said, shooting Lorna a warning glare. “Come onto the gallery so we can talk. I want you to meet our aunt Hilda, anyway. You can explain to all of us exactly how you plan on clearing away all this debris.”
“Would that calm her down?” he asked, glaring at Lorna.
Lorna didn’t flinch, but that heated blue-velvet gaze did make a delicate shudder move down her spine.
“I think the coffee would help immensely,” Lacey stated, pinching Lorna to make her behave. “And some kind of explanation would certainly put all of us at ease. This has been so traumatic—we thought surely we were going to be blown into the swamp. I think we’re all still in shock.”
“Obviously,” Mick replied, his gaze shifting from Lorna to Lacey.
Lorna watched as Mick listened to her sister. Oh, he’d probably fall for Lacey’s charms, bait and hook. Lacey did have a way of nurturing even the most savage of beasts. And Lorna had a way of sending men running. No, she didn’t send them running, she just sent them away. Period.
Oh, she didn’t need this right now. The bed-and-breakfast mansion was booked solid for the spring season, and the Garden Restaurant located out back was always busy. But what choice did she have? They had to get things cleared up.
Feeling contrite, Lorna turned back to Mick. “I’m sorry. I’m at a loss as to what to do next, and I took it out on you. We do appreciate your help.”
Mick’s expression seemed to relax then. He had a little-boy face, tanned and energetic, playful and challenging. Mischievous, as Aunt Hilda would say.
And tempting. Very tempting. Like a rich pastry, or a fine piece of ripe forbidden fruit.
“Apology accepted,” he said. “And coffee would be most welcome.”
“Then come on inside,” Lacey told him, giving Lorna a nudge toward the gallery.
“Let me just talk to my men a minute,” Mick replied. “I’ll be right back.”
Lorna watched as Mick instructed one of the men, his hard hat in his hand. He had thick, curly ash-brown hair, sunny in spots and as rich as tree bark in others.
“Don’t break a stitch staring at him,” Lacey warned.
“Don’t pop a button telling me what to do,” Lorna retorted.
Then she gasped in surprise. The man Mick had been talking to headed to one of the big white equipment-laden trucks they’d pulled into the backyard—the truck parked over the camellia bush.
“He’s moving the truck,” Lacey whispered. “Lorna, do you see?”
“I have eyes,” Lorna stated, her hands on her hips, her brow lifted. Her heart picking up its tempo.
She looked from the groaning, grinding truck to Mick Love’s gentle, gracious eyes. And felt as if the storm was still raging around her.
She had eyes, all right. But she could see right through Mick Love’s kind gesture. Kindness always came with a price, didn’t it?
And Lorna had to wonder just what Mick Love expected in return for this kindness.
Chapter Two
He had expected the strong coffee. Louisiana was famous for that. And he had expected the house to be big, cool and gracious. It had once been a plantation house and now served as an historical bed-and-breakfast vacation spot. But what Mick hadn’t expected was the fierce intelligence and remarkable strength of the three women sitting out on the gallery having breakfast with him.
Nor had he expected to be extremely smitten by the very one who’d chewed him out in two different languages not an hour ago.
But then, Mick was beginning to expect the unexpected at Bayou le Jardin.
“Have your men had enough to eat, Mr. Love?”
He glanced over at Hilda Dorsette. The breakfast of French toast, biscuits, ham, grits and eggs, and fresh fruit had been more than enough. “Yes, ma’am, I think they’ve eaten their fill. And we sure appreciate your giving us breakfast. We cranked up in the middle of the night to get here by daylight.”
“Well, we appreciate your willingness to help out,” the older woman replied as she watched several of the workers going about their jobs.
Mick gave a slight nod while keeping a watchful eye on the bucket trucks. As he watched the rookie named David spike a tree so he could climb it, he added, “Claude Juneau and I go way back. I didn’t mind helping him out one bit. Just sorry for the noise and clutter.”
“What noise? What clutter?” The teasing light in her eyes made Mick relax, even as another chain saw cranked up and went to work on cutting up a big limb.
Mick figured the noisy wenches, stomp cutters and wood chippers would frazzle anybody’s nerves. But Hilda Dorsette sat sipping her coffee as if she had heavy equipment in her fragile garden every day of the week.
Mick liked Aunt Hilda. She was plumb, petite and no-nonsense. And she was the mayor of the nearby town of Jardin—another unexpected revelation. Dressed in a bright salmon-colored casual top and a sturdy khaki flared skirt, she looked ready to take on the day. With her coiffured silver-gray hair and bright blue eyes, she was a charmer. And shrewd, too.
“I’m glad you took the time to explain the work you’re doing,” she told him. “I’ve heard of tree services and tree surgeons, of course. We’ve had a local tree expert watching over our great oaks for years now. But I never knew utility companies rely on companies such as yours to help them out of tight spots.”
With that statement, she finished the last of her coffee, then set the delicate china cup down on its matching saucer. “Since we seem to be in your capable hands, I’m going to leave the girls in charge while I let Tobbie drive me into the village to see what else needs to be done there. I’m sure the Mayor’s Office will be hopping with activity again this morning, and my assistant Kathryn is already there waiting on me. We have to coordinate the Red Cross efforts and make sure everyone is fed and sheltered. So many people lost everything.” She shook her head, then rose from the white wrought-iron chair. “I am so very thankful that Bayou le Jardin only lost trees and some of the storage buildings. It could have been much, much worse.”
Mick got up as she did, helping her with her chair. “I understand, Miz Dorsette. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“And so do you, son.” She glanced at Lorna when she said this, then turned to give Mick a knowing look.
He didn’t miss the implications. Hilda Dorsette figured he’d get the job done, if he could just convince her niece to stay out of the way.
He sat back down, hoping to do just that. Glancing from Lacey to Lorna, he said, “So, do you two ladies have any more questions or concerns?”
Lacey smiled over at him. “I don’t. I’m sure you know what you’re doing. I think the best thing we can do is leave you to your work.”
She got up, too, and again Mick did the gentlemanly thing by helping her with her chair. Lacey seemed a tad more centered and serene than her younger
