La Fleur de Love: The Series: Books 1 - 4

by Leger, Lori

  When Giselle turned slowly toward the pool Jackson nearly lost his breath at the sight before him. The low cut of the suit exposed her entire back to just above her other cleavage. He stared at the expanse of tanned, flawless skin that swayed gently with every step.

  Giselle kicked her sandals off at the edge of the pool and walked around to the diving board. She stepped up, took two big steps, one good bounce, and executed a perfect dive as she sliced into the water.

  “Very impressive!” Red yelled, clapping and whistling as she surfaced and swam easily to the edge of the pool. “Good Lord, the girl dives as well as she dances.” He was still shaking his head as he disappeared into the house.

  Jackson walked over and stood next to where she was hanging on to the edge of the pool. “So, Giselle,” he said, casually crossing his arms. “Did you happen to teach diving, too?”

  “Nope, but have I ever mentioned that I was an Army brat? I spent a lot of time at the pool as a kid and teenager. My dad re-stationed so often I never had a chance to make any real friends, but there was always the “Y” to go to, and a few of the bases had pools. Are you coming in, or what?”

  He slipped his shirt over his head and threw it and his sunglasses down on the table. He turned around in enough time to see her mouth the word Wow.

  “Thanks, but close your mouth. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “You have been working out, haven’t you?”

  “Not as much since my bike came in. Before that, I needed the distraction. You see, this crazy woman couldn’t seem to decide from one day to the next whether she was speaking to me or not.”

  Giselle raised her eyebrows. “You’re blaming me for that?”

  He nodded. “I guess I am.”

  “Oh poor, baby. Come here.”

  He squatted at the pool’s edge just in front of her. “What?”

  She reached up and tenderly caressed his cheek. “I’m so sorry for making you bulk up like that, and I’m especially sorry—for this!” She grabbed hold of the back of his neck and pulled him into the pool with her.

  Jackson surfaced, spitting and sputtering. “I suppose I should have been waiting for that.”

  “Yep, all that Mr. Pitiful talk,” she said.

  “Come here, Giselle.” He lunged toward her.

  She screeched and dodged him, swimming off in the direction of the grotto. Jackson was the faster swimmer, and caught up with her easily. He grabbed her and pulled her under. When they came up for air, she hung on to his neck as he treaded water to keep them afloat.

  Jackson watched her lick her lips. It would be so easy to kiss her right now, but he remembered the promise he’d made to himself, that she would be the one to go to him. He let her go, and swam toward the grotto. Once there, he climbed out onto the steps, and waited for her to catch up to him. When she did, she climbed out, walked over to the grotto area, and gasped loudly as she stood under the significantly cooler waterfall. She dropped her head back and smoothed her hair away from her face. Jackson watched the scene, thinking the entire time that it should have taken place in some tropical setting rather than in Red’s back yard pool.

  Giselle stepped to the other side of the waterfall and into the dark grotto. She wanted Jackson to follow her, even though she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to happen if he did. She walked all the way to the back of the remarkably cool grotto, and sat on the slate slab that served as a bench while her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  She studied the amazing construction of the man-made cave, and wondered who had designed it. She’d seen several of these waterfall grottos constructed for homes that Toby’s architectural firm had designed. They kept a landscape architect on commission who specialized in this kind of set up, but she had never seen anything like this.

  She examined the design, passing her hand on the coolness of the smooth stones. Giselle looked up as Jackson walked around the waterfall to the opening. He stood there, all tan and ripped, looking like a Greek god, with beads of water spotting his bronzed skin. Her fault, huh? Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the results.

  “Came in here to cool off?” he asked.

  “It does feel good in here. This is really amazing. It’s a custom design, right?” Country music began to play softly from built in speakers somewhere inside the cave.

  Jackson searched until he found the speakers. “Way to go, Red. He said he’d find the time to wire it for sound one day.” He turned back toward Giselle. “He drew up a basic sketch, I designed it for him, and he built it. It’s something, isn’t it?” He leaned one arm against the wall of the grotto and crossed his foot at the ankle.

  “You designed it?” She shook her head, wondering what else he could do.

  “I just told Red what would and would not work from the engineering standpoint. We hammered away at a design until we were both satisfied.”

  “You ever thought about going into business for yourself? I know people who’d pay big bucks for a service like this.”

  Jackson shrugged. “I might get enough clients in a city like Lafayette, but Lake Coburn’s only half the size.”

  “You don’t understand. You wouldn’t have to find clients. They’d find you. Architectural firms would kill to have someone like you to turn to. You and Red could make a huge profit off of this one design.”

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s something to think about, I guess.”

  Giselle closed the gap between them. “I’m amazed at you, Jackson. Is there anything you can’t do? You sing, you dance, you played baseball, and you design fantastic grottos. Your uncle says you’re a natural horseman, not to mention the excellent engineering work you do. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “I may have a few more tricks up my sleeve. I guess you’ll have to stick around if you want to find out.”

  “I’m extremely impatient. How long are we talking about?”

  He shrugged and gave her one of those sexy as hell lopsided grins.

  “How long was that?” She inched closer as James Otto’s sultry voice piped out Last First Kiss, one of the sexiest freaking songs she’d ever heard.

  He gazed down at her, looking as though he was damn close to losing control. “I didn’t say.”

  But damn close wasn’t close enough for Giselle. She reached out a single nailed finger to trace from above his breastbone all the way down to the waistband of his suit. The look on his face was well worth her rare act of bravado. “What’s wrong Jackson? You look surprised.”

  Jackson sucked in his breath and lifted both hands, an act of complete surrender. “Hey, you’re the one in control. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re ready.”

  “Maybe I’m ready for just a little more.” She hooked her finger into the waistband of his swimming trunks and pulled it forward. Before she could look down for a peek, he grabbed her hand.

  Jackson backed her up against the smooth surface of the grotto then grabbed her hands and laced his fingers through hers. He raised them above her head, one on each side, effectively pinning her against the wall. Leaning forward, he brushed his mouth against her neck just below her left ear.

  Her pulse quickened at the feel of his warm breath on her dampened skin. Instead of kissing her neck as she expected him to, he raised his head to speak softly in her ear.

  “I have to tell you, Hon, I don’t mind a little teasing every now and then, but I’m no masochist, and I’m sure as hell no saint. Here lately, being around you is agony.”

  “What’s the matter big boy?” she gasped, trying to lighten the mood. “You afraid it’s going to stunt your growth?”

  The look Jackson gave her revealed he hadn’t found much humor in this particular situation.

  “What is it you want from me Giselle?” he whispered hoarsely. “I think you know how much I want you, but I need to know how far you’re willing to take this little game of yours.”

  Giselle stared into the depths of his hooded eyes—eyes that h
ad grown dark with desire. “In time—all the way. But we’re not alone here, Jackson.”

  “Red’s a grown man and knows better than to bother us. It’s dark back here.” He brushed his mouth lightly against hers.

  She closed her eyes, ready to abandon all will, ready to give him whatever he asked of her.

  He gently kissed one eyelid, then the other. He pulled back and watched, as she slowly open her eyes to look at him. He could go for it right now. He damned well could. She was every bit as hungry for it as he was. One good kiss and she’d be ready, Red or no Red. But did he really want her like this? Unfortunately, he already knew the answer. This scenario was far too ‘first-time-in-the-backseat’ for Jackson. He respected Giselle entirely too much for that.

  He groaned and dropped his head back in defeat then turned away from her. A moment later, he gasped as he walked straight into the waterfall. As the icy water took care of his current predicament, he saw a flash of white. He cleared the water from his eyes just in time to see Giselle’s sexy, round bottom and bare back disappear into the deep end of the pool. He watched her swim underwater for a while, then surface, gasping for air. She treaded water until she caught her breath. She swam the length of the pool, turned, and did it again.

  Jackson walked over to the table, grabbed his towel, and began to dry off. He looked up at Red, who was placing steaks onto the heated grill, tight-lipped and silent. “That waterfall sure is cold.”

  Red’s face broke into a broad grin. “Every bit as effective as a cold shower.” He shook his head as his gaze locked with Jackson’s. “You two sure enjoy torturing each other.”

  Jackson watched Giselle’s smooth, long strokes cutting a path through the water. “It seems to be the norm with us, Red. Nothing’s ever cut and dried with Giselle. But, I’m willing to wait.” He turned to his friend and gave him a wink. “In the meantime, it sure as hell makes life interesting.”

  Giselle swam for another ten minutes then climbed out of the pool. She grabbed her towel, and dried herself briskly before wrapping the towel around her waist. She walked over to the chaise loungers and collapsed in the one nearest to the grill, stretching out her legs.

  “Giselle, would you like something to drink?” Red asked.

  “A beer. A really cold one,” she gasped, as she pulled her sunglasses from her leather bag.

  “Any preference? I have several brands.”

  Jackson stood up. “I’ll get it for her.” He walked to the cooler on the other side of the built in bar area.

  “How do you like your steaks?” Red asked her.

  “Medium rare. Plenty of pink in the middle, please.”

  “No problem, it seems we all like them the same way.”

  She lifted her head. “You need help with anything?”

  He shook his head. “Everything’s under control. Rest, you look like you need it.” Red glanced over at Jackson before returning his attention to the steaks. “He’s a good guy, Giselle. God knows he’s been hurt enough by—” He stopped suddenly. “By that crazy bitch he was married to. If you think this isn’t going anywhere, break it off now, before he’s in too deep.”

  She pushed her sunglasses to her head so she could see him clearly. “I hear you Red. It’s good he’s got you as a friend. He just lost one, and he’ll need you more than ever.”

  Red nodded. “I’ve missed him over the years.” He looked up as Jackson began muttering something unintelligible. “Hey! What the hell’s taking you so long? Your lady is dying of thirst over here.”

  “Well, shit! Don’t you have any American beer?” Jackson asked.

  “My private stock is in the fridge in the kitchen. That’s the ‘Designer Beer’ section. All of a sudden it’s not cool to drink beer unless it’s ‘imported’”, he growled.

  Jackson disappeared into the kitchen and came out carrying three bottles of beer.

  “What do you drink?” Red asked Giselle.

  “Sam Adams, or MGD, if you have that.”

  He slapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “A girl after my own heart,” he told Jackson as he approached. “Better watch out, I may steal her away.”

  Jackson handed Giselle and Red each a bottle of beer and kept one for himself. He smiled at Giselle as he addressed his friend. “Go find your own girl, Red. This one’s mine.”

  They ate steaks grilled to perfection, baked potatoes, and salad in the coolness of Red’s gourmet kitchen. Lunch was followed by an afternoon of more swimming mixed with exchanging stories of teenage angst and tales of college. Red and Jackson laughed until they cried when Giselle told them several of the things the girls had said and done over the years, including how Lexie mortified her on a regular basis.

  Red wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “You should write that stuff down.”

  Giselle grinned at Red. “We call them ‘Lexie-isms’.”

  “Jackson says they’re beautiful. Got any pictures?”

  “Sure I do.” She reached down for her leather bag and pulled out school photos from the last three years.

  “Look at those beautiful faces. Mackenzie must look like her dad, but that little one is a clone of you, Giselle.”

  “I can’t get over how much they’ve changed in three years,” Jackson murmured. “They’ve even changed since these last ones. Mac’s face has slimmed down.” He turned to Red. “She’s going to be a knockout one day, man, and Lex,” he smiled and passed his finger lightly over the snapshot. “Well, you said it best. She’s a clone of her mama, and I think we can both see how well that turns out.”

  Giselle rummaged through her large leather bag, and let out a triumphant yell as she pulled out her digital camera.

  “I’ve looked all over the place for this thing. I haven’t used this bag since the birthday party at Bill’s, and it’s been hanging in my closet. I’m so relieved. I bought another one when the girls and I went to New Orleans, but this has all their ball game footage.”

  “Is it just pictures or video too?” Jackson asked.

  “Both,” she crowed.

  “Perfect. We get to show Red our all-stars in action.”

  Red watched video of both girls playing ball. When he got to tournament video, they pointed out Carrie’s granddaughters, Cathryn and Allie. “They’re Gretchen’s girls,” Giselle said pointing out Carrie’s twins.

  “I saw them just a couple of years ago at a ballgame in Gardiner. Who’s that adorable child Jackson’s holding?”

  Jackson puffed with pride. “That’s Lauren’s daughter, Ava Grace. She was all over me, man. She wanted to go home with me that day.”

  “He always was great with kids, Giselle. You should have seen him around my little sisters.” Red shook his head in disgust. “If I brought him home with me for the weekend, I got totally ignored. It was all about Jackson.”

  Jackson grinned. “Hey, I can’t help it if women under the age of eight find me irresistible. Look at Mac at bat, Red. It’s just tee ball and she already has good form.”

  Giselle smiled at the pride in Jackson’s voice.

  Several videos and shots of Carrie and Sam with their grandchildren had Red contemplating their connections with Carrie. “It’s a small world, isn’t it? Who’d have thought we’d all have Carrie in common? My siblings and I were crazy about her. She was a drummer in the high school band, and she’s the reason my oldest brother played. I can still picture her in hip hugger jeans with long, wavy hair.”

  “McAllister,” Giselle murmured. “Hold on, I’ve heard her speak of Vivienne and Pete McAllister from Gardiner.”

  Red grinned. “That’s my folks. They think the world of her. When I was just a little kid, I remember my brothers and me hiding so we could hear mom and dad talking about how Dave was screwing around on her. My dad wanted to go whip his ass.”

  Jackson looked at him in shock. “Not quiet, calm, Mr. Pete McAllister. I can’t see him losing his cool over like that.”

  “Man, you don’t know the half of it. Mom ha
d to calm him down. None of us cared too much for Dave after that.”

  Giselle settled back in her lounge chair. “You must have seen her kids grow up, then.”

  Red chuckled. “Yep. Cute kids. When I graduated from LSU, Carrie came by the house with a gift for me. She was thirty-four and had just earned her Associate’s Degree from a technical college in Lafayette. I don’t think she’d hired on with the company in Lake Coburn yet.”

  “No, she started when she was thirty-five,” Jackson said.

  Red handed the camera back to Giselle. “The marriage with Dave had really taken its toll on her. She told us it was time for a change. I think they separated not long after that.”

  Jackson nodded. “I’ve heard that story enough times. She filed for a divorce, got a good job, moved to Kenton, and married Sam, all in a year and a half.”

  Giselle smiled at the two men. “If she were here, she would add “Thank God”. Carrie sure loves her some Sam.”

  “My parents ask about her every time they see her mom, Mrs. Elaine. Carrie still visits them every now and then.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to grow up in families the size of yours and Carrie’s,” Giselle said.

  Jackson groaned. “Man, it was a blast going to his house on weekends. His mom would stuff me with food from the minute I got there until the minute I left, and she’s a hell of a cook. Ms. Vivi makes the best shrimp and okra gumbo, and she used to bake her own bread. I never left there hungry.”

  Red chuckled. “She always said Jackson was too skinny, and needed to put some meat on his bones. Wonder what she’d say if she saw you now.”

  Giselle smiled at Jackson. “She’d still want to feed him, it’s a mom thing.” She stood and threw her sarong on the back of her lounge chair. “I’m going back in the water. Who’s coming?”

  Another hour of pool volleyball had Giselle ready to take her wrinkled digits out of the water for good. After toweling off, she stretched out on the lounger to relax. She placed a hand on her growling stomach as Jackson and Red stepped out of the pool to join her. “Hey Red, is there a pizza delivery place around here? All this swimming has me hungry again.”