Prelude and Promises

by Barbara Baldwin

  “More money is always nice,” she said.

  “Who needs it? Do you have any idea of my net worth? I’m not bragging; I’m simply saying enough is enough. Money can’t buy happiness as they say.”

  At an earlier time in her life, Cheyenne would have adamantly disagreed with him. When there wasn’t enough money to eat, when she had lied about her age to get a job to keep a roof over their heads—yeah, money might not buy happiness but it sure could help keep body and soul together.

  As though sensing her mood, Jake changed the subject. “So, getting back to last night. My opinion somewhat changed about you.”

  Oh, this can’t be good.

  “Not only did you fight dirty, but you used a few choice words on Blaine.”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Not exactly what I would want anyone to recall about me.”

  “That’s a good thing,” he said, placing his uninjured hand over hers on the table. “You were take-no-prisoners warrior woman, and I was extremely glad you were on my side.”

  His praise, such as it was, made Cheyenne want to melt into a little puddle at his feet. It was no wonder he had groupies and adoring fans worldwide. And though she refused to be one of the mob because of his music, his soft words and good nature were fast turning her into his biggest admirer. That only made her responsibility to Sebastian Donovan more difficult to fulfill.

  “If you think so highly of me, will you please consider my request to return to Chicago?”

  He removed his hand from hers. “I am considering it.”

  She perked up. “Good. There are flights out of Seattle every day.”

  He shook his head. “Considering is not agreeing. Besides, this weekend is the Mermaid Festival, and I agreed to be on the committee. I can’t run out on that.”

  “They celebrate mermaids?”

  “From what I’ve heard, one of the first families on the island was Abel Lockburn and his brothers. They were shrimpers from the mainland, and the legend goes that once they were caught in a fierce storm. Their mast was broken and they were floundering at sea, far from the mainland. All was lost until a mermaid rose from the rolling waves and commanded the seas to calm, then she led them to this island, where they decided to settle.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “Who am I to dispute legend? Besides, anything that helps the economy of small islands like Lockabee is cause for celebration. From what I understand, there will be several thousand people here over the two days.”

  Cheyenne groaned. “This weekend was bad enough. I’ll have to hide in my room.”

  He laughed. “Most certainly not, but I’ll make sure you have an escort so you don’t start any more brawls.”

  She started to argue but from the twinkle in his eyes, realized he was teasing.

  “If you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way, I wouldn’t have to brawl.”

  He placed a hand over his heart. “You are my hero.” He slid out of the booth and stood with his back toward her, which was a good thing because Cheyenne’s breath caught and she knew her face would have given her away. She was falling for Jake Smith. Everything about him in this rustic setting called to her. He was laid back and friendly, good natured and gentlemanly. Yet he fiercely came to her rescue.

  She had never been drawn to Joseph Donovan, other than in an awestruck sort of way. That persona had been too far out of her league, whereas Jake Smith was down to earth. She knew it was silly to compare the two when they were the same people, yet it really did seem as if Jake had shaken off the rich and famous cloak. Could someone change so completely in a few short months?

  She would have laughed at the thought if it hadn’t struck an intimate chord within her. She had done almost the opposite, coming from nothing and building a thin veneer of respectability around herself. She’d worked her way through community college and decided upon graduation that she would never be poor again. She would have the best clothes, the latest phone. She would get her nails done weekly and her hair highlighted regularly. She had managed to become an assistant to one of the world’s most famous people and she wasn’t about to fail at her assignment.

  Jake wondered at her expression as she slid from the booth. He didn’t want the professional and efficient mask of Miss Tucker to slide into place when he enjoyed Cheyenne so much more.

  “It’s early, let’s take a walk down to the docks.” When she hesitated, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. She relaxed and gave him a smile.

  As they walked, he tried to think of something to say. He really knew little about her. She had always been in the background of his life, like a shadow doing his uncle’s bidding. Now she was constantly in his thoughts.

  “It’s funny that you’ve worked for my uncle all these years, yet I really know nothing about you.”

  “An efficient executive assistant should be inconspicuous.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “Do they give you a book in school with a list of rules?”

  That made her smile, which made her whole face light up. He wanted to be the one who made her smile all the time.

  “Tell me something about yourself.”

  The smile wavered and he wanted to retract the statement, but she tilted her head slightly and looked at him.

  “I have a sister down in Sweetwater, Texas.”

  He waited.

  “I had a mother, of course, until she…left.” The pause was short but he caught her hesitancy. Had her mother died as his had and she was hesitant to mention it?

  “Ah, so we have something in common. You didn’t mention a father.”

  “Oh, my parents were married,” she replied before slapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “I shouldn’t have said…”

  “The fact is, my mother once told me that she and my father were married, but she had no license and my uncle never believed her.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have said…”

  “It’s okay, Cheyenne.”

  They had reached the top of the pier and stopped. She removed her hand from his arm and folded her arms across the top of the wood railing. She looked off into the distance and the only sounds were the call of the gulls and the gentle slapping of waves against the dock.

  He studied her profile. She was pretty, not classically beautiful like the models and dancers who had once been a part of his life. Pretty was better. There was no artifice about her. She was what she was. A very efficient assistant to an imposing man. As such, she was cool and reserved, emotion rarely crossing her face.

  At least, that was the way he remembered her in Chicago. Since she had tracked him down here on the island, she had become outspoken, tenacious in her quest to get him to return home and fierce in her defense of him in the bar fight. All qualities that made her seductive as hell. He recalled thinking earlier if he weren’t hurting so badly, he would take the proper Cheyenne Tucker to bed for a good romp. He wondered which set of emotions would prevail if he put a move on her.

  “Let’s pretend again. We’re merely two ordinary people out on a date.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  He turned toward her and pulled her close. “Let’s find out.”

  He half expected her to resist when he brushed his lips against hers. Instead, she tilted her head and stepped even closer. That answered at least part of his question. Then he wasn’t thinking at all as instinct took over. He reached up and plucked the clip from her hair, letting the soft tendrils flow through his fingers as he cupped her face. She smelled of sunshine and roses. Her eyes drifted closed and he kissed her deeply. Immediately, the music flowed through him but he wasn’t letting go or running off this time. Not when he held a living, breathing symphony in his arms.

  She moved against him as he ran his hands down her back, never breaking contact with her luscious lips. He swallowed her soft moan when he pressed her hips against his. He would have done even more had he not been vaguely aware of their surroundings. Slowly,
he lifted his mouth, continuing to pepper her face with kisses.

  “Come back to the cottage with me,” he whispered, and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue.

  Her arms loosened from around his neck, her palms slid down to press lightly against his chest.

  “I can’t.” Even as she said the words, she turned and kissed his cheek.

  He leaned back just enough to see her face, keeping her securely in his embrace. “If it’s my uncle you’re worried about…”

  “That’s not it,” she replied. “There’s too much difference between us. You’re rich and famous and—”

  “Are you after my fortune?” He pretended to glare at her, eyes dancing.

  “I don’t want your money,” she cried with very real indignity.

  “Good, because neither do I.” He tightened his hold on her. “It causes nothing but trouble.” He didn’t let her protest further, just covered her lips with his in a kiss that was soft and gentle, yet hopefully told her exactly what he did want.

  Chapter 8

  This time it was Cheyenne who ran away.

  “I have to go,” she said, pushing against Jake’s chest. Surprisingly, he released her and stood back.

  “What are you afraid of, Cheyenne?” His question struck a nerve.

  Myself. She hurried away, leaving him standing by the dock rail alone. She knew if she let Jake close, if they had a relationship, it would devastate her when he ended it. And how could he not? His life was on the stage, and even though he protested now, she knew he would eventually go back to that. He was still composing; he still loved music. It wasn’t something anyone with his talent could truly walk away from. And she didn’t belong in that world, a place of glamour and parties and hob-knobbing with the rich and famous.

  Cheyenne had never considered herself inferior to anyone. In fact, that had been the one thing to keep her going in the darkest days after her mother had left. She had told herself and her sister over and over again that it was their mother who had a problem. They were not the unworthy ones. That attitude had made it possible to do the impossible at the time—to become an adult when she was still a child in order to keep them from being separated and going into the system.

  So why did she feel she wasn’t good enough for Jake? Because he was actually Joseph Donovan, she reminded herself as she readied for bed. She knew he’d had affairs with glamorous women. She had frequently seen the photos in the tabloids; in fact, she had often issued press releases written by the senior Donovan disputing any stories and liaisons that had been printed.

  She crawled into bed without checking her phone or email. Her mind was in turmoil over a situation she hadn’t wanted in the beginning and now she was being swept into the storm. If only Sebastian had sent someone else to collect Jake, if only she hadn’t kissed him that first time, if only her brain would quit wondering what it would be like to make love with him.

  She eventually fell asleep, dreaming of belonging to someone and living a life of happily ever after.

  * * *

  Cheyenne looked blurrily at the readout on her phone.

  Be outside in an hour. Dress casual.

  Well, he isn’t giving up. She dragged herself to the shower. A smile curved her lips as she stood under the spray. He isn’t giving up.

  She dressed in navy Bermuda shorts and a red and white crop top, pulled her hair back in a ponytail and applied light make up. She wished she had tennis shoes, but her deck shoes would have to do. Honestly, if she ended up spending the rest of the month here, she had to get more clothes. Jake no longer evaded her, but he certainly hadn’t consented to returning to Chicago, which meant she was here for the duration.

  Feeling slightly guilty, she fired off a quick email to Donovan, telling him she had information and would get back to him as soon as she could. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she had come to the conclusion that this really wasn’t her fight. Jake was an adult, certainly capable of deciding his life. His uncle needed to understand that, but it wasn’t her place to tell him so. After what Jake had told her about his mother, she was leaning more heavily in his favor, even though she was employed by the opposition.

  She hurried down the stairs, grabbed a bottle of water and a French pastry from the breakfast tray, and left all thoughts of Chicago behind as she closed the door.

  The heat assaulted her; the sun already bounced off the light colored walls of the buildings. She did have her sunglasses, which she hastily donned, but she could have used a hat.

  Jake stood at the bottom of the steps. He wore ragged cutoffs, a tee with the sleeves torn off and tennis shoes with a hole in one toe. His ball cap was turned backwards, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting the bright light.

  “You’ve only been here two months,” she said as she joined him and they started down the boardwalk. “How is it your clothes look like they survived every natural disaster known to man?”

  He laughed and she was glad to see he harbored no ill feelings for her having run out on him last night. “You can actually buy clothes this way.”

  “The question is, why would you want to?”

  “You need a hat,” he said instead. He grabbed her hand and led her into a souvenir shop.

  She took a step toward the wide brimmed sun hats but he pulled her the opposite way.

  “You’ll need something that stays on your head.” He grabbed one from the shelf. It had a fish coming out of water with a huge hook in its mouth. Embroidered in hot pink on the black material was “hook’er”.

  “Seriously?” she choked out but had to laugh when he turned back around and she saw the front of his hat. “Chick bait” was scrawled next to a can of worms.

  “Is there anything that doesn’t have to do with fish and sex?” she asked.

  He looked at her with mock surprise. “This entire island is supported by fishing.”

  “And the sex?” she questioned without thinking.

  He wiggled his brows as he plucked another hat from a lower shelf. “How do you think they make the next generation of fishermen?” He started to put the white hat on her head, then reached behind her and pulled her pony tail out through the hole in the back.

  “What does this one say?” She tried to pull it off but he caught her hand and held it tight. She noticed he had replaced his bandage with a brace that wrapped around his wrist and palm, leaving his fingers free. She momentarily forgot about the hat as she studied his hand, assuring herself the swelling had gone down.

  He kept hold of her as he gave the cashier some money.

  “Fitting.” The man nodded toward her hat as he handed Jake his change. “And not just because of the festival.”

  Cheyenne pulled her hand free and sought a mirror. She wasn’t leaving this store with a derogatory saying on her hat. It took her a minute to read the word backward, then she smiled as Jake came up behind her. “Mermaid” was stenciled in emerald green, arching around a picture of the aforesaid, her long blonde hair barely covering lush breasts.

  He smiled at her reflection in the mirror and she mentally took back her earlier thoughts about wishing Donovan hadn’t given her this assignment. At the moment, there was nowhere else she would rather be.

  The street had become more crowded during their time in the store and Jake grabbed her hand to keep them together. “We’re heading for the pier,” he said, as they wove in and out of the crowds.

  “The festival has already started?” There weren’t as many people clogging the streets as on Magnificent Mile for the Christmas parade, but for a small village, it seemed overwhelming.

  “The official kickoff is at sunset, which is why we need to hustle.” He quickened his pace and she easily kept up with his long stride. At the pier, they veered off the boardwalk onto one of the floating docks, lined with boats on both sides. This particular dock jutted the farthest out into the harbor, and they walked almost to the end where a boat was tied in the last slip.

  “Sorry for the delay, McNally,” Jake said
as he hopped aboard, then turned to help her. Instead of giving her a hand, he circled her waist and lifted her across. She grabbed his upper arms in reflex. He was muscular but not bulky and his skin was warm beneath her fingers. She reluctantly let go when her feet hit the deck but grabbed him again when her shoes slipped on the wet surface.

  He kept one hand circled about her upper arm. “Take off the shoes,” he said, helping her to maintain her balance as she pulled one then the other off and dropped them on the deck.

  He then turned to introduce her to the other man. “McNally, this is Cheyenne Tucker, a friend. Thought she might like to see what we’re up to.” To her he added, “McNally is the unofficial harbormaster.”

  McNally, a barrel chested man with a red beard and bright blue eyes, grinned at her as he tugged the front of his hat. “Welcome aboard, Miss. You both sit back there while I get us under way.”

  Cheyenne moved in the direction he indicated, sitting down on a cushion bench along the back of the boat. McNally climbed the few steps to an area where he apparently captained the boat and Jake slipped the tether free of the cleat.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he sat beside her, toeing off his own shoes and kicking them aside. “You don’t get seasick, do you?” He tilted his head to look at her with a frown.

  “Of course not,” she instantly replied, hoping it was true. She had taken the Chicago River cruises, and once a coastline boat tour on Lake Michigan but both were different from going out to sea, if that was where they were heading.

  As though reading her thoughts, he said, “We’re not going beyond the harbor buoys.” He pointed to a spot in front of them and Cheyenne could see orange balls bobbing on the water’s surface. He pulled a box between his feet to rummage through, then handed her a stack of numbered oil cloth flags with riveted holes on two corners.

  “Our job is to give each boat a number if they want to be in the flotilla tonight. I’ll cut lengths of rope and you can thread them through the holes. They’ll tie these to their main sail mast so we know they registered.”