Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish

“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.

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