“Well, so tell me all about him.”

      Chloe had started for the dining room with a large bowl of potato salad, when Miranda caught her by the waist and spun her into the pantry. She went with a sense of resignation. She couldn’t have hoped to avoid Miranda’s third degree much longer. They’d always shared everything.

      Miranda’s green eyes glowed with curiosity. “You’ve been awful closemouthed, sugar. Come on, ‘fess up. Are you serious about him?”

      The question twanged inside her, reverberating like a plucked string. She tried to shut the feeling away. She didn’t want to lie to her sister. Probably she couldn’t if she tried. Miranda knew her too well.

      “Serious?” She tried to smile. “I don’t know if serious is the right word. It’s complicated. He is my boss, after all.”

      Miranda eyed her sternly. “Complicated. That means you do care about him, but you don’t know if it’s going to work, right?”

      “How did you get so smart, little sis?” She tried to turn their perpetual rivalry over the eleven months between them to her advantage, hoping to distract Miranda.

      Miranda shook her head, but not before Chloe had seen the quick sorrow in her eyes.

      “I didn’t get smart quick enough, remember?”

      “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Chloe plunked the bowl onto the linoleum-topped counter and put her arms around her sister. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She’d wanted to distract Miranda, not remind her of the man she’d loved and the marriage that had ended almost before it started.

      “It’s okay.” Miranda’s strong arms held her close for a moment. “I’m okay. Really.” She answered the doubt she must have seen in Chloe’s eyes. “I’m happy. After all, I have Sammy and the family.”

      But not the only man she’d ever love. The thought lay there between them, unexpressed.

      “I just want you to be happy.” Miranda squeezed her. “You be happy, sugar, okay?”

      “I’ll try.” Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. People said that Caldwell women were destined to love only one man. If true, that didn’t bode well for either Miranda or her.

      She tried to reject the thought. She didn’t love Luke. She admired him. She admired his intelligence, his tenacity, his ambition. She’d been touched by his kindness to her, by the unexpected, intangible longing she sometimes surprised in his eyes, as if he yearned for something he couldn’t have. But that wasn’t love.

      The thought lingered at the back of her mind all through dinner. She watched as Luke turned to answer some question Theo had asked. The chandelier’s light put shadows under his cheekbones, showing the strong bone structure of his face, the determined jaw, the quick lift at the corner of his mouth when something amused him.

      It also showed a certain tension in the way his hand gripped the fork. That sent a ripple of unease through her. Was he just nervous about this charade he’d embarked on? Or was something else going on—something she didn’t know about?

      As soon as the meal ended Luke gravitated to her side. Her heart gave a rebellious little flutter as she looked up at him. “Get enough to eat?”

      “I don’t know how your family stays so thin if they eat like that every night.” Luke patted his flat stomach. “One more of those buttermilk biscuits, and you’d have to roll me away from the table.”

      “They don’t sit in an office all day.”

      He grinned, and the unexpectedly relaxed expression fluttered her heart once more. “Touché. I’ll have to remember that.” He glanced around the large room. “But the inn doesn’t seem to have any guests right now.”

      “This is Gran’s birthday weekend. They don’t take reservations this weekend, so the whole family can celebrate.”

      “They turn away paying customers?” He seemed to imagine an entire row of Dalton Resorts executives, all frowning at such folly.

      “They put Gran first, that’s all.” The defensiveness in her tone surprised her. “The Dolphin Inn isn’t a Dalton Resort.”

      “Obviously not.” His lifted eyebrow spoke volumes. “Anyway, this isn’t a busy time. We don’t start getting a lot of guests until Easter weekend.” It had never occurred to her to wonder why the inn wasn’t more successful than it was. We make enough to get by, Daddy always said. She shouldn’t have to defend her family’s values, but that seemed to be what she was doing.

      “I can understand why, if you close down for a birthday party.”

      She came perilously close to losing her temper with him. “If you—”

      “Gran’s here,” Miranda called from the porch.

      Every other thought flew from Chloe’s mind, and she raced out the door. Gran marched up the shell path. Chloe met her halfway, to be wrapped in arms still as strong as ever. Gran’s familiar lily-of-the-valley scent enveloped her.

      “Gran, it’s so good to see you.” She pressed her cheek against her grandmother’s.

      Gran held her back a little, putting her palms on Chloe’s cheeks. Her gaze was every bit as laser-like, in its way, as Luke’s.

      “’Bout time you were getting home, child. Where’s this young man of yours?”

      “I’m right here—”

      She spun at the sound of Luke’s voice, smooth as cream, behind her. He held out his hand to Gran.

      “I’m Luke Hunter, Mrs. Caldwell.”

      Gran focused on him. Every one of Chloe’s nerve endings stood at attention. How had she ever thought she’d get away with this? Why had she let Luke maneuver her into it? Gran’s wise old eyes saw everything. They’d see through this.

      But Luke seemed to be standing up well to that fierce inspection. After a moment, he asked, “Will I do?”

      “Guess it’ll take a bit of time to decide that.” Gran looked him up and down. “You look a little fitter than I figured, for a city fellow.”

      “So do you. I expected someone a lot more frail.”

      He shot a challenging glance toward Chloe, and she felt herself shrivel. If he told Gran what she’d said, she’d never live it down.

      “Chloe must be fibbing about the number of candles on your cake.”

      Gran gave a little snort that might have been a chuckle, and then nodded shortly. “Might as well call me ‘Gran.’ Everyone else does.” She took Luke’s arm. “Let’s go set on the porch a spell.”

      Chloe, following them, discovered she could breathe again. But she couldn’t fool herself that happy state would last for long. She should never have let Luke talk her into this. She just should have told them all the truth and found some way to live with the disappointment in their eyes.

      Gran settled in her favorite rocker. The others filtered out of the house to receive Gran’s kiss and find a place to sit. Nothing they had to do was so pressing that they couldn’t enjoy the warm spring evening.

      Chloe perched on the rail, and little Sammy hopped up to lean against her. Gran motioned Luke to the seat next to hers, and Chloe felt as if she were waiting for disaster to strike. Surely, sooner or later, Luke would falter, and someone would realize he was playing a part.

      But Luke seemed content to lean back in his rocker, his gaze moving from one member of her