A Second Chance

by Kara Lennox

  That sort of thinking no longer applied.

  Until he’d gone to work as a concierge for the Hotel Marchand two years ago, he’d had no close personal ties. He’d called his mother every once in a while so she wouldn’t worry too much about him, but that was it.

  He felt different now. He didn’t want to just walk away if things got uncomfortable for him. He wanted Loretta to like him and be relaxed about letting him hang out with her and Zara. He wanted to prove to his family that they hadn’t wasted their compassion on him, that he was worth a second chance.

  If he messed up by hurting Loretta, all the goodwill he’d been building would go right out the window.

  LORETTA WASN’T a big-city person—she’d discovered that during her wanderings with Jim. She didn’t like crowds, noise or smog. And on those few occasions she had to travel into New Orleans, she dreaded it.

  Today had been different. For one thing, Luc was driving, so she didn’t have to worry about freeway traffic or parking. He handled his SUV with skill, smoothly shifting from lane to lane. She found herself looking out the window at the city, marveling at the signs of rebuilding that were everywhere. The city was coming back after Hurricane Katrina’s devastation, despite what the naysayers had predicted, proving once again how resilient the people of Louisiana were.

  The meeting with Melanie Marchand and her husband, Robert, went amazingly well. Melanie wasn’t anything like the snooty chef Loretta had imagined. She was friendly and funny and accessible, and she treated Loretta as if she were a new best friend. Though Loretta was just a small-town baker who worked out of her home, Melanie and Robert acted as though she were on a par with them.

  Loretta had brought them some samples of her bread, and the couple had oohed and ahhed over them, swearing they were as good as anything available in the French Quarter. Melanie was brimming with ideas on how to do the dinner, and in a very short time they had a menu worked out. Melanie promised to e-mail Loretta with a list of the ingredients, utensils and volunteers she would need for the dishes that would be prepared on site. She made everything sound so easy that Loretta found herself relaxing for the first time in two weeks.

  The only curious thing was the relationship between Luc and his cousins. While Luc was normally relaxed and charming with just about everybody, he was a bit stiff and formal with Melanie and his other cousin, Charlotte, who managed the hotel. They all seemed to be overly polite and wary around each other.

  Loretta was dying to know what their history was. But to ask would be rude, and Luc wasn’t volunteering anything.

  When the meeting was finished, Luc took Loretta to the Café du Monde, where they drank strong coffee with chicory and ate beignets. Though it was October, the weather was still pleasantly warm with only the slight hint of a fall breeze. In short, it was perfect.

  Loretta forced herself to stop speculating about Luc’s family relationships and focused on the man himself, who had visibly relaxed the moment they were away from his cousins.

  “Your beignets are better than these,” Luc said.

  “Don’t be silly. These are the most famous beignets in the world.” And she took a bite. The deep-fried pastry was pure fat and empty carbohydrates, and she loved it.

  “I like yours better.” He reached across the small café table, paper napkin in hand, and gently wiped at her upper lip. The gesture was very intimate—the kind of thing a lover would do. Yet Loretta felt perfectly comfortable with having him touch her that way.

  “Oh, dear, have I made a mess of myself?”

  “Just a little powdered sugar. Not that you don’t look cute with a white mustache…”

  She quickly fished a mirror out of her purse, but she saw no trace of anything on her face that shouldn’t be there. What she did see surprised her: bright eyes, flushed cheeks, plump lips. She looked more alive than she had in ages. Younger, too. She saw traces of the optimistic teenager who she’d thought had died right along with Jim and all her romantic dreams.

  She quickly put the mirror away. What was she thinking? She’d made the decision long ago that she would not get involved with another man. She had a full life—Zara, her parents and their honey company, her own rapidly growing business. She had no time for men, nor any inclination to adjust her life to accommodate one.

  Even in the early days of her marriage, when things were still good, she’d been surprised by all the adjustments she’d had to make to please Jim. She’d grown her hair out long for him because he liked long hair, even when she thought it was a pain to take care of. When it came time to fix a meal, she knew Jim expected certain things on the table, and she had to put them there—whether she liked them or not. When she decorated and furnished their home, she couldn’t go with anything too feminine.

  He hadn’t been unreasonable, and he had made some adjustments for her. He’d quit smoking when Zara was born, at least around the baby. Making accommodations to please your spouse was just part of marriage, her mother had explained. Any marriage, even the best.

  When Jim had taken off, she’d been sad and lonely, of course, but she’d also enjoyed the freedom to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She could wear ratty old nightgowns to bed, watch weepy movies on TV, eat cheese-and-tomato sandwiches for dinner if she didn’t feel like cooking.

  Maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want to give up those small freedoms—not for anyone. She and Zara were doing fine on their own. And Zara—how would she react to sharing her mother with someone else? She was already headstrong. Despite Zara’s vague longing for a “daddy,” Loretta couldn’t imagine she would welcome a new authority figure in her life.

  So that was it. No men, not even Luc. But when she looked at him, her stomach swooped and her chest tightened.

  “I have a couple of stops to make before we head home,” Luc said after draining the last of his coffee.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  It turned out his errands were all in the French Quarter, so they walked. He picked up some fancy scented soaps and potpourri at a funky little boutique, two cans of cherrywood stain from a woodworking shop, and a large canister of pecan pralines, which he put on his guests’ pillows when he did turndown service, instead of the traditional chocolate.

  His arms were full as they headed back toward his car, and Loretta grabbed one of the bags to help him out. She was having the best time, and it struck her as slightly amusing that he could discuss lavender-scented versus citrus-scented potpourri with a grandmotherly lady in a froufrou shop and not give up a single ounce of his masculinity.

  Luc was as comfortable in his own skin as any man she’d ever known.

  Bourbon Street was slightly crowded in the late afternoon, and they had to dodge various tourists with bulging shopping bags and the occasional party animal who was getting an early start on Happy Hour.

  Loretta heard the motorbike before she saw it. She turned, and there it was, skirting around a car here, a pedestrian there, hopping up on the sidewalk when the driver couldn’t get through any other way.

  It was coming right at them, and Loretta was so shocked she froze in place, unsure which way to dive.

  “Jeez!” Luc grabbed her and pulled them both flat against a brick wall as the motorbike whizzed past, not giving them a second look. The breeze blew up Loretta’s skirt and ruffled her hair.

  Several other pedestrians shouted at the maniac and waved their fists at him, but Loretta had already forgotten the reason Luc had pulled her against him. The sounds of the raised voices receded into the background along with everything but the sensation of her breasts pressing against Luc’s hard chest, his arm clenched protectively around her shoulders, their legs tangled together.

  They’d have fallen over if not for the wall supporting them.

  She looked up into his blue eyes, and her breath froze inside her lungs. She couldn’t inhale or exhale, and she wondered if she was going to simply expire right here because she’d forgotten how to breathe.

  When he
bent his head down to capture her lips against his, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. The shopping bag she’d been holding slipped to the sidewalk as she met the fervent kiss with enough heat to singe her eyebrows.

  Where had this come from?

  He briefly lifted his head from hers to suck in an almost frantic breath, but Loretta wasn’t letting him escape. Pure instinct took over as she stood on tiptoes to claim another kiss. She’d become a tigress, and she didn’t care that they were on a public street.

  Hey, it was New Orleans.

  A nearby car honked, startling them and finally bringing them to their senses. They pulled apart at the same time, and Luc looked down at her with a sort of shell-shocked expression. She expected to see that mischievous grin of his, but it was curiously absent.

  “Loretta—” he began, but his voice broke.

  “Uh…” She had no idea what to say. Should she apologize for behaving like a floozy? Thank him for opening up the rusty valves inside her, allowing her to feel something deeply for the first time in years?

  “Are you okay?” he finally managed.

  “I think so. You?”

  Gradually he loosened his grip on her. “That guy could have killed you.”

  The kiss could have killed her. She could have had a heart attack from the exhilaration. “What…” she tried again, but her poor beleaguered brain simply wasn’t connecting thoughts into coherent sentences.

  He leaned over to pick up the bag she’d dropped. Fortunately it was the one with the potpourri and a couple of tea towels, nothing breakable. “Shall we keep walking?”

  Loretta wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up. But she took one tentative step, then another, and she didn’t crumple to the sidewalk.

  He took her hand. The gesture was oddly innocent, given the incendiary embrace they’d just shared. Wasn’t the hand-holding supposed to come before the kiss?

  “That was maybe a little sudden,” she said, and chanced a look at him.

  Finally his grin returned. “I couldn’t help it. You were right there. And I’ve been thinking about it all day. When you had that powdered sugar on your mouth at the French Market, all I could think about was kissing it off.”

  Oh, my.

  “We can forget it happened if you want,” he reassured her. “In fact, maybe that’s the best thing. Doc told me you had no interest in dating, and I’ll respect that.” He paused a beat. “If I have to.”

  Was it true? Yesterday it had been. Today, she wasn’t so sure. “Did Doc tell you why I don’t date?”

  “He told me how your husband died. It must have been rough.”

  Loretta sighed. She loved her small town, but gossip came with the territory. It would be nice if everyone didn’t know her tragic history. Sometimes she wanted to sweep it under the rug, pretend it never happened. Pretend she was normal, with a woman’s wants and needs.

  Today, for the first time in years, she had felt almost normal. Today, the thought of getting tangled up with a man, making herself vulnerable again, didn’t frighten her into shutting down.

  “Even if I wanted to…to date, or whatever, I don’t think I know how. The last time I went out on a date, I was in high school. Things have changed an awful lot.”

  “Yeah.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a curfew anymore.”

  “More than that, I’m afraid.” The biggest change was four feet tall and likely to be full of questions and opinions about her mother having a male friend.

  “Like what?”

  “I’m just not sure how it would work. With Zara. I never envisioned myself exposing her to strange men.”

  “I’m not that strange.”

  She laughed despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Zara already likes you. She’s a regular chatterbox around you, which is highly unusual. She’s actually a bit shy around adults.”

  “Zara?”

  “Really. I’ve always been worried that if I went out with someone, she could get attached and that would make it doubly hard on her when the relationship ends. I don’t want to cause her any more difficulties than she’s already facing.”

  “I understand. Loretta, really, it’s okay. The timing’s not right.”

  Why did he have to be so darn agreeable? If he would just argue with her a little, she might be tempted beyond her convictions. She was still warm and tingly in places that had been asleep for a long time.

  They reached Luc’s car just as the meter was about to expire. He put his packages in the back and unlocked her door. She climbed in, feeling horrible and sad and wishing she weren’t so confused.

  How often did a guy like Luc Carter come into someone’s life? How many women would give up chocolate for life just to spend one night with him?

  She put on her seat belt and lapsed into silence. As Luc gradually made his way out of the Quarter and onto the freeway, fighting rush-hour traffic now, he cast a worried glance at her every so often.

  To her horror, her eyes filled up with tears, and the harder she tried to force them back, the worse they got, until they spilled onto her cheeks and she gave herself away with the most awful sob.

  “Loretta. What’s wrong?”

  “N-nothing.”

  “Bull.”

  “It’s just that ever since Jim went to prison, I’ve told myself I have to be good. I have to live my life for Zara. She’s my responsibility, my legacy, and I can’t mess it up. That’s why I gave up men, and I’ve been okay with that, but now I’m not.”

  “Oh, God, please stop crying. I can’t stand it. I’ll pull over.”

  “No, just keep driving, I’ll be fine.”

  “Aren’t you being a little hard on yourself? Lots of single mothers don’t check themselves into convents.”

  “I know.” She found a tissue in her purse and mopped at her face. She always looked horrid when she cried. Luc probably wouldn’t want to date her after seeing this side of her. “Just blame this on hormones or something, okay?”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “I know. I’m just making everything worse.”

  “Would you stop it, please? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Except I’m acting like a psycho.”

  “A little bit,” he admitted, which actually made her laugh.

  “Going without sex for nine years can do that to a person.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. Had she just said that out loud?

  “I’m going on two years myself.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “What about the girlfriend you visit every other Tuesday?” She covered her mouth again, too late to prevent those words from escaping. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she have any discretion?

  Luc turned to look at her, shocked. “What?”

  “That’s the gossip. You leave town every other Tuesday to go somewhere. And since you aren’t dating any of the local women, the logical explanation is that you have a girlfriend in New Iberia.” Loretta was ashamed to admit she was more than a little anxious to have that particular bit of gossip negated.

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Loretta desperately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Then a slow smile spread over his face. “Busted.”

  “You mean you do have a girlfriend? And you kissed me?”

  “It’s not an exclusive arrangement.”

  Loretta gave an unladylike snort. She could scratch Luc off her list. Any guy who treated women like that…“Do you really have a girlfriend? Or is this your way of positively discouraging me?”

  “Why would I try to discourage you when you’ve already discouraged yourself?” And that was the last they spoke of his mysterious Tuesday out-of-town drives.

  Loretta noticed he hadn’t truly answered her question.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LUC MANAGED TO TURN the conversation to a less personal topic, and to his great relief Loretta said nothing more about his Tuesday outings.
But it was disconcerting to realize the whole town knew about his Tuesday trips, or cared enough to guess he was seeing a girlfriend.

  It was strange to think of them speculating about him at all. Though he’d lived in Indigo well over a year, he still wasn’t used to small-town ways.

  It was in his best interest to let them believe in the fictitious girlfriend. Better than having them find out the truth. And it was better if Loretta herself believed he was unavailable. Although he’d fought against the notion at first, he could see that Doc was right: feisty, independent Loretta had a vulnerable spot when it came to relationships. If she fell for him and then discovered the truth about him, she’d never forgive herself. And she definitely wouldn’t let him near her or her daughter again.

  Given his past, he wondered if that might not be for the best. What did he have to offer a woman like her, anyway? What kind of influence would he be on a child?

  It was late afternoon by the time he pulled into the driveway of Loretta’s parents’ house, just a few blocks from the bakery. It was a warm-looking house, two stories with a big front porch. A sign in the yard advertised Indigo Honey.

  “As long as I’m here,” Luc said, “I should pick up some honey. I’ve sold quite a bit lately.” Luc featured the Castilles’ honey in a display near the front desk. In return, the Castilles included brochures for La Petite Maison with the orders they mailed out. It was a profitable arrangement for both of them.

  “I’m sure my dad will be pleased to hear that.”

  Before they’d even gotten out of the car, the front door opened and a diminutive alien burst onto the porch. At least, that’s what it looked like. It was about four feet tall and encased in a white jumpsuit, complete with gloves and a full-headed hood with screen netting over the face: Zara in a bee suit.

  “Look at you!” said Loretta as her daughter all but tackled her in an enthusiastic hug.

  Zara pulled off her hood. “Grandma cut down a big suit for me, so I could help Granddaddy with the bees. And I wasn’t hardly afraid at all.”

  “Good for you,” Loretta said.