Lancelot of the Pines (Louisiana Knights Book 1) by Jennifer Blake

reading, she rose and walked toward the bathroom.
    “What have you done to yourself?”
    That question came from Lance a quarter hour later, as he stood inside the door with a plate of sizzling burgers in one hand and his spatula in the other.
    It was all Mandy could do not to laugh at the consternation in his face. He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d grown a second head.
    “Zeni sent a box of hair color with the rest of the stuff,” she said easily. “Using it seemed like a good idea. What do you think?”
    She twirled to give him a full view of the damp, golden brown mass enlivened by shades of caramel and russet that straggled down her back. Without a blow dryer to straighten the strands as they dried, her newly colored hair had reverted to its natural waves and curling ends.
    “I don’t—I’m not sure.”
    “It’s really close to my natural color, though I don’t know how Zeni figured that out.”
    “You weren’t always a blond?”
    “Bruce insisted I get platinum highlights after we married, and then go on having them done until no brown was left.”
    “Guess he wanted it long, too.”
    A corner of her mouth curled in derision. “He went for the Barbie Doll look.”
    Lance’s gaze, critical, assessing, lingered on her hair. “It certainly changes you, but will take some mental adjustment. I’m used to thinking of you as a blond.”
    “Meaning an airhead? Or maybe a bimbo?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” she said, giving him a straight look. “This is me from now on.”

    Lance kept sneaking glances at Mandy while they ate their burgers. He couldn’t believe the difference made by the change of hair color. Her features seemed more regular, her face more oval without the stark contrast of dark brows and lashes against near-white hair. She looked healthier, somehow, less washed out, and the blue-green of her eyes appeared deeper and somehow mysterious.
    The waves and curls that drifted around her face gave her a softer, more approachable look. They made him want to touch, to wind his fingers among them, bring them to his face to see if the delicate scent he caught now and then was trapped in the shining strands.
    She looked more normal, less like the bimbo she’d suggested and that he’d somehow fallen into the habit of thinking her. She looked like the kind of woman a man might marry.
    He was in trouble, deep trouble.
    Mandy Caret was a widow, no longer a married woman and so off limits. The more time he spent with her, the more real she became, and the harder it was to remember she was a person of interest in a criminal investigation, possibly a murder accomplice. She didn’t whine or sulk, and wasn’t demanding, all things he’d have expected. So far, she’d been reasonable and cooperative. Though she might be independent beyond what was safe at times, the trait was understandable. She’d been on her own, for the most part, since she was a kid.
    How she’d managed to escape the life that was handed her was difficult to fathom. A lot of women would have lacked the guts or the drive. Of course, she hadn’t quite won free. Her grab for the easy life with a man many years her senior had turned out less than perfect.
    The question was what she’d done to get out of her marriage. That was what Lance couldn’t get around, no matter how he tried.
    A low, drawn out booming sound came from outside, loud enough to be heard above the steady drone of the air conditioning unit. He and Mandy looked upward at the same time.
    “Sounds like thunder,” she commented.
    “I noticed a dark bank of clouds in the southwest while I was grilling the burgers, thought I heard a rumble or two.” He used his napkin and dropped it into his empty plate. “I should check to be sure everything outside is okay.”
    She nodded and began clearing the table, rising to dispose of the trash. He reached to help her, but she shook her head. “I’ve got this. You go ahead with what you