Kane (11 page)

“No, not so far,” she said with a quick glance at Kane.

“What's this?” Luke asked. “Something I should know about?”

“Later,” Kane answered.

Roan Benedict ignored them both, keeping his gaze on Regina. “You have a problem, let me know. Any time.”

“I'll do that,” she said, and felt warmed by his concern.

The sheriff smiled, then directed a keen gaze toward Luke. “I hate to take you and Kane away from such fine company, but could you spare a few minutes?”

“No problem.” Their host glanced around for a table on which to set his glass down, then raised a brow at Kane, who indicated his readiness. “Excuse us, ladies?”

Regina murmured something appropriate, though depression settled over her. Now she would have to manufacture some other way to get near Kane again.

“Men,” April Halstead said with a shake of her head as she watched the three walk away.

Regina could only agree with the terse comment on the mysterious departure. At the same time, she couldn't help watching the three of them. They made a striking picture with their broad shoulders, lean hips,
and free-swinging strides. An odd feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Strange, but it felt almost like a warning.

Voice compressed, she said, “I don't suppose you have any idea what's up?”

April laughed. “I'd say they're going to set up the fireworks for later.”

“You really think so?” She wanted to believe it since she'd been half afraid the conference had something to do with her.

“Luke makes a big deal out of it. Nothing is too much trouble. The other two are more adult about it, but of course they have to help.”

“But since Roan is the sheriff—”

“That just means he feels responsible for making sure nobody gets hurt. The amount of firepower Luke shoots off every year could start a small war. One year, he even shot tracer bullets.”

“You mean with a gun?”

“A rifle. You know how Southern men are about their firearms. Everybody has one or two, or a dozen.”

“Not with them?” Regina glanced around uneasily.

“No, no,” the other woman answered on a laugh. “At least, no one except Roan, and he's allowed. You know, now I think about it, I expect the guys are going to get everything in place for the main event before it starts raining. Wouldn't do for the firepower to fizzle out, now would it?”

April's manner was free and easy, her inner warmth plain in her voice. She had grace and charisma and a soft-edged beauty that was restful and nonthreatening. There was also an intelligent light in her golden brown
eyes that weighed but did not judge. Regina could not help liking her, in spite of herself.

“I take it you're not a Benedict?” she commented.

April's smile widened. “No, thank goodness. I committed the unpardonable sin of invading Benedict territory when I bought an old plantation house out here on the lake.”

“Thank goodness?”

“I'd never be able to get any writing done if I was a part of that clan. One person's problem is everybody's, and everybody's problems are one's own—which has its advantages, I'll admit, since you never have to fight a battle alone—but it means endless discussions and family councils over things large and small, never being alone in anything.”

It sounded lovely, so lovely that Regina felt an odd, desolate ache in her chest. “You've lived here quite a while, then, to know them so well?”

“I was born in Turn-Coupe, but moved away for a few years. I've been out here on the lake for a while now.”

The vague answer might mean something or nothing at all, Regina thought. Certainly, it didn't suggest any conversational leads. Trying valiantly to keep something going, she said, “How did you get started writing romance novels?”

“I loved reading romantic fantasies, so why not write them? My start was with historical romance, and I still do one now and again when the spirit moves me, but I concentrate on contemporary women's fiction.”

“Which is?”

“Stories about male-female relationships today,
women in jeopardy, women who must make major decisions that will affect the direction of their lives and of others around them. Actually, it means any story that has validity for the lives of women.”

“You write modern stories, but live in an old house?”

April laughed. “It's the romantic in me, I guess. I like to think I must have lived in another time, when candlelight and long dresses were standard fare.”

“Past lives?”

“It's fascinating to think about, don't you agree?”

It was another evasion, polite, not at all confrontational, but effective. Regina thought she should be taking lessons. Or better yet, she ought to be delving for information Gervis could use instead of exercising her own curiosity. “I suppose people come to you with all sorts of stories, all kinds of family legends and secrets?”

“Sometimes.” April's clear, golden brown gaze was a little too knowing for comfort.

“Do you ever use any of them?”

“Hardly ever. Truth is supposed to be stranger than fiction, but fiction is a great deal safer in these litigious times.”

Regina couldn't help smiling at the droll expression on her face. “I expect so.”

April was still studying her. In curious tones, she said, “You had something in mind?”

“Not really. I guess I was just thinking of this business with Kane's grandfather. The suit is one thing, of course, but with his family having the funeral home for so long, it seems lots of interesting things must have occurred there in the past.”

“If they did, no one will ever know. Mr. Lewis likes to tell stories about the old days, but would never think of gossiping about his friends and neighbors.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Regina said reflectively.

“And yet you wonder, yes? Well, so do I. Actually, I seem to have heard something about a woman who died a suicide, but when they removed her wedding band, the initials inside were not her husband's. Now that kind of thing might make a story if I dared use it.”

“Why wouldn't you?”

April tilted her head so her long, sun-streaked brown hair fell over one shoulder in a shimmering slide. “Kane wouldn't like it.”

“Kane? What would he have to say about it?”

A rich chuckle broke from April. “A great deal, I imagine, and all of it lethal. He's very protective of his grandfather, you know. Especially now.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Regina agreed. “It's very caring of him, really, very—”

“Sweet? That's Sugar Kane.” The look in the other woman's eyes was soft.

“You're the second person who's called him that,” Regina said dryly, since the words were not exactly what she'd had in mind.

“Actually, I was the first. I gave him the moniker back in high school.”

“Did you?” She let her tone carry the appeal for more.

April lifted a silk-clad shoulder in a resigned gesture. “Kane was something else when we were kids. He and his uncle worked their old place out here on the lake, raising soybeans, cotton, and enough sugar
cane to make syrup every fall. All that farm labor gave him muscles and a tan that were a sight to behold, not that he ever gave it a thought. He and Luke were a pair, always up to some outrageous prank and dragging Roan into it half the time. That was before they all discovered girls—or the girls discovered them. They turned into rebels then, totally cool in a laidback kind of way. They were the most popular guys in town, had every female for miles around ready to swoon.”

Regina could imagine it. Too well, in fact. As April paused, she said, “Go on.”

“They were special, the three of them. Never took advantage of a girl, but seldom refused what was offered—and you couldn't pry a word out of them about it afterward. They never said a word they didn't mean or promised what they couldn't deliver. Kane, especially, had a Galahad streak a mile wide. He was always the first to offer a pretty girl his coat in cold weather, the first to tell a boy who got out of line to back off or put an end to teasing that got too raw. He's the kind who would have ridden off to the Crusades in another era.”

“Somehow,” Regina said dryly, “the knights of the Crusades never struck me as sweet.”

“You've got me there,” April agreed, “though I'm sure some of them must have been. What I'm thinking of is that image of chivalry and daring. Anyway. Where was I?”

“The nickname?”

“Right. In our senior class was a banker's daughter, a poor girl almost six feet tall, plagued by buckteeth and hair like a Brillo pad. She never had a date, never
had a boyfriend. Her father tried to help her by hiring the son of a family friend to take her to the senior dance. He took her all right, but left her sitting against the wall while he had himself a good time. Everybody knew, of course, and some were laughing about it. The girl was near tears. Then Kane stepped up and led her out onto the floor. He slow danced with her through the most romantic piece of the evening, like Prince Charming with Cinderella. She was absolutely dazzled.”

“What about his date?” Regina asked with an arched brow.

April laughed, a warm, easy sound. “That was me, and I didn't mind at all, mainly because I was dancing with Luke at the time. But I couldn't help watching Kane and the banker's daughter. When Luke noticed, I said to him, ‘Isn't that the nicest thing for Kane to do? He's sweet as sugar, don't you think?' Of course, Luke being Luke, that was all it took.”

“He thought it was funny?” Regina couldn't keep the censure from her tone. She rather liked the idea of Kane rescuing the contemporary equivalent of a damsel in distress. Perhaps because the few times she had needed a Galahad there had been none available.

“He thought it was priceless,” the romance author corrected with a reminiscent smile. “He also thought it was wonderfully descriptive, completely appropriate—and guaranteed to get Kane's goat. Which it did. Still does, for that matter. You'd have to know Luke to understand. He's every bit as complex as Kane, in his own way.”

“You seem to think a lot of them both.” Regina
swirled what was left of her wine, watching it with exaggerated attention.

“That's one way to put it. We all grew up together, dated together, ran around all over the country together.”

A choked feeling that might almost have been jealousy moved through Regina. What must it have been like to be part of such a close-knit group, to have enjoyed the kind of uncontrolled freedom that the woman beside her seemed to be suggesting. In careful mildness, she said, “But you didn't wind up married to either of them.”

April gave a rueful shake of her head that made her hair sway down her back. “Francie came along and took Kane out of the game. Then something happened to Luke, a terrible accident. As for me, well, I was stupid. But it's all done now, and there's no use worrying about it.”

“By Kane being out of the game, you mean…?”

“Engaged. To Francie. She was something else, that girl, a hellion on heels.” April stared at Regina an instant, her gaze intent. “I probably shouldn't mention it, but you're the first woman Kane has shown any interest in since.”

“I think you may have the wrong idea. We hardly know each other.” She could have kicked herself the instant the words left her mouth. What was the matter with her that integrity kept getting in her way. Unless it was the examples around her?

“That's not how I heard it from Vivian Benedict.”

The sparkle in April's eyes was a strong indication she'd heard the tale of the coffin. The last thing Regina wanted was to explain the details. She said hastily,
“Vivian also mentioned Francie and what she did to Kane.”

“Did she now? That's interesting,” April said. “I must not be the only one grateful that Kane's waking up and dragging himself away from the law books. So you know all about the fake pregnancy scheme?”

“Apparently, there was every possibility his fiancée could have been pregnant.”

“Well, yes. But to tell a man he is going to lose his child in one breath and demand money in the other—particularly a man like Kane who places such value on family—doesn't that strike you as cruel?”

Regina put a hand to the amber pendant at her throat. “Yes, certainly, and also incredibly stupid. She should have known he wouldn't leave it at that, that he would be concerned enough to follow through and discover if everything turned out all right.”

“See there!” April exclaimed in triumph. “I knew you had to be special. You only just met Kane, but you see and understand the kind of caring, responsible person he is far better than Francie who had known him most of his life.”

“What I see,” Regina said with a wry twist of her lips, “is his tenacity, the iron-hard determination to see things to their bitter end.”

April frowned, but made no answer, for they were joined by a would-be writer who wanted to speak to her. Left temporarily to her own devices, Regina glanced around her, noticed Lewis Crompton still holding court out on the back gallery. Since she felt a bit in the way and enough time had passed that it wouldn't look quite as if she was reaching for a lifeline, she moved purposefully in that direction.

Kane's grandfather saw her coming. With a wide gesture of one arm, he welcomed her into the circle that had formed around him, a bit of courtesy for which she was supremely grateful.

There was an older woman standing at his side, one with a lithe and upright figure, magnolia-like skin, and silvery hair brushed back from her face in gentle waves. She was introduced as Elise Pickhart, and Regina realized this was the lady who occupied Mr. Lewis's lunch hour every Tuesday.

It was fascinating to see the older couple together. They interacted with each other in a seamless duet of small touches and smiles to direct attention or make a point. Miss Elise finished Mr. Lewis's sentences for him and supplied missing words, while he deferred to her opinions and introduced topics on which he seemed to know she would shine. It was as if they had long been married, Regina thought, and wondered why they were not.