“I don’t see why not. Wasn’t that part of the reason why you didn’t see fit to tell me what was going on? So the men who were after the senator, if they overran the place, could be told I didn’t know a thing about it, as if that were going to make any difference.”
“I suppose you could look at it like that,” he said stiffly.
“On the other hand, you kept me here because you thought that if you let me go I would run all over the country talking to one and all about the man I saw hiding here. Just as the judge probably thought Mary and his wife wouldn’t be able to keep the secret, if the truth were known. You men are all alike, keeping women in ignorance to protect them, when all you are doing is leaving yourselves, and us, open to danger because of what we don’t know!”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that if I had told you everything you would have stayed on here and, shall we say, added to the local color?”
“I might have,” she admitted. “At least I would have done a better job of pretending to be your — your special friend than you managed to convey without my cooperation!”
“I don’t know about that; I thought we did well enough.”
She ignored that, as well as the smile that went with his amused comment. “While I’m on the subject, you can tell me just what the idea was of saying last night that I could leave today, when all the time you knew those gunmen were sneaking up on the house.”
“I didn’t know; I only suspected after the odd behavior of the boat we saw the evening before. I’m not sure how they located us, unless it was as I said, that they made the connection between me and the senator, then maybe had a tip about George from one of his trips with the speedboat. Yesterday afternoon, when the three of us were in conference, we decided it was time to move; the only question was where. The senator wanted to go home. George was for a hotel in New Orleans. I took a lot of ribbing for proposing we commandeer your apartment. We couldn’t agree, so we put it off until morning.”
“And in the meantime, you set yourself, and me, up as decoys, creating a diversion while the police moved in.”
“It was doubtful which was more dangerous, staying put, or trying to move when we suspected strongly that our cover had been blown. Calling in reinforcements seemed wisest. As for setting you up, would you have gone to your room and stayed there if I had asked you?”
“If there was a good reason.”
“You’ll have to admit, at least, that you had done nothing up till then to make me think you might. That being the case, I preferred to keep you with me.”
“So you could watch me.”
“So I could watch over you; there’s a difference. I sent George for the police early enough so they could get in place before trouble started. I thought you would be safe enough as long as you remained inside. I certainly didn’t expect you to leave the house.”
She would just as soon not go into her reason for doing that. “I suppose you are going to say that what I ran into was my own fault, then?”
“I wouldn’t be so ungallant.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she inquired in bitter disbelief. “And I guess you blame me for all those trips George made in the speedboat, trying to find out who I was.”
“No. It wasn’t a good idea to let him use the speedboat. Neither it, nor George for that matter, blend in with a place like this.”
That was a concession. She made a small grimace. “I thought he was a guard.”
“He was a federal agent at one time, before he became my father’s chauffeur. He asked to come with me to help look after the senator here because he blames himself, at least in part, for my father’s death. It was George’s night off, the evening he was killed. Dad hadn’t planned to go out, but he had a call, bogus of course, and he went, alone.”
“Was he at the farm, or whatever it is, above New Orleans?”
There was a shading of self-blame in Charles’s voice also, she thought
“The plantation? Yes, he was spending a few days there. I had gone into the city for the evening. Calls in the night aren’t too unusual with the kind of agricultural-industrial complex we keep going, but if I had been there, I would have taken the call.”
“Whoever killed him must have known you weren’t there.”
He reached up to rake his fingers through his hair, letting out his breath in a long sigh. “I guess so.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at the coffee cup she still turned in her hands. “I really am, for 1everything.”
“If you mean about my father’s death, I’ll accept that. As for the rest, don’t be. I’m not.”
In a denial of the compassion that sought to weaken her defenses, she allowed a glint of anger to creep into her gray eyes. “Well, you should be! When I think of the things you did, it makes me want to — scream.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
Something in his voice made her aware, abruptly, of the fact that they were alone in the house, and that this was a man she had not known existed only a week before. Moreover, there he sat on her bed, watching her as if he had a perfect right to be in her bedroom. It was also a matter for concern that although she was disturbed by the sheer masculinity of his presence, she wasn’t particularly embarrassed by it. Considering how she would have reacted not too long ago, that was shocking if not too surprising after what had passed between them.
“I suppose so,” she murmured at last.
“Besides, you aren’t the one with the scars.”
She flicked a glance at the place where his lip had been cut, now nearly healed, then looked away again. “I wish I had left more.”
“Maybe you did, with your play-acting, pretending to be coming around, to be falling for me.”
“I wasn’t the only one! What about the things you said and did on the veranda in full view of who knows how many people?”
He smiled, his dark eyes bright. “Does that rankle, that I didn’t mean it? Or is it the public performance that you object to?”
“I was only pointing out that you aren’t exactly an innocent party,” she said, sitting up higher in the bed. “As to objecting, I don’t suppose I can, that much, since it was in a good cause.”
“An extremely reasonable attitude. I’m glad you absolve me of blame. On the other hand, I’m not quite so forgiving.”
“What — what do you mean?” she asked, suspicion threading her tone.
“I’m talking about our truce. You were supposed to relax and stop fighting me. You trusted me, remember?”
The soft timbre of his voice seat a shiver along her spine. “You can’t condemn me for using the only means I had left to get around you when I had no idea what you meant to do.”
“Do? I told you that you were safe.”
“But you certainly didn’t act like it, and I heard you tell George that you had plans for me. That didn’t sound like anything I wanted to stick around for.”
He frowned, then his teeth flashed in a grim smile. “I meant to take you fishing, and generally put you on view to make our being here less conspicuous, as three males keeping to themselves.”
“How could I know that?” She slanted him a look dark with resentment.
“You couldn’t, but you still didn’t have to break our truce, especially after you had been warned.”
Kelly tried for a light laugh. “All that is over now. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Oh, but it does.” He reached out to take the cup from her hand and set it aside. His movements were slow and almost menacing.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Why? What difference does it make?”
“You gave me your promise, and you broke it. If I let you get away with this, how can I trust you in more important matters?”
“To me, it was a question of life or death. I don’t like to be melodramatic, but how much more important can it get?”
“It was life or death for me, too; my father’s, the senator’s.” He caught her w
rist in his strong fingers, drawing her toward him.
“Charles,” she said with a catch in her voice, “don’t.”
“You smiled at me, all sweetness and provocation, with such a warm glow in your eyes. You brushed against me with such touching innocence, as if you had no idea what you were doing to me. I wanted you. I dared to hope, and you let me because that was what you wanted all the time. For me to hope. That was your greatest mistake.”
“No.”
His arms closed around her, their grip like iron bands. His eyes burned into her with the darkness of desire. She could feel the hard beat of his heart, and the suffocating throb of her own as he pulled her across his lap and, with slow strength, lowered her to the bed on her back. As he hovered above her braced on one elbow, she knew a treacherous weakness, a longing to dose her eyes and accept what would come.
“Please, Charles,” she whispered, and was not sure for what she pleaded.
“There is one thing that may be in your favor,” he told her, his voice taut and low. “When I followed you from the veranda, when you saw the man with the gun, you called out something to me. What was it?”
She stared up at him, trying to think. “It was — I don’t know.”
“I think you do, Kelly. Tell me.”
“I — only told you to go back.”
“You warned me of danger, even when you thought I was a kidnapper, or worse?”
“I guess so,” she answered, lowering her lashes.
“You know so. Why, Kelly? Tell me why?”
Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you will, if you know what’s good for — both of us.”
The strain in his tone communicated itself to Kelly. She opened her eyes, seeing the pain mirrored in his dark gaze, and the uncertainty. It was the latter, so out of character for him, that touched her, bringing the shimmer of tears she could not hide.
“Chérie,” he breathed, “dear God, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it,” she said, her voice breaking. “It seems to be — the way loving you — affects me.”
“Ah, chérie.” He crushed her to him, rocking her slowly in his arms. “It was no act when I said I loved you. Je t’adore, I adore you. Nothing could be more real than that to me. When I said those words I had forgotten everything except what I felt for you and how beautiful you were.”
His mouth found hers then in a kiss that was warm, and edged with tender passion, carefully leashed. His hand cupped her face, and between soft murmurs of love in two languages, he brushed his lips over her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and downward over her throat.
“Charles?” she said, slowly running her fingers over the back of his neck. “If I had not said I loved you —”
He stopped her there, irresistibly drawn to that word on her lips.
“If I hadn’t said it,” she persevered when she had breath, “what would you have done?”
He went still. “I don’t know. I will show you what I wanted to do, had planned to do, after we are married.”
“Are we going to be married?”
“But of course.”
She did not mind at all, she found, the arrogance of his tone, though it would be best if he didn’t know it. “I don’t remember being asked.”
He raised his head so he could look at her, a smile lurking in his eyes. “Do you want to be — knowing my method of assuring I get the answer I want to hear?”
“Would it be so terrible if I said yes?” She shielded her gaze with her lashes, though she did not miss the leap of flame deep in his eyes.
“It would be enchanting.”
“Well?”
“I think I will deny you the privilege, for both our sakes.”
She worked that out in her mind. “I’m not sure I like that.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
“If I don’t get a proposal, do I still get to marry you?”
“It’s mandatory.”
“That sounds as if I don’t have a choice.”
“Call it the consequences of breaking our truce. You will never get away from me.”
With the tip of one finger and a feather touch, she traced along his cheek, then, around the chiseled outline of his mouth. “Suppose I don’t want to — get away, I mean?”
He gave a sigh of mock despair. “Is there no way I can punish you as you deserve?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her gray eyes wide, “don’t kiss me.”
It was, of course, an impossible condition.
About the Author
Since publishing her first book at age twenty-seven, New York Times bestselling and award-winning author Jennifer Blake has gone on to write over sixty-five historical and contemporary novels in multiple genres. She brings the story-telling power and seductive passion of the South to her stories, reflecting her eighth-generation Louisiana heritage. Jennifer lives with her husband in northern Louisiana.
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To find out more about Jennifer’s books, see the Steel Magnolia Press website at www.steelmagnoliapress.com.
Purchase Steel Magnolia Press ebooks direct from Amazon.com at: http://smarturl.it/smp.
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Subscribe to Fresh Leaves, the Steel Magnolia Press newsletter, to be notified of new releases and subscriber-only specials: http://eepurl.com/gCgrX.
(You can also subscribe from the Steel Magnolia Press website.)
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Jennifer would love to hear from you! Other places to connect with her:
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If you enjoyed this work, please leave a review to help other readers decide if it’s a story they too would like to read. A couple of sentences are all you need to write. Thank you!
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Enjoy 5 More Romances In
THE SWEETLY CONTEMPORARY COLLECTION
http://smarturl.it/smp
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The Abducted Heart
He called her a stowaway. She called him a kidnapper. What better way could a romance start?
Anne Matthews, delivering a catered dinner to Ramón Castillo’s private plane, is surprised as it takes off for Mexico with her still aboard. But she’s incensed when dynamic, wealthy Ramón assumes she’s a fortune hunter with an unusual method of getting close to him.
Anne fully intends catching the next plane back to the States. But a series of weird mix-ups force Ramón to offer her a job as his temporary fiancée. Although drawn to the handsome Mexican and his rich and fascinating Aztec heritage, Anne has serious misgivings about the game he plays. To fall in love is certainly against the rules…
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April of Enchantment
Room for Love…
Laura Nichols is no amateur at historical preservation, and the elegant 19th-century Louisiana mansion, Crapemyrtle, promises to be the perfect showcase for her talent. After her first infuriating meeting with its handsome new owner, Justin Roman, she’s determined to prove the house can be both breathtaking and ready in time for his wedding. But if he doesn’t trust her abilities, why does he give her the final say on any changes to be made, even over his fiancée’s objections and growing jealousy?
As the wedding date approaches and the mansion nears completion, can Laura bear the thought that she will never live in it with Justin…?
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Bayou Bride
Piracy of the Heart
Sherry Mason fully intended to refuse the plea of her weak-willed friend, Paul Villeré, that she be his pretend fiancée during a visit to his Louisiana home. Let him stand up to his arrogant older brother Lucien, and refuse to marry the girl chosen for him! But that was before she received the late-night phone call from Lucien, heard his scathing opinion of her character and relationship with Paul.
Still, she under
estimates Lucien’s determination to prevent her appearance at the family gathering — until he spirits her away to an isolated bayou mansion. To submit to this abduction is impossible; Sherry makes every effort to thwart Lucien’s plan. But how can she escape the unwilling desires of her own heart?
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Love at Sea
Passport to Love
Maura’s great aunt is injured in an accident just before the two are to set sail aboard the Athena, and insists her niece go on without her. Maura can still gather background material for her famous aunt’s next romantic novel while enjoying a tropical island vacation.
Maura might not have agreed if she’d known the devilishly handsome owner of the shipping line, Nikolaos Vassos, would be on board. The arrogant Greek is everywhere she turns, in both calm and stormy seas, and seems to suspect her of some sort of literary sabotage.
How can she concentrate on island romance when her thoughts keep turning to a Greek lover?
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The Snowbound Heart
Script for Romance…
Stranded after an accident during a blizzard, Clare Thornton takes shelter at the mountain home of movie star Logan Longcross. She’s far from welcome as the reclusive actor is convinced she’s another adoring fan invading his privacy. Both Clare and Logan are determined she will leave as soon as the roads are clear.
That is, until producer Marvin Hobbs shows up right behind the snow plow, convinced he’ll find his wife, Janine, in Logan’s arms.
When Janine appears on cue, Clare is suddenly cast in the part of Logan’s fiancée. Clare and Logan must give flawless performances, or the movie deal Logan and Marvin are negotiating will fall apart. Logan is a superb actor, leaving Clare breathless. But it was never in the script for her to fall in love...
Table of Contents
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
About the Author
Other Books by the Author
Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) Page 16