Um, I don’t think so. Nick would only love pink if money suddenly turned that color.
Aunt Dot, the butch lesbian, was blunt. “I kicked Nick Coltrane’s slimy ass out of my office today. What did you ever see in that loser?”
I wish I knew!
Her grandfather called, too, on another subject. He apparently hadn’t been contacted by Nick. Yet. “Samantha, honey, I’m plannin’ on takin’ Louise Rivard ta that LeDeux pool party on Saturday. It’s her birthday. Will you be there? Luc is your lawyer, isn’t he? Haven’t seen you in ages, honey.” Her grandfather Stanley Starr, founder of Starr Foods, was a good friend of Tante Lulu’s. How good, she did not want to know.
Samantha was putting some linens on the new bed when she heard a ruckus coming from the second parlor. Lots of “Holy shits,” puppies barking, cats screeching. Samantha finished straightening the bed and went out to see what was going on.
Lily Beth, sitting in a lawn chair in the hall, supervised while Angus and Daniel were putting all five puppies in wire travel crates, along with two of the cats, Garfield and Felix. Madeline watched the proceedings from the window seat, her posture daring anyone to try and put her in a cage. Axel, secure in his place with Samantha, bored with the proceedings, gnawed on a rawhide bone. Clarence was squawking so much his expletives ran together in one long scream, “HolyshitHolyshitHolyshit!” Emily emitted several distressed oinks as she kept following after her new best friend, Daniel. Apparently, they’d bonded on the trip to the pet shrink.
“What are you doing?” she asked Daniel.
He didn’t even stop. Instead, he and Angus continued carrying the crate with five puppies out into the hall, through the front door, across the gallery, and down the steps to the waiting pickup truck with the open tailgate. He did explain over his shoulder, though, as she followed after him, “I’m taking matters into my own hands. Decreasing the pet population.”
“How?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You better not be thinking about putting them down.”
After arranging the one cage in the truck bed, Daniel turned on her, wiping perspiration from his forehead with a forearm. “Oh, you of little faith!” He chucked her under the chin and walked back up the stairs. “Do you really think I’m that heartless?”
“No, but . . .”
“I’m taking the three puppies to those people who already agreed to adopt them. The other two puppies and the two cats will go to folks I know who are in need of a pet.”
“Like who?”
“Let’s just say I’m pulling in some chits.”
“Daniel! You can’t just push pets on people.”
“Wanna bet.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. It’s best that you stay out of sight. Just give me the addresses. I’ll go myself. On the way back, I might stop at the cancer center.”
What need did he have to stop at the medical center? Did it have something to do with that little girl? Or some work he’s doing there? Or maybe one of the nurses is a girlfriend.
“On the other hand, I’m pretty scruffy. Maybe tomorrow. In any case, if I’m not back by eight, don’t worry.”
“But . . . but I made dinner.”
“Go ahead and eat . . . you and Lily Beth and Angus. Save some for me.” He seemed to think of something else, which caused him to smile. For a man who had been prone to frowning most of the time, he sure was smiling a lot now. “Maybe I’ll bring some ice cream back with me.”
“Uh . . . okay.” She didn’t see why ice cream would make him smile in such a mischievous way. Maybe he had a sweet tooth.
“Peach ice cream,” he elaborated. “Tongue licking good!”
Whatever that meant. “Well, if we’re picking favorites, I choose Ben & Jerry’s Salty Caramel.”
“That’ll do, too.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and licked his lips. More mischief!
Men! Honestly. They put innuendoes on the oddest things.
After a quick shower, she changed into classic black cotton, Calvin Klein boxers and an old, gray silk Alexander Wang tee that she’d had for ages. She would have to wash clothes soon; she hadn’t packed much last night. Oh, God! Had it only been one day that she’d been here, since this whole escapade began? It seemed like a week.
She shook her head to clear it of these reminders of the mess she was in. It was still hot and muggy, which caused her hair to frizz up; so, she pulled it off her face and scrunched the mass into a knot on top of her head, leaving her face and neck blessedly cool, or relatively so.
Samantha ate with Lily Beth and Angus at about six. The gumbo turned out delicious, especially with a frozen baguette she put in the oven (She’d kept the door shut with some duct tape), cold sweet tea (thanks to the new, glorious fridge), and the last of Tante Lulu’s beignets for dessert.
While they cleared the table and washed the dishes, they talked. Lily Beth was worried about Nick finding her, about how big and clumsy she was becoming, about her constant heartburn, about the approaching birth, and about what she would do with the baby once it was born. She still hadn’t decided whether she would keep the baby, which she would like to do but would be difficult if she resumed her education, or give the baby up for adoption. Angus wasn’t worried at all, which was a worry in itself; he trusted that she and Daniel would handle everything.
Lordy, Lordy! as her grandmother used to say. “We should know more tomorrow after Luc and John LeDeux have spoken with the authorities. Why don’t you go rest, Lily Beth,” she suggested. “The new bed is guaranteed to be more comfortable than the air mattresses. I’ll finish up here.”
Lily Beth accepted the offer, gladly, and waddled off.
To Angus, Samantha said, “Be careful what you say or do on that damned computer of yours. Maybe the mob could put a trace or something on it. I saw them do that on NCIS one time.”
Angus poo-poohed the idea. “My laptop is secure, believe me. As for Jimmy Guenot and his mob, they don’t know a computer cache from money cash. I once told Jimmy that I had five gigabytes on my flash, and he asked me how the hell I got pig bites on my ass.”
“Still, be careful.”
It was nine o’clock before Daniel returned, and he didn’t have any ice cream. Darn it! He didn’t have any animals with him, either, which she supposed was a good thing. She would ask him for details later.
He looked beyond exhausted. The white T-shirt he’d donned this morning was plastered to his chest and back with sweat and covered with animal hair. He had scratch marks on his forearms. A nighttime stubble covered his face.
She met him in the front hallway, where she noticed that everyone, people and animals, seemed to have settled down for the night. The pocket doors to the front parlor were closed, but the low sound of a movie streamed from Angus’s laptop. She thought she could hear Lily Beth snoring.
From the second parlor, where the pocket doors were also closed, Clarence was calling out his usual expletives, but the other animals must be sleeping. Someone needed to teach the bird something new. It was amazing to her that the animals who had insisted on sleeping with her at home were content together here behind closed doors.
Aaron had returned a few hours ago, ate, and went back out again, no explanation for where he was going, or when he’d be back. Not that she’d asked.
“You found homes for all the animals?” she asked Daniel.
He nodded.
“Everything okay at the cancer center.”
“I decided to wait until tomorrow.”
“Do you want to shower before you eat dinner?”
“Oh, God! Yes, please.”
He trudged tiredly up the steps, and she went back to the kitchen to reheat the gumbo and rice. Everything was set out on the table when he came down fifteen minutes later.
“Feel better?” she asked.
He hadn’t shaved, but he’d put on a clean white T-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts and rubber thongs. He smelled like Irish Spring. “
A thousand times better,” he said, sitting down on the bench at the table.
She sat down on the opposing bench and poured them both iced sweet tea in large Solo cups.
He ate ravenously, a big bowl of gumbo and rice, with four slices of the baguette, then asked for a second helping. “My mother prided herself on her gumbo. Even though she lived most of her life in Alaska, she remembered her Cajun roots,” he told her conversationally. “This is almost as good.”
Daniel had never talked about his mother, or his notoriously lecherous father, Valcour LeDeux, but now was not the time for questions. “Almost?”
“Equal, maybe,” he said with a smile.
Increasingly today, she’d realized that his smile was a killer. The kind that made a woman think of things she probably shouldn’t. Maybe she’d always known, but didn’t want to admit her attraction.
“Anything new here?”
“Not much.” She told him about all her unanswered phone calls. “I think Nick is starting to connect my sudden inaccessibility with Angus’s disappearance.”
“As long as he doesn’t make a connection with me, or this plantation, you should be safe.”
“I feel really guilty about getting you involved in all this.”
“I can take it. My shoulders are wide.”
“I noticed,” she said, before she could bite her tongue.
He smiled again, and this time the impossibly sexy dimple emerged.
“I never thought that my initial offer to help Angus would spiral out of control like this.” She was circling the rim of her cup with a forefinger, nervous for some reason. Maybe because of the way Daniel was staring at her so intently.
“Would you have refused to help him if you knew?”
She barely hesitated before answering, “No. I couldn’t have turned him, or Lily Beth, away.”
“So, you deal with it.”
“‘If life gives you lemons, make lemonade’?”
“Something like that. Or ‘if life gives you lemons, add some salt and tequila’?”
They both smiled at each other then.
“Oh, I forgot,” he said suddenly. “I talked to Luc on the way back. He’ll be coming here tomorrow, about nine. He’s bringing a couple FBI agents with him. John will come, too, with the local sheriff. They might want to post some officers around the property, or at the least have officers pass here often on rounds. The other alternative is a safe house.”
She groaned. “It’s going to be chaos here. Even more so than it is now.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He was staring at her again in that strange way.
“We should probably go to bed . . . I mean, you look totally beat. Did you sleep at all last night? Sleep is what you need. Me, too, though I don’t know if I can sleep with all this stuff running around in my head.”
“I have a solution,” he said, taking her hand in his, the one whose forefinger had been nervously stroking the Solo cup.
A zing of apprehension raised all the fine hairs on her body. Or was it pleasure at that mere tactile feel of skin on skin?
Still holding her gaze, with her one hand in his, joined in the middle of the table, the thumb caressing her wrist, he suggested, “Let’s go to bed together.”
“What . . . what do you mean?” She tried to yank her hand away, but he held it tighter. In fact, he tugged her forward so that they both leaned into the table.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
The heat that filled her cheeks betrayed her. “You mean, you want sex.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Daniel, you’re clearly exhausted. You are not up for this. Not tonight.”
“Oh, I’m up all right. I’ve been up all day,” he said, deliberately misreading her.
I stepped into that one. “So, any woman will do.”
“No. I want you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“You don’t even like me. You’ve made that more than obvious ever since I met you.”
“I like you now.”
A thrum of something began to beat in her breasts and low in her belly. An erotic pulse. “What is it, exactly, that you’re suggesting?”
“Anything. And everything.” He used his free hand to wipe across his face. “Listen, don’t make a big thing about this. I want you. I’m pretty sure you want me. We’re not talking about forever. You want a big family, I don’t want even one child. But we can still enjoy each other.”
No children reminded her of Nick. “Have you had a vasectomy?”
“Hell, no! But that doesn’t mean I ever want to bring a child into this world. Ever.”
“A one-night stand then, that’s what you’re suggesting?”
A grin twitched at his lips. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. I doubt this whole situation, with you and your gang trapped here, will be over in one day or night. It could be a week, or more.”
“So, a one-week stand?”
“Semantics.”
“An affair? For the duration of my stay?”
“A mutually agreeable affair, until one of us calls a halt. No hard feelings. Not even a break-up because there would be no real relationship to begin with.”
Men! They thought women could turn sex on and off with no emotional involvement. It was out of the question, of course. She had her pride.
Sensing her hesitation, he told her, “I’ve been thinking about you. Fantasizing. All day. Last night, too. It’s driving me crazy. I . . . want . . . you.”
“Like those sex dreams we shared?”
“Worse. No, better.” He went on then to describe in graphic detail the sex fantasies he’d been entertaining throughout the day, all of which starred her. One of them involved ice cream, warm fudge topping, and sprinkles. And bananas!
She tried to hide the fact that she was shocked . . . and, yes, turned on . . . by remarking as calmly as she could, “Sounds messy.”
“Doesn’t it!” he said, as if messy sex were a good thing.
Then he elaborated on an outdoor sex fantasy. No way to hide her body secrets in the bright sunshine, he told her, because he was looking at her. Everywhere! They were lying on a grassy field, or a meadow. And the things he did to tickle her with petals of wildflowers! But then she’d been showing him how to weave a flower chain around his favorite body part.
Samantha couldn’t help but blush. “You certainly are creative.”
“I’ve had years to practice. Nothing else to do when you’re retired with nothing else to pass the time.”
“Uh-huh,” she said.
Then he told her about his other sex fantasies involving animal furs (fake ones, of course), nude dancing, and ankle bracelets. He seemed to have a thing about the sleep outfit she’d had on yesterday evening . . . the silk pants and camisole top; they featured in lots of his scenarios. The most interesting to her was the one where she was stretched out on a bed, her freckled nude body a pure temptation against the white background of the sheets. Cascades of auburn hair (he said red, but she knew it was auburn, aka Mahogany Fire by Charles Max) were spread around her and on her. Her lips were cherry red. In essence, she looked like a sex goddess. His words, not hers.
Imagine that! Me, a sex goddess!
“So, what do you say? Wanna play?”
She was stunned speechless. Of course, she was interested. But should she? Could she?
“Just think about it,” he said, standing. “I need to go over to the garconniére to check on the cats and lock up. Aaron won’t be back tonight.”
And just like that, he was gone. Leaving her stunned and so turned on she squirmed on the bench.
But then, she narrowed her eyes. The teaser! The cool manner with which he’d made such a hot suggestion. He’d probably done it on purpose to rattle her. Probably thought she was such a prude that she’d go hide under a sheet somewhere.
It was a challenge.
And she’d never backed down from a challenge before, even
though she’d never had one quite like this.
Did she have the nerve?
Would she be making a fool of herself?
Who cared!
Boy, did Daniel have a surprise coming!
Chapter Twenty
She showed him! . . .
Daniel made sure the house was secure and did a final check on Samantha’s animals. He even kissed the pig. No, not on the lips, but on top of its adorable head.
I can just hear Aaron mocking me. So, sue me! I’ve developed an affection for Porky Pig’s needy, mini cousin.
No way would he attempt to kiss Maddie, though; the cougar cat would probably scratch his eyes out. Nor Axel who needed a bath after rolling around outside in something that smelled like chicken shit. The pig smelled better than the dog did. But then, Daniel was beginning to think pigs got a bad rep. Small, potbellied ones, anyhow.
And, yes, he knew what chicken shit smelled like because Aunt Mel had once had the bright idea of a chicken coop in their backyard. A heated chicken coop since the birds would have frozen their feathery asses off in an Alaska winter. They had lots of poultry to eat that year when his mother discovered that the electric bill had skyrocketed, that chickens made a lot of noise, especially when she was trying to sleep, and that Daniel and Aaron made piss-poor chicken shit shovelers.
Those were the days! he thought, with a sigh. It was at odd moments like this that he missed his mother most.
Would Aunt Mel want to have chickens here, if she came? He decided that he didn’t really care, one way or the other. Hell, he’d become used to a foul-mouthed cockatoo, barking dogs, narcissistic cats, and a depressed pig. What did one more species matter? Look what he’d conceded for Samantha’s sake. Whatever Samantha wants, Samantha gets. Too bad she didn’t want him. At least, he didn’t think she wanted him.
Thank God he’d been able to get rid of . . . find good homes for . . . the five animals today. Aside from the three adoptees Samantha had lined up, one of the nurses at the cancer center that he’d helped move one day from an apartment to a cottage with her toddler son (a leukemia survivor) now had a “cute” little puppy. Remy LeDeux and his big adopted family had a puppy and a cat named Garfield. Remy hadn’t been home, but his wife Rachel had, and several of their kids. Daniel would probably be hearing from Remy later. And then there was the fisherman who’d sold them several truckloads of crushed shells for the driveway; Henri now had a new boat cat named Felix.