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She took a breath to regain control and pushed back just a bit so that she could look at him.
“I really appreciate your understanding. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with this earlier.”
Brian reached one hand up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “You didn’t know you could trust me, especially given the past. I hope you know now that you can.”
Justine nodded.
Brian’s eyes were locked on hers. His arms still held her close, and even before he lowered his lips to hers, she knew he was going to kiss her. And she knew she wasn’t going to pull away.
Bayou Bodyguard
Jana DeLeon
MILLS & BOON
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To my friend, Leigh Zaykoski, for helping me with my new business venture
and being a constant source of inspiration.
To my critique partners, Cari Manderscheid and Cindy Taylor, for always helping
me improve my work and meet my deadlines. To my friend Colleen Gleason, who
talks me off the ledge when I’m frustrated. To my friend Tracey Stanley, for your
steadfast support and all your marketing efforts. To my friend Leslie Langtry, it’s
all good from here on, baby! To my parents, Jimmie and Bobbie Morris,
and Jimmie, Donna and Katianne Morris for all your support. To my agent,
Kristin Nelson, for being a rock during the turmoil that was 2010. To my editor,
Allison Lyons, for giving me the opportunity to write books for the Harlequin line
I’ve always loved to read.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jana DeLeon grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001 and focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day, she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana at her website, www.janadeleon.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Justine Chatry —The historian jumped at the chance to find the lost emeralds at laMalediction, but her reasons for agreeing to the job weren’t purely for business. She hadn’t planned on a bodyguard looking over her shoulder as she worked—especially one from her secret past—but was even more unsettled by the way he made her feel.
Brian Marcentel —The former Marine took a leave of absence from the New Orleans Police Department to help out his friend by playing bodyguard. He was expecting trouble, but not from the woman he was hired to protect. His attraction to the beautiful historian wasn’t something he planned or welcomed, and when he finally realizes why the Creole beauty looks familiar, it only makes things worse.
Sheriff Blanchard —The good sheriff is suspected of hiding information about the strange occurrences at laMalediction, and is very unhappy to find more people in residence at the estate.
Tom Breaux —The superstitious café owner claims that laMalediction is cursed, but lives in a cabin on the bayou with a path behind it that leads directly to laMalediction. Does he really believe the house is cursed, or does he tell ghost stories to keep others away?
Chris Pauley —The young, brash mechanic has a loud mouth and an abrasive demeanor. He’s been caught trespassing at laMalediction, but no one knows what he was doing on the property. What is very clear is that he wants Brian and Justine to leave Cypriere.
Deedee —The café waitress seems easily spooked and refuses to talk about the haunted estate. Justine is certain she’s hiding something, but breaking down the scared woman’s defenses is going to require finesse and time.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
It looked like something out of a Stephen King novel, Justine Chatry thought, as she stared at the house in front of her in the fading dim of daylight. Of course, mansion was a better word for the ten-thousand-square-foot, three-story monstrosity that rose up out of the bayou, its dark windows peeking out from moss-covered stone and seeming to stare back at her.
It was at least eighty degrees in Cypriere, Louisiana, but Justine felt a chill come over her, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to cast off the feeling of foreboding. laMalediction, the locals called it—meaning “the curse.” Both beautiful and horrifying, seductive and sinister, it seemed to call to her.
And
