ISLAND PROMISEISLAND PROMISELove is worth...
Breaking an engagement to a perfectly suitable man is only one example of Dallas
schoolteacher Morgan Breck's reckless spirit. Even so, Morgan never expected
an impulsive purchase at an estate sale would plunge her into danger--or the
arms of breathtakingly sexy investor Jackson Turner. But when she stumbles
onto the only clue that might locate Jake's missing sister Cathy, her curiosity
tells her to throw caution to the wind...even if it means risking her heart
in the process.
The Ultimate Risk...
Cathy hasn't been seen in days, and Jackson is convinced that her husband's
shady business associates are to blame. When Morgan shows up with the
first real lead to his sister's whereabouts, Jackson is thrilled to take it--and
furious to find himself attracted to the free-spirited beauty. Jackson
has no time for love--until Morgan follows him to the island paradise where
Cathy may be hidden away, and where the promise of danger is as certain as a
chance at love...
Just as the doorbell rang, Jackson felt a surge of energy run through him. He suddenly remembered his dream from last night when he had come face to face with the beautiful and mysterious woman from the house the day before. He remembered her eyes, as dark as night and as wide as saucer cups. He remembered her legs, looking as long as a mile and as soft as silk. Unable to keep the picture of her face from his mind that entire day, it was inevitable he dream about her and he was grateful he had. She was the only thing that could take his mind off of his family. The only thing that could bring a grin to his face.
She was a vision as she had approached him in his dream with the smile of an angel who had just gotten her wings. It was a moonlit night in Texas, with one million stars in the sky. No introductions were made as they stared into each others eyes for what seemed like forever. None were needed. There was a kinship, a connection that sent a stronger message than mere letters formed together to make a word could ever convey. Then, she allowed him to kiss her, not even knowing his name. He’d felt the sun, the moon, the stars, the sky, and heaven’s gate open within him. He laughed at the romanticism he felt, always believing that stuff was just for women. Then he woke up, angry that he could only lie there thinking of all the things they could have done.
He struggled to wipe the x-rated smile from his face as he opened the door, wondering who could be visiting him on a Sunday afternoon. He was shocked with the force of a lightening bolt by what he saw.
Morgan had planned her course of action during her drive to Grand Prairie. She thought it was a clever one, explaining what she’d found, coyingly asking seemingly innocent questions in the beginning in order to find out what it meant, and convincing this family relative why it was so crucial she know. If he gave her a hard time, she’d go hardball. She’d done it before. One thing she’d learned from dealing with
seven-year- olds was knowing when to stop the lovey-dovey and stand her ground.
Only, as soon as the front door opened, her knees went weak and her mind went completely blank.
She stood speechless as she faced him, the Nubian god she had seen the other day. Was this real? Could she be this lucky? She thought she would never see him again, but here he was. He looked pleasingly athletic in a blue and gray loose fitting Dallas Cowboys tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants. The fabric on the pants was very thin, made for warm weather, and it rested and molded along the muscles of his thighs. His skin was glowing, his arms and chest perfectly chiseled and smooth. She imagined they were big enough to make a woman feel safe and sound when embraced within their fold.
Morgan could tell he was just as surprised to see her as she was him.
"Hello," was the only word Jackson could muster. On the other hand, his heart screamed out, It’s you! You’re the woman with the face of an angel and the body of a demon!
He found her utterly seductive in a snug-fitting peach top and midthigh khaki shorts. Those unforgettable legs. Her long auburn hair was back in a loose ponytail with tendrils falling to the side, exposing her perfectly oval-shaped face. She was a natural beauty with no makeup except for a light shade of lipstick brushed across full, satiny lips.
"You . . . y-you. I saw you," Morgan stuttered, her heart fluttering at the sight of the dimple on his left cheek as he smiled. A dimple at that, she thought. If he wasn’t cute enough, here he comes with this dimple.
"At the auction. I know." Jackson’s heartbeat calmed now that he could see she was as nervous he was. "We were both at the estate auction yesterday." He hated saying the word auction when referring to his family’s belongings and home.
"You’re the relative?"
"The woman of the house is my sister." Jackson held out a strong hand, hoping it wasn’t as sweaty as it felt. He loved her voice, raspy and low. Very sexy. Unique, like he was sure she was. "My name is Jackson Turner."
"Jackson, hello. I’m Morgan, Morgan Breck." Accepting the hand that gripped hers strongly, she felt a spark run through her arm heating her entire body in less than a second.
"Please come in." He let go of her hand, unsure of its effect on him. He wondered for a second if he was back in his dream from last night. Watching her with earnestly as she cautiously stepped into his home, he wished he wasn’t. "Please excuse the place. I don’t get too many visitors."
"Don’t mind me," she said. "Your place is fine."
She looked around the ranch house she considered modestly spacious, as far as Dallas ranches were concerned. You could fit a small community on most of them. This was a home, large by most standards, but intimate and tastefully decorated with a masculine but understated Native American design.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Ms. Breck?" Jackson asked, tucking his shirt in. He wondered, if she had tried to find him. He couldn’t believe this was coincidence.
"I bought a dresser-drawer set." Morgan tried hard to ignore the attraction she felt immediately upon looking at him, desperately trying to remember what she had come for. Business first. "It was the cherry wood with solid brass handles. Are you familiar with that set?"
"Yes." An emotionless expression hit his face as he safely guarded his feelings. "It’s my niece’s set. Or it was, at least. Now I suppose it’s yours."
"I’m sorry." Morgan felt a tug at her heart as she noticed the dismay that trailed his tone. She sensed emotional withdrawal was his attempt at hiding pain behind the unknown whereabouts of his loved ones. "It must be difficult for you to see strangers take personal things that belonged to people you know. People you care about."
"The drawers don’t mean anything." He lied, although he was a touched by her concern. If only she knew. "They’re only material things. Furniture."
There was a moment of thick silence as Morgan wondered if she should reply to his comments. She wanted to, but thought it best she didn’t. Enough said. Get away from the personal stuff. Stay focused.
"I was arranging the set at my condo and I found something." She never tore her eyes from his face as she reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She couldn’t. "I found this drawing and a key. It was stuck between the underboard of one of the drawers."
With an interested frown, Jackson took the envelope and hastily opened it. Anything? he asked himself, but the drawing struck no chord with him. "Cayman? What’s this a picture of?"
"I don’t know," Morgan answered, although she had the idea he was posing the questions to himself. "I thought you might."
"Where’s the key?" He asked, reaching into the envelope and feeling nothing.
"It must have fallen out." Morgan reached into her purse, feeling around for a loose key. She handed it over to him, never taking her eyes off his face. She hadn’t noticed before the sensual curve of his lips, the creased lines of his forehead made her deliciously eager to know what he was thinking. She knew she was right! So, there was a little of the old Morgan Breck still there after all.
Glancing at the key for a moment, then the drawing again, Jackson wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it was a clue. It must be a clue. He would make it one. Cayman could only mean one thing, and that was where he would start.
"Did you find anything else?" He turned to her, distracted by the millions of thoughts running through his mind now.
"No, that was it." She saw that his light eyes could barely stay with her. He knew something and was excited about it, causing her own excitement to grow. "What does it mean?"
"It’s nothing," he lied, turning away from her. He’d thought he’d done a good job of hiding his reaction, but possibly this woman was as exceptionally perceptive as she was beautiful. "My niece draws silly stuff all the time. She draws on the walls, the table. When she draws stuff on paper, she’ll put them in all sorts of weird places to create an adventure for herself."
"But this was neatly folded, placed in an envelope and tightly stuck into a rather odd place." Morgan persisted as she watched Jackson refold the paper and place it back in the envelope. He was pulling away from her. He had something he was unwilling to share or maybe unable, but for what reason? "That seems unusual for a child."
"She’s ten years old and exceptional for her age." His expression told nothing as he placed the found contents on the foyer table. "I appreciate you . . ."
"What about the key?" Morgan was getting frustrated, sure she was being lied to. The surprise at seeing him as well as her attraction to him had made her forget the clever questions she had planned. This wasn’t going like clockwork, but she was determined to salvage what she could. "What does the key mean? There are letters on the . . ."
"Probably a diary key or a key to one of her little play chests." Jackson reached into the small drawer of the baseball diamond shaped glass table against the wall and pulled out one of his business cards. Although elated to see this beautiful woman again, he had to get rid of her. He had a fresh new lead in finding his family and had to follow up on it immediately. Hoping and praying. "Please, it’s nothing. I appreciate what you’ve done and if you find anything else, do call me. I’d like to hold on to as many mementos as I can."
"But . . ." Morgan protested as she accepted his card. Usually she wouldn’t give up so easily, but she found this man was stubbornly reclusive and distractingly handsome.
"I have a lot of work to do, Ms. Breck. Thanks for stopping by." He was very conscious of the fact that he was placing his hand on her long, thin back as he lead her to the door. He was touching her and he liked the way it felt. "I hope this isn’t the last time I see you."
Morgan wanted to protest again, but the softness of his tone when he spoke those last words threw her. Before she could turn to face him and say another word, the large wooden door slammed shut. Angry and frustrated, she thought to ring the doorbell again, demanding an explanation for his behavior, but she didn’t, knowing she had no cause. He had no obligation to explain his family’s situation to her.
Morgan kicked her foot against the ground, skipping away some of the tiny black rocks that made up the gravel driveway. She’d had a plan, thinking it out thoroughly on the way up here. Pretty proud of herself. What a piece of jello she thought, allowing Jackson Turner and his gorgeous face and charming smile to mess up her plan. She barely remembered it now. What she did remember was that she hadn’t gotten what she came for and was left only with his words, "I hope this is not the last time I see you." What had he meant by that? It seemed to her that he didn’t want to see her at all just now. Stubbornly shoving two hands in her pockets, she headed down the driveway toward her car. She felt entirely unsatisfied after such a build up of excitement.
Full of anticipation, Jackson hurried to pack some things. There was a lot more to do and little time in which to do it, but that didn’t matter to Jackson. He couldn’t avoid the smile on his face as, for the first time in a long time, he felt a little hope.
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