Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series) (16 page)

Breathing deep, trying to hold on to some semblance of calm, she gazed out the windows. When was the last time she rose to watch the radiance of a new day? When had she seen rays of light cast a glow that made the world looked wonderfully refreshed? Certainly not since her engagement to Steven. Just how long had it been? Before college? For too many years, she’d juggled balancing school and duties at Fleur de Lis. Who had time for a sunrise?

The beauty of the golden light soothed the pounding in her heart. Tension eased more. Before her, a squirrel leaped from limb to limb. The bedroom’s second story windows offered a view like one would find living in a tree house. And through the trees, she caught a brief glimpse of light blue, the river flowed really close by.

Thankfully, there were no obvious neighbors in sight.

Hearing another pan bang against something brought uneasiness back to her gut. What had she been thinking? James was her assigned mentor. Their relationship had to remain professional.

She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, she was in enough control of her faculties that she could have stopped what happened. She didn’t because...she wanted the experience. She wanted James. It was all about him. She and desire had climbed a mountain, reached the highest peak, then when desire demanded full attention, she was happy to oblige. Never would she regret making love with him, no matter how loud the “good-girl” voices wanted to shout her down.

But...after last night, James could peg her as another “type”? If so, she probably wouldn’t like the label.

She scrambled for her clothes, now neatly folded in a chair by the window, and then dressed. A second later, James entered the bedroom with two mugs. He handed her one.

“Two creams. Two sugars.”

The timbre of his voice resonated low in her gut and sent a warming sensation lower. She barely managed to nod as he stood grinning at her.

She nodded again for good measure.

“Are you a morning person?” James asked.

Was he really standing there expecting a benign conversation? After everything that happened last night? In this room? In that bed? Not once, but twice. She blinked, hoping her voice would remain as casual sounding as his.

“Honestly, I love sleep. It’s the greatest luxury in life. Sunday mornings, I get up for church at the last minute. I don’t think Father John has ever seen me with makeup.” She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth. She was babbling. “A morning person by design, not voluntary.”

“I see. Catholic or Episcopalian?”

“Hail Mary’s and everything.” She chuckled nervously.

His eyes never left her. His gaze unnerved her. She raked her fingers through her hair, certain last night’s makeup had smeared her face like a Jackson Pollock painting. Taking a step forward, she whispered, “Restroom?”

“Ah. Oh. Sorry. Through there.” James pointed down the hall.

She took another step. Glanced at him. The door opening wasn’t wide enough for her to pass with him in the way. He turned and raised his hands, holding his mug high above his head. She slipped by, making sure they didn’t touch.

Inside the small bathroom, she stood in front of a pedestal sink and took a good look into the mirror. “Not
too
bad,” she muttered while wondering how to disappear and reappear at home alone. Her actions last night would shock anyone who knew her. She had shocked herself. The discomfort that dawned with the sun was something she’d never experienced before. The idea of adventure suited her far better than the actual experience. Had Lewis and Clark felt that way on their Journey of Discovery to the uncharted west?

“Branna, are you okay? I can make breakfast or I can take you out to eat. What’s your desire?” James called through the bathroom door.

Desire had led to her current predicament—hiding out in the bathroom. How in the world would she face the man at work every day? His assignment was to show her the ropes on the job, yet he managed to educate her in several new ways that had nothing to do with what they did for a living. And, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want more.

“Branna, I’m starting to get concerned. If you don’t come out, I’m going to have to come in. We can deal with the elephant in the room. We just have to talk about it.”

Not only was James a good kisser, a wonderful lover, but clearly he had some measure of mindreading skills. That made him even more dangerous. Quickly, she washed her face, rubbed it dry, then slowly opened the door.

He reached in and took both of her hands, holding them as though they were delicate like porcelain as he guided her to the living room. Could she be growing accustomed to the quivering he sent though her body with a mere touch?

The man had the most unnerving way of capturing her total attention. As they stood before the stone fireplace, about in the same spot where everything had started last night, he looked deep into her eyes, as if looking for all of her secrets. She blinked.

“There are a couple of ways to look at this situation. It only requires an open mind.”

Puzzled, she tilted her head and shifted her gaze from his eyes to his mouth.

“Yesterday evening was a non-date, but somewhere between the ‘non’ and ‘date,’ it became an actual date.”

She started to protest, but he squeezed her hands. “Hear me out. There was no way I could get you home by midnight, and we both know what happens then, so I brought you here, where no one—trust me on this—no one turns into a pumpkin at midnight.”

She furrowed her brow and remained silent. So far, he hadn’t said anything that she could argue against.

“Now, the way I see it, everything from
after
the Tin Lizzie to
dawn
was our first date, and I want today to be our second date, allowing us to dispense with all of the after-the-first-date issues.”

It alarmed her that he was making complete sense. It wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t make specific references to their
activities
between midnight and first light. That would have sent her running.

“That’s one way to look at it,” she agreed noncommittally.

“Good, then on our second date, I want us to get to know each other better and decide on when we’ll have our third date.”

“
We
,” she said. “We don’t know each other at all!”

“
Au contraire
,
mon ami
. We know quite a bit about each other.” He winked.

What craziness. Who was she? She went to bed with him, almost a stranger. And then he woke up and considered the new dawn an opportunity for a
second
date. The “good girl” warred with the “adventuring girl” in a heated battle. What should she do? James Newbern had an appealing charm. Many positive qualities. Who was she kidding? She’d lived more, drank more, and danced more with him than anyone. He was the charge to her battery. He was sexy as hell. And, she never used four-letter language, yet the facts completely warranted it this time.

But in the light of day, her daring dwindled.

“I think,” she started and offered a half smile. “I need to take a rain check on that second date. I’m not feeling too great. Plus, I don’t mix business and...”

James grinned at her. “So. Much. Pleasure.” He finished her sentence.

She wanted to slap the smile off his face.

“Hmm, are you one of
those
?” she asked.

He drew back. “One of what?”

“The type who blurs the lines between work and private life.”

“I guess you’ll just have to take a chance and find out for yourself, Miss Lind.”

Chapter 16

A dream diffused into fractured images, and sleep slipped away. Startled awake, Branna looked around. This wasn’t in her room at Fleur de Lis. Clarity settled in when she spied the green glow of the digital clock as it shined five forty-five a.m.

“Oh,” she groaned. “Another hour...have to get up. Monday...school.”

Closing her eyes, she slowed her breath, trying to coax her body to relax and her brain to quiet. She wanted to return to luxurious sleep where worries dissolved like sugar in hot tea. While Lakeview had washed her nightly bad dreams about Steven away, maybe her anxiety over James triggered them again?

Flashes of the nightmare came back to her. She found herself on stage at the Valentine’s Day auction panicked and trying to cover her total nakedness with a large fan, one with feathers that a burlesque dancer might use. All of Bayou Petite stared at her, their jaws slack in stunned silence, while her view was of Steven’s back as he abandoned her there, totally humiliated.

For months, unpleasant dreams had exposed her lack of invincibility and opened her eyes to her own fragile vulnerability. Steven’s betrayal had crushed her confidence as easily as swatting a mosquito.

After that living nightmare, her choice to remain in Bayou Petite had locked her in a tug-o-war. Staying was a stand of defiance against him. However, staying meant she risked running into him in town and at local social functions. Unfortunately, their families traveled in the same circles, and even if they didn’t, given the size of Bayou Petite, sooner or later, they were bound to meet.

She punched her pillow and flipped on her side. So what had she done about his…his philandering? Isolated herself at Fleur de Lis for months. That made her feel like only half-a-coward, but in truth she lived like one, rarely leaving the property and always in fear of running into the man who destroyed her well-planned life. She would not allow him to shatter her family with his promiscuous feats, thus she remained silent about
all
of the reasons she’d broken off the engagement.

In the end, her decision to face her fears and get on with her life drove her from home. Drove her all the way to Florida.

In an hour, she needed to rise from the safety of her bed, to start her first day of teaching. However, after Saturday night, she would forever associate
teaching
with James. In her brain, the two were intricately linked.

Frustrated that her mind continued to roam, she planted her feet on the floor, then padded to the bathroom. Turning on the light, she stared into the mirror. “You can’t hide. You can’t leave. You’ve got to face this mess, face James.”

After squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush, she worked the brush in circles as her “good-girl” conscience berated her.

How could she have made love to him? A man assigned to oversee her transition. Maybe he had a girlfriend. In that case, he was a louse. Or maybe he had something causal...remember Sara Nell.

Branna scrubbed her teeth harder. She had always laughed at the radio preachers shouting about the demons of alcohol, but now she understood firsthand—consequences came from exercising the elbow in a bar. In fact, face-to-face with Steven again might be less uncomfortable than facing James at school.

The jitterbug that danced in her gut made her want to pack up and return to the safety of Fleur de Lis. Yet as much as that idea held an appeal, if she dragged herself home, she’d forever feel like a coward and a complete failure. Such admirable qualities for the next Keeper of Fleur de Lis. Not!

Talk about morning-after regrets.

No, she wouldn’t run. She could carry on as though nothing bothered her and reconcile that one night with James as a learning experience—one night of fun and pleasure. She, too, could act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The façade of strength was better than a no-show of fortitude.

She finished washing her face, then took a deep breath. The more she tried to shift her focus, the more her thoughts drifted to James. The man took cool tingles and ramped up them to a hot sizzle. Could the magnetic pull of attraction between them sit on simmer? It would take an ocean of self-control to keep her distance from him. The picture in her mind of James standing naked before the window in the moonlight made her dizzyingly hot. The heat of his hands on her body was more than a mere memory.

She fanned her face to cool the flush before putting on her makeup.

At least this morning she finally felt human.

Not like yesterday.

The weekend had been wild, at least measured by her standards. How did her sister and Biloxi manage to party all the time? Did a person build up endurance to liquor, loud music, and dancing? Or did a hot looking guy somehow trigger hormones that made a woman go crazy?

A chair held the clothes she laid out last night, but she went to her closet and searched for something different. A blue and white summer dress she’d picked from the Brooks Brother’s catalog last year and had never worn.

“It fits fine,” she said to her reflection in the mirror.

Partying as she had on Saturday night at Tin Lizzie would kill her before she could build up enough endurance to handle it on a once-a-week basis. How boring her life must seem to others. However, she’d take fine dining and a jazz concert over the raucous Tin Lizzie and bar food.

But as long as James danced with her, she’d probably follow him anywhere.

He’d brought her home yesterday morning, after a tall Bloody Mary with breakfast, rather than dropping her off at her car. Afterward, she slept most of the day, which helped her avoid the pounding in her head and the queasiness in her stomach. She rose once, thinking she might eat, but standing before the open refrigerator door, the idea of food made her first ever hangover worse. She worked at rehydrating—all the salt on the rim of the margarita had made her thirstier than parched cotton growing in a drought. However, after hours of sipping only water, she could pass for a bloated fish floating in the Mississippi. She switched to club soda and washed down Tylenol. That had finally stopped the throbbing in her head.