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Adrien immediately noted the surprise in his longtime companion’s near black eyes, followed by a flicker of guilt before she said, “You’ve seen her?”
Yes, he’d seen her. He’d watched her from the window as she’d left her car. Saw her brief hesitation. Witnessed her wariness. He’d noticed the way her golden blond hair, bound at her neck, spiraled down her back in soft curls. Noticed her slender throat, her flawless pale skin, the length of her legs and the curve of her hips. From the shadows near the stairs, he’d also observed her walking the corridor, and imagined more than only watching her. A reaction he didn’t welcome but hadn’t been able to stop.
Adrien leaned forward and rolled a pen back and forth over the desk’s surface. “What does she want?”
“A job.”
He tossed the pen aside. “I assume you told her she was in the wrong place.”
“No, I did not.” Ella stepped forward from the door and displayed her usual toughness. “Her name is Selene Winston, and I’ve hired her to oversee the restoration.”
A sharp prick of seething anger threatened Adrien’s tenuous self-control. “I didn’t give you permission to hire anyone.”
Ella planted her palms on the desk and leaned into them. “Someone needs to go forward with the plans before this house falls down around our heads.”
Damn her interference. “That’s my decision, not yours.”
“That’s the problem, skâ. You’re making no decisions. That’s why we need someone to get this place into shape so you can put it on the market and leave.”
Right now he didn’t care to leave. The house had become his haven, his own private hell. “How did you find her?”
“I put an ad in the St. Edwards newspaper and she answered it. She’s the only one who answered it. And you’re the one who told me you wanted someone who would give the house personal attention. Otherwise, I could have hired a firm from Baton Rouge months ago.”
Adrien didn’t like the way Ella’s gaze suddenly faltered. “Where is she from?”
“Georgia. She’s a divorcée. From the looks of her car and clothes, I suspect she has money, or did at one time. But for some reason she’s decided to settle in St. Edwards. As long as she’s a hard worker, I don’t really care how she got here.”
Adrien cared. He had no use for a woman who’d probably never had her diamond-bedecked hands dirty in her whole damn life. “How much experience does she have?”
She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask her since you’re the all-knowing, all-seeing entrepreneur?”
If Ella were anyone else, he’d fire her. “I really don’t give a damn because I have no intention of letting her stay.”
“You don’t give a damn about anything, Adrien.” She straightened and sighed. “It’s been well over a year now. You have to go on with your life.”
A life filled with remorse. A life that had become static, by his own hand. And he liked it that way. “Tell her she’s not needed here.” Or wanted.
Ella scowled. “Oh, she’s needed here, all right. And she’s staying, or I’ll go with her.”
More empty threats, Adrien decided. Nothing he hadn’t witnessed before from his surrogate mother. Ella wasn’t going anywhere because she had no desire to leave him alone. In order to keep the peace, at least externally if not internally, he’d humor her for now. “Fine. Do what you will. Just make sure she stays out of my way.”
“Maybe you should tell her yourself. She’s agreed to live here until the house is finished. I put her in the room next to yours.” With that, Ella spun around without giving him a glance and headed out the door.
Adrien streaked both hands down his face and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t need any of this. Didn’t need this Winston woman anywhere near him. Even if she was beautiful. Even if he’d been numb for months now and when he’d seen her, he’d begun to come alive, at least in a carnal sense.
He’d be damned if he’d bed some Georgia debutante, and he had every intention of persuading her to leave. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would manage it, but he would. He definitely would.
Selene had been granted a delay in the official meeting, at least for the time being. According to Ella, the plantation’s owner hadn’t requested an audience, nor had he joined them for dinner. She hadn’t run into him on her way to retire for the night, but earlier she had heard him passing through the corridor outside the bedroom, followed by a closing door. The sound of creaking floorboards, as if he’d been pacing, continued for a time before ceasing a few moments ago. Now if only she could get some sleep.
But sleep seemed as elusive as her employer. The fans only served to stir the warm air, and the open windows provided little relief. She’d tossed and turned so much that her thin white gown was practically wrapped around her neck. And although she’d taken a bath before turning in, at this rate she would probably need another. She couldn’t imagine how people survived before the advent of air-conditioning. But then they couldn’t miss what they’d never had.
What Selene really needed at the moment was some fresh air to provide some temporary comfort. On that thought, she pushed out of the bed, opened the French doors and stepped barefoot onto the veranda, hoping she didn’t encounter any splinters jutting up from the wooden decking as she moved to the edge of the balcony. With her hands braced on the black railing, she turned her gaze to the three-quarter moon hanging overhead and the host of stars scattered across the midnight sky.
The temperature had mercifully dropped to a more tolerable level, the gentle wind she’d been seeking flowing over her damp body and ruffling her unruly hair. The bayou’s summer sounds surrounded her—chirping locusts and bellowing bullfrogs. She inclined her head and listened for the rush of the Mississippi that knit through the terrain not far away. She only heard the rustle of brush from below. No doubt, the swamps were full of nasty creatures. Probably a few bobcats and alligators with large, treacherous teeth waiting to snap up unsuspecting wildlife. Definitely snakes slithering about, coiled and ready to strike. Maybe even a wolf foraging the forest, searching for prey.
A brief image flashed in her mind—another mental photo shoot of someone watching her—followed by a low, rugged male voice saying, “Too hot to sleep?”
Two
Selene spun to her right to find a dark figure seated in a wicker settee at the end of the veranda a few feet away. She released a ragged breath, one hand resting on her chest above the gown’s scooped neck, the other gripping the rail tighter for support. “You startled me.”
“Obviously.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Wonderful. A midnight encounter with a jerk. She was so looking forward to this. “I take it you’re Mr. Morrell.”
“Correct.”
That relieved Selene somewhat, even if his attitude needed adjusting. At least he was a real man, not some ghostly apparition.
What now? She could bid him good-night and return to her room. Or she could get the official introduction out of the way then go back to bed. With that in mind, she shored up her courage and moved closer, the moonlight providing enough illumination for her to make out a few details. Details such as he couldn’t be much beyond his mid-thirties and not the curmudgeon she’d envisioned.
His slightly wavy dark hair fell below his chin and his lips formed a line as hard and unyielding as his jaw that was covered in evening whiskers. Then her gaze came to rest on his eyes. She suspected the same eyes that had flashed in her mind upon her arrival. Unearthly blue, predatory eyes.
She could also see he wasn’t wearing a shirt, while she was wearing a cotton gown that provided little cover. Not necessarily the proper attire for her first encounter with her boss, but she might as well get it over with.
Selene finally gathered enough wherewithal to step forward and offer her hand along with a forced smile. “I’m your new employee, Selene Winston.”
“I know who you are.” His gaze tracked down her body slowly in a blatant size-up before he centered it on her extended hand. After a slight hesitation, he took her palm into his grasp and curled his fingers around hers. Selene reeled from the bolt of sensation, the abject pain emanating from him. A deep, wounding pain.
She quickly dropped her hand and took a step back, as if she’d suffered an electrical shock. In reality, she had. She’d lived with the “gift” for as long as she could remember, keeping it concealed from the world. Well-bred Southern girls didn’t read minds; they read the society page. But in all her years, never before had she been empathetic. She’d been able to discern others thoughts through imagery and occasionally words, but she’d never been able to channel feelings. Until him.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured once she again had control over her voice.
He didn’t return the greeting, yet he did continue to stare at her, making her want to twitch where she stood. Making her want to run from him even though she felt oddly drawn to him. Drawn to his aura. His pain.
She struggled for something casual to say despite the uncomfortable situation. “I’d appreciate your input on how you want the restorations handled. Not right now, of course, since I need something to write with. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day, if you prefer.” Heaven help her, she was rambling like an idiot.
He failed to respond for a few moments until he finally said, “Only one thing you need to know. I expect perfection.”
Selene knew all about perfection. She’d lived the perfect life with the perfect family. Had gone to perfect schools and had married the perfect man. The perfect lying bastard, she corrected. “I’ll do my best to please you.”
He laced his hands atop his bare belly. “That remains to be seen. I’m not easy to please.”
That certainly didn’t surprise Selene considering Ella’s assessment that Adrien Morrell was a “hard case.” She would have to concur. And after her reaction to him when they’d touched, she sensed that perhaps he had his reasons. “Do you have any particular preferences?”
He inclined his head and surveyed her face from forehead to chin, settling his gaze on her mouth. “In reference to what?”
Another image filtered into her mind, regardless of her attempts to stop it. She only caught a glimpse of his thoughts, but enough to realize those thoughts involved questionable considerations involving naked bodies. Her naked body.
Selene couldn’t fathom why her well-honed ability to block this kind of thing failed her now. Couldn’t understand why he would be fantasizing about her, a woman he’d just met. More disturbing, she couldn’t comprehend why that excited her.
“I’m referring to how you would like the restoration handled,” she said once the images dissolved.
He shifted slightly in the chair. “I prefer not to be involved at all. Unless you have no idea what you’re doing.”
That made her bristle, her defenses on high alert. “Any reason why you believe I wouldn’t know what I’m doing?”
“You’ve given me no evidence to believe that you do.”
How was she going to answer? Easy. By telling only a partial truth. “I have an interior-design degree. I’ve also supervised staffs and redecorated my own house in the past. I’ve even refinished furniture with my own two hands.”
“Was that before or after your tennis game with the ladies down at the club?”
She resented his condescending tone. Resented even more that he was right about her former life. “Actually, I believe that was the day I had tea with the Daughters of the Confederacy,” she said in her sweetest drawl. “Right before I went to my lessons on how to be genteel and polite even when confronted by ill-mannered jackasses. Those lessons seem to be escaping me now.”
He looked as if he might actually smile, but it didn’t quite form. “Are you calling me a jackass, Ms. Winston?”
If the moniker fits. She laid a dramatic hand above her breast. “Why, no, Mr. Morrell. That would be totally improper.”
Again he raked his gaze down her body and back up again. Slowly. “Nothing wrong with impropriety now and then, Selene.”
And no doubt he had that impropriety market cornered. He’d been brazen enough to call her by her given name. Bold enough to fantasize about her. And he hadn’t even bothered to stand … until that moment.
He came to his feet slowly and, as she’d guessed, he was an inch or two over six feet. His chest was lean, well defined and dusted with a layer of dark hair, his flat abdomen sporting a sequence of ridges above the waistband of his black slacks. His proximity alone jumbled her mind, hindered her breathing, as did his scent. A subtle clean scent that seemed perfectly in sync with the summer night, as if he were an integral part of the atmosphere. Mystifying, intoxicating, forbidden.
If he’d meant to intimidate her, it was working. But Selene wasn’t going to let that happen. Not anymore. Not by any man. Especially not a man like him, even if he was absolutely awe-inspiring—in a threatening kind of way.
But instead of backing up, she turned her attention to a pair of dark vines circling his solid bicep, a grouping of letters centered in the middle that spelled out the word Imperium. “Interesting tattoo. My Latin’s a little rusty. What does it mean?”
She lifted her eyes to find his gaze boring into her. “Absolute power.”
Both his declaration and his overwhelming presence paralyzed her, even though she knew what he was about to do. The way he studied her mouth again gave her the first indication. His musings that broke through her mental haze served as confirmation. If she didn’t leave now, he was going to kiss her. And she might actually let him.
Forcing herself back into reality, Selene folded her arms tightly around herself, as if that might offer some protection, and stepped back to regain her resolve. “I don’t believe power is absolute, Mr. Morrell.”
With the last of her shredding strength, Selene turned away from him and headed back to the safety of the bedroom. But she’d only managed a few steps before he said, “Some power is absolute, Selene. And you know it.”
She didn’t dare face him again, or respond at all. Doing so would only prove to him that he did possess a certain power—over her.
She returned to the room, closing the doors behind her. Closing him out. But she couldn’t drive him from her thoughts, nor could she rid herself of the persistent heat that had little to do with the elements.
She climbed into bed and tried to clear her mind. Tried to sleep. Tried to think about anything but him. But as she drifted off, Adrien Morrell was the last thing she thought about. The last thing she saw.
The minute Selene stepped from the bathroom into the hallway the following morning, she knew he had been nearby. She’d immediately caught the scent of his cologne, but more importantly, she sensed his presence. An intangible feeling that totally consumed her. She wondered if he’d been standing at the door or if he’d simply just passed through the corridor. Whatever the case might be, he wasn’t anywhere in sight now. That should please her, but in a way, she was disappointed—only because she wanted to get a look at him in the daylight. A good, long look.
Glancing to her right, she intended to check to see if his bedroom door was open. Instead, she made contact with the devilish statue, its vicious features causing her to physically jump. Demon Giles would definitely have to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. If she thought she could actually haul him up and carry him out, she would deposit him in the nearby swamp.
Selene returned to her bedroom, slipped out of her robe and into a pair of white linen slacks and a coral knit sleeveless top. At least her summer apparel provided a respite from the heat that had already begun to creep into the house.
Selene headed down the spiral staircase at a fast clip, relieved to be out of the dark corridor and into the light, surrounded by cherubs. As she made her way across the rotunda toward the kitchen, she paused at a painting hanging on the wall of a young woman with bright green eyes and raven-black hair swept up from her slender, pale neck, her hands folded primly in her lap. Considering the lady’s clothing—a soft white, long lace dress with a full skirt—Selene would guess that she’d probably resided at the plantation many years before. But when she studied the inscription on the brass plate anchored to the bottom of the frame, a series of chills raced up her spine as well as a sense of foreboding.
Grace—She sleeps with the angels.
Maybe this was a key to one of the tragedies Ella had spoken about the previous day. Maybe this beautiful young woman had died before her youth was spent, and perhaps even in this house. As disconcerting as that thought was, Selene wanted to know more about the plantation’s past, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity. Who better to ask than the owner’s right-hand woman?
As she entered the kitchen, Selene found Ella at the ancient white stove scrambling eggs and humming a cheerful song.
“Good morning,” Selene said as she pulled back a chair and took a seat at the weathered pine table.
Ella regarded her over one shoulder while she continued to cook. “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?”
“Fairly well. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the surroundings.” To get used to the idea that Adrien Morrell resided right next door. She’d intermittently heard the sounds of his footsteps throughout the night, as if he’d been restless. But then so had she. She still was.
Ella turned from the stove, balancing a full plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She crossed the small space and slid the fare in front of Selene. “Enjoy.”
Selene resisted wrinkling her nose. She didn’t care for eggs or bacon. Toast she could do, and coffee. Definitely coffee. “It looks good, but I’m never very hungry in the morning. I also want to get an early start today.”
Ella returned to the table with her own cup of coffee and took the chair across from Selene. “If you stay around for a while, you might be able to meet Mr. Morrell when he comes down for breakfast.”
“I’ve already met him.” Selene waited for Ella’s apparent surprise to subside before she added, “Last night, on the veranda outside our rooms.”
Ella slid a fingertip around the rim of her own cup. “How did that go?”
It had gone places Selene had never expected. “Not too badly. He wanted to know about my work experience, and I got the impression he doesn’t want to be bothered with the details of the restoration.”
Ella sighed. “He wants to be left alone.”
Selene had sensed that about him last night, even in light of his fantasies about her. “What exactly does he do for a living?”
“He’s an entrepreneur. He turned his inheritance into a small fortune through various ventures, mainly buying faltering businesses, restoring them and selling them for a large profit. He’s very good at what he does, or he was until …” Ella’s gaze drifted away with her words.
“Until what?” Selene asked.
“Until he decided to take a break from it all.”
Again, Selene wanted to know more about Adrien, to ask more questions. But she sensed Ella wasn’t up to answering, which called for a subject change. “If you can point me to a phone, I’ll contact a few prospective contractors and set up appointments.”
Ella took a quick sip of her coffee. “You’ll have to find someone from Baton Rouge since you won’t find anyone locally, at least not anyone who’s willing to come out here. The townspeople are a superstitious lot. They believe the place is cursed.”
Ella had unknowingly provided Selene with a good opening. “That portrait near the staircase. Is that woman somehow involved in the tragedies?”
“I’m not really sure,” Ella said. “I assume she probably is, but I don’t know any details about her.”
Selene had always embraced the past, and she truly believed the woman named Grace had an interesting one at that.
She took another quick drink of coffee, pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m going to go into town and pay a personal visit to a few of the business owners. Maybe someone can suggest a local contractor who isn’t superstitious.”
“Good luck.” Ella nodded toward Selene’s untouched food. “You should eat something first, put on a few pounds so you don’t make me look quite so portly.”
