Roan (36 page)

She lifted her chin. “As you said, I want you naked.”

“You've heard the old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for?”' He shucked his pants and briefs without taking his gaze from her eyes, without regard for the color that rose in her face.

“I'm tired of being careful,” she said. “I've been careful all my life, and what did it get me? A fiancé interested only in my money, kidnapped, shot, held prisoner, slobbered over by a big dumb dog, tricked, cheated, half drowned, and then dumped in the hands of the Florida police—oh, and enough lawyers to row an ocean liner from here to China. I'm sick of it. And I'm through with it.”

“So,” he said as he straightened and threw the pants on the end of the bed, then held his arms wide in an expansive gesture. “Now that you've got me naked, just what was it you wanted to get straight?”

She narrowed her eyes as she stared at him, keeping her
attention strictly above the belt line. “You're enjoying this, aren't you? You think it's funny.”

“I think,” he said carefully, “that I've been in worse spots.”

“More dangerous ones, you mean.” The words were tight with offense.

“Less enjoyable ones,” he corrected.

She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling, then gave him a glare that was hot with accusation. “I knew it! You think I won't shoot. You aren't afraid of me at all.”

“I'm terrified,” he said softly as he moved toward her with slow care. “I'm terrified that you won't stay here with me after we stop talking.”

“That's dumb. I don't intend to leave here ever again.”

“I'm afraid that you won't get naked with me,” he suggested with a smile in his voice.

“Dumber. I never intended anything else.”

The next was more important. “Afraid that you'll never be happy in my backwater.”

“I've had enough waves in my life, thank you very much.”

“Afraid that you'll never love me enough to put up with a ready-made family that includes a hormone-crazed teenager, a know-it-all old man, and the whole nosy, interfering Benedict clan who will be forever, eternally, breathing down our necks.”

“Truly stupid. I can't think of anything I'd like better than sharing your family. And I love you, too. If you must know.”

“I'm beginning to get the idea.”

She looked away from him with compressed lips, then flung the pistol onto the bed. “This thing wasn't loaded anyway.”

“I know,” he said apologetically.

“You did.” The words were resigned.

“It's a revolver. I could see that the chambers were empty.”

“It was a stupid thing to do, anyway, holding it on you.”

“No, it wasn't. At least, not if what you wanted was to get my attention.” He was close enough to reach out, to touch her lovely, sweet face, to make her look at him again. “You certainly did that.”

“I was mad, too,” she muttered, shielding her gaze with her lashes.

“I know, and I'm sorry for whatever I did that was so wrong.”

She looked at him then. “You don't know? You really don't have any idea?”

It was his turn to scowl. “I thought you just gave me a pretty full list, beginning with shooting you and ending with running out on you after Melanka was arrested.”

“You also,” she said distinctly, “failed to sleep with me in Florida, you gallantly refused to take me back here with you to stand trial for my crimes,
and
you didn't kiss me goodbye.”

“So much to make up for,” he said with a remorseful shake of his head as he drew her close against his heart and rocked her gently back and forth. “I don't know where I'm going to start.”

“I do.” The words were muffled against the column of his neck, and ended with a small, butterfly kiss that thrilled him to his bare toes.

“Where?”

“By telling me, finally, just what you wanted with me when you brought me to Dog Trot.”

“What?”

“You said you would, when I was well enough to hear it.”

He groaned, holding her closer and brushing his lips against her hair. “Me and my big mouth. It was this, only this. Always this.”

Her arms tightened. “You could also tell me that you love me.”

“More than life itself, though I have to say, before we go any further, that I'm really not sorry for making you wear that monitor.”

“I know,” she answered.

He leaned back a little so he could look into her face. “You do?”

“You like to keep up with the people you love. You need to know where to find them every second so you can reach them instantly if they are in trouble.”

“You do,” he said, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“But I'm still not going to wear the thing after we're married. Unless…”

“What?” he asked, his voice not quite steady for the gladness rising inside him.

“Unless you wear one, too.” She raised on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his chin.

“Not a chance!”

“You're sure?” She kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Positive.”

“How positive?” she murmured just before she settled the tantalizing sweetness of her lips over his.

He'd think about it. Later.

H
eroes come in many varieties, and I readily admit to being a sucker for them all. I like the strong, silent type, the dashing, piratical blade who skates close to the moral edge, the devil-may-care gentleman who operates with style and wit, and many others. A real favorite, however, is the knight-errant, the authority figure with rigid principles and a deep need to be useful to those around him, particularly to women. In
Roan,
I wanted to put this knight-errant in a situation where he is responsible for harming the very person he should have saved, then see what he would do. This was the springboard for the story. How well I succeeded with it I don't know; the writer is often the person least qualified to say whether a story works. At least you know where I was headed when I began the book.

The stories about Turn-Coupe, Louisiana, were planned originally as a trilogy. However, my fascination with my fictional place and its people continues to generate book ideas. The series has been well received also, with Book 2,
Luke,
appearing on the
New York Times
Extended,
USA Today
Top 100 and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. The Turn-Coupe trilogy will continue then, becoming the Louisiana Gentlemen series. The story of nature photographer and
devastatingly handsome “wild thing” Clay Benedict will be next. I'm excited about this turn of events, and look forward to exploring the lives of more of my gentlemen heroes for your entertainment.

Since it's become my practice to include Louisiana recipes in these books, the offerings for
Roan
are below. The first is the gumbo mentioned by Kane, one that Regina and April were thinking of making to take to Roan's house before they were discouraged from the gesture. The other is the dessert that Tory prepared for Pop's homecoming, Blackberry Cobbler. I hope you enjoy them both.

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

Cover chicken with water and simmer with ½ onion, chopped, 1 garlic clove and bouillon cubes until tender. Reserve the liquid. Remove bones, etc., and cut meat into
bite-size pieces. Set aside. Cut sausage into bite-size pieces and set aside.

Make a roux by browning flour in oil over medium heat, stirring often with flat-edged spatula. When the roux has browned to the shade of well-tanned English leather, immediately add the remaining onion and garlic, other vegetables and parsley to the hot mixture. Sauté over medium heat, stirring constantly, until onions and shallots are wilted. (The mixture will be extremely thick; take care not to burn it.) When vegetables are done, add hot, reserved chicken stock and stir well, breaking up any lumps with the back of the spatula. Adjust liquid by adding water until you have 3 to 4 quarts of gumbo, total, of a souplike consistency. Add chicken meat and sausage. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Add bay leaves, thyme and red pepper. Simmer 1 to 2 hours to blend flavors. Remove bay leaves. Serve over rice. Serves 8-10. Freezes well.

Blackberry Cobbler

Place blackberries in a casserole dish and sprinkle with sugar, reserving 2 tablespoons. Sift dry ingredients. Cut butter into the flour mixture until coarsely mixed. Add milk, and stir until just mixed. Turn out onto a floured surface. Knead dough lightly, then roll out to ¼-inch thickness. Cut into strips. Crisscross the strips of dough over the sugared
berries. Add cinnamon to remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar. Sprinkle over the dough strips. Bake at 425° F for 30 minutes.

Bon appétit!

Warmest regards,

www.jenniferblake.com