Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish (5 page)

Chloe stirred restlessly. “Some of us have found lives elsewhere, Gran. Maybe we don't belong here any longer.”
Did she?
That thought had been in her head too often since she'd been back.

Gran patted her hand. “You belong, all right. Your roots run too deep here to forget, even if you do run off to outlandish places.”

“Matt will be safe.” She knew her grandmother was thinking of Matt's early morning flight. “We'll hear from him again soon.”

Gran nodded, then fanned herself with her hat. “Chloe Elizabeth, I'm going to set a spell on the bench. You finish, all right?”

“We'll take care of it, Gran. You relax.”

“Are you sure she's all right?” Luke frowned, watching as Gran tottered off to settle on the wrought-iron bench under a live oak. “Maybe we should take her home.”

“She's not tired.” Chloe knew her gran too well to be fooled. “She's matchmaking. Giving us a chance to be alone.”

She waited for a sarcastic response, but it didn't come.

Instead Luke gestured toward the gray stones, tilting across the long grass. “You do this often?”

“What?”

“Come here, plant flowers. Read off the names.”

He obviously didn't understand the Southern attitude toward cemeteries, and she wasn't sure she could explain it in a way that would make sense to him.

“Gran would say it's a shame to the living if the family graves aren't taken care of properly. I've been doing this since I was a little girl. We all have. It feels natural to me.” She touched a worn stone, and it was cool beneath her fingers. “This was the first Chloe.”

Luke knelt, frowning at the faded words. “What's that beneath the dates? I can't make it out.”

“Her Bible verse. ‘May God grant you His mighty and glorious strength.' All of us have our own verses.” She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “It's a family tradition—a scripture promise to live by. Gran gave each of us a verse on our baptism, just as her grandmother did.”

He stood, and he was very close to her. “What's your verse, Chloe?”

She looked up at him, wanting to turn the question away with a light comment. His blue eyes seemed to darken, staring into hers with such intensity that she couldn't escape, and he took both her hands in his. Her breath caught in her throat.

“It's from Jeremiah.” She forced the words out, trying to sound natural. “'For I know the plans I have for you,' says the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.'”

“Hope and a future,” he repeated softly. “That's a nice promise, Chloe Elizabeth.”

The lump in her throat was too big to swallow, and she could only nod. It had been a mistake to bring Luke Hunter here. She should have known that it would be. Things had changed between them. They'd never be the same again.

But they'd also never be the way she sometimes wished they would be. Somehow, she had to accept that.

 

He had to stop letting these people affect him so much. Luke drove toward the inn after dropping off Chloe's grandmother, trying to dismiss the feelings that had crept over him in the cemetery. Trying to tell himself the whole thing was maudlin, or quaint, or silly.

It didn't seem to work. He glanced sideways at Chloe. She wasn't really that different here than she was in Chicago, was she? Maybe not outwardly, but inwardly…He felt as if he'd opened an ordinary-looking package and discovered something rich and mysterious.

He couldn't erase the sense that she'd introduced him to a new world, a world where family meant something other than a collection of strangers held together by law. Those moments in the cemetery had moved him in a way he'd never experienced, and he didn't know what to do with those feelings.

He'd like to categorize this whole visit as an expedition into the sticks. It could be an amusing story—something to entertain his acquaintances at the next cocktail party or gallery opening. He tried to picture himself talking about Chloe's family and their quaint customs. He knew instinctively that he never would.

Okay, he'd accept that. But he'd also accept the fact that none of this fit into his real life—not Chloe, not her family. He didn't understand them, and they'd certainly never understand what he came from. He had to get things back to business, and he definitely had to trample the insidious longing to share more of himself with Chloe.

“Looks as if your father's just coming in.” He drew up opposite the dock and watched Chloe's father jockey his boat into position.

Chloe was out of the car before he could go around and open her door. “Come on. We'll give him a hand.”

She jogged onto the dock, and he followed reluctantly. The water was higher than it had been the last time—meaning the tide was coming in, he supposed. Waves slapped against the wooden boards, making them vibrate uneasily beneath his feet. The salt air assaulted his nostrils, and the expanse of sky made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

He didn't have to like it here. He just had to look at it through a businessman's eyes, so he could make the right deal.

“Hey, Daddy.” Chloe grasped one of the dock supports and leaned out to take the line her father held, then made it fast. “Any luck this morning?”

“Nothing running.” Clayton Caldwell cut the engine. “If we depended on my fishing to put food on the table, our bellies would be bumping our backbones—”

He glanced at Luke, and Luke read reserve in those clear eyes. Clayton hadn't decided what to make of him yet.

“Hop down and secure that aft line, Luke.”

The small boat bounced, bumping against the dock, and Luke's stomach bounced with it. Hop down? He didn't think so. But saying no would declare him either a rotten guest or a wimp, and he didn't like either of those alternatives. Steeling himself, he took a step forward.

Chloe nipped in front of him and stepped nimbly down into the boat. “I'll get it, Daddy.” She grabbed the line and looped it around the upright. “Have to show you I haven't forgotten how.”

“I didn't think that, Chloe-girl.” Clayton stepped easily up to the dock, then leaned down and pulled Chloe up next to him.

The man must be close to sixty, but his muscles seemed as hard as those of any bodybuilder. Clayton's level gaze rested on him, and Luke discovered he felt smaller under that calm stare. He didn't like it.

Chloe hugged her father, pressing her face against the older man's white T-shirt. “You've been saying the same thing about the fishing ever since I can remember. We haven't gone hungry yet.”

Her father squeezed her, then released her. “Must be about lunchtime. You two coming?”

“We'll be along in a minute.” Chloe leaned against the railing as if the dock's movement was as common as the ascent of an elevator. She waited until her father was halfway up the crushed shell walk, then turned to him.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I'm all right.” He didn't sound authoritative, just irritable. But he didn't care for the way Chloe looked at him—as if he needed her pity. “Let's go.”

Chloe caught his arm, and her fingers were cool on sun-warmed skin. “You're afraid of the water, aren't you?”

“What makes you say that?” He gave her a look designed to prevent any further questions.

She smiled. “Well, it might be the way you gripped the seat when we were out with David and Sammy. Or the way you turned white when my daddy asked you to hop down on the boat. Don't you know how to swim?”

“Everyone knows how to swim.” He'd forced himself to learn in college, when he'd realized that ability was taken for granted by his classmates. “I've just never liked it, that's all. Let's go up to lunch.”

Her fingers tightened. “I'm sorry. This is a bad place to be if you're afraid of the water.”

“I'm not afraid,” he snapped. It was none of Chloe's business, anyway. What right did she have to push him? Maybe she'd be the one telling stories about this trip to amuse her friends—how the big corporate executive was afraid of a little water.

She shrugged. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. I just thought since you're here, maybe you'd like to try and get over it.”

He forced himself to look at her. He didn't see amusement in her eyes, just concern, maybe friendship. He grimaced. “Have you been taking psychology lessons in your spare time, Chloe?”

Her smile sparkled like sunlight on the waves. “No. But as long as we have to stay for a week…”

She let that sentence trail off, but the challenge in her gaze reminded him that he was pushing her to do something she didn't want to do. It dared him to do the same.

“All right.” He pushed away from the dock railing. “I guess you have a deal. Now can we go?”

She nodded demurely. “Of course.” She led the way off the dock.

He should feel better once he was back on solid ground, following Chloe toward the porch. He should, but he didn't. Oh, it wasn't the business of getting over his fear. He could suck it up and pretend, if he had to.

What bothered him was considerably more personal. It was the realization that he'd just shown Chloe a piece of himself. It was a piece he always kept hidden, along with anything else that might make him vulnerable. He wasn't sure how Chloe had come far enough into his inner life to see it. Or how he'd ever get her out again.

“A
re you ready?” Chloe stood knee-deep in the shallows of the sound, steadying the kayak with her hand. The afternoon sun was hot on her shoulders. Later in the summer the water would reach the temperature of a warm bath, but now it felt pleasantly cool. They'd spent the past two days ostensibly sight-seeing while Luke looked at possible hotel sites, but she'd finally gotten him to make good on his promise.

She watched Luke's face as he looked from her to the softly rocking two-person craft. He'd obviously clamped down hard on his feelings. This was the face he wore when he met a challenge in the business arena—impassive, determined, aggressive. If he felt any fear, he certainly didn't intend to show it to her.

“You're sure you know how to operate one of these things?” Luke raised straight black brows and prodded the kayak.

“Daniel and David had me out in one before I went to kindergarten.” She braced it with both hands. “Climb in and get the feel of it. We'll stay where we can stand up, I promise.”

And where no one would see them. She didn't say that out loud, but she knew it was in his thoughts. Luke would never want anyone to see him doing something he didn't do well. But she also knew that if he once started something, he wouldn't quit until he had mastered it.

He grasped the side of the kayak. “Okay, Chloe. I'm going to trust you. But if you dunk me, I'll take it out of your salary.” He climbed in gingerly, and she handed him a paddle.

“That might be worth it.” Before he could react, she pulled herself easily onto the seat behind him.

Freed from the restraint of her grasp, the small craft curtseyed in the gentle swell. Luke grabbed the side, and she pretended not to notice.

“I'll paddle first.” She dipped the paddle into the water, sending them forward. “When you feel comfortable, join in.”

She stroked evenly and watched the tension in his shoulders. For a few minutes he didn't move. Then, slowly, he began to relax. He released his grip on the side and turned his head to glance back at her paddle. She saw him in profile—mouth set, eyes alert, finding his way in unfamiliar territory.

“I pull on the same side as you?” He dipped his paddle into the water.

“That's right, just not too deep. Don't worry about the rhythm. I'll match my stroke to yours.”

The instant he started paddling, the kayak picked up speed. They skimmed across the water. His stroke, uncertain at first, settled into a rhythm, even though his hands grasped so hard that his knuckles were white.

“Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

“Just remember that you control the kayak. It responds to your movements. If you lean over too far, we'll both be in the drink.”

He turned toward her enough that she could see his lips twitch. “As you said, it might be worth it.”

She let him set the pace, her strokes compensating for his inexpert ones. Gradually his movements became smoother, and the grasp he had on the paddle eased. She could see the moment at which he began to enjoy it, and something that had been tight inside her eased.

She lifted her face to the breeze, pleasure flooding her. She'd told herself it was only fair that Luke do something he found difficult, given the situation he'd pushed her into. But she knew that wasn't the real reason she'd wanted to do this.

This was the world she loved. Maybe she didn't belong here any longer, in spite of what Gran said, but she did love it. Especially on a day like this, with sunlight sparkling on the water and the gentle murmur of waves kissing the shore. She watched droplets fall from the paddle, crystal in the light. She wanted Luke to love it, too.

No, not love it. That was too much to ask. But she didn't want to imagine him going back to Chicago and amusing his friends with stories of his stay here. She wanted him to appreciate her place and her people, no matter how alien they were to him.

She stopped paddling, reaching forward to touch his arm. His warm skin made her fingers tingle, and she tried to ignore the sensation. “Look.”

He rested the paddle on his knees and followed the direction she pointed. She heard his breath catch as the dolphins broke the surface of the water.

“They look a lot bigger from this angle.”

“We're at their level now.” She smiled, watching the flashes of silver as the dolphins wheeled through the waves. “Sometimes they'll come right up to the kayak, as if they want to play.”

“I think I'd just as soon watch them from a distance.” Luke glanced back at her. “I'm sure you'd rather play with them.”

“They're old friends.” As she said the words, she realized how much she'd missed this. “They come back to the sound every year. Maybe…” She stopped, not sure she wanted to say it. It sounded foolish.

“Maybe what?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes I think they're the descendants of Chloe's dolphins.”

He turned toward her, expression skeptical. “Isn't that a little fanciful?”

“I know it's not likely.” She hated sounding defensive. Why shouldn't she believe that if she wanted to? “But the same pod does come back year after year. They belong here just as much as we do.”

“Maybe you're right—”

His voice had softened, as if he realized it was important to her. As if he cared that it was important to her.

“But it looks as if they're done showing off for us today.”

She nodded, watching the silver arcs disappear toward open ocean. “They're probably heading farther out to feed. And I don't suppose you want to go out after them….”

“I'll have to get a lot better before I want to chase down dolphins in this thing.” Luke picked up his paddle. “But I'm willing to practice.”

“Okay.” She dipped into the water. “Let's head for the buoy. You'll be able to see that tract of land near the yacht club from there.”

He nodded, adjusting his movement to hers, and in a second they were paddling in unison. Luke's stroke picked up speed, sending the kayak flying across the water.

“Are we racing?” she asked, meeting his speed.

He turned his head again to smile at her, and this time the pure enjoyment in his face set her nerves vibrating.

“Too bad we don't have anyone to race.”

“Don't you mean anyone to beat?” she asked.

He shrugged. “That's the same thing, isn't it?”

Maybe to him, it was. His question resonated, disturbing her pleasure in the moment. Luke excelled in competition, and she'd gotten used to that over the past few years. It seemed natural back in their business world. Here his competitiveness struck a jarring note, reminding her of the differences between them.

“There's the yacht club—” She pointed. “Uncle Jeff owns the land that adjoins it.”

Luke shaded his eyes. “Is it up for sale?”

“I'd guess anything Uncle Jeff owns is up for sale, if the price is right.” She heard the censure in her words and regretted it. “Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Why?”

Luke sent a puzzled look over his shoulder, and she realized he hadn't even reacted to the family problem that weighed on her. This was business. And theirs was a business relationship, nothing more.

“Never mind. Let's take a break.” She shifted her weight, turning the craft toward shore. “We'd best put some more sunscreen on before we get burned.”

They rode the waves to shore, then dragged the kayak onto the sand. Chloe dropped to the beach towel she'd spread out and dug in her bag for the bottle of sunscreen. She tossed it to Luke.

“So, what did you think?” She nodded toward the kayak. “Think you could get to like kayaking?”

“Not bad.” Luke rubbed lotion vigorously on his neck and shoulders. “Not bad at all.” He held out the bottle to her. “Thanks, Chloe. I'm glad you pushed me into it, even if you were just trying to pay me back.”

She smoothed the lotion along her legs, watching the movement of her hand so she didn't have to look at him. “I can't imagine what you're talking about.”

He grinned. “Chloe Elizabeth, your grandmother would be ashamed of you, telling such a big fib.”

The tension she had been feeling slipped away in the warmth of his smile. She leaned back on her elbows, lifting her face to the sun, and closed her eyes. Couldn't she just enjoy the moment and forget about why they were here together?

“Tell me something, Chloe.”

She opened her eyes. “What?”

Frown lines laced between Luke's brows. “Your father and his brother—what's going on there?”

No, it looked as if she couldn't just enjoy the moment. It was her own fault for mentioning Uncle Jeff. She might try telling Luke another one of her fairy tales, but she didn't think he'd believe it. She could tell him it wasn't his business—but she was the one who'd brought him here. Or she could tell him the truth and let him make of it whatever he wanted.

“My father and Uncle Jefferson don't speak to each other unless it's absolutely necessary.” She hadn't realized how odd that sounded until she said it aloud to him. “I guess that seems strange to you.” She sent him a defiant look.

He leaned on his elbow, the movement bringing him close enough that she felt the energy radiating from his skin.

“I'd say it was strange, yes. How long has this been going on?”

“Since I can remember.” She swallowed, knowing that answer wasn't all of it. “Since they were teenagers.”

He whistled softly. “That's a long time to live in the same small community with your brother and not speak. What happened?”

“They quarreled,” she said shortly. She felt his gaze on her and knew she had to say the rest of it. “No one knows exactly why, but people guess over a girl. They seemed to go in opposite directions after that. My grandfather divided the family property between them. Daddy took the inn and Angel Isle. Uncle Jeff got the boatyard, the cannery and the real estate. He…well, my daddy would say he wheeled and dealed so much he forgot who he was. Forgot what it meant to live with honor.” She shrugged. “And Uncle Jeff thinks my daddy is old-fashioned, self-righteous…” She stopped. What was Luke thinking?

“Must be hard on your grandmother.”

He had hit on the sorest point. “Yes, it is. I wish I knew how to make it better, but I don't.” She hated that helplessness.

He put his hand over hers. “I guess your family isn't so perfect, after all.”

She sat up, yanking her hand away. “I never claimed it was.” Her resentment spurted. “I suppose yours is.”

“My family?” His mouth narrowed to a thin line. “No, Chloe, my family's not perfect, either. Not by a long shot.”

A barrier had suddenly appeared between them. She couldn't see it but she knew it was there. All the sunlight seemed to have gone from the day.

Secrets. She'd always known Luke had secrets to hide—always guessed it had something to do with his family.

But he wasn't going to tell her, that much was clear. The illusion of friendship between them was just that—an illusion.

 

This was getting to be a habit. Luke sat on the porch late that afternoon, frowning at the computer screen. Once again, Chloe's face intervened, hurt evident in her eyes.

He hadn't meant to cause her pain with his questions earlier about her father. He'd just been curious, trying to figure out what made the sprawling Caldwell clan tick. But he should have realized he was prodding at a tender spot.

He glanced out at the water, absently watching a white sailboat curve across to the mainland. He hadn't imagined it would cause Chloe pain to talk about it. He had no basis for comparison when it came to families, happy or otherwise.

All the more reason he shouldn't get further entangled with Chloe and her family. He should let them get on with their work, while he got on with his.

He looked around, exasperated. The Caldwells were doing a fine job of that. Daniel and David had taken a few guests out on a dolphin cruise. Miranda had whisked out of the kitchen a few minutes earlier, deposited a pitcher of iced lemonade and a plate of molasses cookies at his elbow and disappeared again.

As for Chloe…he had to smile. Chloe was busy setting up a Web site for the inn. Her parents' reluctance had been almost comical, but she'd finally gotten through to them. It looked as if Chloe had absorbed a bit about marketing from Dalton Resorts.

He was the only one not getting on with his work. He wanted—He wasn't sure what he wanted, and that was an odd feeling.

Erasing the pain he'd seen in Chloe's eyes might restore his balance. Then they could go back to their usual businesslike relationship, with no more delving beneath the surface to discover unexpected facets of each other. That would be far safer.

Two figures sauntered down the lane. The smaller one stooped to pick up a shell, then skimmed it out across the water. Sammy and Theo, obviously home from school. They turned, saw him, and seemed to hesitate, as if his presence disturbed their usual routine.