River Road

by JoAnn Ross

  "I'm not."

  "Then it's none of your concern. All you have to worry about is showing up on time and knowing your part. Because the better you've memorized your lines, the faster the shoot will go and the sooner you'll be on the way to your new life."

  Ten minutes later Julia was still fuming, walking off her frustration, muttering about the ridiculousness.

  "Thank you," she said to Finn as she stopped at the water's edge several hundred yards from Beau Soleil.

  "For what?"

  "For not offering advice."

  "Are you kidding? All I know about your business is that you have to be nuts to want to do it. No offense intended," he tacked on quickly.

  "None taken. Because it's true." She folded her arms and sighed as she watched a trio of blue herons walking along on their stilted legs. One ducked his feathered head into the water and speared a small striped water snake, which disappeared into his long beak.

  "It's just so frustrating." She sighed and willed the anger to drain out of her. He was standing behind her; when she leaned back against him, he looped his arms lightly around her waist and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

  "I might not be an expert on show business, but I do think I'm getting a handle on how to take your mind off it."

  Her lips quirked. He'd loosened up so much since they'd met. Or perhaps she'd quit expecting the worst from him.

  "Think so, huh?"

  He turned her toward him, drew her against his chest. "I know so." His lips nibbled at hers, tasting, teasing. She'd just gone up on her toes, twining her arms around his neck, when the distant roar of a diesel engine captured her reluctant attention.

  "Oh, no."

  "What now?" She felt him tense, as if prepared to protect her against invading vandals.

  "They're here. Freedom and Peace." How could her parents' impending visit have slipped her mind? Because, she thought, as the huge fancifully painted bus drove into view, her mind was filled with Finn. "My parents."

  After exchanging greetings and kisses and being enveloped in her father's arms like a cub embraced by papa bear, Julia said a silent little prayer and introduced her parents to Finn, and him to them. Her father was dressed in his usual black shirt and jeans. Like country singer Johnny Cash, who'd owned one of his paintings, Freedom had sworn to wear the color until no American lived in poverty. He'd added a touch of color since Julia saw him last: a small red, white and blue Stars-and-Stripes patch over his chest pocket.

  His hair, which he'd tied back with a leather thong, was long and beginning to be streaked with gray, which was also a surprise since she'd never actually thought of her father as a grown-up. He was a long way from being old yet, but it was odd to think of him no longer being young.

  Peace, on the other hand, could have been Julia's slightly older sister. Her hair was still a burnished auburn, her body, beneath the flowing sunset color tunic and skirt, as shapely as ever. The faint lines extending out from her soft, moss-hued eyes were evidence that she smiled easily and often.

  "Mr. Callahan." She extended a slender hand. "We've so been looking forward to meeting you."

  "It's good to meet you, too, Mrs. Summers."

  "Oh, please, call me Peace," she said, her melodious voice singing like a silver bell. "All our friends do." She tilted her head. "You're an earth sign."

  "So I've been told."

  "And Julia's air."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes. Everything's individualistic, of course, and I'd have to do your chart, but they can often balance each other beautifully."

  "Earth signs can also tether airs to the ground," Freedom growled. He extended his hand, which was scarred and nicked from years of chiseling his famous chairs before turning to paint and canvas. "Callahan." His tone was frankly skeptical, his eagle-sharp dark eyes openly appraising this man he wasn't yet prepared to welcome into his daughter's life. "So, you've known our Julia long, have you?"

  "Daddy," Julia murmured.

  "Not as long as I'd like," Finn said, surprising Julia by lacing their fingers together at his side in a show of solidarity.

  "Isn't that lovely, dear." Peace's soft eyes pleaded with her husband to make nice. "I remember you saying much the same thing to my father."

  "I don't recall anything like that." He didn't take his gaze from Finn.

  "Oh, you did." Julia thought it was the first time in her entire life she'd heard her mother fudge the truth. "The day I brought you home to meet my parents."

  Family lore had Julia's maternal grandfather, a San Francisco investment banker, less than thrilled when his daughter, Katherine, broke off her marriage to a corporate lawyer for Jonathon Summers, a love-bead-wearing, pot-smoking, long-haired hippie Deadhead Berkeley war protestor who had the nerve to claim he was going to support the two of them by carving furniture from discarded grapevines.

  The older man had hit the roof, thrown them out of his Pacific Heights mansion, cut off Katherine's trust funds, and refused all contact with the couple until Julia's birth melted the ice he'd encased himself in since that day he'd stubbornly let his daughter walk out of his home and his life.

  "No." Freedom had never been one to shade the truth. Not even for social niceties. "What I told him was that he was an uptight, pampered Republican establishment capitalist crook living in the lap of luxury off the backs of honest, hard-working laborers."

  "Well, there was that," Peace allowed, sharing a faint smile with Julia. "But you did inform him that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, whether he liked it or not."

  "And I meant every word. Including the crook part, but especially the part about the rest of our lives." Julia watched the male antagonism he'd been radiating toward Finn soften as he looked down at his partner of more than thirty years.

  Then he returned his attention to Finn, who appeared respectful, but not a bit intimidated. "I think the bus may have a leak in its air hose. I don't suppose you'd know anything about engines."

  "A bit." It wasn't exactly a lie. Finn had helped his brother change the spark plugs on Jack's old GTO back when they'd been kids.

  "Then let's go take a look at it." Freedom turned and walked toward the fancifully painted home on wheels, clearly expecting Finn to follow.

  "It'll be all right," Finn assured Julia, easily reading her concern. He touched his hand to her cheek, bent his head, and brushed a quick kiss against her lips, which had the power to curl her toes.

  "Your Finn seems nice," Peace murmured. "His aura is very intense, but that can be a good thing. So long as all that force is directed toward good."

  "Oh, it is," Julia assured her.

  "Of course it is. That would be obvious to someone without any intuition," She combed her hand through the slide of hair that fell to her waist in the same style she'd worn as a young girl handing her heart to a man who'd bring his own brand of force into her life. "I'm also relieved to see that you've given up dating weak, undependable men."

  "They were artists. Creative men. Like Daddy."

  "Whether they were creative is for others to judge. But believe me, darling, they were nothing like your father. It's possible for a man to be artistic and strong. Your father is. They were not."

  Good point. "So how come you never mentioned that before?"

  "Because we all have to make our own choices and mistakes. I'm also finding it amusing that you'd follow in my footsteps when you decided to fall in love."

  "I'm hardly following in your footsteps, since I'm certainly not in love with Finn." Julia might have grown up in an open environment, but she wasn't prepared to discuss her lustful feelings for Finn with her mother.

  "Whatever you say, dear," Peace said mildly. She ran her graceful hand down Julia's riot of curls. "My father was less than pleased I'd fallen in love with a bohemian spirit. I doubt yours is thrilled with the idea of his only daughter giving her heart to an FBI agent."

  "I haven't given anyone my heart," she insisted. "And how could y
ou tell he's FBI? The tabloid didn't mention him being a Special Agent. And besides, he isn't wearing a suit."

  Peace laughed at that. "Darling, the man doesn't have to wear a suit to reveal who he is. It's as plain as those riveting ice blue eyes."

  "Damn. Finn said it wouldn't work," Julia muttered.

  "Is everything all right?" Her mother's smile faded as she looked at Julia with maternal concern. "Is your stalker back? Is that how you and Finn happen to be together?"

  "I don't know." She was not surprised that her mother had put two and two together. "I've received a couple of strange notes, so Finn's watching out for me as a favor to his brother, who's the mayor. But I can't believe it's anything really serious." She glanced warily over toward the back of the bus, where both men appeared intrigued by the engine. "What do you think Daddy will do?"

  "I have no idea. Which is one of the more interesting things about living with him. However, there are two things I do know."

  "What are those?" Julia asked apprehensively. A crew from Entertainment Tonight was arriving in Blue Bayou this afternoon, so a fistfight between her father and her lover was not what she needed right now.

  "Your father has never been anything but fair. And," Peace's speculative gaze skimmed over the men, "your Finn can certainly handle anything Freedom plans to dish out."

  "Oh, God," Julia moaned.

  * * *

  Freedom had never minced words. He did not now. "You realize you're not fooling anyone."

  "I'm not trying to," Finn said mildly.

  "I'm assuming my daughter knows you're a Special Agent."

  "Yes sir. She does."

  "So, she's in on the subterfuge, too?"

  "It's not exactly subterfuge," Finn hedged. "She wanted to protect you and your wife."

  "Us? How?"

  "She's received some letters that may or may not be threatening."

  "Her stalker's back?"

  "I don't know," Finn said honestly. "But I promise you, sir, if that's the case, I won't let anything happen to your daughter."

  Freedom gave him a long hard look. "I suppose I'll have to trust your word on that. At least you look up to the job of keeping Julia safe." He rubbed his jaw, his gaze still on the engine. "Are you sleeping with her?"

  "I don't want to be rude, sir, but I believe that would be between Julia and me."

  "She's just a baby."

  "Your baby, perhaps," Finn allowed. "But she's a grown woman. Capable of making her own choices."

  "Like sleeping with an FBI agent." Freedom dragged his hands down his face. "Christ. If I was a religious man, I'd believe this was divine retribution."

  "For past crimes?" Finn hoped they weren't going to get into that. He really wasn't up to a lecture on the excesses of the government against free-thinkers.

  "In a way." Freedom finally glanced over at Finn. "Peace's father was Winston Stanford. As in Stanford, Worthington, Madison, Young and Moore."

  Finn exhaled a slight whistle. The man was one of the most prestigious names in investment banking and well known for his philanthropy. "As well as Stanford University."

  "None other, though he's a distant relative several times removed from Leland Stanford. Julia's mother was a student at the university when she met me at a peace rally."

  "I'll bet the guy was tickled pink when she brought you home to dinner."

  "We didn't make it through the cocktail hour." Because it had been decades since he'd spent a miserable week drying her tears and assuring her that everything would be all right, Freedom smiled a bit at the memory. "He mellowed once Julia was born." That brought up another thought. "Are you planning to get my daughter pregnant?"

  "Not intentionally."

  "Not intentionally," Freedom murmured. "Do you have any intentions at all where my daughter's concerned?"

  "I intend to keep her safe until she leaves for Kathmandu. If you're talking about any future between us, I care about your daughter a great deal, but I doubt that's in the cards."

  They were too different, their lives worlds apart. Even if he was prepared to settle down, which he wasn't, Julia Summers would be the last person he could imagine leading a life of comfortable domesticity. Especially just when her already strong career was about to take off.

  "Well." Freedom thought on that for a long, silent moment as they both went back to studying the diesel engine with all its belts and wires and hoses. "At least I'll have to give you points for honesty."

  "I don't lie, sir. And I'd never lie to Julia."

  "Dammit, don't call me sir." Freedom shot him his most irritated look yet. "The name's Freedom." He shook his head and made a disgusted sound. "FBI," he muttered.

  Another silence settled over them.

  "So," Finn said finally, "did you really bring me over here to talk about the engine?"

  "Hell, no."

  "Good. Because I don't know a damn thing about it."

  "Neither do I." Freedom slammed down the fire-breathing-dragon-painted hood. "It's been ages since I had a good Cajun meal. You know any place around here that's decent?"

  "Cajun Cal's is as close as you're going to find to my maman's cooking."

  "That may not be saying much. How good a cook was your mother?"

  "The best, sir. Freedom," Finn corrected at the pointed look, managing to get the name out without choking.

  "Then let's go."

  They were headed back to the women when Freedom stopped and shot Finn a look that would have made any FBI interrogating agent proud. "Let's get one thing straight, Special Agent Callahan. You hurt my baby girl and I'll track you down, wherever the hell you are, and rip your miserable cop heart out with my bare hands."

  "Sounds reasonable to me," Finn agreed.

  Chapter 25

  For Julia, who had been so anxious for her time in Louisiana to hurry up and end, it was as if the final days of shooting had grown unwanted wings. They were working longer hours, starting at dawn and working long after sundown, after which she'd return to the suite, take a bubble bath Finn would run for her, then lie moaning on the bed while he massaged the day's tension out of her, which usually turned into an entirely different kind of tension reliever.

  The nights were also far too short. Although they shared a bed, nestled like spoons, Julia feeling warm and happy and secure in his arms, she came to resent the time she had to waste sleeping.

  Peace and Freedom had remained in Louisiana, but didn't spend much time at Beau Soleil. Her father, declaring that the bayou had stimulated his muse, took his easel out into the swamp each day, capturing the rich wealth of nature of the mysterious moss-draped land and in his own bold strokes way, revealing the deep currents that ran beneath seemingly still dark waters.

  While Julia's father painted, her mother talked herbs and potions with local traiteurs, whose magical healing ways went back centuries.

  Besides the dinner at Cajun Cal's, which was every bit as good as promised, they'd had lunch together once, and dinner twice. Julia was relieved that Freedom and Finn had forged some sort of truce, The energy surrounding them reminded her a bit of how her childhood marmalade cat, Pussy Galore, had responded when she'd brought home a mangy stray that seemed to be part Pekinese, part Dachshund, and, her detractors had said, part drowned rat. After a bit of hissing and snarling, Pussy had reluctantly allowed the dog into the fold but usually kept one eye on her. Just in case.

  They were coming down to the final wire. Unless Charles changed his mind yet again, there was only one more scene to shoot. Then came the wrap party, which everyone really needed after such a grinding schedule, then at last she'd be going back to L.A. And finally, Kathmandu.

  "I'm going to miss this," she murmured as she and Finn sat facing one another in the tub.

  "They don't have bathtubs in Nepal?" Her legs were stretched out between his. He lifted her foot and began doing some clever magic with his thumbs against her arch.

  "I'm sure they do." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her
mind drifting, her body melting as he switched to her other foot. "But I doubt they come so well accessorized. If you ever decide to leave the FBI, you could definitely have a career turning women to mush."

  "Nah," he decided as he abandoned her feet to trace the contours of her breasts with his fingertips. "As appealing as I may have found that idea in my twenties, I guess I've just become a one-woman gigolo."

  "I meant you could give massages for a living." Her senses were pleasantly fogging.

  "I'm not sure it'd be as much fun, getting paid. Besides," desire sparked as his thumbs skimmed over her nipples, "you're the only woman I want to put my hands on."

  He'd changed so much, she mused as her mind floated and her body warmed beneath those large, wickedly clever hands that had learned all her sensual secrets and discovered more she hadn't even known were possible.

  At first, the only time he'd seemed to lower his barricades had been in bed. It was the one place he'd allowed his emotions free rein, making Julia occasionally wonder what her chances were of keeping him in bed forever.

  Still, although the walls would go back up again each morning, they didn't seem as high or as thick as they'd initially been. He'd never be as gregarious as his brother Nate. Or as devilish as his brother Jack was said to be. But he'd begun to loosen up, laughing easily and often; touching her hair, her face, holding hands with her in front of the crew, even in front of the Entertainment Tonight crew, which resulted in a breathless Mary Hart advising the world that even as she was set to play super spy James Bond's latest lover, Carma Sutra, it appeared Julia Summers had found a real-life hero of her own.

  "And you're the only man whose hands I want on me," she said now, sucking in her stomach as he trailed a fingertip between her breasts, over her stomach to lightly tug the curls between her thighs.

  "Good." He scooped up some bubbles with the hand that wasn't creating such havoc beneath the water, and began spreading them over her breasts. "God, you're gorgeous."