Prelude and Promises

by Barbara Baldwin

Cheyenne was at a loss. “You don’t care about the millions of adoring fans?”

  Their wine arrived and he took a sip, nodded to the waiter who then poured them each a glass. Once he had set the bottle on the table and left, Jake raised his glass to hers.

  “Here’s to Jake Smith.” A boyish grin crossed his face.

  At her continued look of befuddlement, he explained. “Remember the day at the dock when you asked me why I wouldn’t return to Chicago and I, in turn, asked you what you felt?”

  She nodded. “And I said sand. I didn’t understand at the time. I’m not sure I understand now.”

  “I have always wanted to belong. Here I do, simply because I’m me. You don’t know what it’s like. I have friends who shake my hand without wanting an autograph. I can see the sunrise from the beach and not from the inside of a limo. I hear seagulls screech instead of applause.”

  “But you must enjoy playing. You were at the bar piano the other night.”

  “My whole life, from the time I was six years old, has revolved around music and performing.”

  “Because you have a gift.”

  He nodded. “But a gift that should be mine to give as I please. And you are right; I do enjoy music and playing, but that is quite different from performing.”

  The waiter returned to take their order.

  “I haven’t even looked at the menu,” Cheyenne said.

  “I’ll order, if you’d like,” Jake said.

  While he discussed menu choices, she glanced around, noting several couples at other tables enjoying conversations that probably weren’t as weighty as hers and Jake’s. She found it odd that two men, though dressed casually in polo shirts and slacks, appeared to be in a very serious discussion. It didn’t seem the place to hold a business meeting. They looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place them. When they noticed her glancing their way, they quickly quit talking and stared in the opposite direction.

  She turned her attention back to Jake, watching him as she sipped her wine, mulling over what he had said. He handed the menus back to the waiter and returned his gaze to her, his brown eyes intent. She suddenly understood. His life had been completely organized and promoted with concert and recording demands that must have finally pushed him beyond his limits. He was constantly on display and rarely had a moment to himself. The feel of sand beneath his feet was something ordinary, taken for granted by many but denied to the famous Joseph Donovan.

  Their meal was brought out and while Jake attacked his with relish, her stomach rolled and she wondered if she would be able to eat a bite. Everything Jake said made sense, and that only made her predicament worse. How was she supposed to convince him to return to Chicago when she was no longer sure that was where he belonged?

  Jake watched Cheyenne nit-pick at her food, barely eating. It wasn’t hard to understand what she was thinking. Over the course of her time here, he had been trying to convince her of his choice to remain just as adamantly as she was trying to convince him to return to Chicago. The only question was which of them was making progress. At times, he felt somewhat guilty toward his uncle, but then someone like George Franklin would ask his help and Jake felt a sense of usefulness that had been lacking in his life.

  With a sigh, Cheyenne began eating. She had apparently come to a decision but Jake wasn’t about to ask her. He had no desire to find out that she was still set on her original course of action.

  “The salmon was absolutely delicious,” she finally said as she set her napkin beside her plate. “And nothing was fried,” she teased.

  “Come on, you have to admit you like it.”

  “My hips don’t.” She gave a mock frown.

  “I like your hips,” he said softly just to watch her blush. He raised his hand for the waiter and quickly took care of the bill. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He took her hand and hurried out of the restaurant.

  They were almost back to town when Jake looked in the rear view mirror with a frown. The same car had been following them since leaving the Yacht Club, which wouldn’t be unusual as there was only one road back to Princetown from the south end of the island. But when he sped up or slowed down, so had the other car. Now, he quickly turned at the next corner onto a residential street, watching as the other car turned, too.

  “Hold on,” he said just before swerving in front of an oncoming car to turn left.

  “What?” Cheyenne squealed.

  “Does my dear uncle have anybody else on my tail?” he asked, not looking at her as he wove in and out of bicycle and rickshaw traffic. He cranked the wheel sharply to the right onto another side street.

  “No,” she managed to croak out.

  He quickly glanced her way but couldn’t tell from her expression if she was lying or scared.

  “Are you sure?” He didn’t give her time to answer before he turned again, driving into the local car wash, honking his horn.

  “Hank, let us in,” he shouted at the man lounging lazily in a plastic lawn chair. “Hurry!”

  Hank moved with surprising speed for a man of his age, pushing the button for the overhead door.

  “You ain’t got your top up.” He pointed to the open jeep.

  “Don’t start the washer, just bring the door down fast.” Jake drove into the wash bay and glanced behind him, holding his breath as the door came slowly down.

  “Oh my God. What is going on?” Cheyenne turned to him.

  He frowned. “You tell me. Nobody’s bothered me until you showed up.”

  She was shaking her head before he had finished. “No. When Mr. Donovan asked me to find you, I suggested he use a professional investigation service but he refused. He said it would cause unwanted publicity.”

  Jake snorted. “Of course. Uncle is all about appearances. Still,” he hesitated. He had once accused her of trying to seduce him for his uncle’s purposes. Had he been so wrong about her?

  Cheyenne pulled her cell out of her purse. “I’ll prove it.” Even though it was late, she punched in a number and then put it on speaker. When his uncle answered, Jake drew back. It wasn’t the arrogant, domineering voice he was used to; rather, it was weak and shallow.

  “Mr. Donovan, it’s Cheyenne Tucker.”

  “Have you found him?” The question was followed by a cough and wheeze.

  Jake started to grab her phone but she batted his hand away. She looked him directly in the eyes, then said, “No, Mr. Donovan, I haven’t found Joseph.”

  Jake relaxed.

  “Then why are you wasting my time?” Now the voice sounded more like the man Jake knew.

  “Because there seem to be some men following uh…me.”

  “You must be close. If there were any leaks as to where you went, there are always paparazzi trying to sniff out a story.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving town.”

  “Not even that little sister of yours?” She frowned at his uncle’s question. “Don’t call until you have news.” There was a definite click as his uncle hung up.

  “I,” Cheyenne started as a loud knocking on his door diverted Jake’s attention.

  “Somebody looking fer you?” Hank asked, then turned to the side to spit a stream of tobacco on the cement.

  “Did you see anyone suspicious?” Jake countered.

  “Might of.”

  Jake dug in the console and handed the old man some bills.

  “Max Brannigan’s old Corsica cruised by.”

  “Why would you think Max was suspicious?”

  “Cuz it was Max’s car but it weren’t Max driving.” Another stream hit the ground.

  “Are you sure?”

  The old man’s bushy eyebrows scrunched. “Eyesight’s as good now as at twenty.” He looked past Jake to Cheyenne. “And I always ‘preciate a looker.” He winked at her before swinging his gaze back to Jake. “‘Sides, Max’s too old to be driving anymore, so he sits at the ferry port and rents out his car to tourists who’re too lazy to walk.”

  �
��Thanks, Hank. You’re a pal.” Jake reached over and laid his hand on the man’s arm.

  “Yeah, well, if’n that was true, you’d get that darned boat fixed and take me fishing.”

  Jake laughed. “It’s done. I just haven’t had time to go fishing.”

  Hank tilted his head, giving Cheyenne another wink. “I can see why. You might take your young lady out on a moonlight cruise.”

  “She’s not—”

  “I’m not—” Cheyenne said at the same time.

  Hank laughed as he walked away. Another minute passed before the front door of the bay slowly rose.

  Jake cleared his throat before turning to Cheyenne. “I think that car followed us from the Marina, which means whoever it is apparently recognized us at the restaurant.”

  “There were two men at the restaurant who kept looking at us,” she said. “I’m sure I’ve seen them somewhere before.”

  “They may have been the same ones who took pictures at the bar the other night. Even if they were mistaken about my identity then, I need to find out who they are. Until I do, we probably shouldn’t go back to my place, and I doubt the Inn is any safer for you.”

  Cheyenne was staring straight ahead but Jake saw her hands shaking in her lap. He reached over and covered them with his. “It’s all right. I’ll keep you safe. I have a friend, we can go to his place.”

  “That’s not it.” She shook her head, finally looking at him. “I lied, Jake, to my employer. I don’t lie.”

  “Never?” He tried to tease a smile from her but she fiercely shook her head.

  “I doubt you’ll go to hell for what you said.” He cautiously exited the car wash and turned onto the street. “Look at it this way. It wasn’t actually a lie. You didn’t find Joseph. He doesn’t really exist.”

  He called Trevor to make sure he was home and then took the next turn and they were quickly out of town. The dirt road led into Diamond National Park which covered almost half of the eastern side of the island. His friend was a forest ranger and had a cabin deep in the woods. With modern surveillance technology throughout the woods to detour troublemakers, along with the traditional ranger’s tower, they would know if anyone was coming for miles around.

  As he wound along the dirt road which was little more than a path, he also called George.

  “Why would anyone driving Max’s old car be following you?” the sheriff asked when Jake explained his situation.

  “I have no idea. You might keep an eye out for them and find out.”

  Trevor was waiting on the porch when they pulled up. “You didn’t have to dress up just to come visiting,” he grinned as he shook Jake’s hand. When Jake saw his eyes light up as he turned toward Cheyenne, he squeezed the ranger’s hand a little tighter. The man looked at him, brows raised.

  “This is Cheyenne. A close friend.” Jake emphasized the word, which only made Trevor’s grin broader.

  “Oh, no,” Cheyenne wailed and quickly moved past Trevor, ignoring his outstretched hand to quickly climb the steps onto the porch. It was then Jake noticed the yipping coming from a box in the far corner.

  “Are you allergic to dogs?” Trevor asked.

  Cheyenne didn’t even answer as she walked right to the box and squatted down, her short black dress rucking up her thighs to show even more of her bare leg. Jake watched Trevor’s eyes widen and he smacked him on the arm.

  “Aren’t you precious?” Cheyenne cooed as she lifted one wiggly mass, holding it up to rub her cheek against its soft fur.

  “Apparently not,” Trevor answered his own question, shooting a questioning glance at Jake.

  Jake continued to watch Cheyenne. The stern and rigid Miss Tucker was a mass of emotions as she stood, puppy in hand and gazed at him with watery eyes. She cuddled the puppy to her breasts and took a seat on the nearby swing. Damned if he wasn’t jealous of a dog.

  He kept his gaze on her as he told his friend, “We need a place to hang out for a few days.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the sheriff looking for Max’s car?” Trevor’s question had Jake swiveling his gaze.

  “How do you know that?”

  Trevor laughed. “This is Lockabee Island, friend.” And that explained everything. “Besides, I have a police scanner in the tower, where I happened to be until I saw you drive up.”

  Cheyenne laughed and the sound floated across his shoulders like a caress. He thought briefly about the musical score he had composed based on that sound. It was rich and full, not a feminine giggle or trill. He turned to watch her. Regardless of the fancy dress and heels she wore, she now had two puppies in her lap and a third cuddled under her chin.

  “You are adorable.” She kissed one on the head before looking up and catching him watching her. Her smile faltered for an instant but then the puppy licked her chin and her eyes regained their sparkle.

  Jake’s stomach dropped to his toes. She was the one who was adorable, he thought. If he hadn’t been aware of it before, he now realized he was in so much trouble.

  * * *

  Cheyenne reluctantly put the puppies back in their box when Trevor said he took them in the house at night so wild animals wouldn’t get them. He closed the door, leaving her and Jake alone on the porch.

  She moved to where he leaned against the porch rail, arms crossed, gaze intent on her.

  “You seem to have made plenty of friends in a short time,” she said by way of conversation. She suddenly realized how quiet it was and how alone they were, even with his friend in the cabin. Her heart sped up.

  “It’s easy, if you open yourself to it,” he replied.

  “I feel like we’ve become friends,” she said.

  Her comment caused him to spin toward her, bracing his hands on the rail, effectively pinning her in place.

  “I don’t want to be your friend,” he stated emphatically. His mouth was drawn down in a frown and his dark eyes snapped. She looked at him in alarm.

  “No, Cheyenne.” His voice was dangerously soft as he leaned closer. “I want much, much more.”

  Always before, his kisses had started out gentle, but not tonight. He ravaged her mouth, forcing her lips apart to delve in with his tongue, setting her on fire. She longed for him to touch her, but his hands remained firmly on the railing. She settled for the next best thing by circling his neck with her arms, tugging him close until their chests touched.

  “God, I want you.” He tore his mouth from hers long enough to whisper. Hot nips of his lips coursed down her neck and across the top of her bodice to linger near where the rose was still tucked. His tongue licked across her skin, making her whimper. She sank her fingers in his hair to hold him in place.

  She wanted to beg him, to finally have him quench the flames he kept igniting throughout her entire body. She didn’t care what tomorrow brought, didn’t care if he went back to Chicago or stayed here in anonymity the rest of his life. All she cared about was easing the deep ache he created with a single touch.

  The sound of a crash and swearing broke them apart, although Jake didn’t move far. He finally lifted a hand to her cheek, rubbing her lips with his thumb. A faint smile touched his lips. “It’s seems we are destined once again for an intermission between movements.” He kissed where his thumb had lingered. “But you have my word. This symphony is going to reach a climax as soon as humanly possible.”

  * * *

  Jake could have easily trounced Trevor for interrupting his time with Cheyenne. He made sure his friend knew his displeasure when he escorted Cheyenne into the small cabin. The more he frowned, the more Trevor grinned. As he explained the sleeping arrangements, Jake decided his friend was probably right. When he made love to Cheyenne, he wanted it to be at a time and place where no one and nothing could interrupt. The way he felt at this moment, that was going to mean at least a day, possibly several, alone with her.

  “There’s only one bedroom, so I put on clean sheets for Cheyenne,” Trevor stated. “The bathroom is the door on the right.”


  “Oh, I don’t want to take your bed,” she replied shyly.

  “It’s okay. Jake and I will bunk on sleeping bags out here.” He looked over at the couch, where two Black Labs, apparently the parents of the litter, had taken up residence. “Unless Jake wants to wrestle Romeo and Juliet for a spot on a lumpy couch.”

  Jake looked from the dogs to where Cheyenne was closing the door to the bathroom. As he stripped down to his briefs, he wondered for a moment how long it would take Trevor to go to sleep and if the dogs would be quiet enough for him to sneak into Cheyenne’s bed. In the end, he barely heard the doors open and close as everyone settled down for the night.

  * * *

  Jake opened blurry eyes as the sound of voices filtered into his head. When he heard Cheyenne’s soft laugh, he came more fully awake. Damning Trevor for crowding his space, he quickly sat up only to find Trevor in the kitchen and Cheyenne sitting on the floor near him with the puppies already on her lap. At his sudden movement, one puppy turned, then bounded in his direction, trying to claw his way up Jake’s bare chest.

  “Ouch, damn.” He lifted the puppy away only to have yet another try the same trick. Cheyenne quickly reached over and snagged the second pup, her fingers briefly contacting his chest. Sparks immediately flew as he sucked in a breath and caught her gaze. Her eyes were huge, her cheeks dusted with color and when he glanced down, her chest rose and fell with rapid breathing. It was all he could do not to groan. As it was, he bunched the sleeping bag around his hips to hide the evidence of his desire.

  Trevor cleared his throat. “There’s coffee and biscuits for breakfast but that’s about all. It’s grocery run today or we’ll be eating guessing stew for dinner.”

  Cheyenne got up from the floor, graceful even in her short dress, and walked over to the kitchen area. It was just the opportunity Jake needed to hurry to the bedroom with his clothes. He returned just as Cheyenne asked what Trevor meant.

  “It’s anybody’s guess what’s in it.” He laughed, but Cheyenne looked ill.