One-Click Buy: December 2009 Silhouette Desire

by Susan Mallery

  Suddenly, this whole matter with Cici felt way too personal to turn over to anybody else, even his ruthless lawyers, of which Abe was the head.

  “Did I ever tell you how much I dislike being slammed with my own data?”

  Hayes laughed out loud. “Don’t we all? Keep me posted. I want to hear how round two comes out. Your Cici is much more interesting than any merger with Butler Shipyards. By the way, I’m beginning to wonder if Mitchell Butler has been entirely honest with us. At this point it’s just a gut feeling…but…”

  “Check it out,” Logan said.

  Logan’s heart had been beating at a ferocious clip ever since he’d shut his door only to see Cici and his grandfather, their chairs pushed close together, enjoying a makeshift picnic of beignets and rich black coffee. Oblivious to the crumbs they’d scattered all over his coffee table, they were smiling at each other.

  The old man looked happier than he had in years, and that would have been heartwarming if Logan trusted Cici. But how would his grandfather feel when Cici finished her book and returned to putting her life on the line in the fast lane just to take a few pictures? Cici was an adventuress, not a caregiver.

  Sitting down at his desk, Logan punched a button on his intercom and told Mrs. Dillings to hold his calls. When he looked up his grandfather had moved his chair so that it faced Logan’s desk.

  When the old man frowned, Logan scrunched lower in his chair. Nobody could make Logan feel four years old again just by sticking out his jaw except this man who’d raised him. How many times had he stood in this very same office when it had belonged to his grandfather and waited for the old man to begin some lecture because he’d committed some minor, boyish infraction?

  As he waited, Logan began to feel caged in his civilized office that was filled with leather and chrome and too many polished wooden surfaces. And he knew who to blame for his discomfiture.

  Not that he was about to give the delectable Miss Bellefleur, who was, indeed, licking her fingertips with a grace any feline would envy, the satisfaction of looking at her.

  Even so, all he saw was Cici. All he felt was her.

  In her purple T-shirt and tight black jeans, with her childishly sticky fingers, fingers he wanted to lick clean, she was a garish splash of voluptuous color in his too elegant, beige suite.

  Did she always have to dress in outfits that screamed, look at me? Did she even own a decent dress? Or a conservative suit? Or plain black pumps that might have concealed those livid, purple toenails, which, by the way, on her, were sexy as hell? At least, they matched her T-shirt.

  He had memories about those half-naked feet. After sex, she used to climb on top of him and stretch out, placing the soles of her feet on top of his feet. God, he’d loved the feel of her on top of him as he’d wondered what she’d do next.

  And her hair—it was wild this morning—springy curls tumbling to her shoulders. Big hair was not a look he liked on his woman…usually…except right after sex. Still, he was hard as a rock, and the view wasn’t what was turning him on.

  Ignoring Cici, Logan concentrated on his grandfather. “You seem upset, Grandpère. Why are you here?”

  “Maybe because sitting around Belle Rose isn’t doing me much good. I was always a man of action.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “I’m here because I want to start by righting a few wrongs.”

  “Such as?”

  “In the past, I was unfair to Cici. And so were you.”

  “At whose instigation?” Logan whispered.

  “Mine. I take full responsibility. I was so furious at Bos and so discouraged by your father’s failures and Jake’s wildness, I didn’t want Jake to be seduced by Cici and marry her. I didn’t know what a niece of Bos’s might do to our property if she married into our family. I didn’t trust her. So, I asked you to intervene to save your brother, who was always more susceptible to temptation than you.”

  Little did he know.

  “And because I did, Cici was hurt so badly she ran away and got into a dangerous, heartbreaking profession. She stayed away, until now.”

  “Is that what she told you?”

  He nodded. “Last night we had a long talk.”

  Logan could well imagine that they had.

  “She wants to come home,” Pierre said. “She says she forgives me. She’s persuaded Jake to come home, which is what I’ve wanted ever since I got sick. And for that, now you want to throw her out.”

  After such noble praise of Cici, Logan’s gaze swung across the room to the young woman. Her fragile face framed by masses of gold curls looked tense and shadowed in the morning light. Beneath his scrutiny, she blushed and averted her eyes.

  “Last I heard, Belle Rose isn’t and never was her home,” Logan said. “She should lease some other place. Grandpère, I don’t think…she’s the best influence on you…in your present state.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. I’m not the man I was, and Cici’s never been the girl I thought she was.”

  Logan swallowed. He felt guiltier than he ever had for the past, so it didn’t help when he noticed Cici’s hands that were knotted in her lap were trembling.

  Had she had trouble sleeping last night, too. Had she relived that damn kiss on the gallery again and again as he had, wanting more? Or did she hate his guts as she had every right to do?

  “I want you to relent and let her stay…near me,” his grandfather persisted.

  For another long moment Logan’s gaze lingered on Cici’s pale, contrite face. Strangely, he felt touched by his grandfather’s request and like his grandfather, ashamed of his own actions nine years ago.

  Most of all he hurt. But he couldn’t undo the past. Jake had left because he was furious at Logan for doing his grandfather’s bidding by bedding Cici just so he couldn’t have her. He’d said he was tired of the way the Claibornes always thought they could manipulate other peoples’ lives.

  Logan had tried to explain why he’d acted as he had to Jake at the time. “Grandpère said the family couldn’t afford another marriage like our parents’. One of us had to do the smart thing. He knew you’d probably go the whole nine yards, including marriage if you slept with her, so he told me to make love to her. To save you, Jake,” he’d said.

  “What are you, his puppet? Cici doesn’t deserve that. She’s not like Mother. You’re not like Daddy. Funny, I used to think that was a good thing. I used to admire you. You always worked so hard, made such good grades. Now, I just want out of this family.”

  Jake’s fist had slammed into Logan’s jaw on his way out. Logan hadn’t seen him since.

  Suddenly the wrenching pain of the past held Logan’s heart in a death grip. He’d thrown Cici away, blindly, stupidly. He’d told himself he’d done it for Jake. For his grandfather. For the family. And for Cici even, because she would have been unhappy in his uptight conservative world. He’d convinced himself he’d done the right thing.

  Damn it, he’d been so sure of himself back then.

  But could he say he’d acted honorably toward all concerned? Toward Cici?

  Logan shut his eyes. Then he pressed his eyelids and sucked in a long breath.

  “I’ve always trusted you to do the right thing,” his grandfather said. “You used to watch out for your brother. It was almost like you were older and wiser. Because I trusted you, when Jake ran out, I cut him off without a cent, and I gave you the reins of Claiborne Energy. And, yes, you made the family a fortune. I was proud of you, boy. Back then that was all I cared about.”

  “And now…”

  “For nine years I’ve been estranged from Jake, and now Cici tells me he’s doing well. She says that after he ran off, he went back to school, that he’s done wonderful things in Florida and in New Orleans.”

  “I tried to tell you…”

  “Before I got sick, I was a stubborn fool. I didn’t want to hear about him, did I? Praise of him made me feel guilty. I know I tried to teach you to be exactly like me, but I was
wrong about that, too. Don’t be like me, boy. If I’ve learned anything in this last month when I’ve felt so weak and old and useless, it’s that a grandson like Jake is worth more than any amount of money. I should never have set you on a collision course with your twin and then disinherited him for getting angry at us. And now…for Cici’s help in talking Jake into coming to my birthday party, I want to repay her kindness by letting her live in the garçonnière.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe the reason Jake’s such a success now is because I saved him from Cici? From the way she’s been playing you since her return, I’m beginning to think you had her figured right back then.”

  Uttering a soft, wounded cry, Cici sprang to her feet. In a halting voice she whispered, “I can’t listen to this. I’ll be right outside, Pierre. Don’t wear yourself out defending me.” Then on a whisper of wood trailing across carpet, the door closed behind her.

  “It’s my fault you think she’s as trashy as Bos. But you’re wrong. She’s a very sensitive woman with a great heart, and she’s made a success of her career…even if it hasn’t been all that lucrative. I want to help her, to make up just a little for what I did in the past.”

  Had she been whining about money to his grandfather at a time when he’d been weak and needy? Was that what she wanted—money?

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe she’s using you to get back at me? For sleeping with her? For jilting her?”

  “Cici would never do that.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t she?”

  Abe stalked into the office before Logan, who wondered if he wasn’t being set up, could say no more.

  “If this is a bad moment…” Abe paused.

  Pierre cleared his throat. “No. It’s a wonderful moment.”

  After a few more seconds of silence so tense it nearly hummed, the old man continued. “I’m glad you got here this fast, Abe. Things around here are about to change. I’m tired of rest and relaxation at home. It’s time we moved forward. First, I’ll be coming into the office twice a week—starting Monday. Second, I’ll be moving into my old office. The young lady who’s waiting for me outside has hired me a driver.”

  “Grandpère, do you really think you’re strong enough? It’s bad enough that Cici is using you to get back at me.”

  “Third,” his stubborn grandfather continued with a frown, “I’ll want you to write up an airtight lease. On the garçonnière behind Belle Rose for the little lady in the waiting room. Miss Bellefleur is a long-time family friend. Really, she’s practically a granddaughter. She’ll be wanting a twelve-month lease.”

  “Twelve months? You can’t be serious, Grandpère.”

  Again his grandfather ignored him.

  “You see, Abe, she’s writing a book with the working title, Lords of the Bayou.”

  Logan stared gloomily at his polished desk. No doubt she’d slam him as the environmentalist’s worst nightmare. He’d have all the tree huggers picketing him again.

  “The garçonnière is quiet,” Pierre continued. “She says the setting is perfect for her research, especially since I’m there to help her. She’s won all sorts of awards, so it’ll be an honor to have her, not to mention a joy to work with her. I have a library full of history books on the subject, and I can put her in contact with all the right people.”

  Logan had the power to override his grandfather’s decisions, but he loved and respected the old man too much to belittle him like that.

  Fortunately, the tense meeting with his grandfather, who began to fade the moment Abe left, didn’t last much longer. No sooner had Cici ushered the old man downstairs to her Miata than Hayes walked in, his excuse being a thick stack of legal documents on the Butler merger that needed his signature.

  “From the look of your face, I’d say it’s pretty clear who won round two. But cheer up. She’s damn sure worked a miracle where your grandfather is concerned. The old man looked as fit as a bull when he was climbing into her sports car. Nothing like a young girl to get an old man’s blood up, now is there?”

  Suddenly, for no reason at all Logan wanted to punch Hayes’s lights out.

  “Hey, how come you didn’t mention she was a knockout?”

  “Don’t…don’t say another word. And as for her being a knockout, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the hell away from her.”

  “I see. You sure had me fooled. Me and everybody else. We all thought you were serious about Alicia.”

  “You don’t see a damn thing. I am serious about Alicia!” Logan thundered.

  “Right.” But Hayes’s dark eyes were glinting, and the corners of his lips were twitching with amusement, as he fought a losing battle not to smile.

  “You said Mitchell Butler’s story might have a few holes in it.”

  “So far it’s only a hunch.”

  A sad, lost, homesick feeling swamped Cici as something vicious stung her above the elbow.

  “Ouch!”

  She quit knocking on her uncle’s door long enough to slap at two giant mosquitoes on her arm.

  Closing her eyes, she listened for a long moment. Not that she could hear anything from inside her uncle’s cabin over the chorus of whistles and chirps coming from the swamp.

  “Uncle Bos, why don’t you open the door? I know you’re in there. I know you left the bar because I’ve already been there and Tommy told me you’re not feeling well. He sent me over with some of his spicy boudin, made just the way you like it. And Noonoon and I cooked up a big pot of gator gumbo. The roux came out real good. We threw in some cayenne pepper, onion, celery and bell pepper.

  She drew a breath and stared at the huge stack of wire crawfish traps, gill nets and hoop nets leaning against the ten-foot pilings beneath her uncle’s shack. “Uncle Bos, I’m beginning to feel stupid yelling at your door.”

  Her gaze wandered from the bayou with its dark, funereal vegetation, past the wreckage of his old rooster pens, to the ruined ponds behind their sagging fences where she used to help him raise thousands of little turtles that they’d marketed as pets to kids all over America. Other than the aluminum outboard tied at the end of his dock near the thick stand of tall rozo cane instead of her red pirogue, not much had changed.

  Well, maybe the dark brown water had crept a little closer to the house, land being a vanishing commodity in Louisiana thanks to Logan and his kind.

  “Okay. If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll just leave the pots on your doorstep and come back for ’em later. When you’re done, you can leave ’em outside for me to pick up.”

  Slowly she climbed down his stairs and walked past his motorcycle and then further out onto the dock to stare at the glimmering reflections in the bayou. Sagging posted No Trespassing signs were nailed to every cypress tree trunk. Her uncle, who’d always been something of a loner, wasn’t the most welcoming type.

  No wonder she’d never felt like she belonged. Uncle Bos certainly hadn’t wanted her. She’d been eight when her parents had been washed away by a wall of water caused by a crevasse, or a break in a levee, when the Mississippi had run too high one spring. Luckily she’d clung to a board that had swept her to a tree where she’d held on to a branch for hours.

  No, her uncle hadn’t wanted to take in an orphaned niece, but he’d been her only relative. And he hadn’t believed in public welfare. At least, not for any relative of his, even if she’d been a little sissy who didn’t know the first thing about life in the wilderness.

  He hadn’t understood her reading or her fascination with pictures in magazines. He’d called her lazy for writing and extravagant for shooting so much film. He’d quit school after the sixth grade because in his view education was a waste of time. Real life was fishing and trapping and hunting and carving and drinking, and pitting one of his prized cocks against another’s and laying bets. He’d made a small fortune cockfighting before it had been outlawed. Not that he was always a man to follow the law.

  She and he had had nearly nothing, other than their mutua
l love of the swamp in common. Yes, she’d come to love the swamp, so mostly she’d tried to stay out of his way. Then, to make matters worse, there’d been the times when he’d vanished for days on end, maybe to attend illegal cockfights. Maybe to drink in the houseboat he kept in the swamp. Maybe to be with a woman. Who knew?

  She’d hated being alone, but she hadn’t told anybody because she’d been too afraid the authorities would take her away from him. Logan may have suspected her plight because often when her uncle disappeared, he’d sent Noonoon over or had come himself to check on her and bring her food.

  Back then, before Uncle Bos had fallen out with the Claibornes over his bar and cockfights, he’d worked part-time as a gardener at Belle Rose. She’d loved going over to the plantation, loved following the Claiborne twins around, loved hearing about all the exciting things they were doing from Noonoon, who’d often let her inside to help in the kitchen.

  Everything at Belle Rose had seemed beautiful and as magical as the places she’d read about in books. After the twins’ parents’ fatal car wreck, Pierre had welcomed them. He hadn’t disappeared for weeks without telling them where he’d gone. He hadn’t made them feel lost and left out or like they didn’t belong. He’d taken them on wonderful vacations, too. When they returned, she’d pestered them into telling her everything they’d seen and done and into showing her their pictures.

  How she’d longed for the stability she’d known with her parents, but that was a vanished world, one she only dimly remembered. Once her uncle had taken her to her old neighborhood. A new house had stood where her family’s home had been. The place had seemed empty and utterly foreign to her. She’d felt alienated. It was as if she’d never lived there. As if her life with her parents had been completely erased. How she’d craved to feel some sense of belonging somewhere.

  Over time Belle Rose had become a symbol for the kind of home and loving family life and stability she’d longed for but didn’t think anyone like her could ever achieve again.

  Cici leaned over and stared into the dark water. When she caught sight of her own reflection, she laughed out loud. Talk about a bad hair day!