And right now, he especially loved having Willa O’Connor sitting at a wrought-iron table in beige linen pleated slacks and a stark black sleeveless summer sweater, her long hair pulled from her classic face with an exotic metal and wooden clip, her face devoid of any makeup. She looked as if she belonged in a country garden.
As always, her natural beauty assaulted Lucas with the same force as the many flowers blooming around them. It slammed into his gut with a gentle rendering, making him inhale then exhale in one quick breath. He didn’t understand this attraction, had never had to deal with anything quite so strong and sure before. He’d been attracted to other women, but he’d never felt a jolt that went all the way from his stomach to his toes.
And he’d never felt such a fierce longing, a mixture of wanting to protect her and nurture her coupled with a need to know everything about her.
“Staring is quite rude,” Aunt Hilda said under her breath as she walked past him. She took the time to stop and rap his leg with her cane before she moved on, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m going to work. And you, try to stay out of trouble.”
Lucas snapped to attention, then realized he wasn’t the only one staring at Willa. An older couple sitting at the next table—the Gilberts from East Texas—were whispering and staring. And Mrs. Gilbert had a copy of that annoying tabloid in her plump little hand.
Lucas saw the ambush coming before he could take a step to warn Willa.
“It is you, isn’t it?” Mrs. Gilbert chirped as she fluttered to her feet and rushed to Willa’s table. “See. It says so right here.” She pointed to the picture, then looked at Willa, smug and proud of her discovery. “I told William I thought this was you. The story says you didn’t show up at an important fashion event. Says you’re having personal problems.”
Lucas watched as Willa’s smile turned to stony surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“Honey, it’s okay, really,” Mrs. Gilbert said, leaning close. “I can understand why you’d want a little downtime. I mean, traveling to all those exotic places, wearing all those beautiful, costly clothes at fashion shows.” She made a shushing sound, then rolled her eyes. “I wish I had it so hard.” She beamed a smile at Willa. “Did you really walk away from a cancer benefit fashion show in New York last week?”
Willa looked at the tabloid picture, then turned as pale as the ice in her freshly squeezed orange juice. “Where did you get this?”
“The drugstore in town,” Mrs. Gilbert replied, nodding. “Went in for some sunscreen and just had to have this, too. I love catching up on all the gossip.” She pulled a pen from the pocket of her cotton tunic. “Will you sign it for me?”
Willa got up so fast, she knocked over the juice. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking around. “I…”
“I think Miss O’Connor isn’t in the mood to sign any autographs right now,” Lucas said, coming to stand by Willa, his arm gently nudging her so she could lean against him. “She didn’t give permission for that picture to be published, and the article is a complete fabrication. Well, you understand, of course, Mrs. Gilbert. There’s no big story here. Miss O’Connor just wants some privacy.” He flashed the older woman one of his best smiles. “Isn’t that the very reason you and Dr. Gilbert keep coming back to Bayou le Jardin year after year—just to get away from all the stress of running a private practice and those fussy patients? You know how we pride ourselves on keeping our guests happy.”
Mrs. Gilbert looked embarrassed, then she smiled at Lucas. “Of course, Mr. Dorsette. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She shrugged. “It’s just that, well, a supermodel, right here at breakfast. It’s not every day you find that.”
“I agree,” Lucas said, his hand squeezing Willa’s arm. Her skin felt silky soft, but cold in spite of the heat. “Miss O’Connor, have you met Mrs. Gilbert? Margaret Ann Gilbert and her husband, Dr. William Gilbert. They’ve been coming to Bayou le Jardin every summer for several years now. Two of our favorite guests.”
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Gilbert said, playfully slapping Lucas on the arm as she batted her eyelashes at him. “It’s so very nice to meet you, Miss O’Connor. My, you’re so tall.”
Willa gave Lucas a grateful look, then reached out to shake Mrs. Gilbert’s hand. “I’m sorry if I acted rudely, Mrs. Gilbert. It’s just that I thought I’d have some privacy here, and seeing that picture—”
“It’s not a very clear shot, is it?” Mrs. Gilbert replied, obviously enjoying Willa’s discomfort.
Dr. Gilbert, a tall man with a tuft of white hair, came ambling over to take his petite wife by the arm. “Margaret Ann, I declare, can’t you see the woman doesn’t want to be bothered? Now stop gawking and come on back to our table and eat your breakfast. Lorna made these cinnamon rolls especially for you, dear.”
“Yes, I certainly did,” Lorna said, getting up to find more of the freshly baked concoctions. Emily came rushing out of the kitchen with a steaming batch. “Look, here’s Em with more. Have another, then take a nice stroll around the gardens. The butterfly garden is especially pretty this time of year.”
Mrs. Gilbert gave Lorna and Willa an envious stare. “Well, I shouldn’t have any more, but I suppose I’ll never be supermodel thin like the two of you. Might as well enjoy myself in my old age, huh?”
“Exactly,” Lucas told her as he let go of Willa to escort Mrs. Gilbert to her table. Then he leaned low to whisper in the captivated woman’s ear. “And thank you for understanding about our special guest. You are such a discreet person, I hope I can count on you to know exactly the right thing to say—if anyone asks about Willa being here, that is.”
“Oh, my, of course,” Mrs. Gilbert said as Lucas gently pushed her into her chair. “William, pass me another roll, sweetheart.”
“Of course, honey,” Dr. Gilbert said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Think I’ll have another myself, too.”
Lucas left them smiling and cooing over Lorna’s fluffy iced cinnamon rolls, their coffee cups filled to the brim with a fresh brew, thanks to Emily. Lorna gave Lucas a thankful look, then headed over to entertain and distract the Gilberts.
“Thank you,” Willa said as he drew near. “I appreciate that.”
She still looked pale and shaken.
“Why don’t you sit back down,” Lucas told her. He indicated her chair. “Do you want something else? Some more juice?”
She sank into her chair. “No, no. I’m fine, really. Seeing that picture just startled me. I didn’t want anyone to know—”
“That you’re here.”
She nodded, then looked at him. “And that I didn’t live up to a commitment. I’ve never backed out of a show in my life, especially when it’s a charity event.”
Lucas snagged a crisp piece of bacon Lorna had left on her plate. “Couldn’t be helped, I reckon.”
“I should have gone through with it, but I did have my reasons for being a no-show,” Willa replied, more to herself than to him. “I’d hate to think—I don’t want people to believe—”
“People will believe what they want to believe,” Lucas interjected, his hand on hers. “You’ve obviously got a good reason for deciding to cancel out on the show.”
She looked up. “But you don’t believe me, either, do you? I can see it in your eyes. You’re wondering exactly what the rest of the world is wondering—how could I be so shallow and self-centered?”
She jumped up to stare down at him.
Lucas caught her before she could bolt for the house. “Hey, now, slow down. Yes, I’m wondering what happened. But I refuse to believe