exert her authority over students who were no more than five years younger than she.
Those gray-blue eyes considered her for another interminable moment and then he showed surprisingly white teeth in a quick grin. “I believe she is.” Very attractive voice. Slow talking and deep with a slight hint of a French accent.
“Thank you.” If her tone was cool, it was the only part of her that was.
She turned and made her way to the verandah. Based on the fact that she heard no sounds of digging behind her and that her spine prickled, she’d be willing to bet a month’s salary that the gardener was checking out her back view.
Suitcases and all.
When she got to the verandah and started up the wide steps she heard a wolf whistle, so soft she could pretend she hadn’t heard it if she chose.
She did not choose.
She turned to glare at the culprit only to find his head bent watching the progress as his shovel plunged deep into the fertile ground. There was something aggressively sexual about the gesture, which she told herself was her own fault for studying too much literary symbolism. Suddenly the gardener lifted his head and she caught the carnal gleam in those eyes. Very deliberately, while holding her gaze with his, he raised the shovel and plunged it back into the yielding earth.
Her breath caught and a quiver of arousal struck, so strong it shocked her. Resolutely, she turned away from the sexiest man who’d ever planted a tulip bulb.
After taking a moment to compose herself, she knocked on the wide oak door. She wouldn’t have been surprised to be met by liveried servants when the door opened but in fact the older woman in a stylish white blouse and a flowered skirt took one look at Lucy standing there with her cases and beamed. “Why you must be our cousin Lucy. Welcome, honey. I’m your cousin Beatrice.” Beatrice had dark hair streaked with silver that she wore up, smiling gray-blue eyes and a fat rope of pearls around her neck. Pearl and diamond drops hung from her ears.
Lucy held out her hand politely but the older woman laughed and pulled her into a huge hug, lightly scented with a perfume she couldn’t identify but smelled like Lily of the Valley. “You’re in the south now, honey. Everybody kisses everybody.” For a split second she thought about that man in the garden and then forced him from her mind.
“Come in. It’s wonderful to have family in the house. I swear this old place gets lonely when there aren’t enough people to fill it.”
Lucy smiled and pulled her cases into the wide foyer. “I really don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’d be happy to stay at a hotel.”
“We already had this argument on email,” Cousin Beatrice reminded her. “You’re family. You stay with family.”
“This is such a wonderful house,” Lucy said, following her new found cousin inside. “Has it been in the family long?”
“Not by New Orleans standards. It was built by a Yankee trader back in the late 1800s. We bought it in the sixties. Claude can tell you more. He’s the one who knows about history.”
“Your son, Claude?”
“Your Cousin Claude. Didn’t you see him? He’s out in the garden.”
The half dressed hottie was her cousin? “Yes. I did see him, but he didn’t introduce himself.”
“Probably didn’t even notice you. He’s very focused when he’s busy with something.”
He’d certainly been focused when he’d undressed her with his eyes, but she didn’t feel like sharing that fact with the man’s mother.
“You two will have a lot in common. You teach history and my son owns a couple of antique shops.”
“Really?” It wasn’t what she would have expected of the man outside. “I thought he was the gardener.”
Beatrice chuckled. “He’s that as well. He helps me keep up this place. I couldn’t stay here if he didn’t.”
As she was led through into the main living areas of the house her surprise grew. “What beautiful things.” She was no expert
Those gray-blue eyes considered her for another interminable moment and then he showed surprisingly white teeth in a quick grin. “I believe she is.” Very attractive voice. Slow talking and deep with a slight hint of a French accent.
“Thank you.” If her tone was cool, it was the only part of her that was.
She turned and made her way to the verandah. Based on the fact that she heard no sounds of digging behind her and that her spine prickled, she’d be willing to bet a month’s salary that the gardener was checking out her back view.
Suitcases and all.
When she got to the verandah and started up the wide steps she heard a wolf whistle, so soft she could pretend she hadn’t heard it if she chose.
She did not choose.
She turned to glare at the culprit only to find his head bent watching the progress as his shovel plunged deep into the fertile ground. There was something aggressively sexual about the gesture, which she told herself was her own fault for studying too much literary symbolism. Suddenly the gardener lifted his head and she caught the carnal gleam in those eyes. Very deliberately, while holding her gaze with his, he raised the shovel and plunged it back into the yielding earth.
Her breath caught and a quiver of arousal struck, so strong it shocked her. Resolutely, she turned away from the sexiest man who’d ever planted a tulip bulb.
After taking a moment to compose herself, she knocked on the wide oak door. She wouldn’t have been surprised to be met by liveried servants when the door opened but in fact the older woman in a stylish white blouse and a flowered skirt took one look at Lucy standing there with her cases and beamed. “Why you must be our cousin Lucy. Welcome, honey. I’m your cousin Beatrice.” Beatrice had dark hair streaked with silver that she wore up, smiling gray-blue eyes and a fat rope of pearls around her neck. Pearl and diamond drops hung from her ears.
Lucy held out her hand politely but the older woman laughed and pulled her into a huge hug, lightly scented with a perfume she couldn’t identify but smelled like Lily of the Valley. “You’re in the south now, honey. Everybody kisses everybody.” For a split second she thought about that man in the garden and then forced him from her mind.
“Come in. It’s wonderful to have family in the house. I swear this old place gets lonely when there aren’t enough people to fill it.”
Lucy smiled and pulled her cases into the wide foyer. “I really don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’d be happy to stay at a hotel.”
“We already had this argument on email,” Cousin Beatrice reminded her. “You’re family. You stay with family.”
“This is such a wonderful house,” Lucy said, following her new found cousin inside. “Has it been in the family long?”
“Not by New Orleans standards. It was built by a Yankee trader back in the late 1800s. We bought it in the sixties. Claude can tell you more. He’s the one who knows about history.”
“Your son, Claude?”
“Your Cousin Claude. Didn’t you see him? He’s out in the garden.”
The half dressed hottie was her cousin? “Yes. I did see him, but he didn’t introduce himself.”
“Probably didn’t even notice you. He’s very focused when he’s busy with something.”
He’d certainly been focused when he’d undressed her with his eyes, but she didn’t feel like sharing that fact with the man’s mother.
“You two will have a lot in common. You teach history and my son owns a couple of antique shops.”
“Really?” It wasn’t what she would have expected of the man outside. “I thought he was the gardener.”
Beatrice chuckled. “He’s that as well. He helps me keep up this place. I couldn’t stay here if he didn’t.”
As she was led through into the main living areas of the house her surprise grew. “What beautiful things.” She was no expert
Similar Books
