A Second Chance

“Thomas doesn’t have a scratch,” Zara said.

“I used to do a little boxing,” Luc said, addressing his comments to Loretta. “If Zara needs to learn how to defend herself-”

“I could have punched him,” Zara insisted. “But by then Mrs. Brainard was looking and I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“All right, that’s enough talk about fighting,” Loretta said firmly. “Luc, what can I help you with?” Coffee cake, tea bread or me?

“The question is, what can I help you with?” He had a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Loretta stifled a gasp. “You talked to Melanie?”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll give me a sample of whatever it is I smell cooking.”

“It’s pumpkin bread. A new recipe.” She went to the cooling rack and selected a small loaf, still warm from the oven, and brought it to the cutting board. “Talk, or you’re not getting a single bite.”

“Melanie said she’ll do it.”

Loretta’s knife clattered to the cutting board. Operating on pure instinct, she launched herself at Luc, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, you wonderful man!”

Luc put his arms around her. “Wow, any more favors I can do for you? I like the way you say thank-you.”

Oh, this felt good. Way too good. Luc was tall and hard and warm and all-male, and he smelled so…so not like everything else in her world of baking and laundry and little girls with their own special scents.

She let the moment stretch as long as she dared, then gave a nervous laugh as she extracted herself from Luc’s embrace. “Sorry,” she said, straightening her shirt. But it had been so long since she’d let herself get anywhere close to a man other than her father. “I’m just so excited. You’ve saved my skin. How did you do it? How did you convince her? What’s the next step?”

“Mama, calm down,” Zara said, giggling herself. “You act like Luc just handed you a million dollars or something.”

Loretta hated it when Zara behaved more like the adult. “All right, then, one question at a time. What did you say to Melanie to get her to agree?”

Luc nodded toward the cutting board.

“Right.” Loretta quickly cut two thick slices of the pumpkin bread and slathered them with whipped butter. She pulled out the chair opposite Zara and placed the plate of bread on the table. Luc sat, took a bite and sighed appreciatively. “Oh, man. Put some of this in my next delivery.” He closed his eyes, savoring the treat, and made Loretta think of a different kind of sensual pleasure.

“I told her the hotel could have some type of sponsorship. I’ve already talked to Marjo and she’s amenable. She’s putting the Hotel Marchand logo on the banners and the program. But I also appealed to Melanie’s pride, about how she’d be helping out a worthy cause and preserving her father’s Cajun culture. She’s actually excited about it. She wants to meet with us this week sometime to plan the menu and go over logistics.”

“Us?”

“That was part of the deal. I promised Melanie I’d help. Anyway, since your entire committee self-destructed, you need another pair of hands.”

She could think of all kinds of ways to put those hands to good use, and immediately felt her face heat. Why was she doing this? Why was she so intensely attracted to Luc Carter?

“When do you want to meet with her?” Loretta asked, busying herself by wrapping up the partial loaf in plastic. “Is tomorrow too soon? It’ll have to be early so I can be home in time to meet Zara’s bus.”

“I can’t tomorrow,” Luc said. “I have a meeting in New Iberia. Wednesday’s good, though.”

“I can’t on Wednesday,” Loretta countered. “Back-to-back deliveries, then a doctor’s appointment. Thursday?”

“I’ve got a big party arriving on Thursday.”

“Well, shoot. I don’t suppose you could rearrange Tuesday?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t meet her gaze, either. Then she remembered Justine Clemente, the town busybody, remarking on the fact that Luc drove out of town every other Tuesday at 10:00 a.m. He’d been doing it like clockwork since he moved to Indigo.

Loretta’s immediate suspicion was that he had a girlfriend. But if she were dating someone like Luc, she’d darn sure see him more often than every other week. Unless the woman was married…

Luc had always been a bit mysterious about his past and his personal life. Other than vague references to the fact he had hotel experience, what did she really know about him? Yes, he was Celeste Robichaux’s grandson, but did that automatically make him a sterling citizen?

Well, whatever he did every other Tuesday was none of her business, and she decided not to think about it. “How about Wednesday afternoon? I can juggle the deliveries and change the doctor’s appointment. My parents can keep Zara for a few hours.”

“I’ll see if Melanie can do it then.” Luc’s sunny smile returned. He polished off the pumpkin bread and the glass of milk Loretta poured for him, and all seemed right with the world again. But Loretta was determined not to forget that strange, evasive look that had come over his face.

Her husband had been a man with a mysterious past, and at first that had been part of his appeal. He’d kept so many secrets from her, all the while charming her with his flattery and his monumental plans for the two of them. When he did occasionally reveal something of himself, she felt positively blessed. And whenever she sensed his inner torture, she loved him all the more.

But the darkness inside him had been his undoing, as well as her and Zara’s, for he could never be truly satisfied, not with a loving wife and beautiful daughter, not with the sweet little house her grandmother had left her, not with a decent job. He’d wanted more-more money, more control, more freedom. Uncomplicated small-town life could never have satisfied him for long.

She’d been in the process of divorcing him when he’d died, and she’d sworn that if she ever hooked up with another man-and that was a huge “if”-it would be a simple man with simple needs, someone without secrets.

Most important, any man she associated with had to be honest, forthright and without a criminal cell in his body. She was already terrified of what Jim’s DNA had contributed to Zara. No way was her little girl going to be exposed to anyone who wasn’t open and honest.

So Luc Carter was out of the question, no matter how much he heated her blood.

CHAPTER THREE

LUC HUMMED as he put fresh linens on the bed in the attic suite. A couple of years ago, when he’d been on the concierge staff at a luxury hotel in Thailand, he never could have imagined himself living such a quiet life in a small town, reduced to performing the duties of a chambermaid.

But he’d always enjoyed giving hotel guests the personal touch, and this was just another way of doing it. He dried the sheets outside on the line whenever possible, so they’d smell like fresh air and sunshine. He’d learned how to cook through osmosis from earlier jobs in the huge, bustling kitchens of four-star hotels, but he found he enjoyed the more intimate meals he provided the B and B guests.

He’d long ago stopped counting the months and days until his enforced restitution was completed. He still planned to take off next spring. Maybe he’d go to Greece or Italy. Jobs were plentiful for someone with his experience.

But he was in no rush to leave Indigo, which surprised him. In the past, a year or two had been about the limit of his patience for any one job, any one locale.

He sensed someone watching him and whirled around to find Doc Landry, the town’s octogenarian physician, standing in the doorway. Luc smiled a welcome. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Boy, you’re in a happy mood. I never saw anyone get so excited about hospital corners before.”

“I like my work,” Luc said. But that was only part of what contributed to his good mood. He and Loretta were heading to New Orleans as soon as she finished her deliveries. He would have her all to himself for several