Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish (8 page)

Her color heightened. “It's not what you're used to.”

“Believe me, Chloe, nothing about this place is what I'm used to.” He had an unexpected stab of longing. If he'd had a childhood with this kind of family…“That doesn't mean I can't pitch in and help.”

“Are you sure?” Her forehead wrinkled with doubt.

He should be looking for Clayton. Funny that all of a sudden helping Chloe seemed to supercede that.

“I'm sure,” he said firmly. “You take the fruit. I'll get the tea water.”

He followed Chloe into the dining room, watching as she deftly tidied the buffet table. She moved from table to table, smiling as she played the gracious hostess in her jeans and a red-checked apron. She'd undoubtedly forgotten about the dab of flour on her cheek. She was adorable.

“You're the fiancé from the big city, aren't you? Chloe's beau.” It was the woman who'd asked for fresh tea water, and she held out her cup expectantly.

“We're not—” He stopped. He couldn't begin to explain his relationship with Chloe to himself, so he certainly couldn't to anyone else. “Yes, ma'am.” He poured the tea water. “I'm Chloe's beau.”

Chloe heard that. He could tell by the way she carefully avoided looking at him as she brushed by. That avoidance annoyed him, and for a moment he wondered at himself. It was nothing, he argued mentally. He was playing a role; that was all.

He caught up with Chloe at the kitchen door, aware of a number of pairs of eyes on them.
Might as well give them something to look at,
he decided with a flicker of rebellion. As the door swung, he dropped a kiss on Chloe's cheek. Her skin smelled like peaches. He didn't want to pull away.

She stepped back, startled and wary, once they were alone in the kitchen.

“What was that for?”

“We had an audience.” He nodded toward the dining room. “I was just giving them what they expected.”

Chloe's golden eyes darkened. “Don't bother.”

She clattered a tray onto the counter, and he had the sense that she counted to ten. But when she turned back to him, she was smiling.

“I'll be fine now. I don't need any more help.”

It shouldn't bother him to be dismissed that way. After all, he hadn't wanted to help in the first place. They'd drafted him.

“Fine. Do you know where your father is?”

“Out back, with Theo.” She frowned. “Why?”

“Just something I wanted to ask him.” He started for the back door. He'd taken enough detours for one morning. It was time he got on with business.

Before he reached the door, it swung open. Theo charged through, barreling past Luke as if he didn't see him. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glasses.

“Theo—” Chloe didn't get the rest of her sentence out before Theo's trajectory carried him on through the swinging door and out of the kitchen.

She looked at Luke. “What's going on with that boy?”

He would have said it looked like Theo had been having words with someone, but before he could, the door opened again. Chloe's father stalked in, limping a little, his face like a storm at sea. He looked past Luke, zeroing in on Chloe.

“Chloe, do you know anything about this notion of Theo's about working at the yacht club?”

Chloe wiped her hands on a tea towel, probably buying time. “He mentioned something about it the other day.”

“You know how I feel about that. You should—” He stopped abruptly, seeming to realize he was about to say something he didn't want to say in front of Luke. “Don't know what's got into him,” he muttered, and slammed back out the door.

In the silence that followed, Luke raised an eyebrow. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Chloe muttered, turning away from him.

He caught her wrists. “Come on, Chloe, give. What's going on between Theo and your father? Why is he so upset about the yacht club job?”

“My father just doesn't like the yacht club crowd.” Her gaze clouded. “I don't really know all the reasons. He's had some bad experiences with people like that.”

People like that.
Wealthy people, socially prominent people. The kind of people who frequented a Dalton Resort hotel. This could be a complication.

Luke studied Chloe's averted face. She'd said she didn't know all the reasons. And it certainly didn't look as if she wanted to confide any to him.

“Seems kind of hard on Theo,” he commented, wondering if that would draw her out.

That brought her troubled gaze up to meet his. “I know. I wish I'd gotten Theo to talk to me about it. Mom asked me to try and find out what was bothering him, and I didn't. I haven't been a very good big sister to him.”

“Chloe, it's not your fault.” His instinctive desire to comfort her surprised him. He lifted his hand to brush the flour from her cheek. “You've only been here a few days. Let's face it, we've been pretty busy dealing with your family's matchmaking.”

She smiled, her smooth skin moving against his fingers. He cupped her cheek with his palm, a wave of tenderness sweeping over him at the warm, silken feel of it. Chloe's eyes widened, and he had the sense that neither of them had taken a breath in too long.

He took a cautious step back, drawing his hand away. Convincing Chloe's father to sell him the land on Angel Isle would be difficult. Convincing himself that there could be anything between him and Chloe would be insane.

He knew what he wanted his life to be like. He'd known since he was a cold, dirty kid, standing on the outside and looking at people who had it all. He'd known he was going to be one of them someday.

Sweet little Chloe Caldwell didn't fit into that world. He knew that. So why did it leave such a bad taste in his mouth?

“W
hat are your plans for my life, Lord?”

Chloe didn't realize she'd asked the question aloud until she heard the words echoing in the otherwise silent chapel. She glanced around. No one was there to hear her wrestle with the question that had occupied her since those moments with Luke in the kitchen that morning.

She'd forgotten, during her years in Chicago, just how difficult it was to get two minutes alone to think when her family was around. She'd also forgotten how close to God she felt in the chapel, where generations of faith permeated the very air. Her church in Chicago had dynamic preaching, wonderful music, active programming. But somehow she'd never felt quite as attuned to the Lord there as she did here in a simple wooden chapel.

She leaned forward in the pew, pressing her palms against her eyes as if she could iron away the image of Luke's face. One moment he'd been touching her, caressing her cheek, his gaze filled with what she'd thought was caring. The next moment he'd moved away, face shuttered, closing her out. She felt as if the prize had been within her grasp and she'd stumbled, losing it.

What happened, Lord?
Her feelings for Luke must have been written all over her face. He must have seen.

Maybe that was the answer. He'd seen, and he'd backed away. He didn't want to be involved with her.

She took a deep breath and leaned back, her hands dropping to her lap. If that was what he felt, she'd live with it. After all, that was what she'd been doing all these years. Only since they'd come to the island, since they'd embarked on this ridiculous venture, had she begun to hope for more.

The afternoon sun slanted through the old stained-glass windows, tinting her skin with rose and green where the light fell on her. She let her gaze move from window to window, drawing comfort from each—Jesus with the blind beggar, Jesus with the children, the Good Shepherd, and her own favorite, Jesus walking on the water. The glass waves reminded her of the sound, whipped by the wind. She took a deep breath, feeling the peace she'd longed for begin to seep into her.

Then she looked at the thing she'd been avoiding since she walked into the chapel—the empty shelf behind the pulpit where Chloe's dolphin had once stood. Strange, that the bare space seemed so wrong to her. She'd never even seen the dolphin. It had disappeared before she was born, but still she felt its loss.

Poor Gran. The chance of recovering it was about as slim as the chance that Chloe would find a happy ending with Luke.

She got up slowly, not sure she'd found an answer but comforted nonetheless. It was time she got back to the inn. Her Web site had gone up that morning, and she wanted to see if there'd been any response. And she had some advertising ideas she wanted to talk to her mother about. As long as she was here, she may as well put her resort expertise to good use.

She was pulling the church door closed behind her, when she heard his step on the walk, recognizing it as surely as if she saw him. She took a steadying breath and turned.

“Luke. What are you doing here?”

He gestured toward the rental car that was pulled up to the curb, and she realized he wore chinos with a short-sleeve dress shirt, his uniform on the rare casual day at the office.

“I'm going to Beaufort to take care of a few things. Do you want to go with me?”

Spend the next few hours alone with him, when her feelings were rubbed raw? She didn't think so. “I'm not dressed for that.”

He shook his head impatiently. “You look fine. Come with me. I want to talk to you.”

His tone was the one he used at corporate headquarters, the one that carried the assumption of obedience. She wavered. If she went along, she could point out some other hotel site possibilities she'd been thinking about.

Then she saw her grandmother hurrying toward them from her house. “Gran?” She took a few steps to meet her. “Is something wrong?”

Gran grasped both her hands. “You're needed at home, Chloe Elizabeth. Theo has run off.”

“Run off?” Business was banished from her mind. “Why?” Well, she knew the answer to that question, didn't she—the quarrel with Daddy. “What makes you think he's run away?”

“He wasn't in school today. Sammy came home without him. Some of his things are gone, and his boat is missing. Your mama's worried half to death. I think you'd best get looking for him.”

Chloe turned to Luke. “Did you know about this?”

His face tightened as if she'd accused him of something. “I heard some of it. Your father didn't seem upset. He said Theo was old enough to look out for himself, and he'd come home when he was ready.” Luke shifted impatiently. “I have to get on the road.”

Her gaze shifted from Luke to her grandmother. They each looked back with the calm assurance that she'd do what they wanted, which was impossible.

She realized suddenly that she was seeing with the clarity she'd sought in the quiet chapel. Being back on the island brought things into focus. She was caught between wanting Luke's approval and wanting her family's respect. She certainly wasn't going to have both, and if the truth came out about their charade, she'd probably end up with neither.

But in this situation, at least, her choice was clear.

“I'll take the
Spyhop
out and look for him, Gran.” She kissed her grandmother's soft cheek. “Don't you worry about a thing. I'll find him.”

She didn't look at Luke, because she didn't want to see the irritation she knew would be written on his face.

 

Why on earth was he doing this? Luke cast off the line, then grabbed the rail of the
Spyhop
and slid into the seat nearest Chloe, as she eased the boat away from the dock. He should be on his way to Beaufort right now to fax documents to the legal department, not setting off on a wild-goose chase.

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” Chloe looked small and vulnerable behind the wheel.

She flashed him a smile. “I've been doing it since I was big enough to hold the tiller.” She jerked her head toward the locker. “You might want to get a couple of slickers out, though. Those clouds look like they're working up to some rain.”

He made his way cautiously to the locker. He'd had it all figured out. He'd take Chloe along on the trip to the county seat, he'd tell her what he was doing and he'd parcel out some of the work to her. It would be exactly as if they were back in the office. That would get the situation back to normal between them. It would eliminate the possibility of any more moments like the one when he'd cupped her cheek in his hand and wanted to hold her forever.

Instead of taking the rational course, he'd given in to the expectation in her grandmother's face. Of course, Chloe's beau would go along with her to find Theo. Gran couldn't imagine anything else.

So he'd found himself agreeing, and he still didn't quite know why that was. He didn't ordinarily have trouble saying no in response to other people's expectations. Gran Caldwell would be a force to reckon with in the business world, if she decided to embark on a career.

He found two yellow slickers, pulled them out and moved cautiously back to Chloe. “These okay?” He had to shout over the roar of the motor.

“Fine.” Chloe grabbed one of the slickers and struggled to put it on while holding the wheel. It flapped in the stiff breeze.

“Let me.” He caught the sleeve, holding it while Chloe shoved her arm into it, then pulling it into place. He practically had his arms around her. He gritted his teeth. So much for that resolution.

“Thanks.”

She turned the wheel expertly, sending them in a wide arc around the end of the island. Again he felt that sense of surprise at her competence.

Or did he mean admiration? He'd never pictured Chloe like this, but she was completely at home driving the speeding boat, the wind ruffling her hair and making her cheeks glow.

“Do you know where he's gone?” He braced himself with a hand on the rail as they made the turn toward the sound.

She nodded, frowning. “I think so. I hope so. Where we all tend to go when we're in trouble. Angel Isle.”

“If that's the case, why are we going after him? Why not just let him come home on his own?”

He still didn't quite get this. When he was Theo's age, he'd already been virtually on his own for years. Nobody would have come looking for him if he disappeared, unless a foster parent decided to report him to the cops.

“Because my grandmother's worried. And my mother.”

“And because you think you let Theo down.”

Chloe frowned across the sound. “I guess.”

He followed the direction of her gaze and frowned, too. No sunlight on sparkling waves today. Sullen gray water greeted him, and the wind whipped up whitecaps. A hazy mist hung between them and the islands. He pulled the slicker on.

“I suppose it won't do any good to tell you you're not responsible for him.”

She shook her head. “He's my brother.”

That obviously ended it, as far as Chloe was concerned. She accelerated, sending the boat rocketing across the waves, and his stomach lurched as each wave hit. Maybe the cold spray in his face would help keep him from getting sick. He held on and hoped.

An eternity later, Chloe eased back on the throttle. Luke peered toward the dock on Angel Isle. “I don't see his boat.”

“Doesn't mean he's not here.” Chloe pulled the
Spyhop
into position at the dock. “He might have beached his boat along the south end. That's what I did, when I ran away.”

“You?” He swung the rope around the post, faintly surprised at how familiar the movement felt already. “I can't imagine you running away, Chloe.”

She turned off the ignition. “I was about twelve. It's a terrible age—not quite anything. I thought Daniel and David had been picking on me, nobody was sympathetic, I was lost in the crowd—you know, usual twelve-year-old angst.”

“So you ran away to the island.” Chloe would never understand the reasons
he'd
had for running away. They'd had nothing to do with teasing big brothers. His stomach tightened. They'd been ugly reasons, some of them.

“I even packed a lunch.” She climbed up to the dock. “I wonder if Theo thought of that.” Her mouth tightened, as if she pictured Theo lost, cold, hungry.

He climbed up beside her. “What happened? Did you get tired of it and go home?” Maybe talking about that childhood adventure would keep her from obsessing about Theo.

“Not exactly.” She stopped, pushing the hood of her slicker back as she looked up at him. “I told you I always felt close to God here. This was a good place to communicate with Him. By the time I'd tried to listen to what He wanted, I knew I had to go home.”

She didn't seem to expect any comment to that. She just turned and walked quickly toward the cottage.

He followed, trying unsuccessfully not to think about her words. Had he ever had that kind of reliance on God's wishes, even when he was with Reverend Tom? He didn't think so. He'd always, even at the worst of times, known what he wanted for his life. He hadn't questioned those goals.

He didn't intend to start now.

Halfway to the cottage, the rain that had been threatening arrived. Chloe jerked her hood up and bent into the wind. “Come on. Hurry.”

He jogged after her, clutching the hood that the wind tried to rip from his head. This was no spring shower. The rain didn't come down in drops, it came in waves, as if someone were emptying buckets of it. The wind tore across the island, shrieking in his ears. It bent palmettos and whipped Spanish moss into a wild dance.

They pounded up the steps, and Chloe wrestled with the knob. In an instant they were inside. He slammed the door and could hardly believe the sudden silence with the storm locked outside.

“Nasty.” He looked at the rain, pounding against the windows as if it wanted to break in.

Chloe shrugged out of her slicker. “Typical. It won't last too long, but we're stuck here until it eases up.” She took a couple of steps into the room. “Theo? Theo, are you here?”

Nothing answered her but the clatter of rain and the howl of wind.

Luke hung their wet slickers on the pegs by the door. He looked around the large room so that he wouldn't look at Chloe, standing there with her hair tumbling in her face and a lost look in her eyes.

“This is nice,” he said. He might have said homelike, except that he'd never known a home like this. He'd seen it the last time they came to the island, but he'd been so preoccupied with his idea that he'd barely noticed the surroundings.

A brick fireplace dominated one wall, and hooked rugs brightened the wide, weathered floorboards. Worn, overstuffed chairs and a couch seemed to invite him to sit. The bookcases under the windows overflowed with everything from children's books to a fat old encyclopedia.