Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish: Hunter's Bride / A Mother's Wish

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.”