Make Me No Promises

By Heide Katros

Being left at the altar is only the beginning of Chelsea Hubert's troubles. Smart and independent, she feels she can overcome any problem--unware that she is already caught in a web of deception--until she comes face to face with a man who wants her dead.    When Pierce Delaney saves Chelsea from being stranded in the Bahamas, he has no intention to take their acquaintance to another level, but cannot get her out of his mind. He contrives another meeting, only to find himself embroiled in Chelsea's fight for her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heide Katros
• Release date: Aug 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502283993

Book preview

Chapter One

Nassau, Bahamas 

Chelsea pulled her straw hat over her face, adjusted her sun glasses, leaned back against the deck chair, and closed her eyes. The sun felt good on her skin, but it did nothing for the icy feeling around her heart.

Inhaling slow, deep breaths, she relived the nightmare of the day before.  Nothing could have prepared her for the shock.

Here she stood in the bride’s room, dressed in a long sleeved Vera Wang gown of ivory satin, with a rhinestone encrusted bodice. High-necked in front, it plunged to her waist in a daring drop in back. The dress had cost her three months wages, and thinking back now, she would never go to such a foolish expense again, not in this lifetime. Not ever, because once was enough.

Emily Willard had just helped her to secure the circle of orange blossoms with the short veil attached, when someone knocked on the door.

It opened before either of the girls could say anything. Greg Wilson, best man to her soon to be husband hesitated at the doorway. He shrugged a shoulder to excuse his uninvited entrance. I figured you’d be dressed so close to the ceremony. May I come in?

Emily spread her arms wide. You shouldn’t see the bride before her husband does.

Greg’s face turned beet red. It doesn’t matter, Peter didn’t show. He left me to hold the bag and he sent this letter for Chelsea via messenger. He shook his head, his discomfort obvious in the set of his shoulders. I am so sorry, Chelsea. I have no idea what is going on. I hope his letter explains it all. I’ve known Peter since elementary school and he never pulled a stunt that even comes close to this.

Chelsea only heard Peter didn’t show. The rest went over her head. She thought her heart would stop beating. And why didn’t it? She had never felt more humiliated in her life. Peter had told her dozens of times how much he loved her, how much he looked forward to a life together.

She reached for the sealed envelope with trembling hands. Her stomach flipped, threatening to expel what little she had been able to force down this morning. Instead, she bit the inside of her mouth to exchange one pain with another. There was no way she would allow anyone to see how hard the news hit her. Groping blindly for a chair, she sat down heavily, because her legs refused to hold her up any longer.

Her eyes skimmed the single type written page. "Dearest Chelsea, I am sorry that I have to back out of our wedding. I know it’s the cowardly way to write to you rather than handle it in person. I am ashamed that you will have to face the wedding guests alone, but it can’t be helped. Suffice it to say that you are better off without me. Enclosed are the plane tickets to Nassau. Hotel reservations have been paid. I wish you the best of everything. Please forgive me,

Peter.

When she looked up with tear glazed eyes Greg had left and only a white-faced Emily hovered in mute horror near the door. She didn’t need to be told about the contents of the letter. Chelsea’s expression said it all.

What are you going to do? They have been playing all the songs you’ve chosen. I know they are waiting for you. Or maybe they’ve already realized that something is wrong and had the good sense to leave. She wrung her hands. Oh, my God, Chelsea, I am so sorry. What are we going to do? I’ll go along with whatever you decide. We can slip out the back. I have my car.

Chelsea stood up, her face a mask of determination. She hugged her friend. Thank you for standing by me, but I am not going to tuck my tail between my legs and run. The damn reception has been paid for and we are going to celebrate. I am not sure what that celebration will be, but we are going to ask the guests to join us at the Marriot and eat what I paid for.

Ripping the veil off her head, she flung it to the floor before she snatched up the hem of her gown and marched resolutely into the church. The wedding march sounded for a brief moment, before it faded on a note of discord to be replaced first with the collected gasp of the assembled guests and then a shocked hush.

There could be no mistaking that Chelsea was a jilted bride. All eyes were on her as she marched up the three shallow steps to the altar, turned around and stared at the crowded pews without seeing a single person.

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family. There is no easy way to put this. You are looking at a jilted bride. She held up her hands to stem the denial echoing hollowly up to her. No, let’s not get maudlin. It is better to be left at the altar than find out some months down the road that the man you pledged your life to was nothing more than a fraud and a coward. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Pasting a smile on her lips, she spread her arms wide. This was supposed to be a day of celebration. So let’s celebrate. I invite all of you to join me at the Marriot for the planned reception. There will be music and dancing.

Stunned silence followed her announcement. As her eyes scanned the guests, her heart began to beat a crazy tattoo in her chest, but she bravely fought for calm. Let them judge her however they wanted. They would have their say anyway. She felt neither guilt nor shame, because the situation had been none of her doing.

Smiling, though her heart threatened to break, she held her head high and resolutely picked up the hem of her gown again. A crescendo of applause stopped her in mid-stride. It nearly brought her to tears, but instead she marched down the aisle and boldly returned the curious stares.

Her bravado left her momentarily once she closed the door to the bride’s room behind her. Shaking all over, she kicked off her shoes and turned to Emily, who watched her in silent misery.

Help me out of this blasted thing, she snapped, no longer able to keep the bitterness from her voice. I am going to have a good time, if it kills me, and I am going to dress comfortably for it. With that she dragged the yellow sundress she had worn earlier off the hanger and slipped into it the moment her wedding gown puddled around her ankles.

What are you going to do with the gown? Emily asked; her voice barely above a whisper.

I wish I could afford to throw it into the garbage bin, but it was so expensive, I have to get something out of it. Let’s hang it back up and I’ll sell it on E-Bay.

That was yesterday. Chelsea wriggled to a more comfortable position and exhaled slowly trying to calm her racing heart. She could hardly believe that fiasco had gone down in less than twenty-four hours. If it hadn’t been for Emily she would have made a fool of herself, but loyal Emily had seen to it that she ate something and that she only had one measly glass of champagne.

You don’t want to give them more fodder for the gossip mill, girl. So far you have handled this mess like a pro. Something good will come of it. And let’s drink to Peter’s slow and painful demise.

They had giggled. They had danced, and by midnight Emily had taken Chelsea to her apartment on the outskirts of Orlando. That way we have more time tomorrow before I drive you to the airport. I admire the way you hung in there tonight, and I am glad the airline allowed you to change your tickets to one in first class.

Once they were inside Emily’s apartment Chelsea had collapsed in a heap on the couch and cried. You have no idea how hard it was to put on a brave front, to laugh and cut up, when my heart hurt so badly. Why in God’s name did Peter do that to me? Why didn’t he call me before we got to the church? I would have never figured him for a coward.

She’d read the impersonal note over and over in an effort to find something between the lines she might have missed. She crumpled and spread the letter back out so many times, it had lost all form and had become hard to read. Not that she needed to ever read it again. Every word was indelibly engraved into her brain.

Well, she would just put it all out of her mind. She had three glorious days to spend at the Wyndham. It was the least she deserved at Peter’s expense. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and decided she might as well take a swim. Not that she was the world’s best swimmer, but the water was clear and there were no waves to battle.

Covering her hat, sunglasses and beach bag with the hotel provided towel, she headed for the water, goggles in hand.

Chapter Two

Pierce Delaney happened to look up from the New York Times he was reading just as Chelsea waded into the ocean. He sat up a little straighter, intrigued by the girl’s graceful movements. The way her skimpy white bikini hugged her butt made him wonder what she might look like from the front. Why did he even bother to look? So what if she had a nice body. She probably had the face of a dog. Snorting, he let himself fall back against his lounge chair and buried his nose in the paper again.

Chelsea swam almost to the back buoys set out by the hotel for safety before she got scared and headed back for shore. Tears welled in her eyes. Peter had been such a good swimmer and he’d always been there for her. Damn you! How could you do this to me?

Dragging her feet through the sand, she felt suddenly very tired. She knew her exhaustion probably stemmed from depression, so maybe a nap would cure that. She had no one to please but herself and she could come down again later in the afternoon, when the sun wasn’t quite so hot.

Pierce heard her approach. He had an acute sense of hearing; besides it happened to be a quiet day. Weekdays were for businessmen like himself, the occasional newlyweds and retired people. On weekends the tempo in Nassau reached a fever pitch. That’s when most of the big luxury liners pulled into port, disgorging harried passengers, who knew they only had so many hours on shore and would have to make the most of it. By then Pierce would be flying home.

Curiosity got the better of him. He peeked up at the girl from behind the cover of his RayBan aviator shades as she bent to retrieve her belongings. He sucked in a surprised breath. She was gorgeous. He looked surreptitiously around to see if she was alone. She certainly didn’t resemble a woman here on business and if she were a newlywed, then where was her groom? No man in his right mind would leave a girl like her, with that face and figure, alone on a beach, especially not in that bikini.

Apparently, she was oblivious to the fact that she was attractive. Not the cutesy-cute like today’s women often presented themselves, but a striking beauty with large wide-set eyes that were ringed with thick dark lashes. It irked him that he couldn’t make out their color without shoving his glasses out of the way, but that small obstacle didn’t stop him from studying her further.

High cheekbones dominated an oval face that showed a great deal of determination. Her nose fit in nicely with the rest of her features, though it was just ordinary. It was her lush mouth that truly caught his interest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those pouting pink lips. They appeared to be soft and kissable even from the distance.

Before he could take that thought any further, she straightened and gave him an unimpeded view of a lithe body with a pair of breasts that made his mouth water. Droplets of sea water ran in lazy rivulets down her oiled, sun kissed skin.

He almost choked, when one particular drop caught on her navel. He could almost taste it, wished he could lick it off. He got rock hard. Jesus H. what was the matter with him? And when the hell did a pair of boobs and a few drops of water have such an effect on him? Angry that lust had gotten the better of him he quickly crossed his legs, shook the paper back into shape and returned to his article.

He didn’t look up again, but he was fully attuned to her receding footsteps. Only when he knew she’d be out of earshot, did he dare to exhale on a whoosh. Damn!

He tried hard to return his focus to the stock market, but his mind’s eye wouldn’t let him. It taunted him with the girl’s image with such clarity that it shook him to the bone. He was not the kind of man, who pursued women in general, though there were the occasional one-night stands, he never initiated them himself. Hell, he had no time for women, any woman, and especially not one, who might actually interest him. He snorted with disgust.

Pierce had lost his wife some three years earlier. He’d become used to the bachelor life again, and besides his business consumed most of his time.

Millie had been more than wife to him. They’d found out early in their marriage that she would never conceive and that was all right with Pierce. He and Millie had been inseparable, friends, allies, lovers all rolled into one. He’d never suspected that behind Millie’s cheerful smiles hid a tortured human being. She had been anorexic, and he hadn’t known it until it was too late. Oh, God, how could he have missed the signs? He’d put her odd eating habits down to yo-yo diets as something she’d always done. She certainly never showed any ill effects. So it had come as a total shock when the coroner confronted him with the news that Millie had died of a massive heart attack brought on by her current starvation diet.

Pierce had gone on a drinking binge for more than a week until his best friend sat him down and told him to suck it up. You can’t bring her back, man. You have a business to run, a business that supports several families, Trip Butler told him. And Pierce had taken a hard look at himself and buckled down to business the very next day.

He smacked the paper on the lounge chair, got up and headed for the water. He’d swim a couple of laps, then go upstairs and work on his computer. He’d lazed enough for one day. Tomorrow, he’d head home.

* * * *

Chelsea reveled in a long relaxing bubble bath until the water cooled. Pulling the plug, she stood up to rinse off and wash her hair. She only towel dried it, allowing her natural waves to fall into place, while she sat on her balcony to enjoy the view. A cruise ship floated along in the distance, palm trees swayed below and a general feeling of peace permeated the soft wind blowing off the water. Paradise. Well, even paradise was not without its snake.

She swallowed against the bitterness that thought brought with it. This trip should have been a memory to last a lifetime. So what? She blew an errant strand of hair out of her face and lifted her chin in defiance. She’d weathered the reception at the Marriott, she deserved these few days of fun in the sun. But once she returned to Florida, she would leave no stone unturned to find out why Peter had treated her so shabbily. Pushing out of the chair, she went inside.

Humming, she slipped into a sundress and sandals and walked out into the balmy afternoon. A valet politely asked if she would care for a taxi, but she refused with a smile. Instead she turned West in search of the Cable Beach Shopping Center. As she breathed in the flower scented air, her smile broadened. This was living. Damn, she should have kept the two tickets and asked Emily to tag along. At least she’d have someone to talk to, but when she’d changed the reservations, she was bent on revenge. She hadn’t been thinking straight.

Her stroll to the Cable Beach Shopping Center took longer than she anticipated. She was glad when she spied a small restaurant. Taking a seat near the window she ordered an iced tea and some conch fritters. She didn’t have a great appetite, but the fritters were so delicious that she ate the whole order of eight.

Refreshed, she sauntered through several small souvenir shops. Nothing really appealed to her until she came across a lovely beach bag. She bought it for Emily, and on the spur of the moment she bought one for herself. She really couldn’t afford a great deal right now. Her bank account was pretty depleted after all the wedding expenses. Of course, she had some commissions coming next month, but that was a couple of weeks away yet. Now she regretted that she hadn’t worked all that hard before the upcoming wedding, instead she had dreamed of a life with Peter. Hopefully, Aisha Malcolm, her boss would give her another chance and the housing market would continue to pick up.

She dawdled back to the hotel and after taking another shower she lay on the bed and watched television. By ten o’clock, she was rested and knew she wouldn’t sleep unless she worked her excess energy off.

She dressed in a white skirt, a ruffled pink blouse and high heeled sandals, twisted her sun-streaked hair on top of her head in an artless knot and headed downstairs. The roll of dice, the cheers of people winning at Blackjack and Roulette caught her attention as she stepped out of the glass enclosed elevator. She hesitated, but decided that a brisk walk around the grounds would be better if she intended to sleep through the night. Still, she could afford to play a little one-armed Bandit later. Grinning, she pushed through the glass door into the balmy night.

Pierce sat at the roulette table, idly playing his favorite numbers. Though nothing was going his way, he didn’t care. He’d only come down to the casino, because he was too tired to work at numbers anymore and not tired enough to go to sleep.

The pit boss walked over to him and they shook hands. How’s it going, Pierce?

He grinned wryly. Not bad, Charlie, not bad. He waved a casual hand at the roulette wheel and shrugged. I’m not winning, but that isn’t going to spoil my mood. I just closed a honey of a deal on Cat Island. It even has a landing strip long enough for me to land my Cessna.

Charlie frowned. I hope that doesn’t mean we won’t see you on a regular basis anymore?

Not at all. I intend to come here just as much as ever. It’ll take time to build a house over there. But even when I complete it, I can run over in my boat or plane. I love the Fish Fry section of Nassau. That Seafood Haven is my kind of place. Course I watch myself. He patted his flat stomach.

The croupier called out the number sixteen red. Pierce swiveled around in his chair and realized he’d left his chips on the red sixteen and his omission had won him a small bundle.

Grinning, he handed the croupier one of the chips as a tip before he raked them over to his place at the table.

Turning to the pit boss he was still all smiles. Hey, who says daydreaming doesn’t pay off? Or maybe you brought me luck. Can I buy you a drink? 

Charlie shook his head. I can’t, Pierce. I am on duty, but thanks all the same.

Pierce slapped the table with his palm. Well, in that case I am going to cash in my winnings and call it a night. I want to get an early start tomorrow.

As the two men headed toward the cashier the door to the lobby opened and Chelsea walked in. Pierce grabbed the pit boss by his arm. Charles, do you happen to know who that woman is, the one that just walked in?

Charles whistled under his breath. I wish I knew. She is one hot piece. Winking with a knowing smile, he jerked his head in her direction. "If you really want to know, why don’t you ask her for a drink? Or you could inquire at the front desk. He jovially clapped Pierce’s shoulder in a tacit goodbye. I’ve got to go and check the action in the casino. See you later."

Pierce walked over to the cashier’s window, never letting the object of his interest out of his sight. He watched as she approached the stairs leading down to the casino rather hesitantly.  No habitual gambler he thought as he continued to scrutinize her. She certainly qualified for arm candy, but he’d already established that earlier this morning. Whoa, he mentally pulled back. He was here on business, nothing more. Besides, the fact that she seemed to be alone sent up red flags. Either she was on the make to find a husband with means or there was something else fishy.

With a sigh of disgust, he pocketed his winnings and headed toward the elevator. He probably was as wrong about her motives as he had been about her looks. But he wouldn’t pursue it. He had to get back to Orlando tomorrow, meet with his lawyers and finalize another deal in the making.

As Pierce passed by her on the steps that led into the casino, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He breathed deeply, liking the delicate scent. But it irked him that she didn’t even spare him a glance. Most women fell all over themselves when they were introduced to him. Aw, hell, he must be in need of a good lay or it wouldn’t bother him that a pretty skirt didn’t pay attention to him.

Chelsea stood a moment at the top of the stairs and let her gaze wander over the busy casino. She was no gambler, but it was too early to go to her room, and she didn’t want to wander around outside calling attention to the fact that she was alone.

While trying to make up her mind whether she wanted to gamble or not, she became aware that the attractive man at the cashier’s window had her in his sights. Well, Buster, she muttered, You might be some woman’s dream, but I am not ready to experience another nightmare.

Imperceptibly tossing her head, she started to walk down the steps just as he walked up. His cologne was subtle as was the whole man. For the brief moment it took for them to pass each other, she judged him to be over six feet tall, solid, and guessing from the fit of his expensive linen suit jacket there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

She was unwilling to admit that the stranger carried himself with a self-confidence that made him stand out of a crowd. And she would have vehemently denied it if someone had pointed out that despite her earlier denunciation about not being in the market for another heartache she had checked him out thoroughly with one quick sweep of her eyes.

Her mouth pursed in disdain. She knew his type. He was the kind of man accustomed to cavorting along international beaches. His whole demeanor screamed of wealth and privilege. He probably never dirtied his hands with menial work. She would bet her bottom dollar that he was used to having women fawn all over him.

Shoot, why did she waste her time on speculation anyway? He might have had her in his sights while he stood at the cashier’s window, but apparently she fell short of his expectations or he wouldn’t have passed by her without trying to hit on her. With a small shrug of one shoulder, she walked into the casino and promptly forgot about him.

Pierce caught a fleeting glimpse of her through the glass walls of the ascending elevator. She stood out from among gamblers bent on their games. He liked the way she strutted through the aisles on those ridiculously high strap sandals as if she owned the place. Her head held high, she walked with a sexy sway of her hips that shot a spike of pure lust straight to his groin. Damn, he should have stopped by the desk and inquired about her. At the very least he should have introduced himself as he passed her on the stairs. Maybe she would have accepted his offer to have a drink with him.

He raked a hand through his thick hair and sighed. He must be getting old. In his younger days he would have gone after her, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he was a babe magnet. Hell, what was he thinking? She looked a bit high maintenance. Besides, he needed to get up early and file a flight plan for Orlando.

He walked briskly to his room and inserted his key card. Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it across a chair. Taking a bottle of scotch from the mini bar, he poured it over some ice, then slipped off his shoes and walked on bare feet out to the balcony. He loved the view. The waves lapping against the shoreline, the bright lights of downtown Nassau, the courtyard lighted with mute light all contributed to draining the tension from his broad shoulders. He dragged a chair to the railing and put his bare feet up on the top rung.

Chapter Three

Chelsea