by Hill Sandra
Big mistake, that.
He picked her up by the waist and laid her across his lap, her head cradled over his left elbow. “This isn’t about treasure hunting, or folk healing, or any other damn profession. It’s about you and me.” He leaned down, kissed her lightly on the lips, and whispered against her gaping mouth, “I love you, Grace.”
She squirmed into a sitting position on his lap. “I love you, too, sweetie. You’re my best friend.”
“Dammit! That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m in love with you, have been for a long time.”
A stunned silence was not what he was looking for here.
“You’re kidding, right? What’s the punch line? You gonna tell some lame nun joke?” She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth as punishment.
Angel jerked backward, though he didn’t release her from his embrace. It was true, he had been teasing Grace with nun jokes for ages, even though she hadn’t been a nun for ages, but not now. “This is not a joke, Grace.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Sex. All this forced celibacy while trapped out in the bayou must have turned you horny. You want to have sex with me.” Grinning, she taunted him with that last accusation.
“No! I mean, yes. Here’s the deal: I don’t want sex for sex’s sake, as in any ol’ female would do. I want to make love with you. But that’s not all I want. C’mon,” he said, opening the car door and hauling her outside. Oh, God! I’m blowing it. What the hell is wrong with me? “Let’s walk.”
“You’re scaring me, Angel.”
“I’m scaring myself,” he muttered as he linked his hand with hers and led her onto Tante Lulu’s back porch facing the bayou. Once they were leaning against the rail, he raised their linked hands and kissed her knuckles.
“Oooh, you are smooth.”
“You have no idea.” Something occurred to him then, related to her mentioning going back to his motel room. “Would you have sex with me? Just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Friends with benefits?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Angel was both angry and intrigued.
“Actually, I probably wouldn’t. Even half drunk. You and I have been friends for a long time. I wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin that.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, friendship isn’t enough anymore. Haven’t you felt it, too, Gracie, these weeks we’ve been here in Louisiana? Those LeDeuxs are crazy as coots, but they’re a close-knit family. They would do anything for each other. And you can just see the passion between the husbands and wives. Luc and Sylvie. Remy and Rachel. René and Val. Rusty and Charmaine. John and Celine. That’s what I want.”
“Passion?”
“Passion, yeah, but more than that.”
“Family?” she said with an oddly sad sigh.
“Bingo. I want a woman to love who will love me back. And a home...a real home, not some luxury condo. And kids.”
The more he explained himself, the stiffer she got. Then she started biting on her thumbnail, a nervous habit she’d been trying to break ever since he’d first met her. Angel sensed he was losing her bit by bit, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
“You and I have no close family ties,” she reminded him, pulling her hand out of his grasp and walking to the other end of the porch. He followed after her. “The LeDeuxs have family out the wazoo.”
“We can make our own family. I love you, honey. That’s what people in love do.”
“Where is all this coming from?” Her voice was shrill with panic. “You never mentioned love before.”
“It’s been there for a long time. I just haven’t had the nerve to say anything.”
“You? Lacking nerve?”
He nodded. “But I had to say something now. This Amber Project—Jinx’s next job—is going to take months, maybe even a year, and it’ll be mostly on-site in Germany. We’re searching for that famous Amber Room that the Nazis supposedly dismantled and hid. Definitely Jinx’s most ambitious treasure hunt yet, and I want you to be there with me. As my wife. Doesn’t a honeymoon in Europe sound great?” His heart was racing so fast it felt as if it might explode. Deep down, he sensed he was fighting a losing battle. How could he have misread her so badly?
“This is insane. You’ve never even kissed me...that way. You can’t ask someone to marry you without even a proper kiss.”
That was his cue. “I thought you’d never ask.”
When she saw his slow grin and his equally slow approach, she stuttered, “That’s not what—oh, good grief, what are you doing?”
“About to kiss you properly.” Before she could blink, or tell him to get lost, he backed her up against the wall of the cottage, cupped her butt cheeks, raising her to just the right height on her tiptoes, spread her legs with his knees, anchored her with his belly against her belly, combed his fingers through her hair to hold her in place, then kissed her with all the love he’d been holding in for so long.
It should have been a gentle kiss, coaxing. An introduction. Something that said, “Hi! We’ve known each other forever, as friends, but this is how I really feel. I love you. Do you love me?”
Instead, his sex drive shot from zero to the speed of light in a nanosecond, and the gentle, coaxing kiss was anything but. It was hungry and demanding and said, “Oh, baby, I want you so bad. I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait—”
Just then, a loud bellow echoed behind them.
“What was that?” he asked, his head jerking back.
“An alligator, I think. Probably Remy’s pet Useless. It’s harmless.”
An alligator? Close by? Harmless? He pressed his forehead against hers, both of them panting for breath.
“This is not the way I want to make love to you the first time, sweetheart. Come back to my motel room with me, and we can talk.”
She tried to laugh but it came out choked. “I think we’ve done enough talking.” Ducking under his arm, she stepped away.
Immediately, Angel sensed the tension in the air, and it wasn’t a good tension. She put up a halting hand when he moved a step closer.
“Angel, I am not going to marry you, and we are not going to have a family together. It is just not going to happen. Ever.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not in love with you.”
Angel had been playing poker for too many years not to read her “tells.” He’d like to think she was lying through her teeth. She wasn’t. How could he have interpreted her signals so wrong? “You don’t mean that, Gracie.” Please, God, don’t let her mean it.
“Angel! Come on. I’ve seen you puking your guts out when you’ve drunk too much. That’s a friend, not a lover.”
He shrugged. “I’ve gone out and bought you tampons when you had an accident in white slacks. Didn’t make me go ‘eew!’”
“I saw you clipping your gross toenails in the kitchen.”
He grinned. “You have funny-looking toes. The pinkies are crooked.”
“You told me my toes were cute.”
“They are cute. Crooked cute.”
All this was just blowing smoke, in his opinion. Of no importance. Once again, he tried to move closer.
Once again, she put up a halting hand. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had, but I don’t feel that way about you. Really, I had no idea—”
“Your kiss,” he said, indicating with a wave of his hand the section of porch they’d just left, “your kiss said something else.”
There were tears in her eyes. “Sexual attraction fueled by too much alcohol.”
“I’m not buyin’ it.”
“You have to. Besides, there are things in my past...things you don’t know about me.”
“Hell, I have secrets in my past, too. Big deal!” He waited a moment, then asked, “What things?”
“I can’t say. Just know that I have good reasons for saying that you and I will never
be a family, aside from my just thinking of you as a friend—my best friend.”
“Well, we’re sure as hell not gonna continue being friends with this between us now.”
“Oh, Angel.”
“I’m leaving, Gracie. Are you coming with me?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“So be it. I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again. I don’t do begging very well.” He stared at her, then added, “I love you, babe. I really do.”
* * *
Two weeks later, and the news heard ’round the world, or at least, down the bayou...
Grace was in the pantry, using a mortar and pestle to grind dried herbs for Tante Lulu’s amazing medicinal potions.
Pennyroyal, horehound, sassafras, and catnip, which could be brewed into a tea and used for coughs.
Yarrow and jimsonweed to go in poultices.
Sumac for arthritis.
So many healing uses for nature’s bounty. And any one of them could have varying uses, depending on the stage of development—seed, root, flower, or full-grown plant.
Dust motes danced on the stream of sunlight coming from the lone window. Through the screen she could hear a hundred bayou birds join together, celebrating their unique habitat. As she worked, she glanced over at the floor-to-ceiling shelves, neatly lined with dozens of glass bottles. Some of them were baby food jars. Some jelly jars. Even old green mason jars with lead lids. Each had its own label. Each followed specific ingredients for one of the noted traiteur’s remedies—983, at last count—that were outlined, longhand, in numerous journals that had their own shelf. No computer software for her boss. No-siree, as Tante Lulu would say.
The pungent odors in the room, the feeling of history, the warmth of Tante Lulu’s essence: all these things contributed to Grace’s sense of well-being. She was at peace. Not happy, precisely, but finally she was where she belonged.
A psychiatrist would have a field day with her history. From promiscuous teenager to nun. Nun to poker player. Poker player to treasure hunter. Treasure hunter to folk healer. Still, she’d found a place that felt safe and promising to her.
The only thing interfering with her happiness was Angel. Her heart grieved at the hole her former friend had created in her life by his absence. The louse hadn’t called her. Probably his pride had kicked in. And she wasn’t going to call him. That would give him false expectations. Even if she was in love—and she wasn’t—there were other reasons why a future with him would be out of the question.
“Yoo-hoo!”
Tante Lulu must be back from her trip to Boudreaux’s General Store. Her nephew John LeDeux had picked her up an hour ago.
Grace finished bottling her concoction, dusted her hands off, and walked into the kitchen, where Tante Lulu and John were unloading armfuls of overflowing paper bags. Both of them glanced at her. And said nothing.
“What?” It was obvious by the way they avoided direct eye contact that something was wrong.
“Ah, Gracie, bless yer heart,” Tante Lulu said, reaching up to pat her cheek.
Now Grace was really frightened. “Tell me.”
“Tee-John was talkin’ ta Ronnie this mornin’,” Tante Lulu started to explain, then stopped, turning to her nephew for help.
Tee-John, or Little John, was the nickname that had been given to John LeDeux when he was a kid, and much smaller than his six foot or so in height now.Ronnie was Veronica Jinkowsky, owner of Jinx, Inc., the treasure hunting company.
“Oh, my God! Is it Angel? Has something happened to him?”
“You could say that,” John drawled out. The sympathy in his dark Cajun eyes caused alarm bells to go off in her head and her heart rate to accelerate alarmingly.
“He got married yesterday,” John told her. “To an airline stewardess he met on the way to Germany. Talk about!”
Grace plopped down into the kitchen chair, stunned. So much for true love! She tried her best not to be hurt. After all, she was the one who’d sent him away, but the tears came anyway.
They would never renew their friendship now.
She tried to tell herself it was best this way.
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About the Author
Sandra Hill is the best-selling author of almost fifty novels and the recipient of numerous awards. She has appeared on many bestseller lists, including the New York Times and USA Today.
Readers love the trademark humor in her books, whether the heroes are Vikings, Cajuns, Navy SEALs, treasure hunters, or vangels (Viking vampire angels), and they tell her so often, sometimes with letters that are laugh-out-loud funny. In addition, her fans feel as if they know the characters in her books on a personal basis, especially the outrageous Tante Lulu.
At home in central Pennsylvania with her husband, four sons, a dog the size of a horse, six dogs belonging to her sons, and three grandchildren, Sandra is always busy. When she is not at their home, so close to the Penn State football stadium that she can hear the Blue Band practicing every night, she can be found relaxing at their Spruce Creek cottage.
Sandra is always on the lookout for new sources of humor. So be careful if you run into Sandra. What you say or do may end up in a book. If you want to take the chance, you can contact her at SandraHill.net. She loves to hear from her fans.
Also by Sandra Hill
Sandra Hill’s Cajun Novels (In Order):
The Love Potion
Tall, Dark, and Cajun
The Cajun Cowboy
The Red-Hot Cajun
Pink Jinx
Pearl Jinx
Wild Jinx
So Into You (Bayou Angel)
Snow on the Bayou
The Cajun Doctor
Cajun Crazy
Cajun Persuasion
Novellas
“Jinx Christmas” in A Dixie Christmas Anthology
“Saving Savannah” in Heart Craving Anthology
When Lulu was Hot Prequel
Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass Prequel
Please note: Tante Lulu also appears as a secondary character in these books:
Good Vampires Go to Heaven
Even Vampires Get the Blues
Kiss of Wrath
Kiss of Temptation