Make Believe Engagement

by Day Leclaire

  JT or Boss. Take a chance on an impractical, unrealistic, emotion-based dream or gain the vice presidency she’d worked all her life to attain. It should be a simple decision.

  But somehow the choice didn’t seem so simple anymore.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JT GLANCED at Taylor across the dining room table and frowned. Over the past several days they’d established a temporary truce, but he wasn’t sure it was working. She’d grown progressively quieter, more tentative, losing the tough assertive shell she’d had when he’d first met her. Now she looked impossibly fragile, as though with one look, one touch… one kiss, she’d shatter. He also saw a new vulnerability peering out from her dark shadowed eyes, and knew something had happened to shake her confidence.

  But what?

  He hadn’t brought up her deception since their argument, so it couldn’t be that. Nor had she asked him any further questions about the resort. He just wished to heaven he could find out what was bothering her and fix it, for he suspected the cause had little if anything to do with her report. But every time he broached the problem she changed the subject.

  “How was your dinner?” he asked when their plates were removed. He really didn’t care how her dinner was; he just wanted to get her to speak to him.

  “Delicious. Columbia outdid herself.”

  “Really? What did you have?”

  Color blossomed across her cheeks, and she stared at him for a full ten seconds, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. “I…I had pompano with shrimp sauce,” she finally replied.

  “That was last night. Tonight you had she-crab soup and speckled sea trout.” He leaned forward, capturing her hand in his. “What’s wrong, Taylor?”

  She avoided his gaze and pulled free of his hold. “I guess I was thinking about tonight’s entertainment, instead of focusing on the meal. I’ve never been to a pirate jamboree before. It sounds like fun.”

  He let her off the hook, unwilling to push too hard. When the time came to force a confrontation, it wouldn’t be in the middle of the dining room with countless eyes looking on. “So you like the idea of dressing up as a pirate and searching for buried treasure, do you?”

  “Yes.” For an instant the shadows fled, replaced by excitement. “There’s a full moon tonight. It should be beautiful on the beach.”

  Columbia Hanes approached their table just then. “Hello, JT, Taylor. How’s everything this evening?”

  “Great,” JT answered, shooting Taylor a sardonic look. “I understand the sea trout was delicious.”

  Columbia grinned. “It helps when they come off the boat still flapping.”

  “That’s a beautiful orchid,” Taylor said, gesturing at the pale salmon-colored flower pinned to Columbia’s chef’s hat.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous? Orchids are my mother’s specialty. The flower arrangements you see at the hotel are also hers.”

  “They’re stunning,” Taylor said.

  “Thank you. I’ll tell her you said so. Be sure to try the Charleston devil’s food cake for dessert. It’s a house specialty.” With a friendly smile she moved on to the next table.

  “What? No questions for your report?” JT asked. “I expected you to interrogate her about the number of kitchen help or at the very least discuss her menus. You didn’t even ask whether this is a normal-size dinner crowd. You’re slipping, Princess.”

  “The timing wasn’t right,” she retorted.

  “The timing might not get any better. You’re down to three days.”

  “I don’t need you to remind me how little time I have left!” She tossed her napkin onto the table and stood. “Excuse me, won’t you? I’d like to change for the jamboree.”

  Taylor wended her way through the dining room and out into the lobby. The resort was crowded tonight, filled with people discovering the wonders of island life and enjoying a respite from their normal routine.

  As she climbed the stairs, she thought how she’d never had a respite. At least, not a real one. She’d always worked—establishing her career, attempting to fit in at Daniels Investment and all the while striving to prove herself to her father. Then she’d come to Bride’s Bay Resort and everything had unraveled. The irony of that fact didn’t escape her.

  She hadn’t worked in days, not since her conversation with Cameron Bradshaw—or rather, the Judge, as he was more commonly known. She’d learned that the man she’d mistaken for a gardener was in truth a retired state Supreme Court judge. He must have been a good one, because after just one conversation with him she’d felt the need to stop and analyze her life—and she didn’t care for the conclusions she’d been forced to draw.

  Taylor entered the room and leaned against the door. A maid had turned down the huge four-poster bed—a Charleston rice bed, which dated back to the 1800s. She crossed the room and ran a finger down the carved post, tracing the rice sheaves that gave the bed its distinctive name.

  She still hadn’t addressed the real issue, the one hanging over her like a great dark cloud. Soon she’d return home. Her time with JT would end, and she’d be left heartbroken, forced to deal with her pain in secret. Then she’d be thrust back into the Daniels Investment caldron. Boss would ask for her report, expect her to reveal how best to duplicate Bride’s Bay.

  The problem was… what she had to tell him wasn’t what he wanted to hear. And when that happened, she’d not only lose JT, she’d lose her father, too.

  SHADROE STOOD on a raised platform in the middle of the beach, barefoot and dressed in ragged breeches and a tattered shirt. A cutlass rode his hip, and he’d shoved an antique pistol into his belt. Tiki torches burned at various points along the beach, lending an air of mystery and adventure to the proceedings, while guests gathered around, every last one of them rigged out in appropriate pirate attire. JT glanced down at Taylor, smiling at her enthralled expression.

  Pulling the flintlock pistol from his belt, Shad fired a blank round into the air. The crowd grew quiet, gazing expectantly up at him. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, planting his hands on his hips. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Shadroe Teach, a direct descendent of Edward Teach, the infamous pirate, Blackbeard. Some called him Captain Drummond, some knew him as Thatch. I called him Gramps.” He grinned. “With a few ‘greats’ thrown in, that is.”

  The crowd chuckled and JT looked at Taylor, catching her frown. He sensed Shad’s name had disturbed the even tenor of her thoughts, but he could tell from her expression she hadn’t made the connection with Teach Development.

  At least not yet.

  “We’re not quite sure which wife we’re descended from,” Shad continued. “Blackbeard had fourteen, y’know. Rumor has it that when he tired of a missus, he left her at the first port he came to. But our ancestor was a feisty woman and refused to be left behind. So old Thatch marooned her here. Before he sailed off, she snatched the gold hoop right out of his ear. This very one I’m wearing.” He pointed to his earring. “And I defy any man to come up and tell me different.”

  There weren’t any takers, just more laughter. No matter how many times he heard the story, JT enjoyed the retelling. Shad was clearly in his element. “Now, Blackbeard’s reign was a brief one. He terrorized the Carolinas for just two short years. He met his demise at the hands of Captain Maynard off the Outer Banks of North Carolina in 1718. But before he died he buried his treasure, the location of which only he and the devil know for sure. Some believe he buried it here on Jermain Island. Occasionally we poke around in the hopes of coming across it. Since no one has, it must still be waiting for you.”

  “How do we know where to dig?” Taylor whispered to JT.

  “They hand out maps,” he explained. “Only one leads to the treasure. The others are red herrings with small consolation prizes at the end.”

  Just then a staff member thrust a piece of parchment into Taylor’s hands, and she tilted it toward the light, studying the drawing with an intent expression. JT grinned in appreciation at th
e picture she made. She wore an oversize red-and-white-striped shirt and black shorts, with a length of rope tied around her waist. She’d left her hair loose, a vivid red scarf banding her forehead and tied over one ear. Somewhere she’d found earrings that were a cluster of coins, and they dangled almost to her shoulders, jingling every time she moved her head.

  She was pint-size and precocious. She had a mind like a steel trap wrapped in a sweet vulnerable package, and to his intense relief, not even Boss had succeeded in wiping out the feminine delicacy that softened her tough businesslike facade. She was irresistible, and if she’d lived during the time of Blackbeard, JT didn’t doubt his infamous ancestor would have wanted her for wife number fifteen.

  “Let’s go,” she urged, glancing at JT with a determined expression. “I want to find the treasure.”

  Manned with flashlights, they walked to the beach spa, which the map indicated was their starting point.

  “Let’s see… First we head fourteen paces south,” she began, then frowned in dismay.

  “A problem?” he asked with a bland smile, knowing full well what had stumped her.

  She lifted her chin. “No. No problem.”

  “Then go ahead. Fourteen paces south.”

  She glared at him. “Dammit, JT! You don’t play fair.”

  “No, I don’t. You’d do well to remember that.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders and turned her around. “South is toward the lighthouse.”

  “Right. I knew that.”

  The next hour passed all too quickly. JT remained in the background, allowing Taylor the fun of figuring out the directions. And yet…

  He soon realized she was treating the whole experience like a project. Step by step she progressed along the route, her analytical skills coming to the fore, her concentration tightly focused on the job at hand. It alarmed him that something she should find entertaining she treated as seriously as her report for Boss. And that was when it hit him. Despite all they’d done together, she still hadn’t learned how to play. His mouth tightened.

  That would change and it would change now. If he did nothing else during her remaining days on the island, he’d teach her to relax and have fun.

  “Here, let me look at that” He took the map from her and studied it. “Oh, I see where the problem is. It’s five paces east, not west. That’s toward the ocean.”

  “I know it’s toward the ocean. What other direction could it be?” She followed his instructions and frowned after the third step. “Are you sure it’s five?”

  “Five.”

  She took another step. “The water’s up to my knees! They can’t mean for me to—”

  “You’re supposed to go five paces east, then swim out a few yards and turn south again.”

  “JT!”

  “Oh, wait a minute.” He plucked her out of the ocean and dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “I had it upside down. I guess it was west, after all.”

  She laughed in genuine amusement, and after that loosened up, treating their treasure hunt like the game it was meant to be. The final section landed them at the base of the lighthouse.

  “’Your booty awaits at the top,’” she read, and gave a disappointed sigh. “So it’s not buried treasure, is it?”

  “No. But the view alone is worth the climb, even if it’s only for a consolation prize.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Though as I recall you weren’t very impressed with the idea of visiting the lighthouse when you first arrived. What did you say? Something about climbing a bunch of steps just to see a lot of sand and water?”

  “I was pretty condescending, wasn’t I?” she murmured, regret clear in her voice.

  “Maybe a little.”

  She offered a conciliatory smile. “I’d love to see the view if you’re still willing to show it to me.”

  He inclined his head. “My pleasure.”

  Together they tackled the steep metal stairs, circling endlessly toward the top. Halfway up, they paused on a landing to peer out a tiny window. Far below, the waves crashed against the shore, the surf rougher than an hour ago. When they finally gained the top, a stiff wind swept the scarf off Taylor’s head. It fluttered high above them, catching on the wrought-iron guardrail before blowing free and dancing out toward the moonlit waves.

  “I wonder where it’ll end up,” she murmured, staring at the pounding surf.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “In Neptune’s playground I would think.”

  She turned slightly and glanced up at him, her earrings jingling softly in the breeze. “What a lovely description. I didn’t realize you were a romantic.”

  “I’m not,” he warned. “I’m practical, determined and every bit as ruthless as you.”

  To his surprise she merely smiled, settling deeper into the crook of his arm. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. Relaxing. How could you have ever moved away?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted.

  “JT?”

  He glanced down at her. Her eyes were luminous and her mouth was soft and inviting, begging to be kissed. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you tempt me.”

  “Do I?” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “And what are you tempted to do?”

  Every muscle in his body clenched at the suggestive question. “This.” He cupped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her toward him. He wanted her close, wanted her to feel his heat, feel the threatening tautness that signaled his hunger. He wanted her to resist because he knew he couldn’t.

  She didn’t resist.

  Instead, she came into his embrace willingly, as if she belonged, lifting her face to his as if it was the most natural act in the world. He kissed her then, taking her mouth with a fierce passion that brooked no opposition, a passion she more than matched. Days of restraint erupted into an urgent craving, caution melting beneath an intense desire. She groaned, and he reveled in the sound, reveling, too, in the knowledge that he could incite such powerful emotion.

  He thrust his hands into her hair, and her earrings jangled an urgent appeal. Her body felt soft where his was hard, yielding to his insistent demand. He wanted her. He wanted to return to their suite, strip the clothes from her body and make love to her all through the dark quiet hours of the night. She wouldn’t protest; her need had grown as desperate as his. Her hands slipped around his neck, her lips parting, welcoming, deepening the kiss. And he knew with an instinctive certainty that when she surrendered, it would be with an unmatched sweetness.

  He could have her. The knowledge was instinctive, primitive, forged in ages past when the urge to mate was a matter of survival. He could make her his.

  He stood on the brink, seeing the choice that lay before him. He could take what she offered, seize what he’d wanted from the moment he’d set eyes on her. Or he could take the moral high road. He could ruffle her windswept hair, offer a teasing remark to change the mood and walk away.

  “JT?” she murmured. He heard the hint of confusion.

  She shivered in his arms as the wind intensified and he released her. “You’re getting chilled,” he said, sweeping a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Let’s collect your prize and go. Or had you forgotten about it?”

  Taylor blinked up at him, struggling to regain her balance. One minute she’d been locked in the most delicious of embraces, and the next she’d been set aside, practically patted on the head and told to run along like a good little girl. What had happened?

  “My prize.” She glanced around. “Yes. Of course. Where…?”

  “It’s here somewhere. Let’s look.”

  Together they circled the top, at last finding a cloth tote bag with the Bride’s Bay Resort logo tied to the railing. Inside she discovered a book on Blackbeard.

  “It’s a lovely consolation prize,” she murmured, glancing at him. “I had fun tonight. Thank you.”

  “So did I. But it’s late. We s
hould get out of here so they can lock up the lighthouse.”

  She didn’t argue. It would be pointless. What could she say? Why did you stop kissing me? Don’t you want me? Take me, I’m yours? Right. That would go over real well. Without a word, she followed him down the steps, catching her Up between her teeth. His withdrawal hurt. It hurt more than she could’ve imagined. It felt as though someone had offered her a treasure beyond price, had handed her the sun and the moon and the stars, and then cruelly snatched them away.

  The steps blurred before her eyes, but she trudged onward. She ached to feel his arms around her, just as she ached for his possession. Something that felt this right and good couldn’t be wrong. It couldn’t be! She loved JT. She loved him with all her heart and soul. She wanted to be a part of him.

  She wanted forever after.

  But what she would get was heartache.

  By the time they reached the hotel, all she cared about was escaping to her room, stripping off her clothes and huddling beneath the covers. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing JT, of having him guess how she felt. He followed her into the room, his gaze searching, his expression unreadable. She looked away, hoping to hide her misery.

  “Well, good night,” she murmured, turning her back to him. She slipped off her earrings and tossed them onto the dresser. They clattered discordantly, and for some reason tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Princess?”

  She fought for control. “Yes?”

  “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

  She laughed, the sound bleak and humorless. “That’s my line, remember? I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control. I’m the one who’s supposed to maintain a discreet distance.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Our relationship is just business. I know that.”

  He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It was never business. That’s been the whole problem. If it was…”

  “Yes?” she prompted, dying by inches.

  He sighed. “If it was, I wouldn’t want to throw you down on that bed and bury myself in your softness. I wouldn’t want you so much it hurts.”