new owner’s first season.”
    “I’m