had the whole United States to choose from. Hell, the whole world. But when he left New Jersey, he headed south-west—and ended up in Lafayette. It had felt right to be here. Like the feeling when he decided to go after Rudy Maglioni.
He’d known the guy was dangerous, yet once he’d read about the mobster ordering the murder of a whole family because the father was in the witness protection program, Luke hadn’t been able to walk away from his investigation.
Did being drawn to the right story mean he had some of the same psychic power as Gabriella? Maybe not the ability to see the future, but the ability to set himself on the right course, whatever that meant.
Or was he making stuff up, giving himself reasons to think he was like her in some way?
After stopping in Lafayette, he’d looked at the bulletin board in a local real estate office and seen that the Boudreaux plantation had furnished cottages for rent. There were other places in town he could have selected. Some of them were cheaper, but he hadn’t looked at the others. Because, again, as soon as he’d read the listing, this was the one that seemed right. More than right. He’d felt as if he was on the brink of a discovery that had nothing to do with hiding out.
After weeks in the plantation rental house, he’d thought that he’d made up the notion about finding his destiny here— until tonight, when he’d touched Gabriella. And his world had turned upside down.
Another line of thinking reemerged. If he’d brought trouble to the plantation, he’d have to leave, although the thought of clearing out made his chest tighten. He couldn’t do it. Not until he and Gabriella had figured out why they’d gotten into each other’s minds when they’d touched.
GABRIELLA HADN’T EXPECTED to sleep. But the emotional upheaval of the day finally exhausted her. When she woke just before dawn, she lay on the couch staring at the gray light outside the window and thinking about why she was here instead of at the main house. If she stayed on the couch, Luke would come out of the bedroom, and she’d have to confront him. That would be a hell of a morning after, especially because they hadn’t done anything more than kiss.
They’d both wanted to go further. She couldn’t lie about that. In some mysterious way, they’d exchanged memories. Underlying that was the strongest sexual pull she’d ever felt, coupled with a headache that was worse than anything she could remember.
Usually, she didn’t even like being touched. When she’d made love with guys, she’d gotten drunk first to blunt the edge of her own reluctance. This morning when she thought about the sexual part with Luke, her body reacted. Which was reason enough to get out of here before the man in the bedroom woke up.
She hardly knew him. And she certainly didn’t like being at the mercy of sexual feelings she couldn’t explain.
Really, she should go back to New Orleans. Her mother’s refusal to have a proper funeral had given her that option, but there was something she had to do before she left.
Mom had fallen down the stairs. There had to be a reason why she’d been up there, and Gabriella wanted to know what it was.
And what about Luke Buckley? Did he represent something important to her, something she was trying to ignore?
Because she was afraid to explore it?
She clenched her teeth. She’d always longed for intimacy with someone. Now, here it was for the taking, and she was ready to walk away. Because she was a coward?
No, because she’d set herself on a life course, and she couldn’t imagine simply abandoning her plans on a whim.
That was probably the wrong word, but she wasn’t going to quibble about it now.
Quietly she picked up her shoes and tiptoed toward the door. On the porch, she stood in the chilly morning air, staring at the space between Cypress and the main house.
In the soft morning light, it looked just as it always did these days—in need of TLC. But she could imagine how it would look if she had the money to restore it’s former grandeur.
For a moment, she let a little fantasy run through her mind. She could tell Emile to go to hell. She could take a loan on the house, come back here and fix the place up, then start a restaurant that would be the showplace of Lafayette. She was working as a pastry chef now, but she had the skills to do the rest of it. And the vision. It would be fun to go around to auctions and flea markets buying furnishings. Fun to make the gardens here look beautiful again. And fun to grow her own herbs and vegetables for the restaurant.
But she knew how much work the whole project would take. Really it would be better to have a partner who could handle the business end of it. And who would that be—because she didn’t have any friends good enough to trust as a partner.
The image of Luke Buckley leaped into her mind. She saw again his dark hair, a little too long. His strong jaw. His intense dark eyes.
She made a dismissive sound. Luke Buckley? She had to be kidding. She barely knew the man. And a few minutes ago she’d been talking herself into leaving the plantation before he woke up.
But she did know he had integrity. The mob had tried to intimidate him into dropping his book project, and he’d gone into hiding so he could finish writing before they killed him.
And once it was published, he was thinking they couldn’t touch him because if they did, the whole world would know who had done it.
Which brought her back to the restaurant fantasy. He was a gambler, the perfect …
“Stop,” she ordered herself. You are not going into business or anywhere else with Luke Buckley.
Quickly, she slipped on her shoes, then hurried across the lawn to the plantation house. Her keys were still in her pocket, and she paused to unlock the door, reassured to find that it was still secured. She locked it again behind her, then walked around turning off the lights that had been on when the power had gone off. Finally, she went back to the front hall and started up the stairs.
GEORGE CAMDEN WATCH ED from the shadows of the trees as Gabriella Boudreaux crossed the scraggly lawn, then climbed the stairs and walked into the plantation house.
He’d gotten a little sleep in his car, then come back to check the cottage. Gabriella had been in the cottage. Now she was alone and unprotected. Nice of her to give him an opportunity to get her alone.
Had she ended up sleeping with the Buckley guy? Or did they have a falling out? That was more likely because she was in a tearing hurry to get away from his place.
The front door of the plantation house had been locked, but George had already figured out another way to get in. The house, like most of the ones in this low-lying area, had a raised basement. It had been a simple matter to remove the glass from one of the windows and put it back in place so it looked secure.
Waiting for a few minutes to make sure Gabriella wasn’t coming out again, he circled the building, then ducked under the overhang at the edge of the basement area. The window was just as he’d left it. Careful not to make any noise, he lifted it out and set it along the wall. He’d laid a small outdoor end table on its side near the window, like somebody had thrown it there and forgotten it.
After righting the table, he placed it under the window and climbed up, then inside. Again he’d positioned a convenient piece of furniture—an old
