Praise for Marta Perry and her novels

“Opens with a great scene that doesn’t disappoint. The characters are delightful and endearing.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews on Hunter’s Bride

“Marta Perry knows how to write romance and A Mother’s Wish is another fine example of her talent.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

“In Marta Perry’s Unlikely Hero, emotionally charged characters and situations will leave readers entranced. The realistic portrayal of someone caught in abuse will resonate long after the last page is turned.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

“Marta Perry’s Hero Dad shows the power of God and family to overcome trials. Detailed characterization brings the story to life.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

Hunter’s Bride & A Mother’s Wish
Marta Perry

CONTENTS

HUNTER’S BRIDE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

A MOTHER’S WISH

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren.

Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

Hunter’s Bride

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.

—Jeremiah 29:11

This story is dedicated with much love

to my daughter Lorie, my son-in-law Axel,

and especially to my grandson, Bjoern Jacob.

And, as always, to Brian.

Chapter One

Chloe Caldwell was in trouble—deep, deep trouble. She tried to stand up straight against the intense, ice-blue stare of her boss, Luke Hunter. He wore the look some of his business rivals had compared to being pierced by a laser. She began to understand the feeling.

Southern women have skin like magnolia blossoms and spines like steel. Gran’s voice echoed in her mind. Have you lost yourself up north among them Yankees, Chloe Elizabeth?

Maybe she had. She took a strained breath and met Luke’s gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He arched his black eyebrows. “It’s a simple question, Chloe.” He held up a sheet of off-white note-paper covered with spidery handwriting. “Why does your grandmother think you and I are a couple?”

Possibly, if she closed her eyes, she’d open them to find this was all a dream—no, a nightmare. Oh, Gran, she thought despairingly, whatever possessed you to write to him? Luke must have picked up the mail when she’d been out of the office for a few minutes. If she’d seen it—But she hadn’t.

Luke was waiting for an answer, and no one had ever accused Luke Hunter of an abundance of patience. She had to say something.

“I can’t imagine.” Liar, the voice of her conscience whispered. “May I see the letter?”

She held out her hand, trying to find enough of that steel Gran insisted she had so that her fingers wouldn’t tremble and give her away. Luke held the paper just out of her reach for a moment, like a cat toying with a mouse, and then surrendered it. He leaned back against the polished oak desk that the Dalton Resorts considered appropriate for a rising executive. He should have looked relaxed. He didn’t.

She shot a hopeful glance toward the telephone. It rang all day long. Why not now? But the phone remained stubbornly silent. Beyond the desk, large windows looked out on a gray March day in Chicago, an even grayer Lake Michigan. No sudden tornado swept down to rip the sheet from her hand.

She forced her attention to Gran’s letter. She’d barely begun to decipher the old-fashioned handwriting, when Luke moved restlessly, drawing her gaze inevitably back to him.

She’d long ago realized that Luke Hunter was a study in contradictions. Night-black hair and eyebrows that were another slash of black contrasted with incredibly deep blue eyes. The strong bones of cheek and jaw reflected his fierce tenacity, but the impression was tempered by the unexpected widow’s peak on his forehead and the cleft in his chin.

It didn’t take one of Gran’s homegrown country philosophies to tell her what to think of Luke. A man with a face like that had secrets to hide. He wore the smooth, polished exterior that announced a rising young executive, but underneath was something darker, something that ran against the grain. She’d been his good right arm for nearly six years and had never seen more than a hint of it, but she knew it was there.

She took a breath. “I’m sorry that you received this.” The paper fluttered in her grasp. “I don’t know why Gran decided to send you an invitation to her eightieth birthday party next Sunday.”

“Oh, she says why.” Luke leaned forward, invading her space. “She thinks I’m your ‘beau.’” His tone put quotes around a word she’d never expected to hear from him. “Why does she think that?”

“My grandmother is an elderly lady.” She would try to convey the image of someone frail and confused, while sending a fervent mental apology to her peppery Gran. No one who knew Naomi Caldwell would dare to call her frail or confused.

“She sounds pretty coherent to me.” He plucked the letter back from her, and she had to fight to keep from snatching it. “If she thinks that, it must be because someone gave her that idea.”

Please, Lord.

She stopped the prayer before it could become any more self-serving than it already was. Obviously no heavenly intervention was going to excuse her from the results of her own folly.

“I’m afraid I must have.” She picked her way through the words carefully, as if she were back on the island, picking her way through the marsh grasses. “I think it happened when you gave me those symphony tickets. When I told her about it, she misunderstood. She assumed we went together.”

“And you didn’t correct her?”

She felt color warm her cheeks. “I thought…” Well, that sentence was going nowhere. Try again. “My grandmother worries about me. You have to realize she’s never been farther from home than Savannah. Chicago is another world to her. Once she thought I was dating someone safe, she stopped worrying so much.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Am I safe, Chloe?”

She’d stepped in a bog without seeing it. “I mean, someone she’d heard of. Naturally, I’ve often spoken of my boss.” Probably more than she should have. “I didn’t tell her any lies. I just…didn’t clear things up.” It was time to get out of this situation with what remaining dignity she had. “I’m sorry you were bothered with this. Naturally, I’ll tell her you won’t be coming to Caldwell Cove.”

Luke looked again at the letter, with some sharpening of attention she didn’t understand.

“That’s in South Carolina, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s on Caldwell Island, just off the coast.”

“Caldwell Cove, Caldwell Island. Sounds as if you belong there, Chloe.”

The faint trace of mockery in his voice made her stiffen. “I belong here now.”

“Still, to have a whole island named after you must mean something.”

“It only means that my ancestors were the first settlers. They gave their name to the village and to the island. It doesn’t mean every descendant stays put.” She hadn’t.

She held out her hand, hoping he’d give her that embarrassing missive so she could destroy it. “Again, I’m sorry.”

But he turned away, dropping the letter onto his desk. He glanced back at her, amusement in his eyes. “I’m not. It’s been an interesting break in the routine.”

“Speaking of which—” She looked at her watch. “You have a meeting with Mr. Dalton at eleven.”

“No.” The amusement disappeared from his face. “He was in early and he talked with me then.”

It went without saying that Luke had been in early. She sometimes wondered when he slept. “I see. Are there any meeting notes I should take care of?”

“None.” His voice contained an edge. “Just get me the Branson file, that’s all.”

He moved effortlessly back to Dalton Resorts business, obviously dismissing her and her small problems from his mind. She could escape. She’d reached the door when his voice stopped her.

“Chloe.”

“Yes?” She turned back reluctantly.

“Too bad I won’t be seeing Caldwell Cove. It might have been fun at that.”

Fun? She tried to imagine Luke Hunter, urban to the soles of his handmade Italian shoes, in Caldwell Cove. No, she didn’t think that would have been fun for anyone, least of all her. She gave him a meaningless smile and scurried out the door.

Once safely behind her desk, she took a deep breath, trying to quell the flood of embarrassment. It’s your own fault, the voice of her conscience said sternly, sounding remarkably like her grandmother. You set this in motion with your fairy tales.

Fairy tales, that’s all they’d been—innocent fairy tales. Letting Gran believe she and Luke Hunter were a couple had let her believe it, too, for a time. She shied away from that thought.

She should have realized that sooner or later this would backfire. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to erase the pounding that had begun there. She’d known he’d never give up until he had the whole story. That tenacity of Luke’s had played a major role in his success at Dalton Resorts.

She’d seen that quality when she first met him, when she came to Chicago six years ago. His office had been the size of a broom closet then, and she’d been the greenest member of the secretarial pool, homesick for the island and trying to find her way through the maze of corporate politics.

She’d learned fast, though probably not as fast as he had. She’d discovered that she had to get rid of her soft Southern drawl if she didn’t want to be made fun of. She’d found that there were as many alligators in the corporate structure as she’d ever seen in the lagoons on the island. And she’d realized that if you wanted to survive, you attached yourself to a rising star.

That star had been Luke Hunter, with his newly minted MBA and his fierce, aggressive intelligence. They’d come up together, working long hours, until they’d become a team, almost able to read each other’s thoughts. She’d identified herself with his interests, and she’d never regretted that move. Until, possibly, today, when her two worlds had collided.

She looked at the framed family photo on her desk, and warmth slipped through her. The Caldwell kin, everyone from Gran to little Sammy, aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins, even second cousins twice removed, had gathered on the dock for that picture. It was a wonder the weathered wooden structure hadn’t collapsed. She could still smell the salt tang in the air, feel the hot sun on her shoulders and the warm boards beneath her bare feet, hear the soft Southern voices teasing.

She’d told Luke she belonged here now, but she wasn’t sure that was true. She’d made friends, found a church home, learned her way around, but she’d never developed that sophisticated urban manner her friends wore so easily. Maybe the truth was, she was trapped between her two worlds, and she wasn’t sure which one claimed her.

But Luke Hunter didn’t need to know that. Any more than he needed to know the real reason she’d let Gran believe she was dating him. Not for Gran’s sake, but for her own.

You’ve got a crush on that corporate shark. She could still hear the incredulity in her friend Marsha’s voice when she’d let her secret slip. Girl, are you crazy? That man could eat you alive.

Chloe hadn’t been able to explain, but she hadn’t been able to deny it, either. Marsha hadn’t seen the side of the man that Luke sometimes showed her.

Chloe traced the family photo with one finger. When the call had come two years earlier about her father’s accident, it had been Luke who’d taken control in that nightmare moment. She’d been almost too stunned to function at the thought of her strong, vibrant father, the rock they all depended upon, lying still and white in a hospital bed.

Luke had arranged her flight home, he’d driven her to the airport, then he’d stayed with her until the Flight was called. He’d even watered the plants on her desk while she was gone. He’d never questioned her need to stay on the island until Daddy was on his feet again.

No, Marsha didn’t understand that. All the same, she’d been right. Chloe Caldwell did indeed have one giant-size crush on her boss.

Luke spun his chair around to stare out at the city. His city. Having a window big enough to look at it meant he was on the verge of success.

Or failure. The brief skirmish with Chloe had diverted his attention from the problem at hand, but now that situation drove back at him like a semi barreling down the interstate. Chloe had innocently mentioned the meeting with Dalton. She couldn’t have known just what kind of bomb Leonard Dalton had set ticking this morning.

A vice-presidency was in the offing, and the CEO had laid it out very clearly. Luke could prove he was ready by finding the ideal location for the next Dalton Resort and negotiating a favorable deal. If not—

Luke’s hand formed a fist. Opportunity didn’t knock all that often. He intended to answer the first time. He’d come too far, and he wasn’t going to be denied the reward for all his effort.

His mind took a reluctant sidelong glance at just how far he’d come. He didn’t let himself look often, because that was looking into a black hole of poverty, ugliness, rejection—a hole that might suck you back in if you looked too long.

He forced the image away by sheer willpower. No one in his current life knew about his past, and no one would. He’d be the next vice-president, because he wouldn’t accept anything else. And Chloe, quite without meaning to, might have given him the key.

Amusement filtered through him. That must have been the first time he’d seen Chloe Caldwell—quiet, composed, efficient Chloe—embarrassed by something.

Well, however embarrassing Chloe had found the exposure of her little fib, he’d have to thank her for it, because the mention of Caldwell Island, South Carolina, had rung a bell in his memory. He spun back to the computer and flicked through the past several years of site survey reports.

There it was. The area surrounding Caldwell Island had appeared on a list of possible sites for a new Dalton Resort three years ago. Dalton hadn’t established a new resort at that time, and this report had quietly vanished. He might be the only one in the company who remembered Caldwell Island.

He skimmed through the report quickly, his excitement mounting. Something—the little vibration he’d learned to trust—told him this was worth pursuing.

He leaned back, smiling. One of the hardest things about looking over a possible site was keeping the locals from learning what you were doing and thus sending prices soaring. Chloe, with her sweet little deception and the frail old grandmother she wouldn’t want to disappoint, had just given him the perfect way to check out Caldwell Island for himself.

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—”

“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.

Chapter Three

Luke 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.

“I think he’s having a good time.” She couldn’t actually bring herself to say she was glad Gran had gotten her into this fix. In fact, the truth pressed against her lips, wanting to burst out. If she told Gran all of it, Gran would understand, wouldn’t she? Or would she look at Chloe with disbelief that her granddaughter had behaved this way?

Gran held Chloe’s hand, her gaze fixed on Luke, too. “Maybe one of my grandchildren will finally find a lasting love. I’d started thinking the dolphin ruined that for all of you.”

Chloe blinked. “What are you talking about?”

A faint flush mounted Gran’s cheeks. “’Spose you’ll think it nonsense.”

“You know I’d never think that. But what do you mean? What dolphin?”

“Chloe’s dolphin, child. What else?” Gran’s eyes brightened with tears. “That dolphin carving disappeared from the church, and no Caldwell has been married under it since. It’s not right.”

“Gran, you’re not superstitious, are you?” She’d known Gran mourned the loss of the dolphin that was part of the family heritage, but hadn’t imagined it meant more than that to her. “You don’t really believe that old story!”

Gran looked at her sternly. “Chloe Elizabeth, there are more true things in stories than you can explain. I’m not saying folks can’t have happy marriages even though the dolphin’s not there anymore. Look at your daddy and momma—they’re as much in love as ever. But it seems to me God’s plan got messed up when that dolphin disappeared, and we need to see him back where he belongs.”

Gran had always had a strong streak of the romantic in her, but Chloe hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry about it, Gran. We’ll all find the right someone to love, eventually.” It was the most comforting thing she could think of, though none of the grandchildren had managed a happy ending yet.

“It’s not just that.” The lines in Gran’s face deepened as she looked from Chloe’s father, on one side of the room, to his brother, as far away as he could get and still be in the same room.

The breach between her daddy and Uncle Jefferson had existed long before Chloe was born, an established fact all her life. Everybody on the island knew that Uncle Jeff called Daddy a straitlaced prig and a failure, and that Daddy felt his brother’s ambition had killed off his honor. They kept up a semblance of civility for Gran’s sake, but their feud obviously still hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Not much we can do about them, I’m afraid. But as for you young ones—seems to me you’ve found someone to love, dolphin or no, haven’t you.”

“I don’t know. It’s not…not really serious between us—not yet, anyway.”

Gran’s wise old eyes studied Chloe. “Don’t think you can fool me, Chloe Elizabeth.”

Her heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can see how well the two of you fit together. You care about him, don’t you?”

She couldn’t lie about it with Gran looking at her. “Maybe so. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be a lifetime love or anything.”

Gran patted her hand. “You just keep in mind that verse I gave you on the day you were baptized. God has plans for you, plans to give you hope and a future. You trust in that, you hear?”

She blinked back tears, thinking of the needlepoint sampler Gran had made—the one that went everywhere with her. “I’ll try.”

“Besides, now that Luke’s here, maybe we can help things along.”

Panic ripped through her. “Don’t you dare do any matchmaking. If things are meant to happen between us, they will.”

“No harm in helping it along. I want to see another Caldwell bride before I’m too old to enjoy it.”

“Gran—”

“Are you ladies having a private conversation, or can anyone join in?”

Chloe’s breath caught at the sound of Luke’s voice. She’d been so intent that she hadn’t noticed him cross the room to them. She looked up, trying to smile, hoping Gran hadn’t heard that betraying little gasp. Hoping even more that Luke hadn’t heard it. There were no two ways about it—the sooner they got back to Chicago and their normal lives, the better for everyone.

“Always glad to have a good-looking man to talk to.” Gran fluttered her eyelashes at him outrageously. “Especially one that I haven’t known since he was in diapers.”

“Gran,” Chloe murmured. Just a few more hours, and we’ll be on a plane. I’ll forget this weekend ever happened.

Luke’s baritone chuckle was like a feather, tickling her skin. “If you want someone to flirt with, Mrs. Caldwell, I’m your man.”

“Thought I told you to call me ‘Gran’. Everyone else does. How are you liking Caldwell Cove, now that you’ve been here a spell?”

“Beautiful,” he said promptly. “Now I know why Chloe is always talking about this place.” He put his arm around Chloe’s waist, and she tried not to pull away. “It’s the most peaceful spot I’ve seen in years.”

“Well, then, you ought to stay a bit longer.” Naturally Gran would pounce on that. “Spring’s a perfect time for a vacation. Why don’t you two stay on?”

Chloe waited confidently for Luke’s excuses—they had to get back to the office, he had other plans, anything. They didn’t come.

“You know, that might not be such a bad idea.” He squeezed Chloe. “What do you think, Chloe? How about if we take a few vacation days and stay for a while?”

If the rag rug at her feet had jumped up and bitten her, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “Are you…?” Crazy was what she wanted to say, but she bit back the word. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through. We have work waiting for us at the office.” She flashed him a look that should have singed, but he just smiled.

“Work will always wait.” He turned to her grandmother. “Don’t you agree, Gran?”

Before Gran could answer, Chloe took a step away, her fingers biting into his arm. “Let’s go out on the porch, dear.” She added the endearment through clenched teeth. “I need to talk with you.”

Fuming, she tugged him through the crowd, emerging at last onto the porch and a quiet corner. She swung to face him, anger overcoming the deference she usually felt toward him. “What on earth was that all about? Why did you let my grandmother think we might stay longer?”

“Because we’re going to.” His smile was the one he wore when he crossed swords with a business opponent. “You should know I wouldn’t kid about something like that.”

The porch floor rocked under her feet like the Spyhop in a storm. “I don’t understand. We’re leaving in a little over an hour. We have tickets for tonight.”

“We can change those easily enough.”

“Probably, but why should we?” Her head began to throb. “This charade was meant to last a brief weekend, remember?”

“Relax, Chloe.” He leaned against the porch railing, but his face was anything but relaxed. “I’m talking business, not romance.”

From the house she could hear the cheerful buzz of voices, of people having a good time and forgetting everything else in their celebration. But here, the sagging old porch had taken on the air of a corporate office.

“What do you mean? What business?”

His gaze seemed to grasp her. “Hotel business. I’m looking into siting the next Dalton Resort hotel here, on or near Caldwell Island.”

“Here?” She could only gape at him. “I don’t understand.” Then she did, and it hit her like a blow. “That’s why you wanted to come here with me, isn’t it. You wanted to check it out.”

You didn’t come to help me. Disappointment filled her heart. She’d thought he had done this out of misguided kindness, out of that urge he had to direct everything, because he cared about her. He hadn’t. He’d done it to advance his career.

He shrugged. “You needed to be bailed out with your family. I needed a good excuse for being here, so I could see if the area was suitable. It is. Now we have to stay until I can decide on a specific site and put the acquisition in motion.” His gaze sharpened. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be jumping with joy at the idea of bringing a little prosperity to the old hometown.”

“It means change,” she said slowly, trying to sort out her feelings.

“Of course, it means change. Jobs, for one thing. You’re not going to tell me this area couldn’t use a nice fat payroll.”

“I suppose it could.” No more lean times when the fish didn’t run. No need for young people to leave home to make a living. He was right, she should be happy.

In the room behind them, someone, probably her father, had begun playing the fiddle. “Lorena,” one of her grandmother’s favorites. The haunting air stirred misty echoes of a past that wasn’t forgotten here. It was an odd counterpoint to the discussion they were having. “I’d like to tell my father about this.”

“Absolutely not.” His voice snapped, and her gaze jerked up to his.

He glanced beyond her, toward the door, then clasped her arm and drew her to the end of the porch. He stopped there, his back to the house, his arm around her. Anyone looking out would think they were seeing a romantic tryst.

“Sorry.” His voice lowered. “It’s not that I don’t trust your family, but you know what it will be like if word gets out as to why I’m here. Every landowner in three counties will be trying to con me into paying top dollar for a piece of worthless swamp. We can’t risk it.”

His arm was warm and strong around her waist. That warmth crept through her, weakening her will to resist. We, he’d said. They were a team, like always. “But…you can’t mean to continue this charade even longer.” She hoped she didn’t sound as horrified as she felt.

“Why not?” He hugged her a little closer, and his breath touched her cheek. “We’ve been doing a good job so far. There’s no reason for anyone to guess we’re not involved.”

“I don’t want to tell any more lies to my family.” She tried to pull free, but he held her firmly.

“You don’t have to lie. We just let things go on the way they are.” His voice was low, persuasive. “Think about how happy they’re going to be with the results, if everything goes the way I think it will. Good times come to Caldwell Island, everyone’s happy, we go back to Chicago. In a month or so, you can tell your family we decided to date other people. It’s going to be fine.”

No, it wasn’t going to be fine, not at all. If she did this, she’d have to spend another week, maybe longer, pretending to be in love with Luke. At this precise moment, with the revelation of his motives still stinging, she didn’t even like him very much. But she was getting entirely too used to the feel of his arm around her.

No matter how this worked out, one thing was crystal clear. Chloe Caldwell was in deeper trouble than she’d ever imagined.

Chapter Four

Luke shifted his weight restlessly, waiting for Chloe’s response. He could feel her tension against his arm. It was as if everything in her resisted him. He wanted her cooperation—needed it, in fact. Didn’t she understand that?

It was probably the first time he’d seen his competent assistant show anger toward him, and it startled and fascinated him. He’d always found Chloe a bit too controlled. Apparently when it came to her family, she could be passionate.

He bit back the urge to demand. He wasn’t at corporate headquarters now. This was Chloe’s turf, not his, and she was a different person here.

“Well, Chloe?” He tried to keep his voice gentle, as if he really wanted her input on the decision. It was tough to do, when the vice-presidency shimmered as close as the blossom from a trailing vine that brushed Chloe’s hair and perfumed the air.

“I wish there were some other way of doing this.” Her face tilted toward his, troubled.

He tamped down annoyance. “There isn’t. And this is your future, too. Wouldn’t you like to be secretary to a vice-president? You’ll move along with me. I can’t do without my right arm.”

It was an argument that would have swayed him, but it didn’t seem to have much effect on Chloe. If anything, the resistance strengthened in her.

“I don’t like the idea of fooling my family.”

He bit back the reminder that she was the one who’d started it. “This isn’t going to hurt them.”

“How can you say that? How would you feel if it were your family?”

Her question hit him right between the eyes. My family, Chloe? What family? The father I never knew or the mother who walked away when I was six? Or maybe you mean the string of foster families who didn’t want to keep me.

He took a breath, locking those questions behind the closed door in his mind. He didn’t let them out because they made him think too much of where he’d been instead of where he was going. He wouldn’t let Chloe and her old-fashioned family make him start remembering.

“If it were my family,” he said evenly, “I’d think about how much they’d benefit in the long run. They will, you know. There’ll be more business for all of them once a resort hotel comes in. You know that as well as I do.”

She nodded slowly, her face still troubled. “I suppose I—”

“Hey, cousin.”

Chloe turned, her face lighting with pleasure. She pulled away from him to hug the man who approached, abandoning their conversation in an instant. “Matt. I haven’t had a chance to talk with you yet. How are you?”

Luke leaned back against the porch rail, searching for patience, as Chloe and her cousin caught up with each other. This one was Matthew Caldwell—Chloe’s grandmother had introduced them earlier.

Chloe turned back to him, her arm still around Matt’s waist. There was no stiffness in her as she leaned against her cousin. Apparently her guardedness was only for Luke.

“I’m sorry, Luke, I’m forgetting my manners—” The turn of phrase was an echo of her family’s speech. Chloe’s cultivated urban tones were dropping away, and she probably didn’t even realize it.

“You’ve met my cousin, Matt Caldwell, haven’t you?”

Luke nodded. Matt had the strength and height that marked all the Caldwell men, but his dark eyes looked as if they’d seen too much, and there was a somber cut to his mouth when he wasn’t actively smiling at Chloe.

“We already talked about Matt’s reports from the Middle East. A tough spot to be in right now.”

Matt nodded. “And Gran’s told me all about your new beau, Chloe Elizabeth.”

Most of it imaginary, unfortunately. The thought startled him. Unfortunate that he wasn’t Chloe’s beau? No, of course it wasn’t. Chloe was the last woman in the world he’d become involved with, for more reasons than he could count.

“So how long are you staying home this time?” Chloe’s tone was teasing. “Long enough to satisfy Gran?”

Matt shook his head. “I have to head back right away. And you should know nothing short of settling down in Caldwell Cove for life would satisfy Gran.”

“Good idea. Maybe if you were here, Gran would stop teasing me to come back. You could become the publisher of the Caldwell Cove Gazette.”

“You know, some day I might just do that. But not today.” Matt tugged gently at a lock of Chloe’s hair. “How soon are the two of you leaving?”

Luke caught a sudden, almost anguished look from Chloe. Then she smiled, and he thought he must have imagined it.

“We’re going to hang around for a while,” she said as easily as if they hadn’t just been arguing about it. “Luke’s decided to take some vacation time.”

“That’ll make the family happy. Well, I’d better get back to the second cousins. I haven’t given Phoebe a chance to interrogate me yet.” Matt held out his hand to Luke, hugged Chloe again and turned away.

The screen door banged behind Matt, and Chloe turned to Luke, straightening as if she faced something unpleasant.

“I guess that means we’re staying.” He watched her, wondering what she was really thinking.

“I guess it does.” She shrugged. “I don’t seem to have much choice, do I.”

“You always have a choice, Chloe. I think you’ve made the right one.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. His fingers touched her cheek, and the warmth and softness of her skin seemed to radiate up his arm.

He had a choice, too. If he were smart, he’d choose not to touch her again, not to take too much pleasure out of playing the role of her boyfriend. He suddenly realized the smart choice might be a difficult one to make where Chloe was concerned, and that surprised and disturbed him.

“Chloe, love, don’t forget to water these in.” Chloe’s mother put a flat of marigolds into the trunk of the car the next morning.

“I’ll take care of it.” Chloe hovered, impatiently holding the trunk lid, ready to snap it down. She wanted to get moving before Luke came out and volunteered to go with her.

But Sallie Caldwell lingered, her strong, capable hands brushing the flowers and releasing their spicy aroma. “Have you talked to Theo since you’ve been home?”

The question caught Chloe off guard. “Well, of course I’ve talked…” She frowned. Theo had been elusive yesterday. “I guess not much. Why? Is something wrong?”

Her mother looked up, and the sunlight gilded her cheeks and brought out the warmth and welcome in her golden-brown eyes. Chloe felt a fervent hope that she’d be as lovely when she reached that age. Her mother never seemed to age, even after five children.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Theo’s always been such an open child. All of a sudden he seems to be keeping secrets. Something’s troubling the boy, and I don’t know what.”

“Adolescence, maybe.” She remembered how she’d been at sixteen—full of dreams and impatient to get on with grown-up life.

“Maybe it is just that. But he might confide in you. Will you see what you can find out?”

“I’ll try.”

Her mother’s smile broke through. “Well, I know you’ll give him good advice, whatever it is.” She touched Chloe’s cheek lightly. “It’s good to have you home.”

Her mother was talking to her like another adult, instead of a daughter. It felt odd but gratifying.

“I’ll try to catch him alone and see what’s up.” She shifted her hand on the trunk lid. “I probably ought to get going. Gran will be waiting.”

Nodding, her mother stepped away, and Chloe closed the trunk. She jingled the keys in her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

“Where are you going?”

Chloe jumped at Luke’s voice, the keys slipping through her fingers. He made a lunge and caught them, tossing them lightly in the air and catching them again. He lifted his eyebrows as if to repeat the question.

She’d thought he was safely lingering over his coffee and one of her mother’s famous sticky buns. Looked as if she’d been wrong. “I’m taking my grandmother to the cemetery.” She hoped her tone was final enough that he’d get the message. She didn’t want company.

He opened the car door, smiling. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“I really don’t need any help.” She could feel her mother’s gaze on her as she reached for the keys. “I thought you had some work you wanted to do.”

His fingers closed around the keys. “Nothing that’s more important than this.” He gestured to the car as if inviting her into a coach. “I’d love to see your grandmother again.”

“Well, of course Luke wants to go with you.” Her mother beamed at the man she no doubt envisioned as a future son-in-law.

She was outmaneuvered, and she could hardly make a fuss in front of her mother. “Fine.” She got into the car, trying not to flounce. “I’m ready.”

Luke closed her door, said goodbye to her mother and slid behind the wheel. She inhaled the scent of his aftershave as he leaned forward to put the key in the ignition, and she clasped her hands in her lap. This was going to be a long morning, after a longer night.

She’d tossed and turned for most of it, trying not to wake Miranda, who’d slept serenely in the other twin bed in the room they’d shared most of their lives. She hadn’t been able to erase the memory of those moments on the porch. She’d continued to feel Luke’s strong shoulder as he pulled her against him, continued to hear his voice as he called her his “right arm.”

Right arm. Not what a woman wanted to hear, but it was an accurate description of how he felt about her—and she’d better remember it.

“Directions?” Luke stopped at Caldwell Cove’s single traffic light and looked at enquiringly.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks grow warm and was glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Just go straight along the water. See the church steeple? Gran’s house is next to the church.”

“Tell me something, Chloe.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you want me to come with you this morning?”

So much for her belief that he couldn’t read her thoughts. She seemed to be transparent where Luke was concerned. “I just…it’s hard to keep up this charade with Gran. I’ve never kept secrets from her.”

“Never?”

She glanced at him, sure he was mocking her, but found only curiosity in his eyes. “Well, hardly ever. A lot of times it’s easier to talk to a grandparent than a parent about things. You know how it is.”

“No.” He bit off the word, then shrugged. “I don’t remember my grandparents.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine life without Gran. She’s a strong woman. One of a long line.” She seemed to see all those Caldwell women, looking disapprovingly at the current bearer of the name. Maybe, if she’d been able to be alone with Gran today, she could have told her the truth.

“This house?”

When she nodded, Luke pulled to a stop by the gate in the white picket fence. She got out quickly before he could come around to open the door, then joined him on the walk. “Gran has a green thumb, as you can see.” She pushed the gate open, and they walked up a brick path between the lush growth of rosebushes. “Hers is one of the oldest houses on the island.”

The white-frame cottage was like Gran—strong, functional, enduring. Before they reached the black door, Gran opened it, seeming to accept Luke’s presence as routine. She handed him a galvanized bucket filled with seedlings.

“Mind you put that someplace shady. I don’t want those petunias wilting before we get them in the ground.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke smiled and held out his arm, as if he spent every day escorting an elderly woman wearing a chintz dress and a battered man’s straw hat. “We’ll take good care of them. And of you.”

Chloe fell in behind as they started down the walk, foreboding growing. Luke being charming was something to behold, and her grandmother, flirting outrageously from under the brim of the straw hat, was even worse.

Please, Lord, just let me get through this morning. The verse Gran had given her popped into her mind and wouldn’t be dislodged. If God did have plans for her future, she suspected those plans didn’t include Luke Hunter.

“And that’s Chloe’s great-great-great-aunt Isabelle.” Gran pointed to the worn headstone. “She kept her family fed and safe right through the war, and that was no small thing.”

Chloe wondered if Luke realized Gran was talking about the War between the States, and then she decided it didn’t matter. He was being polite and acting interested in Gran’s litany of family graves, and that was the important thing.

“Your family’s been here a long time.” There was a note in Luke’s voice that she didn’t recognize, and she wondered what it meant.

“Back to the first settlers,” Gran said with satisfaction. “Caldwells belong here.”

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.

Chapter Five

“Are 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.

The yellow pup raced around the house, throwing himself at Sammy in an exuberant greeting. The boy dropped his knapsack and tussled with the puppy, then boy and dog raced toward him, with Theo following at a more sedate pace.

“Hey.” Sammy’s gaze fell on the plate of cookies. “Molasses. Bet my momma made those. She always makes them for guests.” He was obviously too polite to ask for one, but his eyes spoke for him.

“You’re right about that.” Luke slid the plate toward the boy. “I’m plenty full, but I don’t want to hurt your mother’s feelings by not eating these. You could do me a favor by taking some.”

Sammy nodded solemnly. “I guess that would be okay.” He took a handful of cookies, then smiled. “Thank you, sir.” Clutching the cookies, he whistled to the dog and then charged inside, the wooden screen door banging behind him.

Theo mounted the porch steps and leaned against the rail. “Sammy always acts like he hasn’t had a cookie in a week, but I happen to know Miranda put three in his lunch bag.”

Luke tried to picture a childhood in this place, where someone put homemade cookies in your lunch bag and you came home to the same welcome every day. He was watching it, but he couldn’t quite believe in it. People didn’t live like this anymore, did they?

Apparently the Caldwells did.

He expected Theo to hurry off, as Sammy had, but instead he lingered. Something self-conscious in the boy’s manner made Luke look more closely at Chloe’s little brother.

Theo had the height of his brothers, but his weight hadn’t caught up yet. He had the sun-bleached hair, too, falling on his forehead, and his father’s hazel eyes. But where the older man’s gaze was confident and unhurried, Theo had the eyes of a dreamer. A certain vulnerable something about his mouth reminded Luke of Chloe.

The silence stretched uncomfortably long between them. “So, how’s school?” A stupid thing to say, probably, but he didn’t seem to have any common ground with the boy.

Theo shrugged. “Okay, I guess, sir. Pretty boring, most of the time.”

“I remember that.” He’d usually found ways of livening things up that probably would never occur to Theo, and Chloe certainly wouldn’t thank him for bringing them up. “What do you do after school? Any sports?”

“Not this time of year.” The boy shifted uneasily against the railing. “Actually, I was thinking about getting an after-school job.”

Luke was faintly surprised at that. “I thought they kept you pretty busy around here.” Certainly the rest of the Caldwells seemed occupied with the family business.

“Guess they do.” A flush touched the boy’s high cheekbones. “A person wants to do something without his family once in a while. Didn’t you?”

He hadn’t had a choice in the matter. “I guess so. What’s this ‘something’ you have in mind?”

Theo looked at his scuffed sneakers. “There’s a job down at the yacht club. They’re pretty busy just now with lots of colleges having spring break. I could work there.”

Luke pictured the glistening white boats he’d seen moored at the yacht club, imagining the kind of people who owned them. “Sounds like a smart idea to me. That’s the kind of place where you meet people who count.”

“People who count for what?” Chloe asked.

He hadn’t heard Chloe come out, but she stood a couple of feet from him. She was close enough that he could feel the anger, close enough to see the sparks. Obviously he’d made a tactical error.

“Theo and I were just talking.” He heard the apologetic note in his own voice and wondered where it had come from. He didn’t owe Chloe an apology for taking an interest in her kid brother, did he?

Theo slid away from the rail. “Guess I’d best see if Miranda needs any help.” He vanished into the inn, leaving Luke to face the accusation in Chloe’s eyes.

“You were encouraging him to take a job at the yacht club.” She shot the words at him.

He closed the laptop and leaned back in the rocker, meeting her gaze with his own challenge. “I’m not sure encouraging is the right word. We were talking about it. Don’t you want me to talk to your brother, Chloe?”

“You implied that the yacht club people were important for him to know.”

He stood, setting the chair rocking behind him, and put the laptop on the table. It looked incongruous next to the lemonade and molasses cookies, reminding him that he didn’t belong here.

“I told him what I thought.” He frowned at her. “Unless being back here has softened your brain, you know how important it is to know the right people.”

She flushed, the color painting cheeks that were already glowing with sunlight. “That’s what it’s like in the outside world.”

“What if Theo wants to live in the ‘outside world’? You did. Are you saying he can’t make the choices you made?”

She took a step toward him, her hands curling into fists.

“Theo is too young to make choices like that. And you certainly don’t have the right to advise him.”

“He came to me, Chloe. And you brought me here.”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten that?” She glanced toward the inn, then lowered her voice. “This deception was your idea, not mine. You decided on it for business reasons, not because you wanted to do me a favor.”

“Maybe that’s true.” He wasn’t going to let her get away with shifting all the responsibility onto him. “But you’re the one who created the situation in the first place, remember?”

“I know.” She stood very straight, fists clenched. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all right for you to interfere with my family. I don’t want you giving Theo advice. I don’t want his values to be—”

“Contaminated by mine?” Whatever fascination he’d felt in seeing Chloe stand up to him disappeared in a wave of anger. “There’s nothing wrong with my values. They’re realistic in the world out there—” He jerked his head toward the mainland.

“Caldwell Cove is different.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Chloe. This place may seem like Shangri-La, but sooner or later it will get dragged into the twenty-first century. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do with your Web site? Your brother might need the kind of values that lead to success.”

“I don’t want Theo influenced by you.” Chloe threw the words at him. “If you can’t accept that, then maybe you’d better leave right now.”

Chapter Six

Horror at what she’d just said flooded Chloe. Was being back on the island causing her to take leave of her senses? She couldn’t talk to her boss that way.

Apparently Luke felt the same. His face tightened, and his ice-blue eyes chilled her to the bone. “Is that really what you want, Chloe?” His voice was deceptively soft, but she’d heard that deadly calm before, directed at other people. Her job hung in the balance.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But it was true. The thought came out of nowhere. She tried to reject it but she couldn’t. She didn’t want Theo absorbing the values that seemed so natural to Luke.

Please, Lord. The prayer also seemed to come from nowhere. I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what I want, and I certainly don’t know what’s best.

“You have a right to say what you believe.” He shifted his weight so that he stood an inch closer to her. He was close enough that she could feel the iron control he held over his anger. “Is that what you believe, Chloe?”

“I don’t…” She stopped, took a breath, started again. “I can’t mix business and family together. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I like working in Chicago. Having you here, letting my people believe we’re involved—it’s just too hard.”

She expected a withering response. Instead she felt his ire seeping away as he considered what she’d said.

“All right.” He nodded, still frowning. “I guess I can understand your feelings. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

He actually seemed to be trying to understand. Maybe he’d been as surprised by their quarrel as she had. She could breathe again.

“If we told my parents the truth…”

“No.”

His sharp response told her that, at least, hadn’t changed. He tried to manage a smile, but it didn’t have much humor in it.

“That’s the one thing we can’t do. I have too much of my time and reputation invested in this location now. If I don’t come up with a proposal, I can kiss the vice-presidency goodbye.”

The way his face hardened on the last words told her he wouldn’t do that. It meant too much to him—maybe more than anything else in his life, certainly more than her old-fashioned values.

“All right.”

She took a deep breath, trying to find an alternative they both could live with. She’d like to feel that the two of them were on the same team. She’d always felt that—until now.

“I guess I can understand that. But I’m not going to lie to anyone. And I don’t want you to give Theo any more advice.” Her mother’s worries about the boy flitted through her mind. She’d said she would help, but this certainly wasn’t what she’d intended.

“Agreed.” He clasped her hand as if they’d just sealed a deal, and his fingers were strong around hers. Their warmth swept inexorably up her arm, headed straight for her heart.

She stepped back, breaking the connection. “All right, then.” She reached behind her for the door, needing to escape. “We’ll leave it at that.”

“Just one thing—”

Luke’s voice stopped her. She turned reluctantly to look at him.

“Maybe you ought to give a little thought to what you’re saying to your brother, Chloe.”

She looked at him blankly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t want him taking on my values. But your life is an example more potent than whatever I might say to him. Isn’t it?”

Chloe tried to find an answer to that question throughout another mostly sleepless night. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so torn—between Luke and her family, between the past and the future. She’d made a promise to Luke, and she’d always been taught that a promise had to be honored. Taught by her daddy, to whom honor was everything.

The future, that was what worried her the most. She turned over, trying to keep the bed from creaking in protest, and stared at the ceiling. Would Daddy say that if he knew what promise she was keeping? Moonlight filtered through the curtains, sending designs across the ceiling as the branches of the live oak swayed. When she was a child, she’d imagined whole stories taking place in those moving shadows—filled with castles and dragons and knights on horseback.

Miranda’s even breathing from the other bed was oddly soothing. Miranda had made her choices, and as difficult as they’d been, she never seemed to doubt the road she was on. Chloe envied that certainty.

Where was this adventure going to end? She couldn’t picture it, couldn’t believe that things could ever go back the way they’d been between her and Luke, between her and her family.

Maybe that was bound to happen sometime. She could hardly expect to find happiness while working for Luke—not when that meant holding her feelings secret in her heart. As for her family—her relationship with them had changed, and she hadn’t even realized it. She’d looked for her career off the island, thinking that was the only way to be her own person. She’d been tired of being just one of the crowd of Caldwells.

Now—she thought of her mother, talking to her about Theo as if she were a friend. Of the pleasure she’d found in being useful here. Of the way her experiences with Dalton Resorts had begun to translate to ideas for running the inn. Things changed, whether she wanted them to or not.

She turned again, and her restless gaze fell on the framed sampler with the words of her Bible verse embroidered on it, which was propped on her bedside table. She couldn’t leave it behind in Chicago, so it had come with her.

As the words reverberated in her mind, she felt her tension begin to seep away. Hope and a future. She might not be able to see how God’s plans were going to work out, but knowing they existed should be comfort enough. Her body relaxed, her eyelids drifting closed.

She’d meant what she said to Luke about not telling her family any lies. But as Chloe watched her father talk with Luke over coffee in the breakfast room the next morning, she wondered if she’d gone far enough. Maybe she should have specified that Luke not tell any lies, either.

“Excuse me, miss, could I have another pot of tea? This one isn’t hot enough.”

Chloe managed a smile for the elderly guest whose tea water was never hot enough. She didn’t mind being pressed into service at breakfast—she’d done it since she was old enough to carry a tray. She did mind not being able to hear what Luke and her father were talking about.

Why? The question nagged at her while she brought a fresh pot of tea for table four, replenished the dish of homemade strawberry jam at table six and whisked a nearly empty breakfast casserole dish from the buffet table. Why did it bother her to see her father with Luke?

Maybe it was her fear that the two of them could never see eye-to-eye on anything. Clayton Caldwell lived by a few simple rules—rules he’d taught his sons and daughters from the day they were born. Trust the Lord, and He will guide your ways…. Tell the truth, even if it’s painful…. A man’s word is his bond, and without it he has nothing.

Her father wouldn’t understand the kind of business world Luke operated in, though he’d probably equate it with Uncle Jeff. Luke would never understand her father. He’d mistake her father’s sense of honor for naïveté, just as her father would mistake Luke’s sense of competition for dishonesty. No, it would be far better if she could keep the two of them apart until this game had ended.

Carrying the carafe of coffee, she approached their table with a sense of determination. “Daddy, would you like a thermos of coffee to take with you?”

“I’m not going just yet, Chloe-girl.” He held out his mug, his sharp eyes inspecting her. “Fact is, I’m not going fishing at all today. Your momma’s been pestering me to take a picnic lunch, go over to Angel Isle, check out the cottage. I’m thinking we’ll do that today.”

Well, at least that would get him out of Luke’s company for a while. “Sounds like a nice idea. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll keep an eye on the desk.”

Luke smiled and held out his mug for a refill. “Actually, your father invited us to go with them to the island.”

Only long years of practice kept her from dribbling coffee onto the blue-checked tablecloth. “Don’t you have some work you want to do?”

Luke was probably longing for her to give him an excuse to get out of it, she assured herself. He probably had no desire to go out on the boat again.

“Not at all,” he assured her blandly. “Sounds like a great idea.”

She set her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile. “Fine. I’ll just go help my mother get things ready.”

Trying to avoid her father’s gaze, she whisked herself off to the kitchen. Daddy knew his children only too well. He’d always been harder to fool than her mother—not that she’d spent a lot of time trying to fool either of them, even as a child. But she’d seen the twins try, and fail, too many times. This cozy little trip together was not a good idea.

And what had given Daddy the idea? He didn’t take the morning off just to—The thought struck her with a certainty she couldn’t deny.

Gran and her matchmaking.

She pressed her palms to overheated cheeks. She could just imagine the conversation.

All Chloe’s young man needs is a little push to propose, Gran would say. It’s up to us to see he gets it. Chloe will be the next Caldwell bride.

Now what was she going to do about that?

She still didn’t have an answer an hour later, when she stood on the dock handing a picnic basket to Luke. He’d already been on the boat with her father when she’d come down. What had they been talking about? She tried to think of one single thing they had in common, and couldn’t. Except, possibly, her.

She gave Luke a sharp look as she accepted the hand he held out, and climbed onto the Spyhop. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She spoke under the noise of the motor. “Daddy would understand if we begged off.”

Luke looked at her questioningly. “Don’t you trust me around your father, Chloe?”

She definitely should have laid down the law to Luke about her father, as she had about Theo. “It’s not that.” Since she didn’t believe herself, she felt quite sure he didn’t believe her, either. “I just thought this wouldn’t be much fun for you. The water might be rougher out on the sound today.”

“Then, I’ll have to depend on you to keep me safe, won’t I?”

His low voice teased her, and she felt a little ripple of…what? Longing for a relationship with him in which teasing spoke of affection? That was a dangerous way to think.

Luke turned away to help her mother on board, drawing her gaze. Had he borrowed the jeans and T-shirt from one of her brothers? It certainly wasn’t his usual garb. Before this trip, she’d have said he wouldn’t look at ease in anything but a business suit. But he seemed perfectly at ease now, with the T-shirt stretching across broad shoulders and looking even whiter against his tanned arms.

She shouldn’t be noticing that, she told herself firmly, bending to stow the hamper in the locker and taking the jug of sweet tea her mother handed her. She should imagine Luke right back into one of his expensive suits. Maybe then she’d be able to get through this trip.

She started forward, but her mother caught her arm.

“I’ll go up front with your daddy, honey.” She nudged her toward Luke, smiling. “You sit back here and keep Luke company.”

Matchmaking, she thought despairingly. Oh, Gran.

Before she could come up with a really good reason to sit forward, her father was asking Luke to cast off the lines. When she made a move to do it, Luke edged past her and leaned across to the dock.

“I’ve got it.” He nodded toward the seat. “You sit down and be a lady of leisure this trip.”

He must have watched her handle the lines the last time, because he did it perfectly, with not the slightest hesitation to show how much he disliked leaning out over the water. He even coiled the lines the way she had.

“Very nice,” she murmured, when he sat down next to her. “You must have been taking lessons.”

“Somebody talked me into it.” He smiled, then draped his arm casually across her shoulders. “Don’t forget, you have to hold on to me if I get nervous.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll push you in, instead?” She wouldn’t turn her head to look at him. His face was too close to hers, and she was already too aware of the weight of his arm against her.

He squeezed her shoulders. “Not a chance,” he said softly in her ear. “I trust you, Chloe. You’d never let me down.”

She tried not to respond to that, tried not to think that he meant anything by it. He trusted her as his assistant—that was all.

The Spyhop rounded the curve of the island, passing the yacht club dock. The sound stretched in front of them, waves glistening in the sunlight. A laughing gull, squawking, flew overhead, probably hoping they’d give him something for his lunch. On the horizon the islands beckoned, lush and mysterious.

She felt Luke’s movement as he inhaled deeply, tilting his head back as if to take it all in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

He turned toward her, so that she felt his breath against her cheek.

“It’s really beautiful, Chloe. Thank you for bringing me here.”

He hugged her, his cheek warm against hers as if they really were the couple her family believed them to be.

Chloe smelled like sunshine. Funny that he’d never noticed that before. Luke held her protectively, feeling her slim figure sway against him as her father sent the boat in a wide arc toward the island. He was enjoying this, maybe a little too much.

Enjoyment had been the last thing on his mind when her father had invited them to go along today. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say no, but Clayton Caldwell’s shrewd gaze had suggested he wouldn’t buy an easy excuse. And then Luke had thought of Chloe and the concerns she’d brought up the day before.

He’d been angry at first over her attitude toward his talk with her brother. After all, he hadn’t approached Theo. Theo had come to him.

But he couldn’t help being impressed by how much she cared about her family. Her passionate defense of them was outside his experience, and he didn’t really understand it. The only thing he had to compare was his friendship with Reverend Tom and the debt he owed to the man who’d taken him off the streets and given him a future.

Well, he was determined to try his best to fit in here, for Chloe’s sake. This trip gave him an excuse to look over the area and make Chloe’s parents happy. Unfortunately, Chloe didn’t seem to be reacting quite the way he’d hoped. She sat stiffly within the circle of his arm, as if she’d pull away at the first excuse.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, Chloe.” He spoke softly under the noise of the motor. “Lighten up. You’re not on your way to the guillotine.”

That startled her into meeting his eyes. “I’m not acting as if I am.”

“Sure you are.” He moved his hand, brushing her hair. It flowed like silk over his fingers. “I know you don’t like the pretense, but can’t we at least be friends?”

Her mouth tightened, and her eyes were very bright. “Friends, or boss and assistant?”

“Friends,” he said firmly.

“Maybe being friends isn’t such a good idea. When we go back to Chicago…” She stopped, and her gaze eluded his. “Well, it might cause problems.”

That unsettled him. He hadn’t really considered what their relationship was going to be like when they went back to the city, back to their relative positions in the company. He’d only thought about that corner office, with the vice-president title on the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It came out more sharply than he intended. “We’ve always worked well together, and we always will. Nothing will change between us.”

“Maybe,” she said softly, looking away. “Maybe you’re right.”

Annoyance shot through him. All right, he hadn’t thought through that part of it very well. So he couldn’t go back to looking at Chloe as if she were nothing more than an efficient assistant. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but Chloe looked as if it were the end of the world.

He opened his mouth to tell her so, but the motor suddenly throttled back and their privacy vanished. Chloe slid to the edge of the seat, putting several inches between them.

“There it is—Angel Isle.” She pointed.

“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it, Chloe-girl?” Her father swung the boat toward a dock, cutting the motor so that they drifted in.

“Looks great to me.” Chloe scrambled to fasten the lines. “Not a thing has changed.”

“Well, that’s how we like it.” Her mother bustled back, pulling out the picnic hamper.

Luke got to his feet slowly. He should help her, but for the moment he could only stare at the scene spread out in front of him.

The dock anchored one edge of a wide, shallow curve of shoreline. Palmettos and moss-draped live oaks fringed a pristine, untouched sandy beach. Waves rolled in gently, rippling onto the sand like a woman shaking a tablecloth. It was as isolated and exotic as a castaway’s island.

Chloe had already scurried up onto the dock, and she held out her hand to him. Whatever reservation he’d sensed in her a moment ago was gone now. Her eyes sparkled with eagerness, almost golden in the sunlight.

“Hurry up. I want to see the cottage.”

He climbed out and followed her off the dock and onto the shell-strewn path, leaving her parents behind on the boat. He could already see the house, although he wouldn’t call it a cottage. The building was long and low and nearly as large as the inn. Gray-shingled, with a screened porch running the length of it, it fit into the setting as if it had grown there.

“Pretty big for a cottage, isn’t it?” He caught up with Chloe and took her hand.

She looked startled but she didn’t pull away. “I guess. I mean, the family has always called it that. Years ago, they used to summer here. That was in the days when everyone went to the outer islands in the hot weather. But that got too difficult once they opened the inn. Now we use it for shorter visits, family reunions, that sort of thing.”

He tried to visualize Angel Isle as he’d seen it from the water. It had looked virtually deserted. “Are there any other houses?”

“Others?” She went up the porch steps. “No. Just ours.”

He hardly wanted to look at the idea that was forming in his mind, for fear he’d see some flaw in it.

“I suppose all this is some sort of nature preserve or something, then?” That might explain why no one else had built here.

“No, of course not.”

Chloe had already hurried across the porch. Standing on tiptoe, she pulled a key from a hook at the top of the door frame, then unlocked the door. She swung it open, and he had a quick glimpse of a spacious room dominated by a massive brick fireplace.

He was more interested in answers to his questions than he was in the Caldwell cottage. “Then, why hasn’t anyone else built on Angel Isle?”

“Because it belongs to us. My daddy, I mean. I thought I explained that. Grandpa split things between Daddy and Uncle Jeff.” Her face clouded. “Uncle Jeff thought Daddy a fool for taking Angel Isle, when the other property was so valuable.”

That must be a piece of the feud between the brothers. “So all this belongs to your father.”

She nodded, then went quickly across the room and began throwing open curtains and unhooking shutters. “You want to give me a hand?”

He followed her, mind busy, excitement building as he helped her tug on a recalcitrant shutter. He’d have to find out exactly how much land there was, but there should be some way of working a deal with her father. Because he’d just found the perfect place for the next Dalton Resort hotel.

He looked at Chloe, intent on the shutter. Did she really not know what he was thinking? He wanted to shout it to her, wanted her to share his excitement, wanted to feel her encouraging him to another success.

But that was Chloe back in their other world. Here—here he didn’t know how Chloe would react if he told her. Would she be excited and happy?

For an instant he felt resentment. He wanted his old Chloe back, the faithful right hand who always anticipated his needs and backed him no matter what.

“There!” The shutter popped open and sunlight streamed into the room. It lit Chloe’s skin, tangled in her hair, made her eyes shine. “Isn’t that better?”

“Better,” he echoed. Would it be better if he had his old Chloe back? Maybe so, but he wouldn’t trade this Chloe for an instant.

Chapter Seven

What did this mean? Chloe tried not to stare at the expression on Luke’s face, but she couldn’t help it. He looked as if he were seeing something for the first time.

“Chloe.” He said her name softly, holding out one hand toward her, palm up. Something seemed to stir in the shaft of sunlight from the window, as if the very air between them would speak.

Her breath caught. She took a step toward him, and the movement was as slow as wading through the surf. In an instant they would touch—

“How’s everything look?” Her father’s voice shattered the silence.

Chloe’s face flooded with heat as she turned toward the door. Luke turned, too, moving away from her quickly. Was he relieved they’d been interrupted? Or maybe she’d just imagined the whole thing.

“Let me take that for you.” Luke reached for the thermos her mother carried. “Can I bring anything else from the boat?”

“Not a thing.” Her mother set the thermos on the table. “We’re just fine.” She exchanged a knowing look with Chloe’s father. “You young people go on out and enjoy the day. We’ll take care of things here.”

“No. I mean, we’ll help you.” Chloe couldn’t be sure, but she thought Luke’s expression echoed her words.

“Nonsense.” Her mother shooed them with her hands, for all the world like Gran. “Luke hasn’t even seen Angel Isle yet. You show him around, honey. We’ll straighten up in here, then we’ll have lunch when you all get back.”

They didn’t seem to have much choice. Chloe headed for the door, hearing Luke’s footsteps behind her. He probably regretted he’d gotten out of bed that morning.

She didn’t look at him as she took the path back to the shore, but she could feel his presence as surely as if they touched. She didn’t say anything. What could she say that wouldn’t make this more awkward?

When they reached the stand of sea oats that marked the dunes, she heard him chuckle. The sound was a bit strained, but at least it meant he wasn’t angry about her parents’ machinations.

“Subtle, aren’t they?” he said.

“Sorry about that.” She tried for a lightness she didn’t feel. “I’m afraid my grandmother recruited them to do a little matchmaking.”

“I thought as much.” He strode beside her on the hard-packed sand of the beach. “Don’t worry about it, Chloe. If we can cope with a corporate near-takeover, we can cope with a little family matchmaking.”

Her tension eased at his words, reminding her of the difficult days three years ago when Dalton Resorts’s future hung in the balance. They’d all worked around the clock until the danger was over. Luke had put things back on a business basis, and that was clearly what he wanted. The moment when they’d stood looking at each other in a shaft of sunlight might never have been.

“Of course we can.” That was best, she assured herself. “We’re a team.” That was what he’d always said, and she’d taken comfort in the sense that they were on the same side.

“Always. You’re my right hand, remember?”

She nodded, matching her step to his long stride. She had to stop imagining anything was changing. She ought to be happy. That meant they’d be able to go back to normal, once this whole thing was over.

She took a deep breath, inhaling fresh salt air. She wasn’t sure she knew what “normal” was any longer, or if it was something she wanted or could even live with.

Maybe she’d better concentrate on introducing this place that she loved to Luke. If he could appreciate it the way she did, that would be enough for the day.

They rounded the heel of the tiny island, and the sea breeze lifted her hair and cooled her cheeks. “Now you see why they’re called the out-islands.” She pointed to the horizon. “There’s nothing beyond them but ocean.”

Luke shielded his eyes with one hand. “It’s so clear I feel as if I can see all the way to Europe—” He turned, glancing back at the island, and she heard his quick intake of breath.

“What on earth is that?”

“Strange, isn’t it.” Chloe walked to the nearest uprooted pine, its trunk washed free of bark, its roots a tangled mass of bleached tendrils. She rested her hand on the massive trunk that had been scoured clean by the waves. “The power of the sea.”

Luke stroked the smooth wood. “Do all these trees wash up here?” He looked down the beach, where tree after felled tree formed a bizarre landscape of twisted roots and gnarled limbs.

“Not washed up,” she corrected. “They grew here, until the tide started coming in farther and knocked them down. None of the outer islands are stable on the seaward side—that’s why the buildings face the sound. The ocean’s taking a bite out of Angel Isle.”

Luke put both palms on the trunk and hoisted himself. He reached down, smiling an invitation. She felt herself smile in response as he took her hand in a firm clasp, lifting her up to sit next to him.

She settled on the smooth surface, trying to ignore the warmth that radiated from Luke, trying not to look at how the sun glinted on his bare arms.

“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, leaning back on his hands. “Weird, but beautiful, like another world.”

She’d better concentrate on the scenery, too. “That’s what I’ve always thought. Another world.” She tilted her head back, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. A pair of brown pelicans swooped low over the water, and she envied their view. “Or maybe a little piece of heaven.”

“I guess you could look at it that way.”

His response was noncommittal, the careful answer he’d give a business colleague if the subject of religion came up. Suddenly she wanted to push him—she wanted more.

“I’ve always felt closer to God here than anywhere else.” She didn’t bother trying to edit her words or shield her beliefs from him. “And I’ve always thought God must love it, too, or He wouldn’t have made it so beautiful.”

For a moment she thought he’d ignore her. Then he frowned.

“That sounds like something an old friend of mine would say.”

“An old friend?” Was she actually about to see into his private life?

“Reverend Tom—”

He was looking out at the pelicans, but she didn’t think he saw them.

“A good friend.”

“Was he your minister when you were a child?” He wouldn’t answer; she knew that. He never talked about his childhood.

“You could say that, I guess.” His mouth tightened to a thin, unrevealing line.

“You don’t look as if the thought makes you very happy.”

He shot her a look that gave nothing away. “It just reminded me that I haven’t been in touch with him in a long time. That’s all.”

“Maybe you should be.”

His face tensed, and she knew she’d gone too far.

“We don’t fit into each other’s lives anymore.”

He said it as if that ended the matter. The friend was another secret Luke didn’t intend to share. If they were in the office, she wouldn’t have pushed this far. But they weren’t in the office.

“Would he like this place?”

Luke shrugged. “He wouldn’t appreciate the potential.”

For a moment she could only stare at him. “What do you mean?”

His gesture took in the strange shapes of the drowned forest. “This. Hasn’t it occurred to you what a commercial draw this could be? With the right kind of promotion, people would pay to visit this.”

Disappointment was an acrid taste in Chloe’s mouth. A commercial draw—that was all he could see. Maybe she’d been wrong about the depths she thought he hid. Maybe he was nothing more than the surface persona—the success-driven businessman who didn’t care about anything but profit.

The thought shouldn’t hurt her heart as much as it did.

“Look out!”

Luke took a quick step back, holding the kitchen door for Miranda the next morning as she darted through with a steaming pot of coffee. She flashed him a smile.

“Go on back. Chloe’s in there.”

He wasn’t actually looking for Chloe, but there didn’t seem any point in trying to tell Miranda that. He’d come down this morning with the single aim of talking to Clayton Caldwell about Angel Isle.

He helped himself to coffee from the sideboard while he scanned the dining room. The large oval table where they’d sat for dinner the first night was pressed into service as a breakfast buffet. Smaller tables for guests clustered around it and overflowed into the hall and onto the porch.

Only a few guests had come down this early. Chloe’s father was usually one of the earliest people down, but the chair where he always sat was empty.

Luke frowned. After their return from Angel Isle, he’d spent the rest of the day learning everything on the public record about Angel Isle. Now he was keyed up and ready to roll, but his instincts told him to proceed cautiously.

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