This was big. He had seen the indecision on Chanelle’s face, the flicker of a frown as she debated in those few seconds whether she should leave and proceed to her excursion on Rum Point Beach or stay and give him the chance to explain. He was both stunned and elated at Chanelle’s decision.
He wanted to say something, but his words were stuck in his throat. Chanelle had turned slightly to look out at the activity on Grand Cayman, and he was relieved to have some time to process the impact of her decision. And his reaction to it.
Vance hadn’t taken it for granted that she would choose to continue on to Coral Haven. And he had felt a current of indecision himself before he suggested it to her. Was he doing the right thing? Why was he choosing to make things right with a woman he had known for less than two days? And why was he bringing her to Coral Haven? He hadn’t brought Brianna there, despite her not-so-subtle hints that she’d love to see his island.
He knew he was complicating things. He had sacrificed so much of the last nine months to the promise he had made to lead the company. He had made it his top priority. Nothing had competed with his razor-sharp intentions. Nothing and nobody. Especially a woman. He had instinctively known that to succeed, he had to suspend his playboy inclinations. At least until he had proven himself at Zodiac Cruises.
But something had changed since he had stepped onboard the Aquarius. In his previous relationships, Vance had played it safe, controlling the extent of his emotions. He hadn’t allowed himself to become emotionally entangled with any woman. And they had seemed satisfied—for the most part—with the limited scope of his intentions.
It was different with Chanelle. No other woman in the past had intrigued him the way she had. Instantly. And after two days of spending time with her, something deep inside was telling him he needed to take a risk with this woman. Risk showing her that he genuinely cared about her feelings. About her.
He wanted more with her.
And he had to find out if there was any chance that she wanted more with him. If she would let him teach her how to trust.
He couldn’t play it safe anymore, and he couldn’t toy with Chanelle’s emotions. The only way to discover what she wanted was to act now, before the cruise ended and she went back home.
Which was why he had had to provide an opportunity for them to be together.
He wanted more than just work in his life. He didn’t want to end up like his father. And he knew now that he wanted—needed—more than just a physical relationship.
He wanted love.
Vance gazed at Chanelle’s profile. He felt an ache in his chest, but it wasn’t painful. It was an ache of longing, of anticipation, knowing he had to make a conscious decision to take a risk. A risk at letting love in.
He watched the breeze ruffling the long, thick waves of Chanelle’s hair. Her complexion was peach soft, with a rosy glow on her cheekbones. He caught a whiff of her perfume, its sweet peach scent making him feel like he was in an orchard in BC’s Okanagan Valley or in Ontario’s Niagara-on-the-Lake. He breathed in deeply, and at that moment, she tossed her hair back and met his gaze.
She blinked at him wordlessly, the sweeping motion of her eyelashes over green-hazel eyes mesmerizing him, the curve and fullness of her lips making his pulse quicken. He wanted to talk to her, but they were a few minutes away from Coral Haven, and he didn’t want to start something he couldn’t finish.
He would get that chance soon enough...
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHANELLE HEARD ADRIEN shout something excitedly. She pulled her gaze away from Vance’s and saw that they were approaching an island. Coral Haven. She drew in a breath, already enchanted by what she saw. The surf cresting on the whitest beach she had ever seen, leaving what looked like the scallop-edged lace hem of a wedding gown. Lush vegetation and palm trees swaying in the breeze. And glimpses of a sprawling villa beyond with its coral facade, canopied windows and elegant balconies.
“Pinch me,” she murmured, and then realized she had said it aloud.
“I would,” Vance replied huskily. “But I’d get into trouble with my mother.”
How was she supposed to respond to that?
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Vance answered his cell phone, and Chanelle couldn’t help hearing his responses to someone called Valentina, thanking her and Carlos for looking after the villa and preparing it for their visit. He told Valentina the tender was approaching and just minutes away, and her response made him chuckle. “I’m sure ‘the little breakfast’ you prepared for us is more like a banquet, Valentina.” He glanced over at Chanelle. “So it’s a good thing I’ve brought an extra guest.”
Another pause followed by a deep laugh. “No, Valentina, the only Mrs. Kingston with me is my mother. My other mother besides you,” he joked.
Moments later, the tender was moored near a large boathouse and Chanelle waited for Vance’s mother, sister and nephew to precede her as they stepped onto the long dock. Vance followed behind her, and as the rest of his family strode briskly toward the path that would lead to the villa, Chanelle slowed her pace to gaze around her. The view was stunning, with the clear azure water lapping at the pristine shore, changing to various hues of turquoise in deeper waters.
“Do you still want me to pinch you?” Vance’s amused voice behind her made Chanelle realize that she had stopped walking altogether.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she returned with a slight edge. “I can usually bring myself back to reality without having to be pinched.” She quickened her pace.
“Chanelle, you know I’d never hurt you.” His voice was soft as he stepped up beside her.
“Well, you have,” she blurted, forgetting her earlier intention of not letting him see how shattered she was. She felt a prickle behind her eyelids but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“Uncle Vance!” Adrien left his mother’s side to run back toward them. “Can you come and swing with me in the gazebo? Mommy’s going inside to help Valentina, and Grandma’s going to check on the rose garden...”
Vance bent to catch Adrien as he approached and lifted him high over his head. Adrien squealed, “Let me down, let me down,” but as soon as Vance complied, he cried, “Lift me up, lift me up!”
Vance burst out laughing, and Chanelle couldn’t help smiling. Their gazes met when Vance, holding a giggling Adrien up in the air, turned to glance at her. Despite her comment moments earlier, Chanelle felt a sizzle run through her at Vance’s boyish grin. The rest of him was anything but boyish, she couldn’t help thinking as he brought Adrien back down. Her gaze took in his strong shoulders and muscled biceps, enhanced by his tan T-shirt. His well-fitting jeans couldn’t disguise his muscular legs, either.
The dock ended and a charming stone walkway began, flanked on both sides by agave and other exotic plant species that made Chanelle catch her breath with their vibrant colors. An artist’s paradise, she thought, her gaze flitting from the brilliant multicolored crotons and hibiscus varieties to the giant pink-and-coral peony blooms that perfumed the air as they walked past. She caught her breath at the variety of orchids. She had read up on the flora of the islands and had learned that there were twenty-six varieties of native orchids, and one in particular called the wild banana orchid, which was the Cayman Islands’ national flower.
Chanelle gasped when the sprawling two-story villa came into full view, with bougainvillea spilling over balconies and yellow-green canopies adding charm above the windows of the coral stucco walls. Absolutely enchanting.
Her gaze wandered to a courtyard featuring white rattan furniture with red-and-yellow floral cushions and giant glazed pots bursting with flowers of the same color. Four umbrella tables were set with cut flower arrangements in decorative clay vases, and two hammocks swayed slightly in the breeze at one edge of the courtyard, near the rose garden that Vance’s mother was now inspecting.
“The pool
and gazebo are on the other side of the villa,” Vance told her, as Adrien pulled him in that direction. “Why don’t you join us, Chanelle?”
They disappeared around a bend before Chanelle could reply. She gazed toward the beautiful rounded door of the villa. It was painted the same green as the window canopies and looked like an illustration from one of Chanelle’s childhood fairy-tale collections.
Chanelle strode quickly toward the path Vance and Adrien had taken. Things might be strained between her and Vance, but she didn’t really want to put herself in a position where she would be open to questioning by the women in Vance’s family.
And at least Adrien would be a buffer. She wasn’t ready to be alone with Vance again. Not just yet...
The other side of the villa was just as breathtaking, with its wraparound porch and massive sunroom. The pool area, with its outside bar and elegant chaise lounges, was an oasis in itself, with potted palms and water fountains and an outdoor shower at each end. The center tiles at the bottom of the pool featured the Zodiac Cruises name and logo, and the twelve zodiac signs were displayed on the outer tiles.
Chanelle felt like she was in another world. Vance’s lifestyle was so far removed from her own. Why, her entire apartment could fit in the sunroom. She sighed. It wasn’t that she was begrudging any of the Kingstons their material possessions. Vance’s parents had worked hard to achieve their success, making many sacrifices at the beginning, according to the online articles she had read about their rise to success in the cruise business. And now Vance was leading the company, showing initiative and a fierce commitment to its continuing success.
Chanelle watched the soon-to-be official president of Zodiac Cruises swinging away with his nephew in the gazebo, grinning as if he were a kid at the midway. It was a huge white structure on a solid foundation, with an overhanging roof and rolled-up canvas panels between its twelve wooden posts. On the end opposite the swing, there was a hammock big enough for two people, a bistro set and a bar-size refrigerator.
Chanelle couldn’t help wondering if Vance had made use of the gazebo with any of his female friends on sultry island nights... All he’d have to do was to roll down the canvas panels and he’d have a summer bedroom...and a bottle of wine in the fridge waiting to be savored...
Vance’s gaze met hers as she stood a few feet away from them, and he waved her over, bringing the swing to a stop. “Come and join us,” he called. “There’s nothing more relaxing than an old-fashioned ride on a swing.”
Chanelle eyed the swing. She would sit across from Vance and Adrien. She could handle that.
But could she handle having those blue eyes continue to look at her that way?
* * *
Vance tried not to make it obvious, but he couldn’t help gazing at Chanelle and the striking picture she made. No, striking wasn’t the perfect word. She was eye candy in her yellow dress with its eyelet sections, revealing glimpses of navy and bare skin underneath. And her bare shoulders—under the thinnest spaghetti straps—and curvy legs elicited thoughts that made his heart drum an erratic beat against his ribs.
He couldn’t believe that she was actually here on Coral Haven, especially after he had basically given her the brush-off last night. The excuse he had tried to convince himself with was that Chanelle might have regretted it later if he had stayed. And that had been a valid supposition, but there had also been another reason why he had backed off. Fear. Fear that making love to Chanelle would force him into a commitment, and he hadn’t been sure that he had it in him to commit to a serious relationship.
He didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to commitment... But then again, he had never met a woman he had wanted to commit to.
He had screwed up with Chanelle. But now he had the opportunity to make things right. Explain his reasons. His fears. Show Chanelle that he wasn’t playing with her emotions or with anyone else’s.
As soon as he could get her alone...
* * *
Valentina had prepared a feast. The gleaming modern sideboard displayed platters of croissants, pastries, steaming omelets and sausages. She had put on the strong coffee that Vance and Mariah preferred and Earl Grey tea for their mother.
Minutes earlier, Valentina had sounded a bell, and after rolling down the canvas panels of the gazebo to keep it cool, he, Chanelle and Adrien had gone inside. Vance had introduced Chanelle, and Valentina had given Vance a wink and an approving nod before leaving for the day.
Breakfast was not as awkward as Vance thought it might be. Mariah was treating Chanelle like a longtime girlfriend. And his mother was chatting easily with Chanelle about her rose garden.
Vance reached for another custard-filled croissant. There was no rush to do anything but enjoy the moment. And he certainly was enjoying how things were playing out with Chanelle and his family.
It shouldn’t be too long before he had Chanelle all to himself...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AFTER VANCE’S MOTHER and sister had left to go up to their respective rooms, Vance turned to Chanelle. “Look,” he said, “we’re here for a good stretch. I do want to explain what happened last night...and apologize for any misunderstanding...but could you just indulge me for a few minutes and let me show you around the place?” He tilted his head at her—if she wasn’t so upset with him, she’d find his puppy dog look humorous.
Chanelle pursed her lips. Maybe he was trying to ease into it...and maybe she needed a few moments to mentally prepare what to say to him. “Fine,” she said coolly, wishing those baby-blue eyes weren’t so easy to look at. She couldn’t let them distract her from the reality of his true nature...even though he had made her feel things she never thought she would feel again...
Despite her intentions to remain indifferent, Chanelle found herself captivated by the beautiful rooms and eclectic furnishings. She found herself listening as Vance explained how his mother’s love of antiques was reflected in areas like the main floor living room, with its mahogany Chippendale highboy and gleaming secretary desk, along with more traditional floral upholstery.
His preference for elegant simplicity was the inspiration for the sunroom, he told her, indicating the ivory Italian leather couches and scarlet cushions positioned around a red-lacquered circular coffee table. Chanelle’s eyes widened at the massive bay window that overlooked the pool and gazebo area and provided a stunning view of the beach a short distance away.
Vance had selected many of the paintings throughout the villa, and he gave Chanelle a blurb about each artist and the inspiration behind the work.
“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t expect you—”
“To be so smart?” His mouth twisted wryly, and he gazed down at her with raised eyebrows.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she said, flushing.
“I did major in art history and design, and before stepping into my father’s shoes, I curated an art gallery. Although I sadly neglected my own art after discovering the art of being a playboy,” he added wistfully.
Chanelle’s eyes widened. How could he be so...so casual about it?
“Forgive me for being blunt, Chanelle, but it is what it is. My parents weren’t very happy, as you can imagine. My mother wanted me to use my degree in some capacity in the company—designing and overseeing the art galleries and auctions, for example—but I was caught up in my own self-indulgent world. And I couldn’t see myself working for or with my father.”
“You didn’t get along?” Chanelle ventured.
Vance gave a curt laugh. “Ah...no. He was barely around. He was a workaholic. And when he did come home, he made it clear that he had no use for my art.”
Chanelle felt a pang at his words. She understood what being a workaholic was all about. And now she could see how that had affected her relationship.
“Both sides lose out,” she murmured. “It must have been hard having a father b
ut hardly ever seeing him. And having him not take your art seriously.”
“I had a hard time investing any emotions—positive ones, that is—in an absentee father,” he said, his voice steely. “And I swore I’d never turn out like him.”
His gaze shifted to a stunning landscape on one of the walls of the sunroom. She had recognized it immediately as a painting by one of the iconic Group of Seven upon entering the room. Now at close range, she saw that it was one of J. E. H. MacDonald’s scenic landscapes. Vance turned to Chanelle. “I like to have a bit of Canada with me when I’m away.” He smiled. “I also have a Lawren Harris in my bedroom. I was inspired by the Group of Seven. I started sketching and painting in high school and had filled a sketchpad with my drawings to show that I was serious about pursuing art at university.” His smile disappeared. “My father got angry. Tossed it aside. For him it was get involved in the company or nothing. And back then, I chose the nothing.”
“Our past experiences and choices help make us who we are,” Chanelle said. “When we’re young, we subconsciously tell ourselves stories in order to cope with our situation. You internalized the fact that your father put his work before you and probably concluded that he didn’t love you. But now, as an adult, having stepped into his shoes for the last nine months, your perspective has probably changed a little. Maybe you can see that he was focused on building a future for you, possibly because his father wasn’t able to do that for him. And maybe he was worried, knowing how hard it is for artists to make a living...”
Chanelle hesitated. What was she doing? She had no business speculating on his personal situation or feelings toward his father. She was here to listen to what he had to say, not to give him a social worker’s take on his relationship with his father.
A muscle flickered along Vance’s jawline. His eyes had narrowed and he was looking at her intently, but Chanelle had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing her at that moment. And then he turned abruptly and strode to a curving alabaster staircase that led to the second floor.
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