Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish (3 page)

“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—”

“Gran's here,” Miranda called from the porch.

Every other thought flew from Chloe's mind, and she raced out the door. Gran marched up the shell path. Chloe met her halfway, to be wrapped in arms still as strong as ever. Gran's familiar lily-of-the-valley scent enveloped her.

“Gran, it's so good to see you.” She pressed her cheek against her grandmother's.

Gran held her back a little, putting her palms on Chloe's cheeks. Her gaze was every bit as laser-like, in its way, as Luke's.

“'Bout time you were getting home, child. Where's this young man of yours?”

“I'm right here—”

She spun at the sound of Luke's voice, smooth as cream, behind her. He held out his hand to Gran.

“I'm Luke Hunter, Mrs. Caldwell.”

Gran focused on him. Every one of Chloe's nerve endings stood at attention. How had she ever thought she'd get away with this? Why had she let Luke maneuver her into it? Gran's wise old eyes saw everything. They'd see through this.

But Luke seemed to be standing up well to that fierce inspection. After a moment, he asked, “Will I do?”

“Guess it'll take a bit of time to decide that.” Gran looked him up and down. “You look a little fitter than I figured, for a city fellow.”

“So do you. I expected someone a lot more frail.”

He shot a challenging glance toward Chloe, and she felt herself shrivel. If he told Gran what she'd said, she'd never live it down.

“Chloe must be fibbing about the number of candles on your cake.”

Gran gave a little snort that might have been a chuckle, and then nodded shortly. “Might as well call me ‘Gran.' Everyone else does.” She took Luke's arm. “Let's go set on the porch a spell.”

Chloe, following them, discovered she could breathe again. But she couldn't fool herself that happy state would last for long. She should never have let Luke talk her into this. She just should have told them all the truth and found some way to live with the disappointment in their eyes.

Gran settled in her favorite rocker. The others filtered out of the house to receive Gran's kiss and find a place to sit. Nothing they had to do was so pressing that they couldn't enjoy the warm spring evening.

Chloe perched on the rail, and little Sammy hopped up to lean against her. Gran motioned Luke to the seat next to hers, and Chloe felt as if she were waiting for disaster to strike. Surely, sooner or later, Luke would falter, and someone would realize he was playing a part.

But Luke seemed content to lean back in his rocker, his gaze moving from one member of her family to another, letting them do the talking. What did he think of them? It shouldn't matter to her, but it did. And what did they think of him?

She took a breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the azalea bushes around the porch. It mingled with the salty scent of the water.
Home.
If she'd been plopped here blindfolded, she'd know in an instant where she was, just by the smell.

She glanced around at the familiar faces, and love welled in her heart. She wanted to tell them the truth. She didn't want to hurt Gran. She didn't want them to be disappointed in her.

Please, God.
She wasn't sure what to say.
Please. I don't want to hurt them. Please just let me get away without hurting them.

She probably should be praying for the courage to tell the truth and be done with it, but somehow she couldn't. In a long line of brave Caldwell women, she must be the one exception.

Sammy wiggled against her. “Gran, tell the Chloe story, please?”

Her breath caught. That was one story she'd rather Luke didn't hear, especially now. “Sammy, you must have heard that story a hundred times, at least.”

He grinned up at her. Sammy's heart-shaped face came straight from Miranda, but those dark eyes of his were just like his father's, and just as apt to break hearts.

“But I love that story, Aunt Chloe. Don't you?”

“'Course she does,” Gran said. “She's that Chloe's namesake, isn't she?” She glanced around.

Daniel groaned. “Have a heart, Gran. Sammy might just have heard it a hundred times, but I've heard it a thousand.”

“Won't hurt you to listen again,” she said tartly. “You might learn something.” She turned her chair so that it faced Luke's. “Chloe's beau ought to hear it, anyway.”

Chloe sent a helpless glance toward Luke. He leaned forward, smiling at her grandmother. “I'd love to.”

“Well, it's this way.” Gran half closed her eyes, as if she saw the story unrolling in her mind. “Years and years ago, before there was a Caldwell Cove, a girl lived here on the island. Her name was Chloe. A wild creature, she was. Folks said she talked to the gulls and swam with the dolphins.”

Sammy slid off the railing and went to lean against Gran's knee. “Wasn't she afraid?”

“Not she. She wasn't afraid of anything.”

Completely unlike the modern-day Chloe.
The thought inserted itself in Chloe's mind and clung like a barnacle.

“One night there was a storm. Not an ordinary storm, no. This was the mother and father of all storms. It swept ships from their courses and snapped the tallest pines like matchsticks. In that storm a boat capsized, throwing its crew into the sea. Only one sailor made it through the night, clinging to a piece of wreckage, all alone.”

Gran's voice had taken on the singsong tone of the island storyteller. As often as they'd all heard the story, still everyone leaned forward, listening as intently as if it were the first time.

“What happened to him?” Sammy's voice was hushed.

“He was played out. Poor man could see the island ahead of him, glistening like gold in the dawn light, but he knew he'd never make it. He gasped a last prayer. Then, before he could sink, creatures appeared next to him in the waves, holding him up. Chloe and her dolphins. They saved him. They pulled and pushed him through the surf until he staggered up onto the sand and collapsed, exhausted. But alive.”

As often as Gran told the story, it never altered by an iota. She told it the way her mother had told it to her, and her mother before that.

Sammy leaned close. “Tell what happened to them, Gran.”

Gran stroked his cheek. “You know that part of the story—He opened his eyes, took one look at her and knew he'd love her forever. He was the first Caldwell on the island, and he married her and started a family, and we've been here ever since.”

“And the dolphin.”

“He carved for her a dolphin out of a piece of cypress washed up by the storm. They put it in the little wedding chapel, and folks said every couple who married under the gaze of the dolphin would have a blessed union. And so they have.”

Chloe's throat was so tight she couldn't possibly speak. It was plain silly, to be so moved by an old story that probably didn't have much truth left in it. But she was. They all were, even Luke. She could read it in his intent gaze.

“Is the dolphin still there? I'd like to see it.”

Luke must be aware of the strained quality of the silence that met his question. Here was the ending to the story no one wanted to tell.

“Chloe's dolphin is gone,” Gran said softly. “Stolen one night by someone—no one knows who.” Her wrinkled hand cupped Sammy's cheek. “But the story still lives.”

Chloe's father stood, the chair rocking behind him. With a muttered excuse, he walked inside, favoring his bad leg as he did when he was tired.

His departure was a signal. David stood, stretched and held out his hand to Sammy. “Come on, guy. Time you were in bed.”

“But—”

He swept Sammy along, stilling his protest. “Best get some sleep. I need you to help me take Chloe and Luke dolphin watching tomorrow, okay?”

Gran smiled. “Seems to me Chloe and Luke could stand a bit of time away from family.” Her hands fluttered in a shooing motion. “Go on, now. Take your gal out for a walk in the moonlight.”

Fortunately, it had gotten dark enough that no one would be able to see her flush. “Gran, we don't need to take a walk.”

But Luke had already risen and was holding out his hand to her. “Come on, Chloe. Do what your grandmother says.”

Apparently she didn't have a choice. She stood, evading his hand, and started down the three steps to the walk. But by the time she reached the bottom, his hand had closed over hers. It was warm and firm, and the pressure of his fingers told her that if she tried to pull away, he wouldn't let her.

Shells crunched underfoot, then boards echoed as they walked onto the dock. Moonlight traced a silvery sheen on the water. The mainland was a dark shadow on the horizon, pierced by pinpoints of light. They came to a stop at the end of the dock and leaned on the railing.

Chloe cleared her throat. This was amazingly hard. “I'm sorry about that. Gran has certain expectations about what she'd call ‘courting couples.' I should have warned you.”

He turned toward her. She couldn't be sure of his expression in the soft darkness, but she thought he was amused.

“It doesn't matter, Chloe. She's right, this is a beautiful moonlit night. I don't mind taking a walk with you to fulfill her expectations.”

It was the kind of phrase he'd use in reference to a business deal, and the language didn't mesh with the gentle murmur of waves against the dock and the cry of a night heron. He didn't fit here, and maybe she didn't, either, any longer. The thought made her shiver.

“You're cold.”

Luke ran his hands down her arms, warming them, sending a thousand conflicting messages along her skin and straight to her heart.

“We should go in.” But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay here with him.

“That would disappoint your gran.” His voice teased. “I'm sure she'd expect me to warm you up in a more old-fashioned way.”

Before she could guess his intent, he'd leaned forward. His lips touched hers.

The dock seemed suspended in space, and she put her hand on Luke's shoulder to steady herself. This was crazy. She hadn't bargained on this. The shape of his mouth felt firm against hers.

Crazy.
This whole charade was crazy, but at this moment she never wanted it to end. Tenderness and longing swept through her in equal measure with despair.

L
uke frowned at his laptop the next morning. Chloe's face kept appearing on the computer screen, overlaying the words—soft and vulnerable, with the moonlight turning her skin to ivory.

He was trying to get down his impressions of the Caldwell Island area in a preliminary report. He'd settled in one of the rockers on the porch after breakfast, letting the herd of Caldwells scatter to whatever occupied them. He had to work, not think about Chloe.

That kiss last night had been a mistake. He'd begun by teasing her, but he'd let himself be carried away by the charade. The next moment he was kissing her, and he'd known in an instant he shouldn't have. You didn't get involved with people who worked for you. Chloe was too valuable to him as an employee to risk ruining that.

He had to concentrate on the job he'd come here to do. That was his ticket to success. His initial impressions of the island were favorable, but plenty remained to be determined. He'd focus on collecting the data he needed, not on how unexpectedly beautiful Chloe had looked in the moonlight.

“Hey.”

He glanced up, startled to find Chloe next to him, and snapped the laptop shut. He'd have to tell her what he had in mind at some point, but not yet. Chloe, in denim shorts and a T-shirt, looked ready for anything but business.

“Hey, yourself.” He'd already noticed that everyone he met here used that word as a greeting.

She glanced pointedly at the laptop. “Are you ready to go? We have a date with David and Sammy to go dolphin watching, remember?”

Dolphin watching, as in…taking a boat out. The huge breakfast Chloe's mother had forced on him turned to lead in his stomach. Or maybe it was the grits, gluing everything together. “Why don't you go without me? I have some work I'd like to get done.”

“Work?” She frowned at the computer. “I thought you were taking the weekend off. What are you working on?”

He didn't intend to answer that question. “Just keeping up with some reports. I don't care much for boats.”

Being on the water gives me the shakes.
No, he wouldn't admit that to her. He didn't like admitting it to himself. His childhood hadn't included a place like this, and there hadn't been swimming pools in the back alleys that had been his playground.

“Come on.” She held out her hand. “The
Spyhop
runs as smooth as silk. Besides, it's the best way to see the whole area.”

That was the only argument that would get him on a boat. She was offering him the chance to see just what he needed to, in an unobtrusive way. And he couldn't keep refusing without having Chloe guess that what he really felt was something a lot stronger than reluctance.

“Okay. I'll put the computer away and be right with you.”

Fifteen minutes later he stood on the dock with Chloe, wishing he'd stuck to his refusal. “Kind of small, isn't it?”

“The
Spyhop?
She's a twenty-six-foot catamaran. You should see the crowd they fit on her later in the summer, when the visitors are here. I'm sorry she's riding so low, but the channel's tidal. It's not hard to get into the boat.”

Chloe stepped from the dock down to a bench seat in the boat, then to the deck, balancing as lightly as if on a stairway instead of a rocking deck. She looked up at him.

“Need a hand?”

Aware of David and Sammy watching from the boat's cockpit, he shook his head, grasped the post to which the boat was tied and clambered down. Okay, he could do this. Nobody needed to know that his stomach was tied in more knots than the mooring line. With luck, they wouldn't find any dolphins, making the trip short and uneventful.

David turned the ignition, and the motor roared to life. He waved at Chloe. “Cast off, will you, sugar?” He grinned. “Or don't you remember how?”

Chloe stuck out her tongue at him, then climbed nimbly over the boat's railing to perch on the narrow space at the back and lean across to untie the ropes. Luke had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her. Chloe had probably done this all her life. She wouldn't thank him for making a big deal of it.

Then the boat started to move, and he clutched the seat and concentrated on not making a fool of himself. Chloe dropped onto the bench next to him and gave him an enquiring look. More to distract himself than because he cared, he nodded to the cockpit.

“I thought Daniel was the one who ran the tours.”

“They both do, but David's the real expert on the dolphins. His degree is in oceanography, and he's officially in charge of the dolphin watch for this region.”

“Degree?” He couldn't help the surprise in his voice. “But I thought—” What had he thought? That they were a bunch of uneducated hicks?

The amusement in Chloe's gaze said she knew just how surprised he was.

“David knows his stuff, but he doesn't really like doing the narrative for a boatload of tourists. Daniel does that.” She smiled. “You know how it is in a big family. We each have our roles.”

“I was an only child.” At least, he guessed he'd been. Nobody had stayed around long enough to tell him. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, Daniel's the oldest, so he always thinks he has to be the boss—”

She wrinkled her nose, something he'd never seen her do in the office. It intrigued him.

“David's the quiet twin. Miranda is the beautiful one. And Theo, whether he likes it or not, is always going to be the baby.”

He found himself wanting to say that she was just as beautiful as Miranda, and quickly censored that. “And what about Chloe? What is she?”

He thought a faint flush touched her cheeks, but it might have been the sun. “Oh, I guess I've always been the tomboy. Having two older brothers does that to you.”

He nodded toward Sammy and spoke under the rumble of the motor. “Where does Sammy fit in?”

She stiffened, as if he implied something with the question.

“Miranda was married briefly when she was eighteen. It didn't work out.”

Her tone told him further questions weren't welcome. “Sammy seems to have plenty of family looking out for him.” He recognized, with surprise, a twinge of jealousy. He hadn't had a father, either, but no one had stepped up to take on responsibility, at least not until he met Reverend Tom and his Fresh Start Mission.

“Yes.” The tension in Chloe relaxed. “What with the twins, my father, my uncle, the cousins—he probably has more male role models than most kids.”

“Lucky boy,” he said, and meant it. The tempo of the motor changed suddenly, and he grasped the seat. “Is something wrong?”

Chloe looked surprised, then shook her head. “We're just going around the end of the island, into Dolphin Sound. There are a few of the summer houses I told you about, and that's the yacht club.” She pointed to a covey of glistening white boats, lined up neatly along a dock. “Summer sailors,” she said, as if dismissing them.

Waves slapped against the hull, and a fine spray of water blew in his face. He nearly ducked, but saw Chloe lift her face, smiling.

“Now you can see it.” She leaned forward, sweeping her arm in a broad gesture. “This is Dolphin Sound, between Caldwell Island and the out-islands. Beyond is the ocean.”

Luke drew in a breath. He might not be much of a sailor, but he knew what would draw vacationers to a resort area. Sunlight sparkled on the sound and reflected from the white wings of seagulls. Small islands shimmered on the horizon like Bali Hai, with empty golden beaches and drifts of palmettos.

“It's beautiful.”

“Cat Island, Bayard Island. Angel Isle.” Her voice softened as she gestured to the most distant of the three. “My favorite.”

Sammy scampered back to them, moving nimbly as the boat danced through the water. He touched Chloe's arm, then pointed. “Look, Aunt Chloe. They're here.”

He followed the direction of the boy's hand, seeing only the gentle swell of the waves. “I don't—”

A silver crescent broke through the surface of the water, not more than twenty feet from them, describing a glittering arc as the dolphin plunged back beneath the waves. Before he'd caught his breath he saw another, then another.

“Chloe, get the camera,” David shouted. “The whole pod is here.”

Chloe yanked a camera from its case and knelt on the bench seat, snapping as one glistening shape after another wheeled before them. David throttled back, and the boat slowed to a stop, rocking gently.

“Oh, you beauties,” Chloe breathed, leaning out perilously far.

He couldn't help himself—he had to grab the loop on her denim shorts. “Be careful, or you'll be swimming with them, like your namesake.”

She glanced back at him, face alight with laughter. “Can't do that. It's against the law to swim with wild dolphins now, much as I'd like to.”

David left the wheel to grab a clipboard and jot down notes, murmuring as he did so. “One of the best sightings I've had lately. You two brought us luck.”

“Look, Uncle David, that's Onion for sure.” Sammy bounced next to Chloe on the seat. “It is, I know it!”

“Got it in one, Sammy. You're a good dolphin watcher.” David reached out to tousle the boy's dark hair. “Your name will go in the log.”

“You're really keeping track of them?” Luke glanced at David's notes, which certainly seemed to be some sort of official report. “Is this your job?”

“Job?” His glasses shielded David's brown eyes, but Luke couldn't miss the passion in them. “Not in the sense of being paid for it, that's for sure. We're part of the dolphin watch that runs all the way up the coast.”

One of the dolphins balanced on its tail, looking at Luke with enquiring eyes and that perpetual dolphin smile. Luke stared back. “I'd think there would be money in this one way or another.”

David shrugged, not seeming to care. “We make a bit on the dolphin cruises. That's enough.”

Enough?
Luke opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. It wasn't his business to talk David into seeing what he had here. If he tried, he'd only emphasize the difference in their values. That would make staying any longer more difficult.

And he had to stay. He'd seen enough today to convince him of that. This place was the perfect site for the next Dalton Resort hotel, and setting that in motion would take more than a brief weekend that was already half over. His mind ticked away with all he had to do. Chloe could—

“She's always been able to do that,” David said softly.

Luke turned. Chloe leaned over the railing, reaching out toward the dolphin, and the creature lifted from the water as if saying something to her. The curve of her body matched the curve of the dolphin, and the sunlight made both of them glow with a kind of harmony that startled and disturbed him.

It was as if the Chloe he knew back in the office had transmuted into a different being here, one as alive and natural and free as that first Chloe. He didn't know how he felt about that—but he did know it was going to make their relationship different in ways he couldn't even imagine.

 

“Chloe Elizabeth, I hear you brought a young man home for your family to meet.” Her father's second cousin, Phoebe, squinted across the crowded dining room at Luke. “'Bout time you were settling down. When is the wedding? Not June, I hope. That's nowhere near enough time for your momma to get ready.”

Chloe nearly choked on a mouthful of shrimp toast. Was that what everyone was thinking? “We're not ready to set a date yet,” she murmured.

Cousin Phoebe gave her a sharp glance. “That's not what your gran says. She's already planning the wedding quilt for you. Asked me to look out some fabric for her, so I said I would. You'd best decide on colors soon, heah?”

The shrimp turned to ashes in Chloe's mouth. Could this get any worse? If she denied it further than she already had, Cousin Phoebe would be rushing off to Gran with the story. Perhaps she could distract her.

“Cousin Phoebe, is that Aunt June's daughter over there?”

The sight of another relative she could interrogate always appealed to Phoebe. She veered off, replaced immediately by Gran herself.

“Gran, are you enjoying your party?” Chloe hugged her, feeling a rush of love at the soft, papery cheek next to hers. And feeling, too, a rush of guilt. She shouldn't be letting Gran and everyone else believe a relationship existed between her and Luke.

Gran patted her cheek. “It's a good party, Chloe girl. But the best part is that you're here, and you've finally brought a nice young man home with you.” Gran's eyes twinkled. “Even if I did have to invite him myself.”

The “nice young man” seemed to be the topic of the day with her elderly relatives. Chloe glanced across the room. Luke stood by the window, deep in conversation with her cousin Matt. Matt, a television news reporter who'd come all the way from Egypt for Gran's birthday, ought to be able to talk about something Luke would understand. She recognized a similarity in them and wondered if Luke would see it—they were both driven, intense, competitive.