by Gina Wilkins
He didn’t know what her motives were, exactly—whether they were money, security or social connections—but he would bet Chloe wasn’t planning to marry Bryan for love. And while Bryan might insist that he wasn’t looking for that sort of bond—just as Donovan wasn’t interested in falling under some romantic spell—it still seemed that there should be something more to a marriage than amiable companionship.
Shifting restlessly in the bed he usually occupied during his frequent stays here, Donovan told himself he really should mind his own business when it came to Bryan’s matrimonial plans. What did he know about marriage, anyway? His own parents had probably considered themselves in love when they married, and that had been a disaster. Bryan’s parents could hardly stand each other, but they were still together, apparently content with the arrangement they’d come to during the past forty years.
If Bryan wanted the same sort of cool, convenient alliance, who was he to interfere, even if Bryan would allow him to do so?
Donovan rolled over again in the bed, telling himself to go to sleep and stop fretting about things that were beyond his control. And then he found himself remembering the sight of Chloe standing on that balcony in the moonlight, wearing her floaty nightclothes and looking pretty enough to make a man almost forget how to think.
Donovan was not in a good mood.
Chloe didn’t know if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep or if he was just bored, but he’d been all but snarling at her ever since she’d joined him in the kitchen. She’d risen early, but he’d already had coffee made and breakfast cooked.
“I hope you like oatmeal,” he’d said. “It’s one of the few things I know how to cook.”
“I like oatmeal,” she had answered, warily eyeing his stern expression.
“Good.”
She didn’t think he’d said a complete sentence since, she mused as they stacked their bowls and spoons in the dishwasher a short time later.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m. yet. “What time did Bryan say he would be here?”
If anything, the question only seemed to make Donovan grumpier. “He didn’t know, exactly. Late afternoon—early evening, maybe.”
The hours in between stretched ahead of her like a gaping hole she had no idea how to fill. She’d packed a couple of books, but it seemed rather rude to close herself in her room for the rest of the day. Or maybe Donovan would prefer that she do just that, freeing him from the responsibility of entertaining her.
After closing the dishwasher door, he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a nice day out, even though it’s cloudy,” he said abruptly. “Why don’t I show you around the place? You’ll probably be spending a lot of time here. It’s Bryan’s favorite retreat when he needs to get away from the everyday grind.”
He seemed to be again assuming that she and Bryan would be married, despite her reminders that she hadn’t made that decision yet. Since it didn’t seem to serve any purpose to continue reminding him, she merely nodded and said, “All right. I’d enjoy a tour.”
He glanced at the thin, coral-colored T-shirt she’d donned with khakis. “You’d better grab a jacket. It’s still a little cool out.”
For some reason, his words evoked an image of being on the balcony last night, her breath forming silvery clouds in front of her, Donovan gazing up at her from the shadows below. She took an involuntary step backward, as if she could physically move away from that oddly unsettling memory. “I’ll be right back.”
At least a tour of the grounds would give them something to do for a little while, she reasoned as she pulled on a heavy denim shirt in lieu of a jacket. She was probably growing increasingly aware of Donovan because they had been confined to such tight quarters for so many hours—first in his car, and then in this house. Maybe it would help to be outside.
Donovan was waiting by the back door. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, apparently thinking his long-sleeved black pullover and black pants would be warm enough. He’d shown a predilection for black clothing since they’d arrived here, she mused as she stepped outside ahead of him.
Studying him through her eyelashes, she decided it was a good thing he hadn’t been dressed this way when he’d arrived at her door to pick her up yesterday. Her over-protective twin might have been tempted to throw herself across the doorstep to prevent Chloe from leaving with this stranger.
Donovan Chance looked just a bit dangerous in black.
As he’d warned her, the air was nippy—though not as cold as it had been last night. The grounds around the house were beautifully landscaped, the plantings lush and natural so that little maintenance was required. Rock and hardwood mulch had been used for pathways through the trees and beds, and several inviting seating areas offered choices of breathtaking lake views, peacefully shaded alcoves or sunbathed clearings. Fountains, waterfalls, birdbaths and feeders added more sensory input.
Chloe was so enthralled by the sheer beauty surrounding her that she almost forgot to watch her feet. She might have taken a tumble if Donovan hadn’t reached out to catch her arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop. “Drop-off,” he said with his usual brevity.
She glanced down to discover that she stood at the top of a series of flagstone steps that had been carved out of a rather steep hill. The steps were set to one side of the rocky bluff that overhung the lake a hundred feet below. “Do these lead down to the lake?”
“Eventually—in a roundabout way. It takes a bit of exertion—especially coming back up—but Bryan and I go down that way fairly often. Want to check it out?”
She looked cautiously over the edge of the bluff. It was a long way down—and she’d never been particularly fond of heights. “How steep does the path get?”
Donovan shrugged. “Steeper in some places than others. But it’s safe. Bryan wouldn’t take any risks with his guests’ welfare.”
She didn’t doubt that. If there was one thing she had learned about Bryan, it was that he was a stickler for details. “Then I’d like to go down to the lake.”
“Hang on a second.” Moving around her, he walked down a couple of steps, then turned to look up at her. “The stones are still damp, so watch your step.”
He was always so conscientious about taking care of her. Donovan really took his assignments seriously, she mused as she moved cautiously onto the first step.
She was glad she was wearing sneakers for the extra traction they provided. Whether because of them, or because she was enjoying the scenery so much, or just because Donovan hovered so protectively nearby, she felt perfectly safe during the descent.
The area was filled with wildlife—birds, chipmunks, rabbits, deer. Two playful squirrels chased each other across the path, oblivious to the two-legged trespassers in their playground. Laughing at their antics, and perhaps a bit overconfident in the traction of her sneakers, Chloe nearly stumbled when her foot slipped on the uneven edge of a stone step. Donovan steadied her instantly, displaying impressively swift reflexes.
“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed by her clumsiness. “I guess I’ve lived in town for too long.”
He didn’t immediately release her, but kept a loose grip on her arm as he guided her down another short flight of steps to the next sloping walkway. “Did you grow up in Little Rock?”
“No, I’m from Searcy, originally. Our parents still live there, though they left two days ago for a ten-day-long Caribbean cruise. Grace and I moved to Little Rock eleven years ago—right out of high school. We worked days and attended night classes at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock until we earned degrees in business. We always wanted to go into business for ourselves, but we had to wait until the time was right. We opened our shop ten months ago.”
It was more than he had asked, of course. Maybe in reaction to Donovan’s customary terseness, she tended to babble when he made conversational overtures.
“You and your sister have shared an apartment for eleven years?”
She didn’t know whether he fo
und it hard to believe that any two people could cohabit for that long, or if anyone could live with her sister for eleven years—Grace had hardly made a positive first impression with Donovan. She quickly set him straight. “Grace and I don’t share an apartment. We did for a while when we first moved to Little Rock, but we found our own places several years ago. Grace was there yesterday to, um, see me off.”
“To see you off…or to try one last time to talk you out of going?”
She smiled wryly to acknowledge the hit. “Yes, well…”
Moving ahead of her, Donovan stepped over a large boulder in the path and then turned to offer her his hand. “Careful here. It’s slippery.”
She hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, providing support as she made her way carefully over the boulder. He did have a competent air about him. She certainly understood how Bryan had come to depend on him so much.
As soon as Chloe reached the foot of the trail, she decided the trip down was worth the effort. A driftwood-littered gravel beach was shaded by trees that leaned out over the water. On one side of the private inlet sat a neat metal boathouse and a covered wooden deck lined with benches.
“Oh, this is nice.” She made a slow circle, peering up the face of the bluff. The back of the house above them was just visible from where she stood. The sun glinted off the many big windows that overlooked the lake. She turned again to study the boathouse and dock. “I suppose Bryan keeps a boat here.”
“Two—a ski boat and a pontoon boat. Would you like to go for a ride?”
“Not now, thank you.”
“Saving yourself for Bryan?”
The apparent double entendre made her turn to look at him in surprise. Had that actually been a lame joke? If so, it was the first time she’d heard Donovan even attempt to be amusing. Now, how was she supposed to respond? Had she been with Bryan, she would have shot back some similar wisecrack, but with Donovan, her usual wit seemed to get tangled around her tongue.
He didn’t wait for her to come up with something to say. Instead, he turned, reached down to scoop up a pebble, and sent it skipping frenetically over the surface of the water.
“Very impressive.” She feigned applause. “I could never do that. Grace, now, is a champion rock skipper.”
He looked skeptical. “You can’t skip a rock?”
“Nope,” she replied cheerfully. “I’ve tried since I was seven, and I’ve never managed more than a sorry bounce or two before my rock sank straight to the bottom. My dad was convinced I just wasn’t trying, but I really did try—until I finally gave up in sheer frustration.”
“Everyone can skip a rock.”
“I can’t,” she said with a shrug. “Just never figured out the trajectories or whatever.”
“Everyone can skip a rock,” he repeated, looking down at the ground.
“Not everyone.”
He bent to pluck several stones from the ground, then rattled them in his palm as he straightened. “Here. Give it a try.”
“I’m telling you, Donovan, it’s a lost cause. I cannot skip rocks.”
“Of course you can.” He placed a flat stone in her hand. “Now, just skim it over the water’s surface.”
“Easier said than done,” she muttered, then obligingly tossed the rock at the water. As she’d expected, it sank with a splash.
“No, you threw it into the water, not across it.” Donovan handed her another stone. “Think of the water as a solid surface and let the rock hit it at a glancing angle.”
“Oh, sure. No problem.” She sighed and threw the second rock, watching in resignation when it immediately disappeared beneath the surface. “Okay. Have I convinced you yet?”
“You’re not trying.”
“If only you knew how many times I’ve heard that—in exactly that same tone.”
He gave her another stone. “Try again. And remember, your object is to skip the rock, not sink it.”
That rock made a half-hearted attempt to bounce before it was devoured by a hungry ripple. Chloe turned with a disgusted shake of her head. “I told you. I can’t—”
He folded her fingers around another rock. “Try again.”
She frowned a little. She didn’t quite like the grimly determined look on Donovan’s face. He had decided, for some reason, to teach her how to skip a rock—and he didn’t seem inclined to give up until she had learned to do so. Because she had a sudden mental picture of herself standing there throwing rocks until sundown, she shook her head. “I’d really rather not. I just can’t—”
Her words stumbled to a halt when he moved behind her and covered her hand with his own.
“Like this,” he said, pulling her arm back and tilting her hand to a position that satisfied him. “Bring your arm forward and release the rock exactly at that angle.”
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You’re not going to give up until I learn this, are you?”
His low voice rumbled unnervingly close to her ear. “It’s just a matter of convincing you that you want it.”
“It’s, um, not that important a skill to learn.”
Without releasing her, he shrugged. “I don’t like hearing anyone say, ‘I can’t.’”
There had to be some significance to that statement, she mused, trying to distract herself from how closely he stood to her. Something in his past or his psyche made him doggedly stick to a task until it was completed to his satisfaction.
The distraction technique wasn’t helping much. She was entirely too aware of the warmth that seemed to radiate from him, and the strength of the hand that held hers. She was definitely spending too much time alone with this man.
She tossed the rock quickly, hoping it would skip so he would move away. It sort of bounced once before sinking.
Sighing, she turned her head to look at him, intending to tell him to forget it. To mark this project off as a lost cause. She couldn’t skip rocks, didn’t even want to skip rocks, and she saw no reason to waste any more time trying. She was simply going to politely, but firmly, tell him….
Her gaze locked with his cool green eyes…and whatever she had intended to say fled from her mind. His arm was still partially around her, and he stood so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. A quiver of reaction rippled somewhere deep inside her.
It was no longer possible to deny a fact she’d been trying to ignore since she’d first met Donovan Chance. She was very strongly attracted to him. She still couldn’t say she liked him—but she was physically drawn to him in a way that worried her.
Though she had tried to tell herself the attraction was simply circumstantial, the rationalization just didn’t ring true anymore. She certainly didn’t fall for every interesting man with whom she spent time. Which made it even more perplexing that, for the second time in a short period, she found himself intrigued by a strange man.
She moistened her suddenly dry mouth. “Um…”
So abruptly she nearly stumbled, Donovan released her and backed away, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Maybe Bryan’s the one who should help you with this,” he said.
It demonstrated exactly how far her thoughts had wandered when she gaped at him and asked, “What do you mean?”
His left eyebrow lifted fractionally, “Bryan’s better at teaching things than I am. He explains things more clearly. He could probably show you how to skip a rock halfway across the lake.”
She managed a weak, decidedly fake smile. “I doubt that.”
Motioning toward the path they had come down, he moved another step backward. “Ready to head back up to the house?”
“Sure. Bryan could be trying to call us.”
His face could have been carved from the same hard rock that made up the bluff behind him. “I have my cell phone. He’d call that number if he wanted to reach us.”
Nodding, she made a sign for him to proceed her. “I’ll follow you.”
“It would probably be
better if you go first. Just in case you slip or anything.”
She stepped onto the path, but asked over her shoulder, “Still playing bodyguard?”
“I told you. I’m not a bodyguard.”
The word always seemed to annoy him. Something else from his past, perhaps. Another little psychological quirk she would probably never understand because she didn’t expect to get to know him that well.
She started up the path with as much speed as she could safely manage. She had no intention of falling into his arms, or making a fool of herself in some other way with him.
It seemed the best thing for her to do when she reached the top was to lock herself in her room with a book—rude or not—and try to put Donovan Chance out of her mind. While she was in there, it wouldn’t hurt her to do some thinking about her true feelings for Bryan. After all, she’d come here to consider marrying him—only to find herself inordinately fascinated by his best friend.
Definitely something wrong with that picture. Something she should consider very seriously before she made any commitments—to anyone.
It was beginning to look more and more as if Grace had been right all along, she thought somberly, and then winced at the thought of her twin saying, “I told you so.”
Donovan hesitated outside Chloe’s bedroom door, his hand half raised to knock. For some reason, he was having a little trouble following through with that motion.
After making her way up the path with a speed that had left him almost breathless, she’d closed herself in her room for the remainder of the morning. She’d murmured something about having brought some paperwork along. Rather unexpected, considering this was supposed to be a romantic getaway for her and Bryan—but then, it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Bryan brought a briefcase full of paperwork with him. Maybe Chloe and Bryan really were two of a kind.