by Day Leclaire
“Yes.”
“Blunt and to the point. Makes a nice change. Too bad you didn’t believe me when I told you the resort would be impossible to duplicate.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I had a report to write.”
Renewed anger flared in his eyes. “Damn that report and damn you. I warned what I’d do if you played games with me. You should have listened.”
She inclined her head, keeping her voice calm and level. “You said that if what I planned was illegal or threatened the economic future of the island, you’d inform the Jermains.”
“And that’s just what I’m going to do.” He crossed to the phone and snatched the receiver from its cradle.
She hastened after him. “But Daniels Investment’s plan does neither of those things,” she argued.
He punched in a number. “Bull.”
“Wait, JT. Don’t do anything rash until you’ve heard me out. I told you our hotel would be based elsewhere, and that’s the truth. It won’t adversely affect Bride’s Bay Resort.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You lied, Princess. Right from the start, you lied. Joanie? Is Liz there?”
Desperation edged Taylor’s voice. “Would you have helped me if I’d told you what I was really after?”
“Not a chance.” He spoke into the receiver. “Well, where the hell is she? I want to talk to her.”
She didn’t have much time, Taylor realized. She’d better find a way to get through to him and fast. “What other choice did I have? I knew our plans wouldn’t hurt anyone, but you heard the name Daniels and immediately thought the worst.”
“With good reason!”
“Maybe. But I’m not the only one who lied. So did you.”
His expression closed over with astonishing speed. “Never mind, Joanie. I’ll try her later.” Slowly he hung up and faced her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not blind, JT. You have ties to this island. Strong ties. The only reason you agreed to work for me was so you could protect the Jermains. You’ve questioned everything I’ve done. Why?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “You have all the answers. You tell me.”
“Because you wanted to make sure Daniels Investment’s plans were on the up and up. If they weren’t, you’d be in the perfect position to warn the Jermains.”
“Seems I had just cause, didn’t I?”
“No! You didn’t—don’t. I swear to you, JT, our plans won’t harm anyone. I want that vice presidency, maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I freely admit it. But not at the expense of Bride’s Bay Resort. Never that.”
“Do you really think Boss Daniels gives a damn about what happens to this island?”
She looked him square in the eye. “Maybe not. But I do. And I promise you our plans won’t affect the resort.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay, Princess. But you listen and listen well.” His voice dropped, filled with both threat and promise. “I’m holding you personally responsible for the welfare of this island. You make one wrong move, and I swear I’ll see you pay. And not even Boss will be able to stop me. Do you understand?”
Her throat closed over. He was serious. Dead serious. “I understand,” she whispered.
“Good. Now get out of that business suit and into something dressier. We’re having tea with Elizabeth in fifteen minutes.”
She stared at him in alarm. “Tea? Why are we having tea with her?”
“Because she invited us.” His gaze swept over her, contempt clear in his expression. “And, much as I’d like to back out, I have no intention of letting her down. Fifteen minutes, Princess. Or I’ll come in here and dress you myself.”
“MORE COFFEE, JT?” Miss Elizabeth offered.
“Please.” He nudged the delicate bone china across the wrought-iron table and glanced again at Taylor. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her from the moment they’d joined Elizabeth Jermain on the main floor veranda for tea—or in his case, coffee. His “fiancee” epitomized his nickname for her, looking every inch a regal princess in the sleeveless gold dress, which clung to every curve.
He struggled to rekindle the embers of his anger, to transfer the contempt he felt for Boss Daniels to his daughter. But it no longer worked. To his annoyance, too many other memories got in the way—the warmth of Taylor’s smile when she greeted the various guests and employees at Bride’s Bay, the passion and vulnerability reflected in her ebony eyes each time she looked at him, that urgent revealing moan that caught in her throat whenever they kissed.
He leaned back in his chair and watched her, the conversation washing over him. She was truly beautiful, he decided with almost clinical detachment. Her bone structure was delicate and ageless, her movements unstudied and graceful. Her hair caught the afternoon sun, glinting like spun gold, the riot of curls piled in a formal sweep on top of her head. And her mouth, that soft kissable mouth hovering on the brink of a smile, threatened to drive him straight over the edge.
He wanted her. He wanted her so badly it hurt. But he had a job to do, a job that forced him to be every bit as ruthless as she. Even as he acknowledged that truth, all he could think about was snatching her into his arms, carrying her to his room and branding her with his passion.
And then she met his gaze, and the panic he read in her dark eyes jolted him back to the present.
“My family?” she murmured, moistening her lips.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, tilting her regal head to one side. “Davis is a fine old Southern name. Are you a native of Charleston, or do you hail from Mississippi, like Jefferson Davis?”
“Her family’s from the north,” JT stated flatly. “I doubt you’d know them.”
Taylor glanced at him with both gratitude and surprise. She hadn’t known he was so familiar with her background, he realized. Familiar? He gave her a lazy smile. She’d be downright horrified if she learned the extent of his knowledge, if she was to discover all the interesting little tidbits his investigation had uncovered.
“JT’s right,” Taylor confessed. “We moved to Charleston when I was a child, not long after my mother died.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I’m sorry, my dear,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“It’s not painful. Sad sometimes. But I have wonderful memories of her.”
“Your engagement ring is beautiful. Was it your mother’s?”
Taylor shook her head, a hint of color sweeping across her cheekbones. “No. I wish it had been. It’s that sort of ring, isn’t it? I guess that’s why I chose it. But Bo—Dad couldn’t afford one when they first married. And by the time he could, it was too late.” A hint of wistfulness touched her expressive face. “I envy you your history. It must be wonderful to be able to trace your lineage so far back. I’d love to have aunts and uncles and cousins all around me, to grow up in a home filled with the possessions of my ancestors.”
“You never had that?” JT couldn’t resist asking.
She shook her head again, attempting a smile. “If I have any relatives, I don’t know about them. Both my parents were orphans. I sometimes think that’s what drew them together. Dad always said it was the three of us against the world.”
“And now it’s just the two of you,” JT observed.
“Jason T., really,” Elizabeth said, shooting him a quelling glance. “How can you say that when she has you for a fiance? And when you marry, she’ll have all of us, as well. She’ll have what she always wanted. She’ll have a fine man she can love to the end of her days, an extended family who’ll accept her as one of their own, and a rich history to pass on to her children and grandchildren.”
JT frowned, noting the sudden tears that leapt to Taylor’s eyes before she lowered her gaze to hide them. What the hell was Elizabeth up to? She knew perfectly well that there would never be a wedding, that this whole situation was a total farce. She must sense the pain her remarks caused Taylor; s
he was far too shrewd not to. So why persist?
“That is what you want more than anything, isn’t it, my dear?” Elizabeth pressured softly. “Or am I mistaken?”
Taylor’s fingers tightened around the delicate china teacup. “You’re quite right,” she admitted in a low voice. “What you’ve described is exactly what I’ve always wanted.”
She lifted her gaze to meet JT’s. It’s what I’ve always wanted and can never have. He heard the words as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud. His mouth tightened and he shoved his cup and saucer across the table.
“Do you mind?” he asked tightly.
A tiny smile flitted across Elizabeth’s mouth. “Not at all,” she murmured, topping off his coffee. “I’m sorry Liz isn’t here to meet you, Taylor. I’m afraid she’s off in that infernal machine again.”
“The helicopter?” JT asked, grasping the change of subject with acute relief. “What’s all this I hear about Liz and a secret romance?”
“Oh, there’s something going on all right. She has the whole island guessing just who she’s flying off to see.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Not yet,” Elizabeth admitted, her eyes gleaming with laughter. “But I hope to soon.”
The talk turned more general after that, and JT kept an eye on Taylor, concerned by her subdued air and exasperated with himself as a result. Elizabeth must have sensed it, as well. A few minutes later, she finished her tea and thanked them for joining her.
“We see you so seldom these days,” she said to JT.
He shrugged. “Business takes precedence, I’m afraid.”
She stood, not bothering to hide her disapproval. “Perhaps that will change once you’ve settled down with a wife and children.”
“Perhaps.” He gained his feet, his voice more clipped than he’d intended. “But don’t count on it.”
She turned to Taylor. “And it’s been a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Taylor said with perfect sincerity. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Jermain. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Please call me Elizabeth,” she said with a gracious smile. “After all, you’re practically family.”
She turned and walked into the hotel, so that only JT saw Taylor’s devastated expression. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Of course.” She crossed to the railing and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m only living a lie. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
He dropped a hand to her shoulder. “You don’t have to. You can walk away now, before you get in any deeper.”
“You know that’s not possible.” She pulled away, her back stiff, her shoulders squared. “Thank you for the doll. It’s beautiful. And now excuse me, won’t you? I’d like a few minutes alone.”
Without another word, she crossed to the steps leading from the veranda to the lawn, her heels tapping out an urgent retreat. He didn’t try to stop her. And then it hit him that she wasn’t the only one living a lie.
ALL SHE COULD THINK ABOUT was escape—escape before she broke down completely. Rounding the back of the hotel, she continued on to the south side, skirting the populated pool and plunging into an immaculate colorful garden. To her relief the area was deserted, and she found refuge on a small bench by a fountain in the center courtyard. It was too much—Elizabeth’s words, JT’s anger and that wonderful doll. They’d all served to decimate the last of her self-control. To her utter humiliation, she burst into tears. Fortunately the storm lasted only a few minutes.
“May I offer my handkerchief?” a quiet voice said from behind.
She started and turned, dismayed to discover an elderly man standing behind her dressed in faded overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat. He held a shovel in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. She hadn’t noticed him earlier, or she’d never have sat down. Without a word she accepted his offer, mopping up her tears the best she could. Once she’d regained control, she glanced at him. “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling like a complete fool.
“Happy to be of service.”
Desperate for something to say, she gestured to the gardens around them. “Are you responsible for this?”
He tilted his head to one side, his blue-gray eyes compassionate. “Responsible or to blame. I suppose it depends on your perspective.” She smiled at that, and he gave her a look of approval. “Ah, that’s a delightful improvement, my dear. Feeling better now?”
“Much, thank you.”
He circled the bench and sat down next to her, removing his hat to expose a shock of tousled gray hair. “Care to talk about it?”
She shrugged, twisting the damp handkerchief between her fingers. “I don’t think so. I feel like such a fool as it is.”
“I’m a good listener,” he encouraged. “At least, people tell me I am.”
Perhaps it was his understanding smile or the kindness in his voice. Or perhaps it was the need to confide in someone wiser than she, the grandfather she’d never had. Unable to resist the offer, she said, “I’m in love with a man who despises me. There. I’ve finally admitted the truth. I love him.”
The gardener blinked in surprise. “Why does he despise you?”
“Because he thinks I’m ruthless and obsessed with business.”
“And are you?”
“I try to be.” She glanced at him, a frown creasing her brow. “But just recently I haven’t been very good at it— not as good as he seems to think. If I were,’ I wouldn’t feel so guilty about lying.”
“Ahh… Caught up in a tangle of lies, are you?”
She nodded, staring at her hands. “At first the deception was so cut and dried, just a means to an end. It’s done all the time in business. But now…”
“Yes? What about now?”
“I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it was all real. But that’s impossible.” The comment burst from her, a cry from the heart, a desperate longing to have JT’s love and respect as completely as he had hers.
Her companion fell silent for a moment, then changed the subject. “Have you ever had a garden, my dear?”
She sighed. He must have found her confession disconcerting. Not that she blamed him. It was a wonder he’d had the nerve to approach her at all, considering how upset she’d been. “A garden?” she repeated, forcing herself to give him as much attention as he’d given her. “I’ve never had time, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I spend a lot of my day with my plants. For the most part it’s a very orderly affair. Gardenias here, a row of irises there, lilies along the walkways. But then there’s the occasional flower that won’t behave. Like the snapdragons. They have this uncanny ability to pop up where I least want them.” He frowned. “Like in my rose beds.”
“I’m rather fond of snapdragons,” Taylor murmured.
“Familiar with them, are you?”
She smiled, thinking of Boss. “Intimately.”
“On one hand, that’s what makes a garden so delightful. There’s room for many different kinds of flowers. The difference is what gives the garden its beauty.”
She bowed her head. It would seem he hadn’t changed the subject, after all. Shrewd man. “What if your garden is a bit more narrow-minded? What if the snapdragons and roses refuse to get along?”
“Oh, you might be surprised,” he said, pointing to a bed off to her right.
She stared in amazement. Snapdragons and roses grew together with prolific abandon, the two melding to make a stunning whole. A dazzling array of color bobbed in the breeze, pinks graduating into reds, purple complementing the yellow, salmon blending with peach. For the first time she felt a momentary hope. But it faded when she thought about Boss and JT, when she tried to picture them together in the same room. “And…and if they don’t learn to get along?”
“Then, my dear, you have to choose,” he replied, regret clear in his voice. “Do you want a garden full of snapdragons—or roses?”
Or to be precise, did she want J
T in her life—or Boss? Because there wasn’t room for both. They’d never allow it. She sighed. It was an impossible decision. “Thank you for listening. You’re very kind,” she said, glancing at the gardener. “But I’m keeping you from your work.”
He shrugged. “The work will wait. It’s not often that I have the opportunity to sit and talk to a beautiful woman.”
She smiled at his gallantry. “Have you been with the Jermains for long?”
“Oh, about thirty years.” He picked up his straw hat and dropped it on his head. “That was when I finally convinced Elizabeth to marry me.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “You’re… you’re…”
“Cameron Bradshaw, at your service.” He took her hand in his. “A pleasure, my dear.”
“I didn’t know! I didn’t realize…”
He ignored her panic, offering a friendly smile. “I for one am glad we finally met. Elizabeth has mentioned you were here for a visit. I expect we’ll be seeing a good bit of you and JT in the future.” He stood. “I hope our conversation has been of help. Farewell, my dear.”
She watched in dismay as he ambled off. Dear heaven! She’d just confessed her innermost thoughts and feelings to Elizabeth Jermain’s husband. And she’d practically admitted that her engagement to JT was a lie, her whole pretext for being on Jermain Island a complete fabrication. What if he said something? What if he told his wife about their conversation? And yet, the moment the frightening thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was certain that he’d keep her confidence, that what had passed between them would remain their secret.
She caught her lip between her teeth. It was unnerving how her world kept crumbling around her, how her path in life—the path she’d always visualized taking—kept vanishing before her very eyes. And she had no idea how to stop the changes taking place—or even if she wanted to stop them. It would seem her entire future could be boiled down to one simple choice.
