Bayou Sweetheart

If he had this woman to entice him, Tomas might become less of a recluse and more of a social human being.

But, he reminded himself, he had not come back to Fleur, Louisiana, to fling himself into a relationship. He’d come back here to prove something to all the people who’d once scorned him and condemned him. And prove it he would, without distraction.

He dropped the sandwich and pushed the plate away, his appetite gone.

What would the lovely Callie Moreau think when she found out the truth about him? When she found out who he really was?

He didn’t want that to happen yet. He could control how much she knew in the same way he controlled everything else in his life.

“Let’s get on with this,” he said in an abrupt tone. “I have a busy afternoon.”

She nodded, shuffled her folded papers and came around the desk. “Here’s the grid.”

Tomas sniffed the floral scent of her perfume while she expounded on everything from Japanese maples to cast-iron plants.

And he wondered why he even cared about the garden in the first place.

* * *

“So that’s how Alma’s gumbo got so famous.”

Callie grinned over at Margie and Eunice. She remembered seeing them at church when they’d come for the first time a few weeks ago, so she felt at ease with them. After lunch, Himself had gone off to take another important call, but the rain kept falling so she was now back in the kitchen. Would she ever get to dig in that garden?

“So what’s it like to work for such a scary person?” she asked, killing time with small talk.

“We like him,” Margie said. She shot a covert glance to the other end of the big house. “He pays well.”

“Okay, that’s good. He’s generous then?”

“Very,” Eunice chimed in. “But we’ve known Tomas for a long time now. That’s why we came to work here. He only asks that we keep things straight and clean. He doesn’t mind us taking breaks. And he told us we could take off anytime we had doctor’s appointments or things like that.” She shrugged. “We hardly know he’s around.”

“Good.” Callie twirled her hair, remembering her time with Tomas in his office. The man couldn’t wait to get rid of her. “So you’re telling me that Mr. Delacorte isn’t really that scary?”

Both women went very quiet. Callie wondered if they hadn’t heard her. “So?”

“Boo.”

She turned to find Tomas standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d managed to sneak up on her yet again and while she was talking about him, yet again. When had he managed to walk the whole house without her hearing?

“Oh, hi.” She sat still while Margie and Eunice jumped up and pretended to be doing busy stuff. “Is that rain still out there?” And when would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

“Did I scare you?” he asked, ignoring the rain question.

“No. I mean, yes.” It was time for her to go home.

He gave her the glint look. “Voices tend to echo through this house.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

After the other women beat a hasty exit, he leaned against the counter. “Do I...scare you?”

Callie couldn’t fudge the truth. She was known for her sugar-coated bluntness, after all. “Yes, you do. You’re different.”

“In what way?”

In a tingling, strange way that messes with my head.

She lifted her hand, indicating their surroundings, and thought of the first excuse that came to mind. “This house didn’t come cheap.”

Fleur House was a true treasure with its many porches and porticos, the arched windows and terraces and that garden, lush with possibilities. This man had bought it, commissioned Nick Santiago to renovate it and had managed to put a big intricate iron fence around it to keep everyone out.

But all of that added up to a lot of money.

“No, but how does that make me different?”

“Have you really taken a look at this town? We’re hurting. Between storms, oil spills and a bad economy, we’re barely hanging on. But you—you seem to have it all together. You get to live in a beautiful, historic home. You obviously have money since you poured a lot into renovating this place. And you’re paying me a hefty fee to spruce up the property. So yes, you’re different. You don’t have to worry about where your next paycheck will come from.”

He leaned close to her, his gaze heating her skin. “I am different, but not in the way you think.”

Callie took a breath and dug right in. “You want to explain that?”

“No,” he said. Then he glanced out the row of kitchen windows. “Oh, look, the rain’s stopped.”

Callie knew a dismissal when she heard one.

“My cue to leave,” she said. Grabbing her tote and her pride, she turned at the back door. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Hopefully, the ground will be dry by then. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“I’d appreciate that—you coming back to finish the job and you staying out of my way.” He nodded, glinted and then turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Two

“So you will be at the wedding?”

Tomas walked with Brenna and Nick to their car. They’d come by to take one last look at the house that they’d both helped renovate. Tomas always enjoyed meetings that involved Brenna. She knew her art, and she had fallen in love with his right-hand man, Nicholas Santiago.

He stared at Brenna now. She was different from her sisters. All auburn and fire, lots of emotion and drama. Alma was maternal and earthy, with golden-brown hair and flashing eyes.

And Callie. She was earth, wind and fire, water and sunshine. The total package. Sunlight-golden hair and gray-blue eyes. He hadn’t seen her since they’d met the other day, but he’d seen traces of her work in the garden. Would she only come around when he wasn’t here?

“Earth to Tomas?” Brenna grinned over at him. “I think we lost you there for a minute. Did you think of something else we need to do for you? For the house?”

“No.” Tomas kept smiling. “The wedding? Yes, I plan to be there. Wouldn’t miss it.” Dreaded it with all his heart, but...he’d promised Nick.

Brenna let out a little squeal. “Good. You know, everyone in town is dying to meet the mysterious man who bought Fleur House. You’re a hot topic around here.”

Nick shook his head. “Anybody new here is a hot topic. Don’t let her tease you.”

Tomas enjoyed the way they glanced at each other. So in love. He thought of Callie, dancing in the rain. Remembered he didn’t want her dancing in his garden. Remembered her laughing in his kitchen. Remembered that he didn’t want her laughing in his kitchen. Or in his garden, for that matter.