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Lucas turned to smile at the woman and felt the up-close essence of her beauty in a gut punch right to his stomach. It was hard to speak, but he managed to keep his cool so he could continue defending that beauty and look good in her eyes. “Willa, do you have anything to say to these two…gentlemen?”
“Not a word,” she replied, gratitude sparkling like rainwater in her breathtaking crystal-blue gaze. “I’d really like them to just go away,” she added through a perfect row of clenched gleaming white teeth.
Lucas shrugged, then dropped his hands to his sides. “Then I guess that settles it, hein?” Taking a step toward the two photographers, he said, “Get off my property right now or I will call the sheriff.”
“Let’s go,” Number Two told Number One, backing away. “We got enough pictures, anyway.”
“Speak for yourself,” Number One retorted, posing his camera toward Willa. Until he saw the look in Lucas’s eyes. Then he shrugged and brushed past the apparent competition. “Okay, guess I do need to get back to my hotel room and get these developed—so I can beat you to the scoop.”
The race was on as the two jostled each other.
“Hey, hold on there, fellows,” Lucas said, surprising the entire group. Then he turned to the woman. “Do you want these two to have pictures of you?”
“No,” she said, her incredible eyes burning holes through the two motley, perspiring men.
Lucas held his hand up, motioning to the two. “Let’s have it, please.”
“Have what?” It was a whining chorus.
“The film,” Lucas replied, a smile forming on his lips. “Now.”
“You can’t take our film,” Burly Number One protested, sweat popping on his pale forehead.
“Watch me, mon ami.” Lucas grabbed the man’s camera, opened it and took the film out, inch by inch.
“Hey, you just ruined that!”
“Yes, I did.” Then he turned to the other man, his hand outstretched. “Hand it over, unless you want me to report you to the authorities.”
Reluctantly, and with great disgust, the man handed over the roll of film from his camera. “That belongs to me, you know. To Famous Faces magazine.”
“Yeah, well, now it belongs to me,” Lucas stated as he dropped the ruined film on the ground and rubbed his suede hiking boot across it, disdain evident in his actions. “Now, leave the way you came in—which was probably over the side fence.” He’d have to remember to have Tobbie check that broken fence again.
“Can’t you let us out the gate?” Number One whined.
Lucas turned his head in a gesture of disbelief. “Since I didn’t invite you in, why should I be gracious in letting you out?” Then he motioned toward the driveway that wound around the gardens. “Dig a trench, for all I care, but get out of here, and don’t let me catch you back again. Ever. Or mine will be the only famous face you remember.”
“You’ll be hearing from my publisher,” one of the men called as they trudged away, both huffing and puffing.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Lucas replied, chuckling.
He pulled a walkie-talkie off his leather belt.
“Tobbie, you there?” At Tobbie’s crisp answer, Lucas said, “Two men are approaching the side fence, that place near the tulip gardens where the fence needs repairing. Would you kindly escort them off the property?”
“With pleasure, for true,” Tobbie said, his hoot of laughter echoing over the static.
Satisfied that the oversize Tobbie Babineaux would scare the living daylights out of the two and send them packing, Lucas grinned.
And then her turned to her. “Fans of yours?”
Willa O’Connor looked at the man who’d come to her rescue and wished she knew how to answer his question.
“Not exactly,” she replied, still in shock after being ambushed in what she’d taken to be an isolated, secluded spot. “They work for some of those supermarket tabloids. Celebrity Exposé and, as you heard, Famous Faces. They like to travel in packs so they can attack from several different angles, then fight each other for the best shots.”
“So you’re a celebrity, then?”
“Somewhat,” she replied, not wanting to reveal too much.
She waited as the man took his time letting that little tidbit settle in. While he did that, he looked her over, his dark eyes full of doubt and mirth, his olive skin alive with a fine sheen of sweat in spite of the early morning breezes. He was certainly a handsome thing, with his long, curling brown-black hair and those chocolate-colored eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with a careless, lazy observation.
“Lucas,” she said, recognition making her gasp as she remembered the name he’d given the two reporters. “You’re Lorna’s brother, right?”
“Oui, and her favorite brother, at that,” he said, his grin full of promise and trouble as he reached a hand toward hers. “And from what I gathered from those two camera-toting clowns, your name is Willa?”
Willa tentatively took his hand, shaking it as she nodded then tried to pull away. But he held her. His hand was warm and work-callused, with long, artistic fingers that seemed to cling to her palm a bit too much for comfort. Lucas Dorsette didn’t just shake her hand; he held it as if it were a treasure. And then he did something even more unexpected. He bent his head and kissed her hand.
“Hello, Willa,” he said as he lifted his head, those dark, mischievous eyes sparkling with way too much charm. “Where on earth did you come from?”
“She came from New York,” Lorna said from behind him. “And she’d probably like her hand back, big brother.”
Willa watched as Lucas shrugged, then turned his head toward his sister and her husband, Mick, as they strolled down the garden path from the house. But he didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he kept it tucked in his then brought it down, holding it as if they’d been lifelong friends. “I’ll give it back…in a little bit.”
Willa didn’t wait for him to decide when. She gave him a slight smile, then pulled her hand away so she could wave to Lorna, glad for the distraction and glad to have her tingling hand away from his overly warm fingers. “Hello there. I was just about to explain to your brother what I’m doing here.”
“Let me,” Lorna said, giving Willa a light hug. Then she turned to Lucas. “Lucas, this is my friend Willa O’Connor. She arrived late last night. I met Willa in Paris a few years ago, and we’ve kept in touch since then. She needed a few days to herself, so I invited her to come down here to Bayou le Jardin. And I expect you to give her some much-needed space.” Then she yanked playfully on a silky strand of her brother’s unkempt hair. “And I expect you to behave yourself.”
“Don’t I always now?” Lucas said, his gaze zooming in on Willa with all the bright-eyed intent of someone who never, ever behaved himself.
Oh, she loved his accent—part southern gentleman, part backwoods Cajun, slow and easy and downright irresistible. Lucas Dorsette was everything his sister had described and more. A true contradiction—fierce and gentle, mysterious and gallant. Handsome and fun-loving.
A lethal combination of charm and rebellion.
Lorna had warned her.
But he had come to her rescue like some gallant knight from a romance novel. Only who was she kidding? Willa knew she needed another man in her life like she needed another pair of designer shoes. She’d had way too many of both.
And she’d come down to Louisiana to clean her closet, get the cobwebs out of the attic, so to speak. Decide what to do about her crumbling life. She didn’t need Lorna’s handsome brother complicating her already complicated existence.
And yet, she could still feel the warmth of his lips on the back of her hand.
“Your brother has behaved perfectly this morning,” she told Lorna. “He helped me out of a very sticky situation.”
“What happened?” Lorna asked as she leaned against her good-looking husband’s chest. Mick automatically wrapped his arms around Lorna, holding her close as they waited for Willa to answer.
Willa envied the happiness her friend had found in the spring, envied Lorna’s glowing face and contented newlywed smile. She was glad Lorna had found some peace at last. She’d come to Lorna’s beloved gardens hoping to find some peace of her own.
But apparently, it wasn’t to be.
“I’m afraid I’ve been found,” she said. “The press—two goons from the tabloids.”
“They were hiding in the bushes like possums,” Lucas said, his dark brows lifting as he watched Willa. “And hey, jolie fille, mind telling me what that was all about? Why did those two want pictures of you so bad, besides the fact that you’re beautiful and so obviously photogenic, and as you said, somewhat of a celebrity?”
Willa had to smile at the innocence of his question. A man who didn’t know her face? A man who really didn’t follow every aspect of her career? She found that hard to believe, but it was a refreshing change, at least.
Lorna gave her brother a gentle slap on the arm. “You dolt, don’t you know who she is?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, she’s Willa O’Connor, fair maiden and friend of Lorna. Isn’t that all I need to know?”
“Yes,” Willa said.
“No,” Lorna replied, rolling her eyes. Then she took her brother by the face, holding a hand to his jaw. “Willa is a supermodel. Her face is famous all over the world. And right now, she’s supposed to be resting—away from all the cameras and the spotlights. So you did the right thing by sending those two away.”
“They’ll be back, and they’ll bring others with them,” Willa stated, her head down. “Which means I probably should leave soon. I don’t want to disrupt your home or bother any of your other guests.”
“Nonsense,” Lucas said before Lorna could reply, his dark eyes gleaming with new knowledge. “If you came here to find rest and relaxation, then that’s exactly what you’ll get. And I’ll put myself personally in charge—just to make sure.”
Lorna’s husband, Mick, spoke up. “How, uh, noble of you, Lucas.”
“Ain’t it, though?” Lucas replied, clearly unaffected by his brother-in-law’s teasing. “Personal detail—I’m good at that. I can be your tour guide, your bodyguard, whatever you need me to be.” He held his hand over his heart, then gave Willa a besotted, lopsided grin that had her laughing in spite of herself.
But the way he’d spoken left her wondering exactly what his many talents entailed. Probably heartbreaker, rake, charmer, just to name a few.
“Easy, brother,” Lorna cautioned. “She needs to rest. And if I know you, that word translates more into restless. Don’t drag her out into the swamp for any ‘gator sightings just yet.”
Lucas looked affronted. “The swamp can be a very restful spot. And highly romantic.”
Willa had to smile again. “Rest I need. And as for romance, I’m afraid I’ve given up on that forever.”
“Forever is a long time, suga’,” Lucas countered. “Me, personally, I couldn’t survive without a little romance now and then.”
His dark, unwavering gaze washed over her, telling her that neither could she—if he had his way.
“I warned you,” Lorna reminded Willa, taking her husband’s hand to head to the house. “Breakfast is ready, if you can tear yourself away from my poetic brother.”
“I’ll escort you,” Lucas told Willa, tucking his arm around hers before she could take a step. “According to our aunt Hilda, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Willa’s already met Aunt Hilda,” Lorna called over her shoulder. “She had an early meeting in town so she couldn’t stay for breakfast with our guests, but she did urge Willa to eat a good meal.”
“See?” Lucas ducked his head low, his words coming in a warm rush near Willa’s ear. “And she always let’s me say grace.”
Grace. Willa wondered what that word meant, exactly. She’d been told she had a natural grace. She was in demand because of that, at the top of her career. And she’d just walked out on one of the most important fashion shows in the industry. How was that for having grace? How was that for saving grace?
She knew Lorna’s family was devout. Lorna had never made any secret of her Christianity, nor of her strong faith. Was that what real grace was all about? And could this beautiful, timeless garden really bring Willa the spiritual and physical healing her doctor and her friend had told her she needed?
Not if her first morning here was any indication. Two photographers in the bushes and a handsome Cajun on her arm, and all before breakfast.
“I’ve been up since before dawn. I’m stark, raving starving, and beating off thugs only added to my appetite,” Lucas said, bringing her out of her tormented, confused thoughts.
Willa had to wonder how he stayed in such good shape if he ate like a madman all the time. But she decided it’d be better to put such thoughts out of her mind. “Thanks for your help back there,” she told him, meaning it. “I was hoping no one would find me here.”
“They won’t again—not with me on the case, I guarantee.”
He’d stretched out that last word, his Cajun accent every bit as teasing as his merry grin. Obviously, he wasn’t as concerned about intrusive reporters as she was.
“I don’t expect you to be my protector, Lucas. I’m capable of handling them myself. After all, I’m used to it.”
He looked at her, those dark, dancing eyes touching her as closely as his arm holding hers. And making her feel extremely warm in the morning sunshine. “So you’re a model. That figures. You’ve got the face and figure for it.”
Willa looked away, toward the house where the few other guests had gathered around the long buffet table set on the downstairs gallery. “That’s what they tell me. Always in demand.”
If Lucas noticed the sarcasm in her tone, he didn’t let on. “But you didn’t come down here to be in demand, so you don’t have to handle it while you’re here. I’ll beef up security and make sure we watch everyone who comes in and out the gate. If you came here to rest, then that’s what we want you to do.”
Rest. The word made Willa want to sit down on that lovely old swing behind the big house and rock back and forth all day. Maybe with Lucas there to tease her and make her smile. Quickly shaking off that particular image, she told him, “This is certainly a perfect spot for rest and relaxation. I don’t know why I waited so long to accept Lorna’s invitation.”
Lucas pulled her close, his dark head almost touching hers as he whispered in her ear. “I sure wish you’d come sooner, and that’s a fact. We’re still recovering from the spring floods, but the gardens are coming along fine.”
The warmth of him was just too much. Willa managed to extract herself from him as they reached the back gallery, where Lorna had a full breakfast set up on the wrought-iron buffet table. “Well, I have a fact for you,” she told Lucas as she pretended to be interested in the food. “I need coffee.”
“That we’ve got. Hot and strong.”
“Then I’ll be perfectly content.”
“What about all this food? I reckon even supermodels need to eat,” he said, his arm somehow linked once again through hers. “Aren’t you hungry?”
His closeness seemed like a natural thing. Lucas was probably used to touching, hugging, being close to people.
She wasn’t.
“Maybe a little,” she replied, feeling sick to her stomach as she scanned the fresh banana bread and strawberry muffins, grits, eggs, bacon and fruit the other guests seemed to be devouring.
Lucas shoved a gleaming white plate at her. “Well, Lorna’s probably made a big production—brunch with an old friend and all. You’ll find we love to eat around here.”
Willa swallowed, thinking she probably wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. After her encounter with those photographers, she was too keyed up, too worried, too nervous to eat. She had a lot of things to work through in her time here. A lot of decisions to make. She couldn’t let Lucas Dorsette’s charming, easy ways sidetrack her. Even if he did smell so good—like water and trees, like fresh air after a slow, soft country rain.
Once again, Willa reminded herself she’d better keep such thoughts out of her head. Way too dangerous.
But she certainly could allow Lucas to show her around a little bit, act as swamp guide, maybe. That couldn’t hurt.
Unless he kept looking at her the way he was looking at her right now.
Willa couldn’t allow Lucas to get too close.
Because she knew in her heart that would be the worst thing that could happen. For both of them.
Chapter Two
“Do you have any of those fashion magazines lying around?” Lucas asked Lacey when they were alone in the kitchen.
