for being a no-show,” Willa replied, more to herself than to him. “I’d hate to think—I don’t want people to believe—”
“People will believe what they want to believe,” Lucas interjected, his hand on hers. “You’ve obviously got a good reason for deciding to cancel out on the show.”
She looked up. “But you don’t believe me, either, do you? I can see it in your eyes. You’re wondering exactly what the rest of the world is wondering—how could I be so shallow and self-centered?”
She jumped up to stare down at him.
Lucas caught her before she could bolt for the house. “Hey, now, slow down. Yes, I’m wondering what happened. But I refuse to believe gossip or half-truths. What I’d really like is for you to talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you.”
She lowered her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not? You can trust me.”
Willa pulled her arm away. “It’s not about trust. This is something I have to deal with on my own, in my own way. I just need some time to think things through, make a decision.”
“And you’d rather be left alone?”
Her expression told him one thing, but her eyes told him that she needed someone to help her through whatever crisis she was dealing with.
“I have to resolve this on my own terms, Lucas,” she replied. She reached a hand up to absently scratch a bright red spot on her arm. Then she turned to leave.
Lucas moved like lightning to catch up with her. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
She shrugged, refusing to look at him. “Nothing. Just a few bug bites from our excursion into the swamp the other day. I’ve got some lotion in my room.”
“Oh, no,” he said, pulling her toward the French doors. “Rosie Lee has this stuff she makes up herself with herbs and witch hazel. It’ll take the sting out. C’mon, we’ll find it. These Louisiana mosquitoes can be fierce.”
She smiled. “It does itch.”
“We’ll fix it,” Lucas told her, taking her into the kitchen.
Rosie Lee glanced up from the industrial-size dishwasher. “Can I get you anything, Lucas?”
“Nah. We’re just gonna head into the sitting room to doctor Willa’s bug bites.”
Rosie Lee nodded, then turned to her work. “Poor bébé. You’re sure too pretty for da mosquitoes to tote off, for true.”
“Thank you,” Willa said, smiling at the other woman.
Emily came in and glanced shyly at Willa. “Miss O’Connor, I just love…I love seeing you in all the magazines. I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Willa gave the teenager a soft smile. “Thanks, Emily. Just remember, what you see in the magazines is the product of a whole team of people—makeup artists and hairstylists, not to mention the marketing and advertising gurus. I know it might sound trite, but real beauty comes from within. And your pretty smile shows me that you have an inner beauty all your own.”
Emily blushed, looked at her mother, then shook her head. “But I’ll never look like you.”
“You weren’t meant to,” Willa replied. “Just be yourself. You have beautiful olive skin and glorious dark hair. Would you believe, I used to wish I had dark hair like yours?”
“Non,” Emily said, laughing. Then she touched her rich brown locks. “It is natural.”
“Keep it that way, suga’,” Lucas interjected with a wink. “Em, you know you’re the belle of Bayou le Jardin, don’t you, now?”
“Lucas, you’re teasing me,” Emily said, grinning.
But Lucas saw the way she held her head high. Willa’s praise had given the young woman some much-needed confidence.
“Em, get back to your chores,” her mother said softly, a look of pride on her face.
Emily rolled her eyes, then grinned again. “I’ll see you later.”
“Medicine’s on the shelf in the pantry,” Rosie Lee told Lucas. Then she glanced at Willa. “Thanks for talking to her. She’s at that age where she thinks she’s ugly. Me, I think she’s the prettiest thing in the world, but I’m just her mamma, hein?”
“She is pretty,” Willa replied. “She’ll blossom into a beauty soon.”
“Oui, her papa is worried about that very thing.”
While Rosie Lee went back to work, Lucas tugged Willa into the little sitting room. “There,” he indicated, placing her on the couch, his gaze holding hers. “That was a very nice thing you just did.”
Willa shrugged, then looked away. “What? Talking to Emily? I was telling her the truth. She’s at such a hard age—caught between baby fat and hormones. I certainly can remember those days.”
Lucas let his gaze move over her slender frame. “Did you actually ever have any baby fat?”
“Yes, I sure did. But I was all arms and legs, so awkward and gangly. I felt like an ugly duckling.”
“And turned into a beautiful swan.”
He saw the sadness falling across her like a cloud over the sun.
“Where’s this soothing medicine?” she asked, her eyes on her itching bite. She rubbed it with obvious nervousness. To avoid looking at him, he guessed.
After rummaging through the first aid kit in the pantry that connected the sitting room with the kitchen, Lucas found the antiseptic lotion that Rosie Lee kept handy for just such purposes.
“Ah, here it is,” he told Willa, coming to sit on the footstool in front of her. Noticing the tabloid on the table, he quickly shoved it to the floor before she had a chance to see it.
Then he took her arm in his hand and began to rub creamy, fresh-scented medicine on the swollen bite. “That ol’ skeeter got you bad, love. Does it still sting and itch?”
Willa looked at him, her big blue eyes filled with gratitude and resolve. “It’s not that bad. I’ve got a couple of others, mostly on my legs. I’ll doctor those with Rosie Lee’s medicine later, if you don’t mind.”
“I could do those, too,” he teased, glad to see a smile tugging at her beautiful lips. “I guess in your profession, you have to be extra careful about bug bites and scrapes—the camera probably isn’t too kind to injuries.”
She nodded, her thick ponytail falling over her shoulder. “I have to be careful, but we have the magic of airbrushing and touching up the photos to help us look perfect—even when we’re not.”
“You’re as close to perfect as any woman I’ve ever met,” Lucas said, his hand going still on her arm. “I just need to take better care of you next time we venture out.”
“I
