Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish Page 2

  Chloe hadn’t had enough time to forget her humiliation when the buzzer summoned her, insistent as an angry mosquito. Snatching a pad, she marched toward Luke’s office. All right, there was to be no reprieve. She’d go in there and show Luke that they were back to business, as if the morning’s fiasco had never happened.

  “Chloe.” He looked up from a file on his desk. “I was thinking about that letter from your grandmother.”

  All right, she wouldn’t be able to pretend it hadn’t happened. Steel, Chloe Elizabeth.

  “Please forget about it. I’ll take care of it.” She raised the pad. “Was there something else you wanted?”

  “I can’t forget about it.” He leaned back in the padded executive chair. Beyond him, gray rain slashed against the window, as relentless as he was. “I keep picturing your frail old grandmother being disappointed on her birthday.”

  Wouldn’t he be surprised by the real Gran, one of a long line of strong Caldwell women who’d wrestle a gator if necessary to keep her family safe. “Gran will be fine.” She tried to put a little of that strength into her voice. “After all, the rest of her kin will be there.”

  The word slipped out before she could censor it. Northerners didn’t call people “kin.” She’d been thinking too much about Gran today.

  “But not her favorite granddaughter.” He smiled. “I’m sure you are the favorite, aren’t you?”

  Warning bells began to ring. When Luke turned on the charm, he wanted something. “That’s probably my sister, Miranda. After all, she’s produced a great-grandchild.”

  Luke swung forward in his chair, his feet landing on the carpet. “In any event, she’d be disappointed. I just can’t let that happen.”

  She stared at him blankly, not sure where he was going with this. “I don’t…”

  “Besides, what is it to us? One short weekend out of our lives to make an elderly lady happy.”

  Panic rocketed through her. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was.

  “You can’t be talking about going.” Her voice rose in spite of herself.

  He stood, planting both hands on the desktop and leaning toward her. “That would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  Her mind worked frantically. “We can’t pretend to be dating in front of my whole family.”

  “Again, why not?” His words shot toward her, compelling agreement.

  Her throat closed on the difficulty of telling him all the reasons. As usual, standing up to Luke Hunter was about as possible for her as flying to the moon. “We just can’t, that’s all.”

  “Nonsense. Of course we can.” He swept past her objections, and with fascinated horror she saw him launching into the deal mode that no one ever managed to stop. “In fact, I’ve already done it.”

  “Done what?” Her thoughts twisted and turned, trying to find a path out of this impossible situation.

  “I called and talked with your father.” There might have been something a little malicious in his smile. “He was delighted that we’re coming. I’ll fly down with you on Friday. We’ll come back Sunday night after the birthday party.”

  “But I can’t. We can’t.”

  “Of course you can. All you have to do is reschedule my Friday meetings and pack, and we’ll make your grandmother happy. Aren’t you pleased, Chloe?”

  Pleased? She could only stare at him, the horrible truth rolling inexorably toward her. Thanks to her weakness for storytelling and her total inability to stand up to Luke Hunter, she was condemned to spend the weekend pretending to her family that he cared for her.

  She might have dreamed, in her weaker moments, of going back to Caldwell Cove with Luke on her arm. But this wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, and yet it was only too real.

  Chapter Two

  “We’re almost there.” Chloe leaned forward in the passenger seat next to Luke, sounding as eager as a ten-year-old on a vacation.

  “How can you tell? It all looks the same to me.” Luke pressed his hands against the steering wheel of the rental car and stretched. The trip to Caldwell Island from the airport in Savannah was less than an hour, but the narrow, two-lane roads wove through apparently endless miles of tall pines alternating with dense, dark undergrowth. It might have made sense for Chloe to drive, since she knew the road, but he hated letting someone else drive him.

  He was also starting to have serious doubts about this whole expedition. Nothing he’d seen so far would lead him to consider this area for a Dalton Resort. It looked more like Tobacco Road.

  Chloe flashed him a smile. “Just a little farther, and you’ll see the bridge.”

  He’d see it. Then he’d see this precious island of hers. He’d be able to tell in half an hour, probably, if Caldwell Island was worth further investigation. If not, what he’d want to do was take the first plane back to Chicago.

  But he couldn’t. Like it or not, he’d committed to this weekend, to pretending he and Chloe weren’t just boss and secretary, but something more. A faint apprehension trickled along his nerves. Chloe, with her honey-colored hair and her golden-brown eyes, was appealing, but certainly not his type. He went for sophisticated, not girl-next-door. Pulling this off could be tricky.

  “There!” Chloe’s exclamation was filled with satisfaction as they emerged abruptly from yet another stand of pine trees.

  He blinked. Ahead of them, lush grass stretched on either side of the road, golden in the sunshine. It might have been a meadow, but the grass grew in water, not earth. In the distance a cluster of palmettos stood dark against the sky, like an island. Sunlight glinted from deeper streams, turning the scene into a bewildering world between earth and sea. His apprehension deepened. Everything about this was alien to him.

  Chloe hit the button, and her window whirred down, letting in a flood of warm air that mixed salt, sea and musky vegetation. “Smell that.” She inhaled deeply. “That’s what tells me I’ve come home.” She hung out the window, letting her hair tangle in the breeze.

  “Doesn’t smell like home to me. Not unless it includes exhaust fumes, sidewalk vendors and pigeons.”

  “Sorry. Would you settle for a great white heron?” She pointed, and he saw an elegant white bird lift its long neck and stare at them.

  This was a different Chloe, he realized. One who knew everything here, one who was in her element. Just as he was out of his. The thought made him vaguely uneasy.

  The road swept up onto a white bridge, shimmering in the sunshine. Tall pylons marched beside the bridge, feet in the water, carrying power lines.

  “We’re crossing the inland waterway,” Chloe said, pressing her palms against the dash as if to force the car to move faster. “And there’s Caldwell Island.”

  The car crested the hump in the middle of the bridge, and Chloe’s island lay ahead of them. His breath caught in spite of himself. The surrounding marsh grass made the island shimmer with gold, and it stretched along the horizon like an early explorer’s dream of riches.

  “Golden isles,” Chloe said softly, as if she read his thought. “That’s an old name for the sea islands. The Golden Isles.”

  The channel merged with marshes, then the marshes merged with the gentle rise of land, as if the island raised itself only reluctantly from the sea. A village drifted along the curve of shore facing the bridge, looking like something out of the last century, or maybe the century before that. A church steeple bisected it neatly.

  The island was beautiful. It was desirable. And unless there was something unexpected out of his sight, it was also completely uncommercialized. Excitement stirred in him.

  “What’s the ante-bellum mansion? A hotel?”

  She glanced toward the far end of the village, then shook her head, smiling. “That’s my uncle Jefferson’s house. Uncle Jeff’s family is the rich branch of the clan. There aren’t any hotels on Caldwell Island, just the inn my parents own and a few guest houses.”

  He didn’
t want to raise her suspicions, but he risked another comment. “You’re not going to tell me vacationers haven’t discovered this place.”

  She seemed too preoccupied to notice, staring out as if cherishing every landmark. “There have always been summer visitors, but they’re people who’ve owned their homes here for generations.” She pointed. “Turn left off the bridge. Town’s only three streets deep, so you can’t get lost. We’ll go straight to the inn. They’ll be waiting.”

  He followed her directions, wondering a little at the sureness in her voice. They’ll be waiting.

  He passed a small grocery, a bait shop and then what seemed to be a boatyard with the Caldwell name emblazoned on its sign. Before he could ask if her family owned it, Chloe spoke again.

  “There it is. That’s The Dolphin.”

  The inn sat on their right, facing the waterway, spreading out gracefully under the surrounding trees. The core of the building looked only one room deep, but succeeding generations must have added one wing after another as their families, or their ambitions, grew. Gray shingles blended with the gray-green of the lace-draped live oaks, and rocking chairs dotted a wraparound porch.

  “Those are our boats.” She pointed to a covey of boats at the dock on their left. “Everyone’s in. I told you they’d be waiting for us.”

  Apparently here they counted boats, instead of cars, to tell them who was where. He drove into a shell-covered driveway and pulled to a stop, discovering a knot of apprehension in his gut.

  Ridiculous. He dismissed it quickly. Chloe’s family had no reason to suspect him of anything, and their opinions didn’t matter to him in the least. Simple country people, that’s all they were.

  Simple, maybe. But had Chloe warned him there were so many of them? He stepped out of the car into what seemed to be a mob of Caldwells, all talking at once. Chloe was right—they’d been waiting. An unidentifiable breed of half-grown dog bounced around the crowd, its barks adding to the general chaos.

  He looked to Chloe for help, but a woman who must be her mother was enveloping her in an enormous hug. A younger woman, with Chloe’s heart-shaped face but auburn hair and green eyes, wrapped her arms around both of them. All three seemed to be talking and crying at once.

  “Don’t suppose we’ll get any sense out of those three for a time.”

  The rangy, sun-bronzed man who held out a large hand was probably about Luke’s age. Big—that was his first thought. Luke stood six foot, and this guy had a couple of inches on him at least. The hand that grasped his had power behind it. One of the brothers?

  “Guess I’d best do the introductions, since our Chloe’s forgotten her manners,” he continued. “I’m Daniel. This is David.”

  Luke blinked. There were two of them. “Chloe didn’t mention her brothers were twins.” He shook hands with the other giant, trying to assess the differences between them.

  There weren’t many. Both men were big, both sun-brown, both lean and muscular. They had identical brown eyes and identical sun-bleached hair. David wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, apparently the only way Luke would ever tell them apart.

  “She wouldn’t.” Daniel seemed to do the talking for the pair of them. “She always said it wasn’t fair there were two of us to gang up on her.” He reached out a long arm to pull over a gangly teenager. “This one’s Theo. He’s the baby.”

  The boy reddened under his tan, shooting his brother a resentful look before offering his hand to Luke. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Luke, please.”

  His effort at friendliness just made the boy’s flush deepen. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s Miranda’s boy, Sammy, trying to make his mutt pipe down.” Daniel gestured toward a boy of six or so, wrestling with the dog over a stick. “And this is our daddy, Clayton Caldwell.”

  Luke turned, and his smile stiffened on his face. There could be no doubt of the assessment in the sharp hazel eyes that met his gaze. He was abruptly aware of intelligence, shrewdness, questioning.

  “Luke. Welcome to Caldwell Cove.” Chloe’s father was fully as tall as his twin sons, his grip just as firm. But despite the words of welcome, the quick friendliness Luke had sensed in Daniel and his brothers was missing here. Clayton Caldwell looked at him as if he’d been measured and had come up wanting. “We’ve been waiting to meet Chloe’s…friend.”

  Everything in Luke snapped to attention. Chloe’s father, at least, couldn’t be classified as “simple country folk.” He wasn’t accepting Chloe’s supposed boyfriend at face value.

  So this little charade might not be the piece of cake he’d been telling himself. The thought only made his competitive juices start to flow. When the challenges were the greatest, he played his best game.

  Chloe had finally broken free of her mother and sister, and he reached out to grasp her hand and draw her close against his side. For an instant she resisted, and he gave her a challenging smile. This was your invention, Chloe, remember? Now you’ve got to take the consequences.

  She leaned against him, perhaps a little self-consciously.

  Luke smiled at her father. “We’re happy to be here. Aren’t we, sweetheart?” He tightened his grasp into a hug, faintly surprised by how warm and sweet Chloe felt against him.

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded a bit breathless. “Happy.”

  “Well, so tell me all about him.”

  Chloe had started for the dining room with a large bowl of potato salad, when Miranda caught her by the waist and spun her into the pantry. She went with a sense of resignation. She couldn’t have hoped to avoid Miranda’s third degree much longer. They’d always shared everything.

  Miranda’s green eyes glowed with curiosity. “You’ve been awful closemouthed, sugar. Come on, ‘fess up. Are you serious about him?”

  The question twanged inside her, reverberating like a plucked string. She tried to shut the feeling away. She didn’t want to lie to her sister. Probably she couldn’t if she tried. Miranda knew her too well.

  “Serious?” She tried to smile. “I don’t know if serious is the right word. It’s complicated. He is my boss, after all.”

  Miranda eyed her sternly. “Complicated. That means you do care about him, but you don’t know if it’s going to work, right?”

  “How did you get so smart, little sis?” She tried to turn their perpetual rivalry over the eleven months between them to her advantage, hoping to distract Miranda.

  Miranda shook her head, but not before Chloe had seen the quick sorrow in her eyes.

  “I didn’t get smart quick enough, remember?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Chloe plunked the bowl onto the linoleum-topped counter and put her arms around her sister. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She’d wanted to distract Miranda, not remind her of the man she’d loved and the marriage that had ended almost before it started.

  “It’s okay.” Miranda’s strong arms held her close for a moment. “I’m okay. Really.” She answered the doubt she must have seen in Chloe’s eyes. “I’m happy. After all, I have Sammy and the family.”

  But not the only man she’d ever love. The thought lay there between them, unexpressed.

  “I just want you to be happy.” Miranda squeezed her. “You be happy, sugar, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. People said that Caldwell women were destined to love only one man. If true, that didn’t bode well for either Miranda or her.

  She tried to reject the thought. She didn’t love Luke. She admired him. She admired his intelligence, his tenacity, his ambition. She’d been touched by his kindness to her, by the unexpected, intangible longing she sometimes surprised in his eyes, as if he yearned for something he couldn’t have. But that wasn’t love.

  The thought lingered at the back of her mind all through dinner. She watched as Luke turned to answer some question Theo had asked. The chandelier’s light put shadows under his cheekbones, showing the strong bone structure of his face, the determined jaw, the
quick lift at the corner of his mouth when something amused him.

  It also showed a certain tension in the way his hand gripped the fork. That sent a ripple of unease through her. Was he just nervous about this charade he’d embarked on? Or was something else going on—something she didn’t know about?

  As soon as the meal ended Luke gravitated to her side. Her heart gave a rebellious little flutter as she looked up at him. “Get enough to eat?”

  “I don’t know how your family stays so thin if they eat like that every night.” Luke patted his flat stomach. “One more of those buttermilk biscuits, and you’d have to roll me away from the table.”

  “They don’t sit in an office all day.”

  He grinned, and the unexpectedly relaxed expression fluttered her heart once more. “Touché. I’ll have to remember that.” He glanced around the large room. “But the inn doesn’t seem to have any guests right now.”

  “This is Gran’s birthday weekend. They don’t take reservations this weekend, so the whole family can celebrate.”

  “They turn away paying customers?” He seemed to imagine an entire row of Dalton Resorts executives, all frowning at such folly.

  “They put Gran first, that’s all.” The defensiveness in her tone surprised her. “The Dolphin Inn isn’t a Dalton Resort.”

  “Obviously not.” His lifted eyebrow spoke volumes. “Anyway, this isn’t a busy time. We don’t start getting a lot of guests until Easter weekend.” It had never occurred to her to wonder why the inn wasn’t more successful than it was. We make enough to get by, Daddy always said. She shouldn’t have to defend her family’s values, but that seemed to be what she was doing.

  “I can understand why, if you close down for a birthday party.”

  She came perilously close to losing her temper with him. “If you—”