by Jana DeLeon
“But I—”
Catherine gestured to Sabine to take a seat. “We have plenty of time to talk business. Now, it’s time to talk family. Frances helped me pull all the photo albums from when she and Adam were children. I thought you might like to see those first.”
Sabine sat on the couch and looked over at Beau. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but Sabine felt the tension coming off him. He looked around the room, barely glancing at the people, and for some inexplicable reason, she knew he got more in that glance than most would in a bio. He was sizing them up, reading them like he would a newspaper, then systematically calculating the inherent risks and consequences.
Sabine took in a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the album Catherine had placed on the table in front of her. Tried to squelch the bad feeling that she had just stepped into the eye of a hurricane.
It was long after dinnertime when Sabine and Beau drove through the giant iron gates on their way back to Mudbug. Sabine had been silent during the long drive down the winding road back to the highway, and Beau fought the urge to ask for her thoughts. But eventually he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “So…that was something.”
Sabine looked over at him and smirked. “Don’t you mean it was ‘interesting’?”
Beau laughed. “Good Lord, woman. Remind me to never, ever comment on your shoes unless I think they’re fabulous.”
“It wasn’t just the shoes, although the general holier-and-better-than-thou attitude got on my nerves.” She frowned. “It was something else…just a feeling, but, oh heck, I don’t know.”
“A feeling like everyone in the room was performing a dance and you were the only one who didn’t have the choreography?”
Sabine stared at him. “Wow. That’s it exactly. You have an excellent way of describing things.”
Beau shrugged. “I’ve seen that dance a time or two before.”
“With the FBI?”
“With the FBI, in my private work, and unfortunately, in my own family.”
Sabine studied him and Beau knew she wanted to ask about the reference to his family, but she apparently decided it was either rude or not the time. “So was that what you were expecting, given what you already knew about them?”
Beau considered this a minute. “You never know exactly what to expect from people, no matter how much you read about them on paper. But to some extent, it was what I was expecting.”
“What part?”
“Everyone lies, Sabine. What you have to figure out is whether the lies are important.”
Sabine stared out the windshield, her expression thoughtful. “Everyone lies. You really believe that?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I guess I do, too,” Sabine said. “Although some are little white lies and some are told to keep someone from being hurt and others are told to avoid embarrassment.”
“That’s where the ‘important’ part comes in.”
“I lied to you,” she confessed. “Well, not exactly a lie, but I didn’t tell you the entire truth.”
Beau’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, certain Sabine was about to tell him the secret. The one she’d kept even from Mildred. “The truth about what?”
“I’m not psychic. Not even a little. In college, I majored in business but had no idea what I was going to do when I graduated. Then one day I walked into a tarot shop in New Orleans as a last resort to find out anything about my family and met Raissa. Her shop was amazing. All those cool candles and powders and books. And the people who came in were so happy to see her.” She sighed. “I guess I thought if I could recreate that for myself, I might find the answers I was looking for. Stupid, huh?”
Beau knew Sabine would be hurt if he showed her an honest reaction, but he couldn’t stop the wave of relief that washed over him. Sabine was normal, kinda. At least far more normal that he’d thought she was just minutes before. But there was no way this was what she’d been keeping from Mildred. The hotel owner would have known that from the beginning.
Sabine shifted in her seat and Beau realized he had never said anything about her revelation. The anxious look on her face said it all. “It’s not stupid,” he said. “Creative, inventive, perhaps a shade of desperate, but not stupid at all.”
Sabine smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem. So…Raissa, is she just in it for the pretty candles, too?”
“Oh, no! Raissa is the real deal. Her predictions are scary accurate. Makes Nostradamus look like he was smoking weed.”
Beau laughed. “So you believe in it, but you can’t do it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, being open-minded rarely leads to surprises. At least, that’s my opinion. So have you ever seen anything supernatural?”
Sabine smiled. “Once, I saw a ghost.”
“Were you scared?”
“I was horrified, but that was because of her outfit.”
“Ah, then maybe those people are your family.”
Sabine grinned. “Touché.”
“The drawing that Raissa did…was it really from a vision?”
Sabine’s expression grew serious. “Yes.”
Beau felt his curiosity rise. He hadn’t believed for a moment that the psychic had gotten a drawing that accurate from a vision, but for the life of him, he hadn’t been able to locate anything in Raissa’s life that could have connected her with the Fortescues any way other than through Sabine. “But how did she see it? In a dream?”
“No. A ghost channeled it so that she could draw it for me.”
Beau looked over at Sabine. “And you believe that?”
“I have to believe it. I saw it.”
Beau immediately felt it—that twinge that Sabine wasn’t exactly telling him the whole truth, but about what, he had no idea. Especially as she seemed completely sincere and adamant about the ghostly vision part of her story. “Well, now that you’ve met your family, there are some things I need to tell you about them and I don’t think we should put it off very long.”
Sabine nodded. “I know. I appreciate you respecting my wishes to meet them unbiased by the facts. But now that I’ve met them, I want to know what you found out.”
“Of course. When do you want to do this?”
“I’m free tonight.” Sabine looked over at him. “That is, unless you have plans already.”
“No plans except taking care of my client.”
A light flush crept up Sabine’s neck and she lowered her eyes. “You’re sure…I mean, it’s not exactly a short drive back into New Orleans and I don’t want to put you out, especially if you have things to do tomorrow.”
“Not a thing but dirty laundry, and I’m pretty sure it won’t care if I sleep in.” Beau felt his jaw flex with the lie, but he didn’t want Sabine to know he was staying across the street in the hotel. Not yet. Not until he had a damned good reason, and a gut feeling usually didn’t qualify as a damned good reason for spying on a woman. Not to the woman, anyway.
“Well, I have leftover pot roast, chips, and sugar cookies. I can offer you a great sandwich and we won’t have to worry about being overheard. Is that all right by you?”
Beau felt his pulse quicken. Alone with Sabine in her apartment. That was far more than all right. “That’s fine,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal.
Chapter Nine
Sabine took a second bite out of her sandwich and tried to chew, but the roast beef that had been so juicy and filled with flavor the night before now tasted like cardboard. What the hell had she been thinking? Inviting Beau into her apartment? Feeding him roast beef? She should have suggested the restaurant. It was usually loud, and there would have been little chance of being overheard. No, instead she had to play happy hostess, serving home-cooked food just mere feet from the bedroom in her tiny apartment.
Like she didn’t have enough trouble already. She should have told Beau no when he’d asked if she’d like him to accompany her to meet her family, although his offe
r had sounded more like an order now that she thought about it. Regardless, she couldn’t afford to keep putting herself in this position. She was already horribly attracted to him, and spending time in such close proximity to wine and beds and the sexy lingerie in her dresser drawer wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
But he’s open-minded.
She held in a sigh. The men she’d dated in the past couldn’t be bothered to hear anything about her job, her shop, her beliefs. They liked her but didn’t buy into anything they couldn’t prove. Which shouldn’t have bothered her since, technically, Maryse had never believed either until Helena showed up. But Maryse had never had that smirk on her face when Sabine talked about the paranormal. Her friend had always respected her beliefs even if she hadn’t been able to match them with her own.
And now this super sexy, kind, intelligent, single former FBI agent had actually listened to what she had to say about supernatural occurrences and considered the facts as seriously as he would have a fingerprint or a smoking gun. Sabine wasn’t going to fool herself with thinking he believed everything she’d said, but he hadn’t discounted it either. Which meant he was a rare individual.
“I hope I haven’t scared you with all this,” Beau said.
Sabine snapped back to the present. “Not exactly, although I must admit it’s a little strange.” Beau had been telling her dirty family secrets over the sandwiches and now she struggled to make some sense of it all.
She pulled a pad of paper over in front of her and began to write. After a minute, she pushed the pad over to Beau. “Is that right?”
“Looks good to me.”
Sabine looked at the family tree for a minute. “So the long and short of it is that my grandfather had a twin brother, Lloyd, who disappeared during Vietnam and was wanted for treason. The family is filthy rich and has spent almost a hundred years answering to essentially no one.”
Beau nodded. “The FBI questioned them repeatedly about Lloyd and had them under surveillance for several years, but no one has seen hide nor hair of him since the Vietnam War.”
“Any chance the family helped him hide?”
Beau shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but the government tracked their funds for a long time. No money left their bank accounts that wasn’t reasonable and explainable. And nothing was transferred to other countries.”
“So most likely he died in Vietnam and his body was never recovered.”
“Most likely.”
“Well,” Sabine said finally, “I’m glad you were so thorough. I would hate to start asking questions about the family twin legacy. Those people are so uptight, they’d probably have me removed from the property and banned for life.”
“It does seem they’re a little touchy about appearance,” Beau agreed. “Based on the local gossip, at one time the family was a huge force in local charities, politics, and church, but ever since Vietnam they’ve become more reserved. Catherine still hosts several charitable events for the church during the year, but otherwise, she rarely interacts with the locals, and Frances is almost never seen out of the house except for church.”
“Small wonder there,” Sabine said. “I thought her head was going to spin around when she thought I killed chickens for a living.”
Beau laughed. “I’d say Aunt Frances is definitely missing a step or two upstairs.”
Sabine shook her head. “Hiding yourself away is counterproductive, really. Then people only assume you have something to hide, and let’s face it, you probably do.”
“Probably.”
Sabine sighed. “I guess you’re right. A family that old is bound to have secrets. What about William?”
“William seems to be the biggest disappointment locally. Apparently, before he left for the war he was always involved in a bunch of community service. He worked with underprivileged children at the local library, teaching them to read. He co-chaired several fundraisers to buy medical equipment for the clinic in town and was key in the development of a senior network that provided drop-in care for limited mobility seniors living alone, and all of that while he was still in high school.”
“Wow, he sounds great.”
“Past tense, I’m afraid. The William who came back from Vietnam isn’t the same man as before. The only charity he attends to now is the local bar, and from what I hear, he’s a big contributor.”
Sabine shook her head. “Post-traumatic stress?”
Beau shrugged. “There’s really no telling. Lots of men come back from war changed forever.”
Sabine’s mind went back to the scene in the living room when she’d described her business. “So what’s the story on crazy Aunt Frances?”
Beau crinkled his brow. “You know, that’s one thing I was never able to get much of a line on. Both kids attended the private Catholic school in town, but some of the older residents seemed to remember your father. He did some volunteer work down at the clinic, most particularly for a Dr. Grey, but the doctor died several years ago so I wasn’t able to get any more than that.”
“Makes sense with the family saying he was going to be a doctor.”
“Yeah. Even wealthy families usually don’t frown upon working for a living if you’re a doctor.”
“But the locals didn’t really know Frances?”
“Not really. She attended private school until she was seventeen and was homeschooled after that with a private tutor from another parish. He’s dead now, so that led nowhere. Other than that, she’s never seen outside of the house, except attending church, always at her mother’s hip and never speaking a word to anyone.”
“Agoraphobic?”
Beau shrugged. “I don’t know, and I seriously doubt you’ll ever get them to admit it if that’s the case. Whatever those people are hiding, they’ve been doing it successfully for a long time. That’s why I thought you needed what little facts I had before you had any more interaction with them…assuming you want to, of course.”
Sabine looked out the window and across Main Street. At the moment, she would honestly have to admit she didn’t want any further interaction with them. The entire meeting had been like the tiny pop of a firecracker when she’d been setting up for a dynamite experience all these years. But then what choice did she have? “I…guess I do. I mean, I don’t really know them yet and they don’t know me. I suppose things could get better.”
“I suppose.”
Sabine smiled and looked over at Beau. “This is what you were warning me about, wasn’t it? You and Maryse are cut from the same cloth in certain ways.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“Oh, Maryse has always supported my search for my family, even though I believe that for the most part, she’s thought it was a waste of time. She thinks the relationships you choose to make are far more important than the ones that are forced on you. She’s always saying ‘you have to love your family, but you don’t have to like them, or want to spend time with them.’ ”
Beau grinned. “You’re right. We are cut from the same cloth. So what’s up with Maryse’s family that she doesn’t have to like them?”
“Oh, nothing at all with her blood family. Her mom and dad are both dead and there’s no other siblings. I think she’s referring to her ex-husband and his mother when she makes that statement.”
“That bad, huh?”
Sabine grimaced. “You have no idea. Helena Henry as a mother-in-law is enough to drive a girl to the convent.”
“I read about Helena’s death in the paper, then all the excitement that followed. That wasn’t that long ago.”
“Yeah, the funeral was last month.”
“Well, then it looks like Maryse is free and clear again.” He smiled at Sabine.
Sabine tried to smile but wasn’t sure she managed it convincingly. “Seems like she should be,” she hedged.
Beau glanced down at his watch and rose from the table. “It’s late. I need to take off and let you get some rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
Sabi
ne rose from the table and walked with Beau to the door. “I am a little tired. I think I’m going to take a long, hot bath, then climb directly into bed.”
Beau froze when she mentioned a bath and bed, and she stepped far too close to him for her own comfort, and probably his. He studied her for a moment, the desire in his eyes apparent. Even though she knew she should step away, open the door, and send him on his way, she didn’t. No, she inched even closer…and tilted her head toward his.
His breath caught. She knew he was waiting for her to turn tail and run like she had at the café. When she held her ground, he lowered his head, his lips barely brushing hers. Her lips started to tingle and the tiny shock of pleasure radiated all the way down to her toes. He paused for just a second, but then moved in for a deeper kiss, his lips locked on hers.
She leaned into the kiss, her body perfectly molding into his. He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt the hard lines of his chest press into her. She parted her mouth, and he deepened the kiss before pulling away from her lips and trailing kisses down her neck. She sighed with pleasure, her skin jumping alive with every touch of his lips. She opened her eyes just a tiny bit, wanting to see his face, the desire that she knew would be there—and saw something move in the kitchen.
Somehow, she managed to keep herself in check, but as she opened her eyes completely, it was clear that they weren’t alone. The refrigerator door stood wide open and a huge hunk of rapidly disappearing roast beef dangled just outside of the door. Instantly, Sabine’s mind jerked back into reality. What the hell was she doing?
She broke away from Beau, her quick retreat leaving him with a confused expression. “I-I’m sorry…I can’t…” She stepped to the side, praying he didn’t turn his head or Beau Villeneuve was going to get a crash course in the “I want to believe” games.
Beau’s expression hardened. “That’s all right. I understand. You won’t have to remind me again.” He opened the door and stepped through it.
