Copyright © 2018 by Caroline Mickelson
All rights reserved.
This story is based on a series created by Jana DeLeon. The author of this story has the contractual rights to create stories using the Miss Fortune world. Any unauthorized use of the Miss Fortune world for story creation is a violation of copyright law.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author and the publisher, J&R Fan Fiction, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
A Note from Caroline
Chapter One
"ARE YOU REALLY GOING to eat all of that?"
Fork halfway to my mouth, I froze. Had I ever been asked a ruder question? I think not. I squared my shoulders and locked my gaze on the person who had been impudent enough to question my appetite. "Yes, I most certainly am."
"By yourself?"
Reluctantly, I lowered my utensil to my plate and settled back against the booth. Francine's hot and fluffy pancakes were going to grow stone cold, right along with the sides of hash browns, sausage links, and bacon slices that smelled nothing short of divine. But I needed to set a few ground rules with my breakfast companion before I ate a single bite. "I hardly think it's polite to comment on how much of any given food a lady consumes in a gentleman's presence."
Trust me when I say that calling Agent Kase Mayeux of the F.B.I. a gentleman was quite a stretch. Granted, I found him attractive in a sort of hulking, tattooed, scary-sexy sort of way, but that was neither here nor there. He wasn't my boyfriend, although he was determined to spend the week pretending that he was. I, in turn, was going to play along. Just for the one week, because I owed him. Big time.
He lifted an eyebrow, the challenge clear in the way he picked up his fork. I grabbed mine and, with a quick parry and thrust, I managed to thwart his attempt to pilfer a bacon slice.
"Touché." He drew his hand back. "I take it that you've fenced."
"In college, yes." I pushed a small plate toward him. "Please help yourself, Agent Mayeux."
"Why don't you start calling me honey?" he asked as he helped himself to my bacon. "Because I'm going to call you darling."
Darling, which he pronounced as “darlin”, was a totally over-the-top choice. But then, over-the-top was standard fare in Sinful, Louisiana. I'd only arrived in town a few weeks earlier myself, ostensibly to look up my great-aunt Ida Belle, although my true purpose had been to hide from the Russian Mob that had a hit out on me.
I'd succeeded at connecting with Aunt Ida Belle, but I'd failed at hiding from the goons who were after me. Two dead bodies and a long story later, here I was sitting across from a federal agent who was on suspension from his job because a delusional ex-beauty queen named Fortune had drugged him while he was on duty so that we could sneak away to rescue my prized Persian cat from a mob boss who was hiding on an island with a stench so horrendous the locals had named it Number Two.
See what I mean? Nothing in Sinful is ever simple.
"Why didn't you order your own breakfast?"
He waved a hand toward the food-laden plates in front of me. "When I heard all that you were ordering, I assumed you were ordering for us both."
"Well, you assumed wrong, Agent Mayeux."
"Not Agent Mayeux," he corrected me. “Honey.”
I eyed him warily. "I don't think I can call you that."
"Sure you can, darlin'." His eyes sparkled. "Just try it. You'll like how the word feels as it rolls off your tongue."
My, how he was enjoying this. I, however, felt like I was drowning in quicksand. I had no idea what kind of life Agent Mayeux lived when he was in New Orleans, but my life back in Boston hadn't involved dalliances with men of his ilk. Known around my hometown as the syndicated columnist Miss Prim and Proper, I, Stephanie St. James, was used to dating men who wore a suit and tie to the office. Agent Mayeux, on the other hand, generally sported a black t-shirt, form-fitting blue jeans, shoulder-length black hair worn back in a low ponytail, and a snake tattoo that started at his wrist, traveled up his arm, and wound around his neck. It might well be only an ink snake, but it still unnerved me.
We were hardly what I'd call simpatico. And yet we were going to spend the week pretending to be dating so that he could have a reason to stick around town while he was trying to get information on suspected drug traffickers in the area. I was his cover. But that didn't mean he got to automatically be my honey.
"Are you two going to stare into each other's eyes all day or are you actually going to eat something?"
Startled, I looked up. Francine, the owner of the diner we sat in, stood beside our booth with a pot of coffee in her hand. I hadn't heard her approach, but I was happy to see the steam rising off the coffee pot. With a grateful smile, I pushed my cup toward her.
"Francine, do you think you could please whip up another stack of pancakes here for my girlfriend?" Kase asked. "I'm afraid I've distracted her from eating them while they were hot. And would you please put breakfast on my tab?"
"Young love." Francine rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but she winked at me as she walked away.
Surprised, I turned back to my companion. "You know, I think she might have actually believed you. About us dating, I mean."
His answering smile was smug. "What's not to believe? You're a beautiful young woman. Stands to reason I'd be attracted to you."
To my horror, I blushed. "This isn't going to work."
Agent Mayeux grinned. "You just said Francine bought it, so I'd say it already is working."
Before I could protest, he slid out of the booth and came around to sit beside me. He laid a possessive arm around my shoulders and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Don't turn around, but your aunt and her friends are headed this way."
My stomach sank. Aunt Ida Belle was one shrewd woman. She was never going to buy this act. Her best friend Gertie might, because her imagination was like a runaway train. But the third member of their clique most certainly wouldn't. Sandy Sue Morrow, whom everyone called Fortune, was a study in contradictions. She was also smart. Street smart. And she wasn’t likely to believe the story that Kase Mayeux was peddling.
Gertie reached our booth first. She looked between Kase and me, which didn't take her long because there was technically no physical space between us. I could feel the warmth of my faux boyfriend's thigh pressed up against my leg.
A wide grin stretched across her wrinkled face. "Well, lookey here. Don't you two love birds beat all?" She slid in across from us. "Tell us how lightning struck."
I turned to my great-aunt. "Aunt Ida Belle, what is she talking about?"
Aunt Ida Belle waved her hand dismissively as she settled in beside Gertie. "Heck if I know. I doubt she even knows what she’s yattering about half the time."
Fortune took a chair from a nearby table, turned it to face backward at the end of the booth, and straddled it. I sincerely doubted this was something that she'd learned on the beauty pageant circuit, but I kept my mouth shut. It was hardly polite to mention that she was sitting like a long-distance trucker. Besides, it appeared that Fortune could do no wrong in my great-aunt’s and Gertie's eyes. But to my mind, the jury was still
out on her.
Agent Mayeux gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I think she's asking what's going on between us." He leaned down and brushed an ever-so-light kiss across my cheek. "Go ahead, darlin', tell them."
Tell them what? That he'd drunk the Sinful Kool-Aid and was now acting as crazy as everyone else in town? Why bother? I was outnumbered. And the inconvenient truth of it all was that I owed him this for my part in humiliating him in front of his co-workers and superiors. I'd have to play along. It was the only polite thing to do under these very bizarre circumstances.
"Kase was kind enough to bring Priscilla back to me yesterday," I paused and gave them all a moment to nod while my mind frantically searched for something to explain this charade. "Well, he asked if I would attend a wedding with him this weekend. And I said yes."
The three women glanced at each other, but before anyone could ask how a wedding invitation led to us sit so indecently close to each other, Francine arrived with yet another stack of piping hot pancakes. Fortunately, their tantalizing aroma distracted my tablemates away from the conversation about my love life and toward what they were going to order for breakfast.
My reprieve, however, was short-lived. Immediately after we were all finished with breakfast, Gertie returned to her earlier line of questioning with the intensity of a small dog gnawing on a very big bone. "Come on, Stephanie, tell us how you and the good agent here got it on without us knowing anything about it."
I dabbed the corner of my lips with a paper napkin. "I hardly think that 'got it on' is an apt description."
Aunt Ida Belle set her coffee mug down and met my gaze. "Perhaps not, but Agent Mayeux here seems to have gone from zero to hero in your eyes in a rather short amount of time. You don't expect us to believe that you've become romantically involved simply because he returned your cat, do you?"
“Rescued and returned.” I glanced up at the man in question, but his only reaction was to smile again. Seriously? I hoped my irritation wasn't too obvious. The gentlemanly thing for him to do would be to ride into the conversation and rescue me. But it appeared I was on my own. "That's a part of it, of course," I hedged. "Sometimes it's hard to explain how the heart and mind make the choices they do."
Fortune, who had been quiet throughout much of the meal, looked from Agent Mayeux to me and then back. "Who is getting married?"
I was curious myself because I hadn't gotten as far as asking yet.
"The bride's name is Cassandra Masters," he said. "She and her family hail from New Orleans, but her grandmother lives here in Sinful. Apparently, she's lived here all her life. You might know her, name's Lenora Masters."
Ida Belle's eyebrows rose and Gertie's jaw dropped.
"So, you do know her?" I asked.
My great-aunt and Gertie exchanged a quick but telling glance. At the very least, they knew of her.
"Sure, we know Lenora," Aunt Ida Belle finally replied. "Gertie and I went to school with her, all the way from elementary straight through high school."
"The woman's a nut job." Gertie shook her head. "She's been living as a recluse for the last thirty something years, so we haven't actually seen her in the flesh for decades. She never comes into town. Whatever she needs, Walter delivers it to her."
"And you say she's hosting her granddaughter’s wedding?" A tiny frown settled between Aunt Ida Belle's eyebrows. "Here in Sinful? Something’s not right about that."
Gertie nodded her agreement. "I'm with Ida Belle. Someone's got either the names or facts mixed up. Lenora never had any children, so she can’t be a grandmother."
"Hold up a minute, Gertie. Technically she's a step-grandmother," Aunt Ida Belle corrected her. "Don't you remember that her late husband Albert had two sons by his first wife? I don't recall that they ever set foot in Sinful, though. I've just heard tell of them." She turned to Agent Mayeux. "You got the invitation on you, by chance?"
"Sure do." He pulled the invitation out of his back pocket. As he leaned toward me, I caught the scent of fresh pine and soap. I kept my eyes focused on the empty plate in front of me. Regardless of how traitorous my visceral reaction to Agent Mayeux was, there was no need for me to display it for everyone to see. A lady was entitled to her secrets.
He handed a folded card to my aunt. The invitation was printed on cream-colored heavy stock. I watched as Aunt Ida Belle scanned it. Without saying a word, she handed it to Gertie, who glanced at it before handing it to Fortune, who did the same.
"Something's off," Fortune said as she handed it to me.
I took a turn glancing over the invitation, nodding as I returned it to Agent Mayeux. "Yes, there’s something very wrong indeed. They chose a serif font."
"Huh?" Gertie frowned. "Where did it say sheriff?"
"No, not sheriff," I hastened to correct her. "Serif. It's a type of a font. It's rather an unconventional choice for a wedding invitation. Back east, brides usually prefer a more traditional sans serif font."
"Sand sheriff? Well, I'll be." Gertie sat back against the booth. "Boston must be a more interesting place than I've been led to believe."
Fortune held up her hand to forestall the explanation she knew I felt was necessary. "Just let it go, Stephanie. We're better off keeping the conversation on track."
No easy thing to do with Gertie.
Aunt Ida Belle spoke next, and her attention was directed to the man next to me. "You're asking a lot for us to believe that you just happened to receive an invitation to a wedding here in Sinful thrown by a social recluse for a step-granddaughter that no one has ever met." She pushed the invitation a bit closer toward his empty plate. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to include my great-niece in whatever it is you're up to."
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with how close Aunt Ida Belle was getting to the truth. But I kept my mouth shut. This was Agent Mayeux's lie to tell, not mine.
"With all due respect, ma'am," he said, his eyes locked on to Aunt Ida Belle's, "there seems to be a misunderstanding. I was invited to this wedding along with a guest of my choice. Your niece was kind enough to agree to be my date. End of story."
Aunt Ida Belle sat back and folded her arms across her chest. Gertie did the same. We all looked at Fortune. She leaned forward. "The smart thing to do would be to let us in on this from the beginning."
"You're way off base, Fortune." His words held a hint of something I couldn't identify. A warning? A threat?
"Is anyone going to tell me what this is all about?" I finally demanded.
"It's our turf, Mayeux," Aunt Ida Belle said, ignoring me completely.
"We've got connections," Gertie chimed in. "If something in Sinful is going on, we know about it."
"There's no reason to go rogue," Fortune said
"That's rich coming from you," he scoffed.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. I wondered if Fortune felt guilty for lacing Agent Mayeux's milk with a sleeping draught. I cast a curious glance her way, but her expression was difficult to decipher. It certainly didn't say “guilty”.
"As charming as it's been to breakfast with you ladies, Stephanie and I have plans for the rest of the day." Agent Mayeux slid out of the booth and helped me to my feet. He opened his wallet and tossed several twenties on the table. "My treat." And then he took hold of my hand and half-dragged me out of Francine's before I could do more than wave goodbye.
Once we were outside of the diner, I put an end to his hustling routine by refusing to take another step. "Just a moment, Agent Mayeux, if you please. Why on earth did we just bolt out of there like that?"
He let go of my hand just long enough to catch my face between his hands. My eyes widened as he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. Kissed me, Stephanie St. James, right in public for anyone to see. I don't approve of public displays of affection unless they’re between a parent and child. Or long-lost friends. Or relatives who haven't seen each other in ages. All of these thoughts raced through my mind as my companion kis
sed me. I suppose I could have pushed him away, but that would have been rude. So very rude.
"Honey, remember?" he whispered when he lifted his head, his eyes not leaving mine. "You've got to quit calling me Agent Mayeux. You're going to blow our cover."
Breathless, I stared up at him.
"There, that ought to help convince them. Don't look back, because they're watching." He put his hand on my lower back and gently directed me towards his waiting pickup truck. "Carter warned me about those three," he said as he pulled out onto Main Street. "We're going to have to move fast."
Personally, I'd say that we were moving plenty fast. I hadn't known this man more than a week, and he'd just kissed me like we were lovers standing on a moonlit bridge in Paris. I sat in silence as we drove out of Sinful, and then it occurred to me that I had no idea where we were going. "You're going the wrong way if you were intending to take me back to Aunt Ida Belle's."
"That's not where we're headed." He glanced sideways at me, his expression thoughtful. "There's been a change of plans."
"Care to clue me in?"
He shook his head. "Not really. Why don't you just play along?"
Playing along wasn't very simple when I had no idea what game we were playing. Nothing this morning had made much sense to me. But what did I expect?
I was in Sinful, Louisiana.
Confusion Capital of the World.
Chapter Two
DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS to find out where we were headed, Agent Mayeux refused to divulge any information. I'd just about given up trying to get anything out of him when he pulled up in front of a set of wrought iron gates that were barely visible due to the green vines growing over them. He lowered his window, swept aside some foliage, and reached out to push a half-hidden buzzer. Wherever we were, he'd obviously been here before.
"Might I know where we are?" I tried again.
In answer, he held up a single finger and pressed the buzzer.
Within seconds, the sound of crackling filled the air. "Go away," a querulous voice intoned just before we heard a dial tone.
A Bayou Wedding Page 1
