The ringing of his phone came as a welcome distraction and he unclipped it from his belt. His relief died, though, when his father’s voice came through, controlled, chilled, and angry. “Oliver, do you mind if I ask where you are right now?”
The question jarred him, since his father didn’t normally pry into his private affairs. “Is there a reason you’d like to know?”
“I take that to mean the rumor I just heard is true. In that case, do you mind if I ask if you’ve lost your mind?”
Resentment flared at this evidence that the Galveston Grapevine was in fine working order. Didn’t people have anything better to do with their time than talk about each other? Feeling Aurora’s questioning gaze, he lowered his voice. “Could I call you back? I’m, uh, losing my signal.”
“I take that to mean you’re with the St. Claire girl,” his father guessed. “Very well, I’ll be waiting for your call... and an explanation.”
An explanation?
Since when did his father expect an accounting of how he spent his personal time? Although this wasn’t personal. It had to do with the bank and the LeRoche foreclosure, which made it his father’s business.
After disconnecting, he turned back to the room to find Aurora watching him, her expression puzzled. He offered both women a smile. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll step out in the courtyard. I think I can get a better signal there.”
“Certainly.” Betsy smiled and waved him away.
Rory watched him go, wondering if something was wrong. She’d felt the shift in his mood like a change in the air. Although whatever had upset him was likely none of her business. She and Chance were merely acquaintances. Yet her thoughts lingered on him as she helped Betsy get the room ready for the newlyweds.
When they finished, she headed downstairs to look for Chance. She stepped out the back door, but the courtyard appeared empty.
“Chance?” she called, half wondering if he’d left her stranded.
“Over here.”
Relieved, she followed the sound of his voice around a rose trellis to a secluded area she hadn’t noticed before. Tall shrubs shielded a hot tub from the main house and the neighbors, creating a private alcove. She found Chance sitting on the edge of a cedar deck that surrounded the tub.
“Hey, is anything wrong?” she asked.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“Oh?” She stepped closer, unable to read his expression, but unhappiness hung about him like a dark cloud. “About what?”
“About your plan to buy Pearl Island.” He rose and stood before her with his hands thrust deep in his trouser pockets. “So”—he cocked his head to the side—“now that you’ve heard what to expect and had a taste of cleaning rooms, is your heart still set on opening a B and B?”
“Absolutely!” A smile blossomed from deep inside her. “I know it won’t be easy, and you probably think I’m crazy, but I really want to do this.”
“I see.” He studied her a moment. “Aurora, I have to be honest with you. Your chances of succeeding are not good.”
“I know.” She fidgeted with the scarf about her waist.
“However.” He took a deep breath and met her gaze directly. “I want to help you.”
“What?” She stared back, not quite sure what he was offering, but sensing it was something big.
“I want to help you write your business plan. Not just point you in the right direction, but help you with the actual plan. It’s going to take a great deal of work, but I know the kinds of things the bank will be looking for. If there is a way for you to have your dream, I want to help you succeed.”
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “Are you serious?”
“We’ll need to meet pretty regularly, go over hotel codes, get some bids on the renovations, come up with projected costs for furnishings and fixtures. We’ll also need to look into promotional options and operating expenses.”
She stared at him, afraid she’d do something silly like cry.
“That is”—he hesitated—“if you want my help.”
“If I want your help? Are you kidding!” She flung herself against him and hugged his neck. “You’re wonderful! Thank you!” With her arms still around him, she pulled back to smile up at him. His expression caught her off guard and made her heart skip a beat. At this close range, he didn’t look scholarly, or cute. He just looked very male.
A flare of heat in his eyes made her aware of her body pressed full-length against his. It didn’t feel like the thin body of a geek. It felt lean and hard.
She started to step away, but his arms went about her. “Aurora,” he groaned an instant before his mouth descended. He stole her breath as his lips brushed hers, stole her thoughts as his hands spread over her back. A second brush had her pulse humming. He didn’t take as some men would, just lightly teased, shaping her lips with his until they tingled.
The tingles spread outward, turning to tremors. She moaned and strained into him, needing more. Finally, his mouth settled more firmly and she tasted wet, hot desire. His tongue nudged her lips, and when she opened her mouth, he carried her away on a wave of sensations.
He kissed her again and again, making her greedy, ravenous. Never in her life had desire swelled within her so beautifully, or with such stunning force. She wanted to crawl right out of her skin and into his.
Her arms tightened around his neck and she returned his kiss with rising abandon. Their heads tilted for better angles as she pressed her body more snugly against his. Breast to chest. Hip to hip. His arousal rose strong and hard against her soft belly, and she moaned with a sweet rush of need.
The sound seemed to jar him.
His lips and hands stopped moving.
She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, their mouths still touching. For one heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then he sprang away.
“Aurora, I—I don’t know what happened—I mean...” He ran his hands through his hair to straighten it. “When I offered to help you, I didn’t mean to imply—What I mean to say is, it would be strictly business.”
“Yes, of course. I knew that,” she responded quickly, too rattled to know what else to say.
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I mean, obviously I am.” He pushed his glasses into place. “It’s just that I’m almost engaged to someone else. Well, sort of. Never mind, it’s difficult to explain.”
“You’re engaged?” The air left her lungs.
“Not officially,” he rushed on. “It’s just always been understood that Paige and I would get married. Eventually.”
Paige? He was “almost engaged” to someone named Paige? Did he kiss his “sort-of fiancée” the way he’d just kissed her?
“I see,” she said, staggered by an unexpected stab of jealousy. She managed a casual wave of her hand. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I was just carried away, you know, by the moment.”
“Same here.” He sighed in relief.
“Okay, then.” She forced a smile. “It didn’t mean anything. Just one of those caught-in-the-moment kind of things.”
“Yes. Absolutely. We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”
She nodded. “If you’d rather not help me, now, I understand.”
“No! I want to help you. This doesn’t have to affect that. I mean, I can forget it, if you can.”
She held her hands palms-up, smiling as if nothing in the world were wrong. As if her heart weren’t pounding and her insides weren’t quivering. “It’s already forgotten.”
“Good. Hey, look”—he glanced at his watch—“it’s getting late. I should probably take you home.”
She nodded, knowing if she had to hold her smile a second longer, her face would crack. “I’ll go find my purse.”
The minute she rounded the rose trellis, she pressed a hand to her chest and fought to catch her breath.
Holy cow! Forget that kiss ever happened?
She didn’t think she could do that if she lived to be a hundred! Good grief, who would have thought Oliver Chancellor would be such a hot kisser
The five minutes it took to drive Aurora home were some of the most uncomfortable of Chance’s life. While she sat twisting the ends of the scarf tied about her waist, he fought the urge to explain. But explain what? That the course of his life was set and she wasn’t part of the plan? Yes, he was incredibly attracted to her, but the attraction was impractical. They were totally unsuited for each other.
Aurora was spontaneous, the type of person to follow her heart wherever it led.
He had been trained from birth to follow the rules. Those rules might chafe at times, but he respected structure. People who lived outside the rules lived in chaos. As much as he desired Aurora as a woman, he did not desire the chaos that would come with her.
So why did he feel so compelled to aid her in her mad scheme?
He couldn’t begin to understand the need inside him to see her succeed, but neither could he imagine leaving her to flounder on her own. If he didn’t help her, he feared she’d fail. She didn’t understand the rules—and passion alone would not turn her dream into reality. He should try to talk her out it, but as he pulled to a stop before the Bouchard Cottage, he realized he’d sooner cut out his tongue.
He turned off the engine and quiet descended.
“Thank you,” she said, not looking at him. “For introducing me to Betsy, and for your offer to help, if... if you’re sure you still want to do it.”
“I said I did, didn’t I?” The words came out with more irritation than he intended. He wasn’t irritated with her, but with the situation, and with himself for making things uncomfortable between them. How could he have lost control and kissed her like that? His hands tightened on the leather-covered steering wheel as he remembered the feel of her in his arms, the way her body fit so perfectly to his.
And her taste... like a drink of some sweet nectar that was instantly addictive.
He’d been right when he’d thought that “nice” wouldn’t adequately describe the experience. He wasn’t sure a word existed that would describe the heat that had rolled through him, robbing him of all rational thought.
Aurora St. Claire kissed the way she lived, all passion and no restraint.
He cleared his throat. “If we’re going to do a business plan, we should get started right away. Before someone else makes an offer on the house.”
“Do you think that could happen?” Fear flashed in her eyes.
“It’s possible, but not probable. The place needs too much renovating. Even if it didn’t, I know how hard it is to sell old mansions like that from my family’s experience,” he said, referring to the stately old house that had been in his family until recent years. “When my grandparents died, we ended up donating Chancellor House to the state just to get out from under the property taxes, insurance, and upkeep.”
“I thought your family did it as a gesture of generosity.”
He shrugged. “That and the tax write-off.”
“Oh.” She nodded, but her brow wrinkled with worry. He imagined bending forward and kissing her right there above the nose, where the red-blond brows were trying to meet. Then lower, on the light smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Then her lips...
“What do we do first?” she asked.
He imagined several things he’d
like
to do, but forced his mind back to business. “Our first step is for you to have a look at the inside. Are the three of you available this weekend?”
“Weekends are hard for us to get off work. Is there any way we could see it during the week?”
“Sure. Just tell me when, and I’ll call the real estate agent who listed the property for the bank.”
“Tomorrow or Friday would be fine.”
“You got it.” He started to reach for his door handle, so he could walk her to the front porch.
“No, don’t bother,” she said. “I can see myself in, and I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
“No you haven’t. It was my pleasure,” he said. Although she was right; walking her to the door would seem too much like a date. “Well, then, I’ll call you tomorrow, as soon as I have an appointment set up with the agent.”
“Thanks again for everything.”
With that, she let herself out of the car and headed up the front walk. He waited until the screen door banged close behind her. He had the strongest urge to follow her inside, but had no idea why or what he’d say if he did. Besides, he’d told his father he’d come by so they could finish their discussion in person, rather than arguing over the phone.
Resigned, he started his car and headed for his parents’ house. As soon as he left the east end of the island, the land opened up to fields of tall grass and scrub brush. New developments had sprung up over the years, built around inlets for boat access, while horses and cattle still grazed in other areas. To his left, the white-capped waves of the gulf tumbled and crashed to the long stretch of beach.
Turning into his parents’ neighborhood, he parked in their circular drive. He found his father upstairs in the game room, playing a solitary game of pool. Even with the sun still high, shadows filled the dark-paneled room.
A stained-glass pool lamp lit the green felt of the tabletop and haloed his father’s white hair.
“Grab a stick,” his father said without glancing up from the cue ball. “We’ll play a game as soon as I finish running the table.”
“Take your time.”
Balls cracked and scattered as his father made his shot. The three ball bounced off the side, an inch from the pocket.
“Goddammit!”
Norm swore with more force than was warranted. Straightening, he shook his head at Chance. “I can’t believe you’d be stupid enough to go on a date in broad daylight now that Paige is home.”
“It wasn’t a date. I had a business meeting with Aurora St. Claire about a loan application,” Chance replied evenly.
“Business meeting, my foot.” His father snorted. “I’m not a fool, Oliver, and I’m not so old I don’t remember what a pretty face can do to a man.”
“And I’m not so young that I’m ruled by my body,” Chance shot back before guilt made him blush, since he had been ruled by his body that afternoon. But that was an exception that wouldn’t happen again. Quieter, he said, “I’d appreciate a little credit, and privacy, in that department.”
His father studied him a moment, then nodded. “Point taken.” He leaned forward to line up his next shot. “I’m just concerned about how this will look to the Baxters, now that you and Paige are ‘an item,’ whatever that means.” He straightened with a contemplative frown. “Why do women come up with things like that? Why can’t they simply say you kissed the girl the other night? Why do they have to invent phrases like ‘an item’? I swear, sometimes I think they talk in code just so we can’t understand a thing they’re saying.”
Chance blinked, surprised that his father knew about the kiss. “What is it with this town?” he demanded in disgust. “Can’t a man do anything without the whole island knowing?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Norm said philosophically. “The rest of the country has Barbara Walters. We have Marcy Baxter.”
“I can’t believe Paige told her mother I kissed her.”
“I would imagine Marcy asked. Oh, by the way, the official report is that you’re a good kisser. Not fireworks on the Fourth of July great, but good.” His father grinned. “Your mother thinks I should talk to you about that. Give you a few pointers.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“I’d get used to it if I were you. Marcy Baxter’s a sweet woman, but she’ll be a challenge as a mother-in-law.”
“Do you think we could wait until I propose to Paige before we start referring to Marcy as my mother-in-law?”
“Just don’t drag your feet too long, son, or they’ll plan the wedding without you.”
With a curse, Chance crossed to the wet bar and retrieved a Coke from the refrigerator. He set it down and braced his hands on the counter. “Dad, I didn’t come here to talk about my relationship with Paige. I need to talk to you about the LeRoche foreclosure.”
A heartbeat of silence followed. “I already told you, I’m not going to take Brian’s decision lying down.”
Chance turned to face his father. “John LeRoche was six months behind on his payments. How lenient do you expect the bank inspectors to be?”
“As lenient as it takes. If John LeRoche had no intention, or means, to pay off his loan, that would be one thing. But that’s not the case. He’s just hit a temporary rough spot. The First Bank of Galveston did not build its reputation as the neighborhood bank people could trust by foreclosing at the first sign of trouble. And on those occasions when we were forced to take action, we certainly never did it in so public a manner!”
“We’re not the First Bank of Galveston anymore. And we’re not talking about foreclosing on widows and orphans. We’re talking about a man whose financial problems are caused by his irresponsible lifestyle!”
Norm braced his hands on the table, bringing his upper body into the glare of the lamp. “We’re talking about the fact that the new owners are using John LeRoche as an example. They are sending a blatant message to the people of this community—not about what will happen if they don’t pay their loans on time, but that I’m no longer in charge.
That’s
what this is about! It’s their way of publicly slapping me in the face,
and you know it
!”
His father’s harsh breathing filled the silence that followed. “You’re right,” Chance said calmly, worrying more about his father’s weak heart than the bank. This much emotion couldn’t be good. “Which is why I’m asking you to let it go. Fighting them on this is only drawing more attention to it. If you let it go, people will forget about it.”
His father continued to stare at him.
“Will you at least think about it?” Chance asked.
An eternity passed before Norm pushed himself upright.
“Dammit!”
He looked away, then back. “You’re right. When did you get so smart?”
Chance relaxed. “I get it from you.” He thought of telling his father about the St. Claires’ plans to buy Pearl Island, thought about broaching the subject of retirement again, but decided to let it rest for now. One small victory a day was enough. These last two years, since his father’s heart attack and the subsequent selling of the bank, had taken their toll on both of them. He wanted the dad of his youth back, the man who knew everything and would live forever. He didn’t want this role reversal, or this growing stubborn streak in his father.
Gesturing toward the pool table, he fell back into familiar territory. “So, if you’re finished warming up, how about a real game—if you’re up to the challenge?”
“Oh, so the kid thinks he can take on the champ, does he?” His father’s eyes lit with glee as he chalked the end of his cue stick, once again the confident leader of men. “Very well, son. Prepare for your humiliation.”