Falling for You (19 page)

“Pull what off?” his mother asked, rinsing dishes to put in the dishwasher.

“Having the inn ready in time for the ball,” he answered.

His mother raised a brow. “Is there a question about that?”

“Actually”—he cocked his head, thinking of Aurora—“I don’t think there is. We’ll be ready on time, even if Aurora has to pull the place together by the skin of her teeth. She’s incredible. And a very demanding taskmaster. Or mistress.” He laughed.

His mother stared at him, an unreadable expression settling over her face. Then she turned to Paige. “Paige, if you and Marcy are going to Houston, you should probably get moving. You know how your mother is if you make her late to a shoe sale.”

“Do I ever,” Paige agreed, rolling her eyes. “Just let me finish helping with the dishes and I’ll be on my way.”

“No, no.” His mother shooed her away. “Chance can help me finish.” When he and Paige both looked at her, startled, she sighed. “If he can pull kitchen duty at Pearl Island, he can pull it here.”

“Very well,” Paige said, doubt lining her brow.

“I’ll, um, walk you to the door,” Chance offered, wondering why his mother wanted to speak with him alone. He escorted Paige through the family room to the more formal part of the house. In the white marble entry a stairway curved upward, around a crystal chandelier. “I’ll come over this evening after I finish whatever chores Aurora has planned for me today.”

“Yes, that will be fine.” She seemed suddenly nervous standing alone with him.

He realized she was waiting for him to kiss her. Not the buss on the cheek they usually exchanged—but a touching of lips more appropriate to their new status as a dating couple. He chastised himself for forgetting the altered state of their relationship. After years of being friends who knew someday they’d be more, the time had arrived for that “something more.”

He leaned down and fitted his mouth lightly over hers. She stiffened briefly, then relaxed. One of her hands came to rest against his chest but their bodies didn’t touch. He thought of deepening the kiss, but it didn’t seem right with his parents so near. Still, the exchange was pleasant, not nearly as awkward as their first real kiss that night by the footbridge.

When he straightened, she gave him a timid smile. “I’ll see you this evening.”

When she was gone, he headed back toward the kitchen. “Well?” he said. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” his mother asked with a poor attempt at innocence. “I just wanted you to help clear the table so Paige could be on her way.” He raised a brow, and she sighed in defeat. “Oh, very well. I did want to talk to you.” She took a breath. “Chance, I’m concerned about you and Paige.”

“Mom...” He sighed.

“I know.” She held up a hand. “I promised not to pry. It’s just... you two seem so...
formal
together.”

“We’re just going through a period of adjustment,” he assured her. “It’s hard to go from thinking of her as a friend to thinking of her in... other ways. Which is why I asked you to let Paige and me handle this at our own pace. The last thing we need is our parents pressuring us to get on with things.”

“I agree, and I’m not pressuring. Truly. In fact... I’m doing just the opposite.”

“Excuse me?” He stared at her.

“Chance...” She closed the dishwasher. “Your interest in Paige—it isn’t solely based on the fact that us old folks want you to get together, is it?”

“What old folks?” he teased her.

“Stop that.” She blushed. “You know perfectly well I’m old enough to be a grandmother.”

“Yes, I know.” He sobered.

“I just... I just don’t want to push you into something you don’t want.”

“You’re not pushing me. I simply want to take things slowly. Marriage is serious business.”

“Yes, it is.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “But sometimes I fear you take it
too
seriously.”

“Pardon me?”

“Chance, don’t you ever want to say to heck with what’s right and proper and just have fun?”

“Fun?” He rocked back.

“Yes, fun,” she said. “Falling in love is like making mud pies. It’s not any fun unless you’re willing to get dirty.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” She got that indulgent look in her eyes she always did when she told him he was just like his father.

Fun.
He let the concept roll around in his head, but failed to fit it with something as serious as deciding who to spend the rest of his life with. “Is that how it was for you and Dad?”

A humorless laugh escaped her. “We’re not talking about your father and me.”

“I’d still like to know. The two of you are so well suited, so comfortable together. But how did you know it would work?”

“We didn’t. And...” She looked away. “I’m not always sure it does.”

Her words were quietly spoken, yet they rocked the very foundation beneath his feet. “But... you get along so well.”

“We’ve learned to make do. Your father has the bank, and billiards, and his coin collection. And I have”—she trailed a hand through the air—“my clubs and things.”

He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. They refused to stick in his brain, to make sense. “Are you saying you don’t love him?”

“Oh, no.” A soft smile settled over her face, but sadness crept into her eyes. “I love your father more than anything, including my pride, apparently. Like I said, love is messy business.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Just as well.” Her smile became a bit too bright to be real. “I’m just feeling my age. Promise me one thing, though” She closed the space between them and took his hand in hers. “If you aren’t in love with Paige, in love to the point you don’t care what others think, or what sacrifices you have to make to be with her, to the point that everything else in life fades in comparison, don’t marry her.”

“But... I thought you
wanted
me to marry Paige.”

“I want you to be happy.” She squeezed his fingers. “Both of you. And I care about that girl too much to bear the thought of her living her life knowing her husband only married her because she was the ‘right choice.’ ” Her gaze met his. “No woman should have to settle for that. Far better to be the worst choice in the world, but still the one that’s taken.”

An image of Aurora flashed through his mind, sending his world even more off kilter. She was the worst choice he could imagine for his wife, no matter how desperately he wanted her back in his bed. Marriage was a decision that should be based on logic, not runaway hormones. Still... a lifetime with Aurora? Vibrant, passionate, unpredictable Aurora? The idea was so at odds with everything he’d ever pictured for his future, he couldn’t get his mind around it.

“Well,” his mother said, “I’ve held you up long enough. You have work to do out at your new inn, if you’re going to be ready in time for the ball.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” He pulled his wits together enough to kiss his mother’s cheek and thank her for lunch.

“Just promise you’ll think about what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He laughed, doubting he’d be able to think of anything else for the rest of the day.

And he was right. When he reached Pearl Island and was caught up in the whirlwind of hard work, enthusiasm, and chaos that always surrounded Aurora, his mother’s words hovered at the edge of his thoughts. Being with Aurora excited him on every level, but to spend the rest of his life with her? Surely they were too different in background and temperament to make a long-term relationship work. And how would she feel about fulfilling the social obligations that would come with marrying a future bank president? The thought of a friendly tea party nearly gave her a panic attack, and he knew the society matrons she’d have to deal with as his wife would not be nearly as accepting as the McMillans.

And yet... he enjoyed her company.

The thought remained with him that evening as he sat with Paige in the Baxters’ quiet sunroom.

He glanced across at the woman he intended to marry. She sat on a white wicker love seat, her head bent over a notepad, her blond hair pulled into a neat ponytail. Her manicured hands guided a silver pen over the paper, making orderly notations.

She was everything he’d ever wanted in a wife: calm, cultured, comfortable. They shared the same friends, the same political views, and even a few of the same interests. She would also assume the role of hostess with a minimum amount of fuss. Surely his mother couldn’t have been thinking straight to suggest he not marry Paige because they were
too
right for each other.

Although, lately, he’d felt decidedly uncomfortable around her. Why was that?

It was his damned attraction to Aurora, he realized with a silent curse. His lust for her was out of control and wreaking havoc on his life. He had to master it. And he would, he vowed. He would!

By the end of that week, the Buccaneer’s Ball Planning Committee had voted to hold the ball at Pearl Island. The next day, Rory quit her job with Captain Bob. While her motion sickness no longer gave her problems, school was back in session so the tourist season had waned. Plus, they all agreed that one of them would be needed at the house full-time if they were going to meet the new schedule. Rory was the logical choice.

Adrian and Allison spent every spare minute they had at the house. As did Chance and Paige: Chance in the official capacity of partner, Paige in the unofficial role of interior design consultant.

The other bed-and-breakfast owners pitched in, as well, with valuable advice that sped up their progress. To celebrate, the St. Claires invited the other innkeepers to hold their September meeting at Pearl Island, in the newly finished music room.

“I guess that does it for this month’s business,” Sam Kinnaird, the association’s president, said. He stood by the fireplace, with the members seated in chairs from the veranda. “Before we adjourn, does anyone have any announcements?”

Rory raised her hand and stood when he nodded to her. “I just want to thank everyone for helping so much over the last month.” She looked at all the new friends she’d made. “Without y’all’s advice, I know we couldn’t have come this far, this fast. And I want everyone to know how much we appreciate your help.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Betsy McMillan said. “Isn’t that right, Ron?”

Her husband, Ron, who’d been unbelievably generous over the last weeks, blushed. “Just remember which of us helped the most when your inn is booked solid and you have to refer potential guests somewhere else.”

“Don’t worry.” Rory laughed as she took her seat.

“Aurora, wait,” Chance called from where he and Adrian stood across the room. He’d come in late, straight from work, and had missed the first part of the meeting. “Did you tell them about the Web site?”

“Oh, yeah.” She stood back up. “Thanks to Steven, our Web site is finally up, and... we got our first inquiry yesterday.”

“That’s great!” Everyone applauded.

“We haven’t booked a room yet,” Rory said. “But at least we got a call.”

“Congratulations.” The president nodded his approval. “Anyone else have an announcement?”

No one raised their hand.

“Adjourn, already,” Daphne groused. “So we can get on with the tour.”

“Meeting adjourned.”

Conversation instantly filled the room as everyone stood. Rory found herself the center of attention as other innkeepers gathered around to ask about the progress of the renovations, and the upcoming ball.

“Sorry I’m late.” Chance’s voice came from right behind her. “I had some things to do at the bank, and couldn’t get away.”

“That’s okay.” Trying to look as relaxed as possible, she turned and smiled. Beneath her calm facade, though, her pulse hummed at the sight of him. His presence always affected her more on days like this, when he didn’t have Paige in tow. “Will you help me lead the tour while Adrian sets up coffee and dessert in the dining room?”

“I’d love to.” He smiled back at her, making her heart beat faster. “If everyone will follow Aurora, we’ll show you the rooms upstairs.”

“Remember, though,” Rory said, “we’re a long way from finishing with the decorating. Alli and I are going shopping in Houston tomorrow.”

“Speaking of Allison, where is she?” Steven asked as he joined her on the stairs.

“She couldn’t get off work, but she might make it here before everyone leaves.” They reached the top of the stairs, and she opened the door to the smallest of the rooms. “We decided to go with a shipping theme for the room names, so this room here will be the Crow’s Nest. It needs draperies and bedspread, obviously. And some art for the walls, but I like the antiques Alli found.”

Rory stepped out of the way so everyone could see inside, then led them into the wide upper hall. A sideboard filled one wall, while a love seat and two chairs created an inviting place for guests to linger. “Betsy, we’re going to follow your example and have tea and coffee service up here.”

“And what a perfect area for it.” Betsy nodded in approval.

“Thanks.” Rory indicated the four remaining doorways. “The two medium-sized rooms are the Captain and the First Mate. The tower suite will be the Pearl, named after our resident ghost. And the other big suite across the hall will be the Baron, since ‘shipping baron’ was the kindest term we could think of for Henri LeRoche.”

Everyone wandered through the rooms, voicing approval for the combination of paisley and striped wallpaper they’d selected in varying shades of burgundy, blue, and green. Several of the B and B owners suggested ways to make the rooms more guest-friendly. Rory was still taking mental notes as they headed downstairs.

In the dining room, Adrian had set up the silver coffee and tea service on the sideboard, along with some sinfully rich brownies and cheesecake. Betsy rolled her eyes in pleasure as she sampled some of each. “Well, if there’s one thing you don’t need advice on, it’s your food.”

“Adrian’s always been very talented in the kitchen.” Rory smiled at her brother as he rearranged the desserts for better presentation.

“I bet that’s not the only room he’s good in.” Daphne gave him a blatant once-over from head to toe, clearly approving the fit of his faded blue jeans and tight red T-shirt.

“Daphne, behave,” Betsy scolded mildly. “You’ll embarrass the boy.”

“I doubt that.” Daphne moved closer to Adrian as she helped herself to another brownie. Her age showed beneath the heavy coat of makeup and in the inch of white roots at the base of her orange hair. Still, she smiled up at Adrian like a flirtatious schoolgirl and licked rich, gooey crumbs from her fingers. “If chocolate really is an aphrodisiac, I bet these brownies could keep a man up all night.”

“Daphne!” Betsy gasped, but Adrian boomed with laughter.

He slipped an arm around the woman’s thick waist, making her cheeks turn pink beneath the circles of apricot blusher. “Some men don’t need chocolate. Just the right woman.”

“Honey, I’ll be happy to test that theory—if you think you can handle the challenge.”

“I can handle
anything
,” Adrian answered suggestively.

While the others laughed, Steven headed for the silver service for more coffee. “Hey, Rory,” he said, lifting the lid and glancing inside. “I think we need another pot.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get it.” She grabbed the ornate silver urn. When she turned, she found Chance watching her, as he so often did—with desire barely showing beneath his carefully guarded expression. “I don’t suppose you’d care to help?”

He hesitated slightly, since they’d be alone in the kitchen, then set his cup of coffee aside and followed her through the butler’s pantry. The voices and laughter became muffled when the door swung closed behind him. “Do you think it’s wise to leave Adrian in there with Daphne, unprotected?” he asked.

“Oh, Adrian can hold his own.” As they passed into the kitchen, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Personally, I think he gets a kick out of turning the old girl on.”

“Obviously.” He chuckled. “But do you think it’s healthy at her age, to have heart palpitations like that?”

“I say more power to her.” She set the urn on the counter and retrieved the canister of coffee beans. “What’s wrong with her having a few fantasies about what she’d like to do with my brother’s body if he’d let her?”

“Aurora, please.” Chance shuddered as he leaned against the counter next to her. “There are some things I just don’t want to picture.”

Scooping beans into the grinder, she cast him a sideways glance. “You don’t think people should have fantasies?”

His guard slipped a notch as his gaze held hers.

She leaned closer, hoping to push him just a bit into admitting he still wanted her—had never stopped wanting her. “Personally,” she said, “I’ve always thought fantasies were normal. We all have things we like to think about, things we’d like to do. Don’t you ever have wicked thoughts?”

“I have a few,” he confessed in a low voice. “There’s a difference, though, in having wicked thoughts and acting on them.”

“True. But life would be boring if we never gave in to temptation. Don’t you think?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips tingled.
Yes,
she wanted to say.
Kiss me
.

“Am I too late?” Allison came through the back door.

They sprang apart, Rory knocking over the grinder and scattering coffee beans. She swore silently as she scooped them up. “No, you’re not too late at all.”
You‘re too early!

Sadie gave a happy bark and trotted straight for Chance, who made himself busy petting her. Alli raised a brow and glanced from Rory to Chance, then back to Rory’s warm face. “Anything wrong?”

“Not a thing.”
Except your timing
. Rory forced a smile.

“I saw cars, so I assume some people are still here.”

“They’re in the dining room,” Rory said. “Chance and I were just getting a second pot of coffee.”

“Do you need help?” Allison asked, a layer of frost just beneath the surface of her words.

“No, we can manage.” Rory wondered about her sister’s disapproval. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it.

“All right, then. Come on, Sadie,” Allison called and left them alone.

When Rory turned back to Chance, she saw his guard was back up, and he was ready to act as if nothing had happened. Or almost happened.

“I’ll get some more cream for the pitcher,” he said, moving to the refrigerator.

Cursing under her breath, she ground the beans... a bit longer than necessary. The sound of the grinder matched her mood. Would Chance ever realize—much less admit—they belonged together?

They rejoined the others, and a few minutes later, Chance excused himself to go pick up Paige. Apparently, they had a double date with Stacy and Paul. Rory’s heart sank. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe Chance
didn’t
return her feelings.

The fear made her all the more sensitive to her sister’s chilly attitude as they cleaned up in the kitchen. They had the house to themselves since Adrian had left for work. Finally, Rory couldn’t take it anymore. “Alli, if you have something to tell me, I wish you’d just say it, and get it over with.”

Alli looked up from the serving plate she was drying. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you’re acting, like you’re mad at me or something.”

“I’m not,” Alli insisted, then hesitated. “I guess I’m just... uncomfortable. It’s awkward, seeing you and Chance making eyes at each other, knowing he’s practically engaged to Paige. Especially since I’ve met her. I happen to like Paige.”

“I know.” Rory sighed. Even though she didn’t want to, she liked Paige, too. How could anyone
not
like Paige? She was quiet, sweet, thoughtful... and so much like Allison it was spooky sometimes. “I know how you feel. It’s uncomfortable for me, too. But I hope you know I would never go after him if they were actually engaged. I’m not like that.”

“I know, but it’s still uncomfortable.”

“What did you expect me to do, stand silently by, pining away and praying Chance would come to his senses all on his own?” Rory searched her sister’s face, needing reassurance. “If I did that, he and Paige would be married and miserable before he realized he’d made a mistake.”

“But...” Alli gripped the plate. “How do you know it would be a mistake? Paige seems so perfect for Chance. Okay”—she held up her hand—“I know you love Chance, but can you honestly say you want to be Mrs. Oliver Chancellor for the rest of your life?”

“What do you mean? Of course I want to marry him!”

“Rory, think about what you’re saying!” Alli pleaded. “Families like the Chancellors are the closest thing we have to gentry in this country. That kind of status comes with a lot of responsibility and expectation. Are you up to playing the role of society wife?”

She felt her spine stiffen, because she’d tried so hard not to think of Chance like that. To think of him only how he was when they were alone. But she couldn’t forget how commanding and refined he looked wearing a suit, how at ease he always seemed no matter the situation. That kind of confidence came from more than genes, it came from training.

She turned away. “I still say I’d make him a better wife than Paige would, because I love him, Alli. I make him happy!”

“And she doesn’t?”

“Not the way I do.” Her heart ached with doubt even as she said the words. “Okay, I admit, I was so eaten up with jealousy when Paige first started coming over here, it took me a while to see it, but Chance and Paige would be a disaster together. They have a bond, but they act like some old couple who’ve been married for forty years and gotten so complacent, all the fire has gone out of their relationship.”

Allison finished drying the plate and put it in the cabinet. “There’s more to life than passion. There’s... trust and companionship.” She turned back. “You can’t tell me Chance and Paige don’t have that. They like each other. They get along. And as for their supposed lack of passion, how do you know they don’t have any? You don’t know what they’re like when they’re alone.”