“I’ve been up since before dawn. I’m stark, raving starving, and beating off thugs only added to my appetite,” Lucas said, bringing her out of her tormented, confused thoughts.
Willa had to wonder how he stayed in such good shape if he ate like a madman all the time. But she decided it’d be better to put such thoughts out of her mind. “Thanks for your help back there,” she told him, meaning it. “I was hoping no one would find me here.”
“They won’t again—not with me on the case, I guarantee.”
He’d stretched out that last word, his Cajun accent every bit as teasing as his merry grin. Obviously, he wasn’t as concerned about intrusive reporters as she was.
“I don’t expect you to be my protector, Lucas. I’m capable of handling them myself. After all, I’m used to it.”
He looked at her, those dark, dancing eyes touching her as closely as his arm holding hers. And making her feel extremely warm in the morning sunshine. “So you’re a model. That figures. You’ve got the face and figure for it.”
Willa looked away, toward the house where the few other guests had gathered around the long buffet table set on the downstairs gallery. “That’s what they tell me. Always in demand.”
If Lucas noticed the sarcasm in her tone, he didn’t let on. “But you didn’t come down here to be in demand, so you don’t have to handle it while you’re here. I’ll beef up security and make sure we watch everyone who comes in and out the gate. If you came here to rest, then that’s what we want you to do.”
Rest. The word made Willa want to sit down on that lovely old swing behind the big house and rock back and forth all day. Maybe with Lucas there to tease her and make her smile. Quickly shaking off that particular image, she told him, “This is certainly a perfect spot for rest and relaxation. I don’t know why I waited so long to accept Lorna’s invitation.”
Lucas pulled her close, his dark head almost touching hers as he whispered in her ear. “I sure wish you’d come sooner, and that’s a fact. We’re still recovering from the spring floods, but the gardens are coming along fine.”
The warmth of him was just too much. Willa managed to extract herself from him as they reached the back gallery, where Lorna had a full breakfast set up on the wrought-iron buffet table. “Well, I have a fact for you,” she told Lucas as she pretended to be interested in the food. “I need coffee.”
“That we’ve got. Hot and strong.”
“Then I’ll be perfectly content.”
“What about all this food? I reckon even supermodels need to eat,” he said, his arm somehow linked once again through hers. “Aren’t you hungry?”
His closeness seemed like a natural thing. Lucas was probably used to touching, hugging, being close to people.
She wasn’t.
“Maybe a little,” she replied, feeling sick to her stomach as she scanned the fresh banana bread and strawberry muffins, grits, eggs, bacon and fruit the other guests seemed to be devouring.
Lucas shoved a gleaming white plate at her. “Well, Lorna’s probably made a big production—brunch with an old friend and all. You’ll find we love to eat around here.”
Willa swallowed, thinking she probably wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. After her encounter with those photographers, she was too keyed up, too worried, too nervous to eat. She had a lot of things to work through in her time here. A lot of decisions to make. She couldn’t let Lucas Dorsette’s charming, easy ways sidetrack her. Even if he did smell so good—like water and trees, like fresh air after a slow, soft country rain.
Once again, Willa reminded herself she’d better keep such thoughts out of her head. Way too dangerous.
But she certainly could allow Lucas to show her around a little bit, act as swamp guide, maybe. That couldn’t hurt.
Unless he kept looking at her the way he was looking at her right now.
Willa couldn’t allow Lucas to get too close.
Because she knew in her heart that would be the worst thing that could happen. For both of them.
Chapter Two
“Do you have any of those fashion magazines lying around?” Lucas asked Lacey when they were alone in the kitchen.
He’d excused himself from Willa and Lorna so he could follow Lacey inside. He wanted to see for himself that Willa O’Connor was truly a fashion model. Not that he doubted it. She was the perfect example of high fashion. He wanted to be able to stare at her without anyone noticing, and he figured finding a glossy picture of her in a magazine would do the trick until he could figure out how to be around her twenty-four hours a day and still get his work done.
Lacey shot her brother a quizzical look, then grinned. “I see you’ve met Willa.”
Lucas nodded, grabbed a fresh sweet-potato roll, then chewed thoughtfully before answering. “I didn’t just meet her. I saw her standing in the morning mist on the banks of the bayou and lost my heart to her forever.”
Lacey nodded, then went right on placing fresh fruit on a tray for the breakfast guests gathered on the back gallery. “Uh-huh. How many times have I heard you say something such as that, only to find some poor brokenhearted woman at church the next Sunday, glaring at you across the pew because you suddenly found you wanted to keep your fickle heart intact, after all?”
“Ouch, that hurts. You’re cruel, Lacey, love. Very cruel.”
“And you wouldn’t know real love if it bit you on your adorable nose,” his older sister countered as she headed out the open French doors. Then she turned to face him, all seriousness and as prim and proper as ever in her pearls and lace. “Lucas, be careful with this one, will you please? From what Lorna’s told me, Willa O’Connor is dealing with some major issues right now. She doesn’t need you pestering her with one of your obsessive but rather short-lived infatuations.”
Lucas didn’t answer her. He stood, leaning against the counter, his eyes scanning the small crowd to make sure the object of this discussion was still chatting with Lorna and Mick. And wondered what issues lay behind Willa’s incredible blue-eyed million-dollar smile.
But Lacey wasn’t finished. “Besides, I don’t think Willa is the type to fall for your irresistible charms. She’s way too smart for the likes of you. She went to school at some fancy college up north, graduated with honors.”
Leave it to Lacey to drop a zinger like that with a sweet, serene smile plastered across her classic face. Lucas let out an aggravated sigh as he watched his sister play hostess with all the ingrained manners of a true Southern lady. And wished he could do something really childish like put a lizard down her starched collar.
“Do you have a magazine?” he asked Rosie Lee Babineaux, their longtime housekeeper and cook, as she passed him on her way to the industrial-size refrigerator.
“Lucas, Lucas,” Rosie Lee replied, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “You need to put your eyeballs back in your head, hein?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You got the look,” Rosie Lee told him, wagging a finger at him, her Cajun accent twice as distinctive as his.
“And what look would that be, chère?”
“That Lucas look,” Rosie Lee explained, rolling her eyes. “The one you get whenever a pretty woman is anywhere within five miles of you.”
Lucas knew she was right. But, hey, he was having fun with it, so why couldn’t everyone lay off? “I just want to investigate things a bit further,” he explained. “Maybe hang a picture of her near my pillow, so I can gaze at her with adoration….”
Rosie Lee’s