SWEET SUSPICION

by Nina Bruhns

  Remi chuckled and looked up in time to see Kit coming out of the front door, belly first. "Remi!" she called in joyful surprise.

  Damn, it was nice when people were glad to see you.

  She rushed down the steps and added her rounded figure to T-Bone's exuberant hug. "We didn't expect you! What brings you to— Oh! You're hurt!" she exclaimed, and peeled her baby off him as she looked in horror at his mess of a chest. "My God, what's happened?"

  That's when she noticed Muse standing uncharacteristically quietly by the side of the Porsche. Muse smiled at Kit's frozen confusion. "Hi, I'm Muse," she said, but didn't budge an inch. "I tried to get him to the emergency room, but he wouldn't listen."

  Kit swung her gaze to Remi and back to Muse. "Oh, what a surprise," she said just as Beau's head poked over the side of the second-floor gallery.

  "Hey! Remi! What the—" Beau's smile vanished along with the rest of him. The sound of French doors slamming heralded his cousin's quick assessment of the situation and momentary arrival.

  "We, uh, ran into a little trouble," Remi told Kit and allowed himself to be ushered along with Muse into the foyer of the big house, where Beau was already sprinting down the elaborate, curved staircase.

  "They ran into trouble," Kit repeated to her husband and set T-Bone onto the floor, where he promptly scurried away.

  "Well," Beau said, halting at the foot of the stairs. He planted his hands on his hips, looking every inch the aristocratic Southern gentleman. "I can see that. Delia," he addressed their matronly housekeeper who had appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Delia had been with the Terrebeau Beaulieux family since forever—as long as Remi could remember, anyway. "Set two more places for supper, if you will, and call Jamie to fetch our guests' luggage from the car. Tell him to put it in the Oriental room. Or…?"

  "That would be fine," Remi gratefully agreed.

  At precisely the same time Muse said with a blush, "I'd prefer two rooms, if it's not too much bother."

  Unless you knew Beau extremely well you'd have missed the amused quirk that flashed past the very corner of his mouth. Saloperie! There was such a thing as knowing a person too well. Beau certainly hadn't missed the implications of that unfortunate little exchange.

  "The Oriental room and Lady Jane, then, Delia. Please." Beau instructed, his eyes sparkling annoyingly.

  Remi groaned inwardly. Lady Jane was the name given to the virginal Victorian bedroom that connected to the opulently sensual Oriental den of sin, both decorated long ago by some long-dead Terrebeau patriarch, as obnoxiously witty as the present one. No doubt Remi'd be stuck sleeping on the narrow, rock-hard, unadorned virgin's bed staring at a dour portrait of God knew which ancient relative.

  He looked to Kit for support, but she just stifled a grin.

  "Old man, I think you'd better introduce us to your lady, and tell us about the trouble you're in."

  Beau put his arm around his wife, who gave Remi a wink and added, "Oh, and about the shooting, too, of course."

  * * *

  Kit insisted Remi clean up and change his bandages before doing anything else. When he reluctantly went with Delia and Beau to be seen to, Kit turned to Muse.

  "Would you like to freshen up, too, Miss Summerville?"

  "Please, call me Muse. And yes, I'd love to."

  Kit gave her the cook's tour of the house as they went up to the third floor. It was huge and beautiful and amazing. Muse had seen grand homes like this in Charleston, of course, but only after paying an admittance fee.

  "It's mostly Beau's doing," Kit said, looking somewhat awed herself. "It's been sort of a life-long mission for him to return it to what it was years ago." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Honestly, I don't dare touch a thing. I'm still getting used to it all."

  "Not from around here?" Muse asked.

  "A farm in Iowa," Kit said with a self-deprecating smile.

  Muse had liked Kit immediately, and the woman's natural modesty and pride in her husband's heritage only reinforced her feelings. She could imagine Kit felt as much a fish out of water as Muse would under the circumstances. Thank goodness Remi had no plans to take on his own family estate, if it was anything like this.

  She halted that thought in its tracks. Even if he did, it would be no concern of hers. It's not as if he would ask her to live there with him. Or that she would say yes if he did.

  Would she?

  "Looks like you could use a sympathetic ear," Kit said with an understanding smile.

  Muse sighed, and then did something totally out of character. She walked into her assigned bedroom, sat down on the bed and spilled the whole tangled tale, Remi included.

  "You're really worried about your sister, aren't you?" Kit said when she'd finished.

  "Incredibly worried. And that's what Remi doesn't get. I just don't understand why he's so inflexible about this."

  Kit leaned back against the scarlet silk-upholstered headboard and regarded her. "How much do you know about Remi's childhood?"

  "Enough to know it wasn't very happy, except for the times here with Beau and his family."

  "Remi's a very strong man. A lot of people would have gone under with an upbringing like that. But once he was old enough, he managed to pull himself out of it by concentrating on what he wanted. He set goals and, one by one, accomplished them all. For a long time his plans were his only anchor in life."

  "He claims they still are," Muse said wearily. "Because of his undercover work."

  Kit nodded sagely. "He would. He's still caught up in that mentality. I think it's time he realized his life is now his own, and he doesn't need to compensate for the past anymore."

  Muse stared at Kit, the words resonating. "You think that's what he's doing? Compensating for the past?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  The exact diagnosis Grace would give, no doubt. Except Grace would go one step further. She would say Muse was doing precisely the same thing with her own lifestyle, chasing after the approval of an absent father who didn't deserve the agony of heartache she'd spent on him—avoiding life's real responsibilities. Hadn't Grace been saying that for years?

  Muse had always told her she was the crazy one, and laughed it off. After all, Muse had a college diploma and a good job as a paralegal.

  But could it really be true? Did responsibility go beyond those superficial material things, down into the realm of the emotional? She'd never thought so before, but now she wasn't so sure.

  And if it did, what did that mean to her relationship with Remi?

  It bore thinking about.

  Kit stood, glancing at the clock. "Well, we'd better see what our boys are up to. Delia probably has T-Bone down for his nap by now so we can all talk in peace." She gave Muse the grin of a mother who loves her baby but knows very well he's a handful and is grateful for the break.

  "This'll just take me a minute," Muse said, going into the adjoining bath to freshen up. "T-Bone is an interesting name," she called, not wanting to stop their chat.

  Kit laughed. "It started out as T-Beau, which stands for petit—little—Beau in Cajun. Then a friend of ours got to calling him T-Bon when he was being good, but of course to him that meant his favorite meal—steak—and he decided he liked that one best of all, so he's been T-Bone ever since." She made a face as Muse returned to the bedroom. "The joys of a bilingual family."

  Muse grinned. "And you've got another on the way?"

  Kit groaned. "Six months and the baked-potato jokes are already old. I feel sorry for the poor baby girl."

  They laughed together and went down to join the men.

  "Good news," Remi said as soon as they walked into the living room. It was formally decorated, brimming with antiques and expensive-looking artwork, but somehow it still managed to look cozy. "I checked in with Dev, and he says Morris sent another e-mail. He and Simmons met with Grace and that cop Levalois this morning. They've assigned two men to guard her until she leaves town."

  "She's going rig
ht away, right?"

  "He didn't say. But I assume so."

  "Thank God."

  Muse heaved a sigh of relief, feeling less stressed-out than she had in weeks. Ever since she'd broken up with Gary Fox, her life had been filled with tension and chaos. First the blond man following her every move, then running for her life with Remi, now Grace being in danger because of her. This was the very first time she could actually relax and feel relatively safe; for the moment all factors seemed under control.

  Taking a seat on the luxurious sofa next to Remi, she curled up and sat back to listen to him and Beau tell stories of growing up on Terrebeau, and the one about how Beau and Kit met.

  A while later, when a sleepy T-Bone toddled in from his nap and crawled onto his mama's lap to listen, too, Muse's heart melted in her chest. He was so cute and looked so much like his daddy, and the family was so obviously blissfully happy together. It brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

  How perfect their life seemed! How she longed to share a similar happiness with a man and a couple kids of her own.

  Remi had shown her last night that against all odds it might be possible. After so many years of not believing it could ever happen to her, to suddenly think it could… The thought filled her with hope.

  Which was immediately crushed.

  The only man on earth she could imagine such a life with was Remi. But he didn't want a life like this. Not with her, not with anyone.

  Even if she could talk him into staying with her for a while, he was bound to get restless and leave her in the end. He was like her father. Not willing to make the sacrifices necessary to keep a family together.

  And like her. She'd inherited those same traits from her father. Hadn't she always been a gypsy, moving on at the first sign of anyone wanting to tie her down?

  She took another long look at Beau, Kit and T-Bone, sitting close and laughing, exchanging kisses and looks of loving affection.

  And wondered if she wasn't wrong about that, too.

  * * *

  The afternoon went by quickly. Remi showed Muse the cemetery fence he'd told her about, and she took some photos while listening to Beau tell the old family legend associated with it.

  As it got closer to suppertime, they were joined by the rest of the Terrebeau clan—Beau's parents, Dori and Gunny, and his sister, Jolene. The only one missing was Remi and Beau's grandmother, Madame Beaulieux. But just as they moved into the dining room to eat, Delia walked in with her on her arm.

  Remi's whole face lit up when he spotted the old woman. "Grandmère! You look wonderful!" he said, embracing the frail figure. "It's so good to see you up and about again."

  "C'est le contentement, ça. The happiness of seeing my family together again and thriving, it does my heart good."

  "Mine, too, Grandmère. I'm glad I don't have to sneak in to see you anymore."

  Remi had told Muse how he'd had to slip in secretly to see his grandmother during the long years of his supposed estrangement as the family's black sheep. She was the only one he'd entrusted with the secret of his FBI undercover work—because she was ill he didn't want her to pass on thinking he was a notorious criminal. But thanks to that case involving Beau and Kit, everyone knew and he was able to visit more frequently, without having to sneak around Beau to see her.

  As Muse watched them hug, Madame Beaulieux's gaze lit upon her. "Ah!" the old woman exclaimed, and an odd light of recognition passed through her eyes. She turned to Remi expectantly.

  Remi paused for a millisecond as he searched her face. "Grandmère, may I present Muse Summerville. She is—"

  "I know who she is," Madame Beaulieux interrupted with a look of satisfaction as she grasped both of Muse's hands in hers. "I am so happy to meet you. This explains everything."

  "Comment? What everything?" Remi asked.

  "Didi La Roi telephoned earlier and said I would need a reading. She's coming over this evening."

  Beau's eyes rolled eloquently. Kit and Jolene exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Remi actually scowled at his grandmother.

  "Now, Grandmère, you know all that stuff is just nonsense."

  "What stuff?" Muse asked, totally lost.

  "Didi is a voodoo priestess," Madame Beaulieux announced crisply. "She reads my tarot and does spells, too. Only good ones, of course."

  Muse gave a cry of delight. "Voodoo? Oh, I love voodoo! I mean, I've done some research, for my book, and I think it's fascinating. I've never participated in any—" She stopped because everyone was staring at her, expressions ranging from horror to glee. Remi was shooting her dagger looks of warning. "Um…"

  "You come to me tonight, ma chérie," Madame Beaulieux said, ignoring them to give her a hug. "My rooms at eight o'clock. Together we do our reading with Didi."

  "I'll be there," Muse murmured and kissed the lovely old lady on the cheek, flouting Remi's glare. "I can't wait to have my fortune told."

  At this point she'd take any advice she could get about her messed up life.

  Besides, Madame Beaulieux seemed nice, and it would give her a breather from Remi's disquieting presence. A respite she badly needed.

  * * *

  "You don' really believe in all that stuff?"

  Muse stopped to sniff an old garden rose that smelled of sweet cloves before answering Remi's question. They were walking along the moss-covered path behind the house, touring the extensive flower and herb gardens.

  "Of course not. Nobody can predict the future," she answered.

  "What about influence it?"

  "Everything you do influences your future."

  "Including voodoo?"

  She smiled and looked at him when he halted. "Grace would say voodoo is just projected wish fulfillment."

  One brow lifted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You want something bad enough to do a voodoo spell for it, you're probably going to work hard enough to get it, anyway. The spell's just window-dressing."

  He reached over and plucked a gardenia from a nearby bush. "Your sister sounds like a pretty smart lady," he said, and slid it into her hair, over her ear.

  Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

  She tried to resist, but he pulled her into his embrace with a velvet iron grip. Gentle but unrelenting. The taste of him caught her by surprise, so good, so right. So just what she needed. A little moan slipped from her throat, and he changed angles, deepening the kiss. The warm breeze and scent of gardenia, the taste of him, the feeling of safety in his arms, all conspired against her. She relented, melting into his kiss, surrendering to his will.

  "Who needs voodoo?" he whispered. "I've already got everything I want right here."

  "Separate bedrooms," she murmured, "remember?"

  "Adjoining bedrooms," he reminded her.

  "I locked the door," she countered.

  "I was a thief for years."

  "You'd break into my room?"

  "I'd rather have an invitation."

  Just then T-Bone came tumbling around the corner of a hedge, calling, "Moose, Moose, it amos' eight! Grandmère te cherche!"

  She pulled from Remi's embrace and caught the little guy up in her arms. She smiled. "I assume that means Madame Beaulieux is looking for me?" She was rewarded with an enthusiastic nod. Giving the boy a kiss on the cheek, she said, "You go tell her I'm on my way, okay?"

  Another big nod, a wriggle, and he was gone.

  She looked up. Remi was standing there, hands in pockets, watching her with a funny smile on his face. He'd changed into a suit for dinner, black with a white shirt and silk tie, which showed off his broad shoulders and tall frame to perfection.

  Mercy, he was handsome.

  And tonight he could be all hers.

  "Leave the door unlocked, Muse. Better yet, come tuck me in when you're done".

  She made herself shake her head. "Nothing's changed since this morning, Remi," she said softly. "Getting in deeper would just hurt both of us." He regarded her searchingly and sh
e added, "Me, anyway."

  He let out a sigh and looked toward the house. "You better go on. Grandmère will be waiting."

  * * *

  Remi watched Muse walk away and barely suppressed the urge to yell after her, "I'll be hurt, too, you know!"

  The truth of the statement nearly blinded him with its sharp clarity. He would hurt when they parted. More than he cared to contemplate.

  How could he let her go?

  Yet, how could he ask her to stay?

  Stay where? His present apartment wasn't fit for a nice woman to live in or even visit. Sure, occasionally he'd rented higher-class digs to impress his targets, but only for a few months at a time as necessary. Never with the thought to stay permanently. His life had been exciting, every day an adventure, not geared to one special place. He did, however, have a healthy bank account and brimming investment portfolio. Maybe he owned a property somewhere they could move into?

  But he liked the whirlwind of activity he called his life.

  Didn't he?

  Or was all that adventure simply designed to conceal an almost visceral loneliness he'd felt every single day of his life—every day except those he'd spent with Muse Summerville?

  A sinking, leaden feeling crept through his stomach. Did he really want to resume that homeless, fast-paced life? Spend the remainder of his days without this woman at his side?

  With a mounting sense of dread, he realized the truth.

  No, he did not.

  Hands in pockets, Remi watched the door close behind Muse as she disappeared into Beau's beautiful home.

  And he made a monumental decision.

  He loved her.

  He didn't want to be that lonely, rootless man anymore. He wanted a home and he wanted her in it, in his life, filling them with love and meaning.

  He'd do whatever it took to get her there. And keep her there forever.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  « ^ »

  Muse took a seat at the small round table, joining Didi La Roi and Madame Beaulieux. They'd already spent quite a while drinking tea and chatting out on the gallery, and now they'd moved inside and it was time for the real fun to begin.