Jewell (A Second Chance Novel Book 2)

by Tina DeSalvo

  “Don’t cry, Boots.” He wiped a tear with his thumb. Then another. “You’re trembling.” He blew out a heavy breath, and in a fast swift movement, he gripped her ponytail into his hand as he flattened his palm at the back of her head and pulled her face forward to his. “You make me so damn crazy.”

  Then he kissed her. His mouth wasn’t gentle. It was firm and angry; the kiss seemed to be drowning with as much conflicting emotion as was churning inside her body. It was the vortex of the tornado. It had everything to do with the twisting and spinning of dealing with the people they loved and needing a dizzying moment to let their bodies feel something else...Like heat and desire.

  “No. This is wrong,” Jewell said, not realizing she was speaking French. “We can’t.”

  She gripped her fingers around Beau’s short, silky dark hair and pulled in tighter to deepen a kiss that was already impossibly deep. Who was this woman yanking on this man’s hair as he tugged on hers in a desperate kiss? Beau’s hands slid from her head down her sides over her hips until he cupped her derrière. She heard him groan as he angled his head to gentle the kiss, to slow the slide of his tongue over hers. Never had she felt this kind of sensual wanting before. Never had she been so lost in the feel of a man that she forgot about responsibilities, reputation, whatever damn else she was supposed to remember. Jewell grabbed his derrière and pulled him tighter against her.

  “I am two seconds from throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you into the house and onto a bed,” he said, squeezing her bottom. “One second.”

  “Arrête! Stop!”

  “I got it the first time.”

  Jewell stepped back. She immediately felt the 80-degree temperature of the day cool her skin as if it was an arctic blast. “Oh, God.” She turned her back to him but not before she saw his huge black dilated pupils rimmed by light green. He was so sexy.

  Temptation.

  All the things that her mother told her sex was supposed to be about but never was. Her mother was wrong. Jewell knew sex with Beau would be wonderful. Perfect. Not the means to a better life that her mother claimed it was.

  He ran his hand through his hair again. Then, he reached to gently smooth her hair. “You are a hot mess, Boots. Damn hot.”

  She felt her face heat, blush.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

  “No, Boots. We shouldn’t have let that stop.” He exhaled, sat on the step and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Jewell looked at him. He was so handsome. Virile. And he wanted her. She started to take a step to go to him but he spoke before she did, saving her the embarrassment. The mistake.

  “Sit.”

  She stared at him a moment, not because his tone was harsh or demanding but because she wasn’t sure what he was telling her.

  “Please.”

  She sat on the step below him and a safe distance away.

  “I know we should talk about what wild pressure valve just went off between us, but,” he groaned, “I don’t want to. I can’t. Not enough will power.” He inhaled deeply. “We can never talk about it, Boots. Not unless we intend to finish it.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “So, tell me. Why Sugar Mill? Why didn’t you pick some other plantation to look for Twinnie?”

  “Mignon saw it in a movie. She saw it painted pink and announced that was where she and Twinnie used to play.”

  “That’s it?” He shook his head, unfolded his arms and leaned back against the step behind him. “Did you show her pictures of other plantations?”

  She frowned. “Of course I did. That’s the obvious thing to do.” His eyebrows shot up, looking half amused by her annoyance with his question. “She had no reaction to the others. Just more stories about Twinnie. Then, I showed her a photo of Sugar Mill, not painted pink like in the movie. Like this, white with dark green shutters and beautiful.” She waved her hand toward the front of the plantation. “She didn’t say that Sugar Mill was her home or that it was a place she and Twinnie played, until yesterday.”

  “That was convenient.” He sat up and looked deeply into her eyes. She knew he was trying to read her…to determine if she was telling the truth. God, she hated having her integrity questioned. It happened much too often lately.

  “Maybe it was a coincidence.” She averted her eyes from his, pretending to study the wood on the steps near her feet. “Look, I didn’t really believe much of the whole Twinnie story, Beau. I planned to investigate it, anyway. Then, she opened that hidden nook…” Jewell knew she didn’t have to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t buy this story, Jewell.” He gently lifted her chin for her to look at him.

  “So you’ve said before.”

  “You could find out about hidden nooks in architectural drawings in your research.” He dropped his hands to his knees.

  “You’re implying I’m lying, then.”

  “It’s a theory.”

  Jewell wanted to slap him. Her cheeks burned. She clasped her hands together. “I have integrity. My work is based on truth finding and the factual documenting and retelling of those finds. If I don’t honor the truth then I have fiction. Fantasy. That’s not where I live.” She closed her eyes. That is where her mother lived. She shook her head. What more could she tell him to make him understand? She didn’t intend to beg him to believe her. “I will never compromise the truth.”

  “The District Attorney of Orleans Parish seems to disagree. What happened with the Monroes?”

  “That is none of your damn business. That has nothing to do with me being here.”

  He shrugged. “A non-related coincidence?”

  “A non-related complication.” She ground her teeth.

  “I’ll tell you what may or may not be a coincidence but certainly is complicated,” he said, his voice deep and low. “You kiss me with enough heat to melt the flesh off my bones and your body is sexy enough to do the same. Hell, that kiss brings me back to convenient or maybe even calculated.”

  “You said we wouldn’t talk about what happened.” Her answer had been swift, automatic, then his words sunk in. He’d said calculated. What was he implying by that? Did he think she purposely kissed him to sway his decision?

  “Yeah, well, retract what I just said, strike it from the record,” he replied. “Pretend I never said it.”

  “Yeah, like that ever happens.” She said, half engaged in the conversation now. She was still trying to figure out what to make of what he’d said earlier. Calculated?

  “Sure it does, Boots. I forgot about it already.”

  She looked at him, his pupils were still dilated, his breathing unsteady. “You do know that what happened between us has absolutely nothing to do with Mimi and our conversation? Nothing.”

  One of his brows, arched. “Then what in the hell was it about?”

  “A mistake.”

  “The hell it was.”

  “Again, I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.”

  He stood and began to pace.

  “What is it you’re so afraid of, Beau? Why do I threaten you? What is it that you think I’ll do that will hurt your family?”

  He stopped pacing and looked at her. He just stared at her for a long minute. His expression was unreadable but she knew he was running his answers through his head trying to figure out the best response to give her. Then, he sat on the step even with her. “Nothing, because I won’t let you.”

  “Then we don’t have a problem.” She sighed. “I will finish the job for Elli and Ben and I will do a little investigating to see if I can figure out if Sugar Mill, or any other plantation around this area, has a connection to Mimi and a lady named Twinnie.”

  Beau didn’t answer right away. Once again, he obviously was considering what she said. She gave him his mental space to think it through knowing whatever he said wouldn’t change what she intended to do. He could make it difficult though.

  “Okay. Fine,” he said and extended his hand to her. “But you will not do
any investigating unless I’m at your side. Like I said, I don’t buy this story. I need to see you pull every little evidential document and clue from whatever dusty, spider-web wrapped crevice it comes from so I know it’s legit. If you try to claim you found something allegedly relevant when I wasn’t present, I won’t allow it as evidence in whatever case you’re trying to make.”

  “Case?” Jewell started to protest but realized very quickly by his tight body language that he was not going to negotiate. “I may need a sitter to help with Mimi, but I certainly don’t need a sitter to stalk me. It’s a pretty solitary job that I do.” Beau waved good-bye and started to get up to leave. “However,” she continued, “if this is the deal, it’s the deal. I accept.” She extended her hand to shake. He took her hand in his and covered it with his other hand. He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

  “Deal.” He grinned a sexy, crooked grin. “And I can help with that sitter for Mimi.” When she started to protest he lifted his finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t blow this. You’re getting what you asked for, Boots.” She closed her mouth. “Tante Izzy and Ruby will be Mimi’s sitters.”

  I had expected that coming to this plantation, my plantation, would help my memories return. At least, some of them. And, I hoped it would help me find…what is her name? Oh, no! I can’t remember it. I do remember her and her pretty shiny face and blonde hair.

  So, you see, the plantation hasn’t helped me remember things afterall.

  It hasn’t sharpened my thoughts or given me any insight into my distant past or even into yesterday. In fact, I think with all of the new faces, new sights and new excitements in my life, my world may have gotten a little fuzzier. Words seem to be getting more difficult to find. The names are jumbled into a gumbo of letters. The faces are so blended that one person’s features looks the same as another. Yet, as confused as I feel much of the time now, I am enjoying the emotions that fill the space around me with laughter, happiness and love.

  It’s good.

  I wonder if Jewell feels it, too. I will have to talk to her about it…if only I can remember to do so when we are alone. I want her to understand that this is what family is supposed to be like.

  Twinnie. Her name is Twinnie. I remember...for now.

  ***

  Beau had gone over the impromptu porch step meeting with Jewell a hundred times and he still didn’t feel his family was in any better position in dealing with her and her unpredictable grandmother. If he didn’t know how to deal with Dr. Jewell Duet, who was accused of felony theft, he didn’t know how to protect his family. He needed more information on the crime she was charged with to help him change that situation. That was the reason he called in a favor with his well-connected friend, Stewart Smith, to arrange a meeting with the Monroe’s estate attorney for that same evening.

  Beau checked in with the front desk security and rode the elevator up to the top, the twenty-sixth floor, to the elegant legal offices of Henry, Ladeaux, Frasier and Zimmerman. He was meeting with Frederick Henry, a short but fit, balding man in his sixties.

  “Come in,” said Frederick, once Beau was led into the large corner office with two walls of floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Frederick wasn’t alone. There were two other men there.

  Frederick, who wore a light blue suit, walked around from where he was sitting behind an oversized mahogany desk to shake hands with Beau. He introduced himself and then the other two men. “This is Claude Monroe,” he said, indicating the brown-eyed, blond man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He was dressed in expensive jeans, a sports coat, and designer shoes. He was young, but he already had the look of old money.

  “Nice to meet you,” Beau said, shaking his hand. He was glad he had decided to go with a more professional look of black slacks and a tan sports coat since the three men were dressed for a business meeting.

  “Likewise,” Claude answered in an easy, no-hurry New Orleans accent.

  “And this is the family’s longtime business manager, Ralph Bergeron.” Frederick said, motioning to a tall, thin man in his seventies, who was extending his hand to Beau. They shook hands and nodded to one another.

  Ralph Bergeron ran his hand over his wavy gray hair even though there wasn’t a hair out of place. Then, he nervously pushed up the wire-rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

  “Please sit down,” Frederick motioned to the three dark brown leather chairs in front of his desk. Beau chose the one closest to the door. As he waited for the men to settle in their seats, he glanced out the top floor windows at the spectacular evening view of the New Orleans city lights, Mississippi River bridges and the dark, winding Mississippi River beneath.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Beau said, feeling as comfortable here in the opulence of the traditional dark woods, masculine leathers and Turkish rugs as he did in the plantation kitchen. This office, as did the attorney behind the huge desk, screamed wealth and success.

  “No problem,” Frederick said. “I have a dinner engagement at seven thirty. I had a little time to kill. Ralph and Claude were available, too. I asked them to join us.” He looked at his mobile phone sitting on the desk. “We have fifteen minutes before I have to leave. So, our mutual friend Steven tells me you have an interest in the Monroe theft case.”

  “Yes, I do.” Beau appreciated his not wasting time and getting right to business. “I’m actually most interested in knowing more specific details of what Dr. Jewell Duet is actually being charged with.”

  “She’s charged with felony theft,” Ralph snapped, his voice deep, his New Orleans Garden District accent heavy. “She stole from the family.”

  “Yes, I have that information,” Beau said, keeping his voice even. “What I want to know is how she stole from your family.”

  “Don’t you know there is a gag order on the case?” Ralph stated, sounding annoyed. “The judge has closed the proceeding.”

  “You have to excuse Ralph,” Frederick began, resting his elbows on his desk. “He’s very protective of the Monroe family. He worked for them for nearly forty years.” He glanced at Claude, nodded. “Ralph hired Dr. Duet and was in the house with her when the theft occurred.”

  “She’s a common thief.” Ralph pushed up his glasses again. “I thought she was a trusted expert. Honest. Ethical. The best in her field of antiquities. History.” Ralph looked at Claude. “I’m sorry, Claude. I should’ve done better than to bring this woman into the family. And while you were mourning the loss of your grandmother.”

  “You couldn’t have done any more than you did,” the young man answered, his voice kind. “Beau, we hired her to do a job. In the end, we were robbed. I think that anything else you want to know about what happened isn’t really important. Besides, I don’t want to risk saying something that would result in our not getting a conviction. We can’t tell you anything that isn’t already known. Isn’t that right, Frederick?”

  “That’s right.” Frederick sat back, rubbing his hands on the arms of his chair. “The case is pending. It’s scheduled to go to trial in less than two weeks.”

  “Without speaking of the case, can you assuage my curiosity as to why you requested a closed proceeding? It’s highly unusual to have a gag order for a felony theft case.”

  “Mrs. Monroe and her late husband, Bertrand, and even her two sons, God rest their souls, did a lot of good work in the city.” Ralph said, then made the sign of the cross and kissed his thumb on his fisted hand. “I didn’t…” he hesitated, looked at Claude. “We didn’t want their legacy of philanthropy and good citizenship for this great city to be remembered with the tagline that after Mrs. Monroe died, some lowlife professor pretending to be an antiques expert robbed her.” He shook his head. “Damn shame to be remembered that way. Don’t you think? Why should Claude have fingers pointed at him the rest of his life from people who say, ‘Poor thing, he was robbed when his good grandmother wasn’t even cold in her grave’.”

  Beau nodded. He understood what it wa
s like to never be able to shake off the town gossip or a label that was attached to you. No matter how far he and his brother—who had just retired with honors from the Navy—had risen from his dishonorable, abusive parents, it still followed them around. It was probably a big reason why his brother Jackson hadn’t returned to live in Cane after retiring. Beau, on the other hand, had just learned to live with it. He even accepted it as a badge of pride that he’d turned his life around from that time. He supposed he understood how someone who loved and took care of the Monroe family for nearly forty years would feel protective of their reputation and legacy.

  “We have a question for you, Beau,” Ralph said, frowning. “Why is the Monroe family theft so important to a country lawyer from Cane?”

  “I’m like you, Ralph. I’m just trying to protect the family I’m charged with protecting. My family.” Beau looked at Claude. He was the only one there besides himself who wasn’t an employee of the Monroes. He was the lone heir to the Monroe family. He would be the one who might be willing to give him the information he needed to know. “I don’t want to know about the theft for any other reason than to protect my family from being in the situation you are in now.” He looked at the sole surviving Monroe. “Claude, it has been reported that Jewell…um, Dr. Duet, had stolen family heirlooms, pearls, an engagement ring, some coins. Did she steal anything else? How did she steal it?”

  Claude didn’t turn to his attorney or business manager for advice as Beau had hoped he wouldn’t. He kept his intelligent eyes locked on Beau. “I wish I could tell you.” He shook his head. “I won’t jeopardize our case for only one reason. I want her to return what she stole from me, Beau. I’m willing to drop the charges…”

  “No. Don’t.” Ralph interrupted. “She needs to go to jail for what she did. Even if you recover what she stole. We’ll be guilty of letting a thief go free to do it again to some other poor, unsuspecting person.”

  Claude ignored Ralph. Beau knew he was wiser than his young face indicated. “I want what she took. I need it. I told Dr. Duet what I just told you. Return what you stole and I will drop the charges. Don’t return it and you will rot in jail.”