Sanctuary Cove

by Rochelle Alers

  David leaned in closer. “A birthright you need to protect, Kara. If you walk away from this, then you’ll be playing right into the hands of developers who’ve preyed on the folks who live in the Sea Islands, and who’ll turn the inhabitants’ birthright into a playground for millionaires.”

  Kara felt as if her emotions were under attack. She was aware of developers buying large tracts of land on Hilton Head, Myrtle Beach, and Jekyll and St. Simons Islands, where they’d erected gated communities, built private golf courses, and set up exclusive country clubs. “But… but the will states I can only sell the land to a Patton.”

  “Pattons who want to sell more than half of Angels Landing.”

  “Why would they want to do that?” A pregnant silence filled the room as she and David stared at each other.

  “Greed, Kara. If they can get you to go along with their way of thinking and you sell your two thousand acres, the monies they’ll receive for the sale will have to be divided among them—evenly.”

  An expression of confusion crossed her face. “How many acres do they hold collectively?”

  “Probably about four hundred,” David said.

  “Hypothetically if I decide to hand over my shares and we sell twenty-four hundred acres at let’s say a thousand dollars per acre. Are you telling me two point four million will be divided among twelve of us?”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, she did the calculations in her head. Instead of two million she would get two hundred thousand. “The split seems a little inequitable, especially if I hold the majority shares.”

  David’s dark eyebrows lifted a fraction. “They see you as an outsider, someone who will take the money and run. Please don’t prove them right.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “I’d like you to give yourself a week to think about it. Stay at the house, tour the island. If you decide you prefer the Big Apple to the Lowcountry, then you walk away and…”

  “I walk away and what?” Kara asked when David didn’t finish his statement.

  “The surviving heirs will contest the will, it will go into probate, and after the state of South Carolina gets its share, the family will get what’s left.”

  She gave the dapper attorney a long, penetrating stare. He was asking for a week, while her supposed biological father had asked her for five years. Right now Kara had three weeks of vacation time: one she could spend in Angels Landings and the other two in Arkansas before returning to New York. She hadn’t told her parents when to expect her, so Kara decided to change her travel plans yet again.

  “Okay. I’ll try it for a week.”

  David blew out an audible breath. “Thank you.” He stood, walked over to the wall phone and pushed the speaker feature. “Please tell Linc I need him to drive a client to her hotel. He’s to wait for her to check out, and then I want him to take her to Taylor Patton’s house.” He ended the call and came over to cup Kara’s elbow when she stood up. “I’m going to call my cousin, Jeffrey Hamilton, who’s the island’s sheriff, and have him stop in to check on you. I’ll be in court for the next two days, but as soon as there is a recess I’ll come out to see you. Meanwhile Jeff or one of his deputies will help you if you need anything.”

  Kara nodded her head in agreement, trying to keep her emotions in check. Taylor Patton was her biological father?

  Jeffrey Hamilton leaned back in his chair, booted feet propped up on the corner of the scarred desk. He’d submitted his department’s budget to the mayor and town council at the January meeting, yet it was mid-March and he was still awaiting delivery of new office furniture. Ever since he’d been appointed sheriff of Cavanaugh Island Jeff had attempted to refurbish his office and expand the force from three deputies to four. Sadly, things seemed to be taking a lot longer than he’d first thought.

  The cell phone on his desk rang. Glancing at the display, Jeff answered it on the second ring. “What’s up, David?”

  “Is there anyone in your jail that needs legal counsel?”

  He laughed softly. “Sorry, Cuz, but I haven’t locked up anyone in more than three weeks. Are you calling to let me know that you’re ready to pop the question to that gorgeous oral surgeon you’ve been seeing?”

  “We’re not even close to that. I’d like you to go out to Angels Landing and check on the new owner. Her name is Kara Newell.”

  “Is there anything I should know about her?” Jeff asked.

  “I may as well tell you now, because gossip about her is going to spread across the island faster than a cat can lick its whiskers. She’s Taylor Patton’s daughter.”

  “I was under the impression that Taylor didn’t have any children.”

  “Most of us did. But I have proof that she is a Patton.”

  Jeff shifted, and his chair groaned like someone in pain. “How are the others taking the news?”

  “Let’s just say they’re not too happy that she exists. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  “Don’t worry, David. I’ll keep an eye on her.” He knew his cousin couldn’t divulge how he’d come by the proof, because he was still bound by attorney-client privilege, even in death.

  “Thanks, Jeff. By the way, how is Aunt Corrine?”

  “Grandmomma’s good. Have you made plans for Easter?”

  “Yep. Petra and I are going down to St. Thomas for a few days. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Jeff stared at his spit-shined boots. After spending twenty years in the Marine Corps he still enjoyed the age-old tradition of shining his shoes and boots. “I’d love to, but I gave my deputies time off to spend with their families.”

  “Speaking of families, Jeff, when are you going to settle down and have a couple of kids?”

  He sat up and lowered his feet. “After you get married and have one.”

  David’s chuckle came through the earpiece. “You’ve got a few years on me, Cuz, so you’re first. I have to hang up, because I have a meeting with a new client. Call me if Kara is having trouble with her new family.”

  “No problem,” Jeff promised.

  He ended the call, then slipped the cell phone into the case attached to his gun belt. He was walking out of his office when his clerk, Winnie Powell, entered the police station through the back door.

  Winnie smiled, her bright-blue eyes sparkling like topaz. She fluffed up her short, curly hair. “It looks like rain.”

  He returned her smile. “We could use a little of that.” The winter had been unusually dry. “I’m going over to Angels Landing.”

  Winnie nodded as he headed out of the station. Once in the parking lot that housed the town hall, court, and police station, the humidity wrapped around Jeff like a wet blanket. He got into the Jeep and started the engine. The truck had been emblazoned with a Sheriff logo on the passenger-side door and refitted with a partition separating the front seats from the rear ones. Within minutes of driving, the rain had begun just as Winnie predicted, and he had to turn on the wipers.

  Slowing to ten miles an hour, Jeff drove through downtown Sanctuary Cove, passing Jack’s Fish House, the town square with its fountain and marble statue of patriot militia General Francis Marion atop a stallion, and the Cove Inn, the town’s boardinghouse. Once he’d taken over as sheriff he’d convinced the town council to lower the town’s speed limit to fifteen miles an hour, because there were no traffic lights in the Cove and to discourage teenagers from drag racing. Amazingly there hadn’t been posted speed limits for years.

  Maneuvering onto an unpaved road, he shifted into four-wheel drive. A marker pointing the way to Angels Landing came into view, and Jeff turned onto Palmetto Lane and headed to the house that had given this section of Cavanaugh Island its name. The few times he’d come to Angels Landing, Jeff felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The antebellum mansion at the end of a live oak allée was breathtaking with its columned, wraparound porch. The rose-colored limestone Greek Revival home, with its pale pink marble columns and black-shuttered tall windows, had been one of
the finest homes on the island.

  Jeff parked next to the vintage Mercedes Benz sedan that had belonged to Taylor Patton. Reaching for his cap on the passenger seat, he pulled it on. The rain was now a steady drizzle as he sprinted to the front door, which opened as he wiped his boots on the thick rush mat.

  “Why, if it isn’t Corrine Hamilton’s grandbaby boy. What brings you out this way?”

  Jeff took off his cap and curbed the urge to roll his eyes upward. The petite woman and her groundskeeper husband had worked for the Pattons for longer than he could remember. He also wanted to remind Mrs. Todd that at forty he had left boyhood behind many years before.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Iris. I’m here to see Ms. Kara Newell. Is she in?”

  Iris Todd’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her rimless glasses. “Did she do something, son?”

  Jeff tightened his grip on his cap. It was apparent that the housekeeper had transferred her loyalty from Taylor to his daughter within weeks of his death. Those who lived on Cavanaugh Island joked that it was easier to gain access to the Oval Office than to cross the threshold to this historic house.

  “No, she didn’t, Miss Iris. David Sullivan asked me to look in on her.”

  Iris opened the door wider. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” she smiled. “Follow me. She’s in the garden room.”

  Jeff shook his head in amazement as he followed the elderly woman, who was dressed in a crisp gray uniform that matched the coronet of braids atop her head. It had been years since he’d stepped foot into the house, but like the exterior, nothing had changed. It had the same vases, lamps, tables, and chairs. Iris directed him down a narrow carpeted hallway to a doorway on the south side of the property.

  He stopped at the entrance to a room filled with potted plants, trees, and flowers. The sound of soft music flowed from somewhere in the indoor oasis. His gaze shifted to the housekeeper when she approached the woman reclining in a cushioned chaise, and spoke quietly to her.

  Jeff felt his heart stop when Kara Newell swung her long, slender bare legs over the chaise and stood up to face him.

  She was absolutely stunning! Anyone familiar with the Pattons would recognize the startling resemblance between Kara and her paternal grandmother Theodora—or Teddy, as she had been affectionately called by her husband. His gaze went from her tousled hair, pulled up in a short ponytail, to the tawny face with large hazel eyes, cute button nose, and lushly curved full lips, then lower to a white tank top and olive-green shorts. Each time she took a breath the swell of her breasts was visible above the top’s neckline. Scolding himself, he focused his attention on her face rather than stare at her chest. She was slender, but had curves in all the right places.

  He inclined his head. “Ms. Newell.”

  Kara smiled and offered her hand. “Please call me Kara.”

  Taking three long strides, Jeff grasped her hand, holding it gently within his much larger one. “Jeff Hamilton.”

  “David told me you would stop by. Would you like to sit down?”

  “Thank you.” He waited until Kara sat on a pull-up chair at a small round table covered with a floral tablecloth, before sitting on the matching one.

  A pair of eyes with glints of gold and green met his. “May I offer you something to eat or drink?” Kara asked Jeff.

  “No, thank you.” He crossed one jean-covered knee over the other. “Have you settled in?”

  Kara assumed a similar pose, staring at the polish on her bare toes. “There’s not going to be much settling in. I only plan to be here a week.”

  Leaning forward, Jeff lowered his leg, planting both feet on the worn rug. “Are you telling me that you don’t plan to live here?”

  “No, I’m not telling you that.”

  “Then, what is it you’re not saying?”

  “Why do I get the impression that you’re interrogating me, Sheriff Hamilton?”

  Jeff’s impassive expression did not change with her accusation. “If I were interrogating you, Kara, you wouldn’t have to ask. All I want is a yes or no as to whether you plan to live on Cavanaugh Island.”

  “I can’t give you a yes or no, Sheriff Hamilton.”

  “It’s Jeff.”

  “Okay, Jeff. As I said I can’t answer that question right now. I promised David I would spend a week on the island before making a decision. Only two hours ago I was told the man I believed is my father really isn’t.” She looked away from him, trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. “When I walked into that conference room earlier this morning and saw people staring at me who look like me… to say it was a shock is putting it mildly. Then I was told that I’ve inherited a house, two thousand acres of land that my so-called relatives want me sell to a group of greedy developers, and I must live here for five years. If I do so it means I have to resign my job, give up my Manhattan apartment with incredible views of the river, and lose contact with a group of friends I’ve come to depend upon.”

  “Yes, I can understand how difficult that may be. Not only will you have to uproot your entire life, but you’ll also have to deal with the family issue.” Jeff lifted broad shoulders under a long-sleeved chambray shirt. “The upside is you can always get another job and make new friends. And, instead of views of the river, you’ll have views of the ocean.”

  Kara folded her arms across her chest. “You make it sound so easy.”

  A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Jeff’s mouth. “Because it is. I gave up a military career to come back here to take care of my grandmother.”

  “That’s different.”

  “You think so, Kara?”

  “Of course it is. There is no discussion when it comes to family. You do what you have to do,” Kara said.

  “Like you have to accept your birthright and honor your father’s last wishes.”

  “What’s with this birthright thing?” she asked.

  Jeff stood up. “I’ll tell you, but not now. I have to get back.”

  Kara also rose to her feet. “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I’m off, and if you don’t have anything planned I’ll come by and take you to Jack’s for lunch and give you a crash course in Lowcountry culture.”

  “I’d like you to answer one question for me, Jeff.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you have something against the Pattons?”

  “Nothing personal. I just don’t like it when people threaten other people.”

  Her eyes grew wider. “Did David tell you what happened?”

  “He didn’t have to. You can say I read between the lines. As Sheriff of Cavanaugh I have zero tolerance for those who tend to break the law. And to me threats are a serious offense. I’ll pick you up at twelve.”

  Jeff didn’t give Kara a chance to accept or reject his offer when he turned on his heels and walked out of the room. He’d been back for almost a year, and it was the first time that a woman had captured his attention for more than a few minutes.

  There was something about Kara other than her natural beauty that had him enthralled. He didn’t know whether it was her sultry southern cadence or her big city attitude, but whatever it was he intended to discover it before the week ended.

  THE DISH

  Where authors give you the inside scoop!

  From the desk of Sherrill Bodine

  Dear Reader,

  One of my favorite things about writing is taking real people and mixing and matching their body parts and personalities to create characters who are captivating and entirely unique. And of course, I always set my books in my beloved Chicago, sharing with all of you the behind-the-scenes worlds and places I adore most.

  But in ALL I WANT IS YOU, I couldn’t resist sharing one of my other passions: vintage jewelry.

  Thanks to a dear friend I was able to haunt antique stores and flea markets all over the city, rescuing broken, discarded pieces of fine vintage couture costume jewelry and watching her repair, restore, and redesign them. She gave th
ese pieces new life, transforming them into necklaces, bracelets, and brooches of her own unique creation, and it was an amazing thing to see.

  I just knew my heroine, Venus Smith, had to do the very same thing, and thus her jewelry line, A Touch of Venus, was born.

  And of course it seemed only fitting that Venus’s designs end up in Clayworth’s department store, the store I created in my previous book, A Black Tie Affair, which is a thinly veiled Marshall Fields, Chicago’s late great iconic retailer. Of course, the most delicious part is that Clayworth’s is run by Venus’s archenemy, Connor Clayworth O’Flynn, the man who betrayed her father and ruined his reputation. And yes, you guessed it—sparks fly between them, igniting into a fiery passion.

  But this book isn’t just the product of my imagination. Readers have been so kind, telling me the most amazing stories that have transported me to fascinating places, and I want to take all of you with me!

  When someone shared with me the legend of the “Angel of Taylor Street,” I fell in love with the story and couldn’t resist using it myself. The Angel of Taylor Street was a person or persons who for decades did good deeds for strangers without ever asking anything in return. I changed the character to the Saint of Taylor Street in ALL I WANT IS YOU, and now it’s an important part of Venus and Connor’s story.

  But that isn’t the only one. Did you know there’s a private gambling club hidden beneath the parking lot of an old Chicago restaurant, one that’s been in business since our gangster days? I didn’t either, until someone tipped me off. Of course it is the site of a fabulous adventure for Venus and Connor. It is just a hint of Chicago’s inglorious past, but this time it has a positive spin—I promise!

  I hope you’ll enjoy Venus and Connor’s story in ALL I WANT IS YOU. Please come visit my website at www.sherrillbodine.com. I’d love to hear from you!

  Xo, Sherrill

  From the desk of Kendra Leigh Castle

  Dear Reader,

  “Dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!”

  I heard the voice of Peter Venkman in my head a lot as I was writing MIDNIGHT RECKONING, the second book in my Dark Dynasties series. That’s because his little quip there is the basis for the story. Well, maybe not the mass hysteria part. But I did want to see what would happen when one of my cat-shifting vampires met a gorgeous woman who wasn’t just out of his reach, but out of his species entirely. This is a tale of cat vamp meets werewolf, and relationships don’t come with more built-in baggage than theirs.