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“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.”