by Sela Carsen
A family legend could lead to a treasure more precious than pearls…or get them killed.
Between babysitting her very pregnant sister-in-law and fending off her mother’s nagging about her marital status, Blair Moreau is going insane. Her only hold on sanity is her daily walk for a guilty peek at her crush, the sexy neighbor who’s fixing up the old Cotesworth place.
Conn Lucas, the bastard son of Culford’s leading family, got way out of town a long time ago. When the only relative who didn’t despise him leaves him her 250-year-old house, Conn plans to refurbish it, flip it, and get back to Connecticut as soon as possible. Until a local beauty with a rare talent for DIY gives him a hand with some stubborn siding.
When he makes her mad enough to swing a two-by-four at his head, he realizes Blair is better than perfect. Especially when his efforts to keep her from killing him explode into an erotic rush of adrenaline that unleashes desires they’ve both kept hidden.
Breaking through Conn’s tough shell isn’t as difficult Blair’s next hurdle—telling him she’s a werewolf. First, though, they’ve got to deal with meddling ghosts and a bad ol’ boy cousin who isn’t above taking what he wants at nail-gun point…
Warning: This book contains a smokin’ hot werewolf chick with serious DIY know-how and a man who thinks that’s sexy; illegal use of nail guns; things to do in a claw-foot tub; pirate references; piddling Dobermans and meddling ghosts. Which is better than meddling Dobermans and piddling ghosts.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Carolina Pearl
Copyright © 2010 by Sela Carsen
ISBN: 978-1-60928-251-6
Edited by Georgia Woods
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
Carolina Pearl
Sela Carsen
Dedication
To the ladies Beyond the Veil, who inspired me and gave me a deadline.
To my husband, whose keen interest in DIY and home improvements gave me the idea.
To my children, who think it’s cool that Mom’s a writer.
To my mom, who reads all my books and tells her friends about them.
Thank you all.
Prologue
Conn Lucas was too busy fighting with rotten clapboard on the second floor of his house to notice the bloodthirsty buzz of mosquitoes, the deafening screech of cicadas, the hair-raising howl of a wolf…
No, that caught his attention.
He peered into the dense shadow of the wetlands bordering his backyard. He didn’t see anything there, but he could have sworn he’d heard…
Nah. There were no wolves in South Carolina. He’d grown up in this backwater town and he knew what was possible and what was not. There were no wolves in South Carolina. As he repeated his new mantra, it howled again.
The hair on the back of his neck rose in primal response to the sound. He squinted, trying to see deeper into the trees. The thick forest of pine, oak and hickory hid a multitude of secrets, but wasn’t about to give them up. The scent of the swamp, rich with the essence of life, nearly made him dizzy as he looked for the source of the eerie wail.
“Ah, hell.” Conn began to regret not owning a weapon, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He held a hammer in one hand and a crowbar in the other and decided he was as armed as he could be under the circumstances. Not that he needed to be armed. After all, he was eighteen feet in the air and as far as he knew, wolves, who did not live in South Carolina, couldn’t climb ladders.
He went back to work, pulling off the old pieces of wood and tossing them down into the dumpster he’d rented. He had a lot to do.
She backed farther into the shadows of the undergrowth to watch him work. She raised her head and drew in a deep breath, sifting his scent out from the myriad other smells around her—duckweed choking the fresh water, trees thick with sap, the rabbit hidden behind a fallen, rotted branch.
Ah. She had him. One more lungful and she’d never forget him. Now she could find him anywhere. The scent buzzed through her blood. This was a man worth tracking. Worth hunting. Worth catching.
He went back to work and she took another step into the woods. He’d be there for her later.
Now. Where did that rabbit go?
Chapter One
Blair Moreau held one hand and Charlene King held the other as they hauled Debra Moreau, Blair’s extremely pregnant sister-in-law, out of the chair in the beauty shop.
“Maddox is going to kill me,” Blair mentioned as Debra waddled to the front counter to pay the bill.
“Well, what Maddox doesn’t know might save your life.”
“You’re not supposed to be wandering around town in your condition.”
“Pregnancy is not a ‘condition’. It just is. He’s overprotective.”
“I can’t imagine why,” muttered Blair. She knew the risks of Debra’s pregnancy. Mating werewolf to human was always tricky and now that they knew there were twins kicking around in there, Maddox was twitchier than she’d ever seen him. He was worried, which was why she was here.
Suddenly, all the color drained out of Debra’s face and she swayed. The size she was, if she went down, she was taking the whole shop with her.
“Oh. That’s not right,” she said as Blair grabbed her and propped her up.
Charlene, the hairdresser and one of Debra’s good friends, held the door open, fussing the whole time, as Blair led her out, an arm wrapped around Debra’s shoulders. Charlene opened the car door for them too, and Debra slid in like a greased whale.
“Let’s get you home, kiddo. Thanks, Charlene.” They waved at her as Blair pulled out into the street.
It wasn’t far to the little house that Debra and Maddox owned. Of course, this was Culford. It wasn’t far to anywhere in Culford. By the time they got home and got Debra into bed, her color had returned and she was feeling much better.
“I’m so sorry, Blair.”
“What for?” she asked as she topped off the bottle of water on Debra’s nightstand.
“I just feel so helpless. I’m not allowed to go anywhere or do anything and when I show the tiniest hint of rebellion, I end up back in bed anyway.” She sniffled. “All I wanted to do was look nice for all your family.”
Oh please God, don’t let her cry. Maddox swore up and down that Debra was not a weepy person, but Blair had only gotten to know her now that she was pregnant. The woman flipped on the waterworks every time she saw a puppy. Or a kitten. A child. A woman. A man. Blair wondered if a horse would set her off, but didn’t want to test her theory.
“Deb, you went to the hairdresser. It’s not like you climbed K-2.”
“I know, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. This has to be frustrating.” Blair would have gone completely mad dog, howling insane if she had to be stuck in bed most of every day. Aside from the weeping, Debra hardly ever snapped or got cranky with anything. Blair would have ripped someone’s head off by now.
“I
can’t believe Maddox asked you to actually move down here until the babies come. I’m so sorry we disrupted your life.” Tears were imminent, and Blair had to head them off quickly.
“Oh, please. Like I had anything better to do.” Which was pathetic, but true. She had been between jobs when Maddox called and asked her to come down and help, so it was no hardship for her to pack up and leave. She had few belongings and no roots at all. And her work as a freelance website designer was the ultimate in portability. Have laptop and WiFi, will travel.
“I can think of about a thousand things more fun than babysitting a pregnant woman.”
“I’m fine. I’m having a great time working my way through your bookshelves and relaxing for a change.” No. Really. Honest. She resisted the impulse to put a finger over the nerve twitching on her eyelid.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but bull. Blair Moreau, you need to get out of this house even worse than I do. Look, your folks have been in town for a week. I know you love them, but I also know your mother is driving you nuts. They’re probably on their way back from doing their shopping in the city right now. The house is clean. Dinner is in the crock pot. And I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll let you nap, then.” Surely there wasn’t a wall in this house she hadn’t already climbed.
“No, you’re going to go for a run in the swamp, or for a walk down the lane, or something. Get. Out. Of. The. House.”
That sounded like bliss. Debra knew her too well. She did need some time alone. Now that her parents were here, her mother was clawing for excuses to push Blair into marrying whichever loser asked her first. Not that any ever had.
She needed a break from her family.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
“Go, go,” said Debra, shooing her away. Twister, Debra’s fawn Boxer, crawled up on the bed stealthily. As if no one would notice a sixty-five pound dog hogging the blankets. “See? I have plenty of company.”
“What if something happens?”
“You mean, what if I get so huge I explode like that monster on Slither? I don’t think so. Take your cell phone and I’ll call if I need you.”
Blair fidgeted. She was supposed to keep an eye on Debra, who had closed her eyes very deliberately. Then she opened them. “Are you still here?”
She grinned. “Fine. I’m leaving. You stay in bed.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Hey, I don’t need to know about your kinky bedroom games with my brother.”
Debra chuckled. “At this size? I wish. My OB would neuter him if he tried anything.”
“All right, all right. I’m going. Don’t wait up.”
She stopped in her room for a baseball cap and stuffed her hair through the hole in the back, then put a band around it until it was contained in a loose ponytail. Some days she loved having long hair, some days it was in the way. She was wearing her standard pearl earrings. They’d been handed down in her family for decades, and they were her college graduation gift. She almost took them out, but decided not to. She’d worn them every day since receiving them. No reason to change now.
Blair already knew where she was going—to feed her latest obsession. She wasn’t used to being this attracted to anyone and she’d never pursued a man in her life. For the most part, she didn’t care whether they pursued her or not. Not that she disliked men. Far from it. They were often a fun diversion, good for a few laughs, and sometimes it was handy to have some arm candy around.
But it was easier to have guy friends than regular boyfriends. Somehow, she had never acquired the knack for relationships. Few men attracted her enough to make an effort to try for more than an occasional tumble, werewolf or human. When she did try, they said she came on too strong. Hmph. Wimps. Since when was knowing what she wanted the same thing as coming on too strong? Now she felt as if she’d been transported back to junior high, crushing on some guy who didn’t even know she existed. Back then, she hadn’t had the courage to do anything about her surging hormones. Now? She stood at the end of the driveway with her hands shoved into her pockets, wondering which way to go.
The sound of hammering made her decision for her. She’d probably watched too much Bob Vila as a child, but the scent of fresh wood, the scream of power tools and the ozone and gasoline reek of compressors always made her mind spin with possibilities. When she was a kid, her dad had let her tag along every time he went to the hardware store and she took to building as easily as she took to howling at the moon. Much more easily than she took to being whatever it was that men wanted.
At least construction was something she was good at, so there was a solid chance that she wouldn’t make a total twit of herself in front of Mr. Sexy. Maybe.
His dream woman jogged toward him on a sandy beach, wearing a red swimsuit, her hair and her holy-shit breasts bouncing with each movement.
Actually, his temporary next-door neighbor walked up his driveway wearing jeans with a rip in the knee and mud at the hem, and a huge red men’s shirt. Underneath, a white T-shirt hugged breasts that were full, but not overflowing. He didn’t think she was wearing much make-up, if any, and her long, dark hair was in a ponytail under a baseball cap. The soft waves flowed down her back and he wanted to get his hands on it in the worst way.
“Hi,” she said, staring up from the bottom of the scaffold.
“Hey,” he returned. Then stood there, propping up half a board.
“I’m Blair Moreau. My brother and his wife live just up the road. You’re Conn Lucas, right?”
Conn nodded. He knew who she was. He’d been watching her since she arrived to help out her family. A few days ago she’d taken a walk with her sister-in-law up the road and down again. He’d been up on the roof, cussing at a dormer gable that needed patching, when she’d looked up at him as they passed. He’d nearly tumbled two and a half stories.
She was perfect.
She was a distraction and she needed to go away. Conn felt the siding board start to slip and he swore.
As if he didn’t have enough trouble on his hands already. His family was bound and determined to see him fail and he didn’t have the time or energy to chase tail. Even tail as gorgeous as Blair.
“You need some help?” she continued.
Hell, yes. He’d have hired some already if his cousin hadn’t made sure there wasn’t a single crew in the entire county that would do some of the renovating for him.
“No.”
“Oh.” She watched him and he struggled not to let his muscles start to quiver under the load. “Are you sure?”
Hell, no.
“Yep.” The board slipped some more. Her eyebrow went up. He sighed. She climbed the ladder like a pro and scooted past him to the other end of the scaffold. “What are you doing?” She scalded his skin as she passed him, but he welcomed the sting.
“How about if I hold this up for a second?”
“I don’t need your help,” he snapped to cover his shock. What kind of person offered to help hold siding? His eyes narrowed. Something was up.
“I’m not helping. I’m holding up this end while you nail.”
“And that’s not helping?”
“Nope.” She smiled at him and he scowled back. Distraction. She glanced meaningfully from his nail gun to the board, indicating that maybe he should get on with the job.
“Fine,” he growled and shot a straight row of nails into the siding. When he got halfway along the board, she met him, holding her hand out for the gun. He hesitated. It felt weird to have someone around. It made him nervous.
Gifts didn’t fall into his lap like this. Crap came his way in huge waves, but not the good stuff. Conn was used to working and struggling and fighting for everything, and he wasn’t sure he could trust her.
“My dad’s a general contractor and I used to help him out before I moved away,” she explained, still holding out her hand. “I can do a lot of things on my own, but it sure helps to have an extra pa
ir of hands. Not, you understand, that I’m helping.”
She wore pearl earrings, for Pete’s sake. Only girly girls wore pearls, right? He looked at her hands, so pretty and delica— No. Not delicate. Her fingers were long and slender, but the nails were short and the scars on her knuckles said she’d had more than a few bad scrapes.
He handed over the gun and she shot a perfect row of nails.
Suspicion reared its ugly head as he prepared to wrestle the next board into place. A fist wrapped itself around his heart. God damn Aubrey Cotesworth and the whole Cotesworth clan. They tainted every dream he had, even the ones that were potentially X-rated. How had they gotten to her? How much were they paying her to taunt him with both her beauty and her skill?
He shot the first round of nails, then traded the gun to her. She shot another set of nails in and reached for the next board, but he stopped her. It was time to cut the crap before it got too deep.
“Why are you here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who sent you? Aubrey? Mayford? Another cousin?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Cotesworths don’t want me here and they’ve done everything short of actual sabotage to get me to deed them the house. They’d like nothing better than for me to give up and go back to Connecticut. So what’s the plan? Is every piece of siding suddenly going to get cut in half? All the windows I ordered going to get broken in transit? A small fire somewhere? Why don’t you get this over with and tell me who sent you?”
The words were flying out of his mouth and he was watching her face get whiter and her eyes get bigger, and then her eyes started to narrow and her cheeks started splotching out in fiery patches, and the more he talked, the more he realized he was wrong, so wrong, but the words kept coming until they just…stopped.
Oh shit.
“You…you…” She was still holding the end of a piece of siding and he barely ducked out of the way as she swung it straight at his head. It went sailing out into the yard and landed with a slight squelch when it hit the saturated ground.