along the natural path that formed at the bayou’s edge. It eventually led up to La Petite Maison. Occasionally, Paul would see an alligator skimming along the surface, showing little more than his eyes and looking like a log rather than a predator. “You were right, this place is different from anywhere else I’ve been.”
“If you stay here too long, it’ll grow on you,” Marjo teased. “And if you stand in one place too long, the Spanish moss will grow on you, too.” She smiled, the kind of smile that Paul knew would linger in his mind, stay with him all day. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
This woman was the polar opposite of him, and yet even as he moved closer to her to avoid the low-hanging moss, he felt a rush of need for Marjo Savoy surge through him. He glanced over at her, wanting to run his fingers through that long, impossible hair, to trail a palm along the soft skin of her arms. It was almost painful to walk along beside her, pretending he wasn’t acutely aware of her every breath.
“I can’t imagine settling down anywhere, period,” Paul said. “Although I did own a house, back when I was married, but that didn’t last long.”
“The home ownership or the marriage?”
“Both.” When he didn’t elaborate, Marjo let the subject drop.
They reached a thick stand of trees, which gave them two options: forge their way through the foliage so they could pick up the path on the otherside, or go around the trees. Marjo turned around at the same time Paul did, and they ended up facing each other, inches apart. She stopped. He stopped. His eyes met hers, and desire sang along his veins, thudded in his heart, pounded in his brain.
Kiss her, his mind whispered. Kiss her, before you remember all those reasons why you shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”
“It’s okay,” Paul said, touching her lips with a fingertip.
She inhaled, parting her lips as she did, nearly kissing his finger. He watched her mouth open, intent and serious.
And then, in the space of an instant, he leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against hers in a touch so gentle it was more tease than anything else. He pulled back a centimeter or two, waiting for her to react.
She leaned forward, and her lips met his in a hot, frenzied kiss, the kind that came about on the spur of the moment, fueled by want and nothing else. Fire ignited nerve endings throughout his body, awakening a part of him that had slumbered for so long. Too long. For one amazing, senseless minute, she kissed him, seeming to melt into him as his palms cupped her face.
A bullfrog let out a loud, groaning belch, a stark reminder of where they were.
And why he was here.
Marjo jerked back. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—” He cut off the sentence.
“I’ve really got to go,” Marjo said, breathless, confused by her body’s betrayal. Then, before she could do something really stupid like kiss him again, she turned on her heel and headed off to work.
The one benefit of working with dead people all day—it effectively killed all thoughts of romance.
CHAPTER SIX
O N M ONDAY , Cally came by, dragging Marjo out of the funeral home long enough for a quick lunch at the Blue Moon. Cally knew Marjo well enough to know she’d forget to eat, buried in the paperwork on her desk. Once their food arrived, Cally cocked her head one way, then the other, studying Marjo from the opposite side of their booth. “Something’s different about you today.”
“Same as always.” Marjo forked at her boulettes de chevrettes, but didn’t take a bite.
“You don’t lie very well, you know.” Cally grinned. “And you have that stunned, can’t-believe-I-did-that look about you. So…” Cally leaned closer. “What did you do?”
“I kissed Paul Clermont,” Marjo whispered, knowing the Indigo gossip chain often started right
“If you stay here too long, it’ll grow on you,” Marjo teased. “And if you stand in one place too long, the Spanish moss will grow on you, too.” She smiled, the kind of smile that Paul knew would linger in his mind, stay with him all day. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
This woman was the polar opposite of him, and yet even as he moved closer to her to avoid the low-hanging moss, he felt a rush of need for Marjo Savoy surge through him. He glanced over at her, wanting to run his fingers through that long, impossible hair, to trail a palm along the soft skin of her arms. It was almost painful to walk along beside her, pretending he wasn’t acutely aware of her every breath.
“I can’t imagine settling down anywhere, period,” Paul said. “Although I did own a house, back when I was married, but that didn’t last long.”
“The home ownership or the marriage?”
“Both.” When he didn’t elaborate, Marjo let the subject drop.
They reached a thick stand of trees, which gave them two options: forge their way through the foliage so they could pick up the path on the otherside, or go around the trees. Marjo turned around at the same time Paul did, and they ended up facing each other, inches apart. She stopped. He stopped. His eyes met hers, and desire sang along his veins, thudded in his heart, pounded in his brain.
Kiss her, his mind whispered. Kiss her, before you remember all those reasons why you shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”
“It’s okay,” Paul said, touching her lips with a fingertip.
She inhaled, parting her lips as she did, nearly kissing his finger. He watched her mouth open, intent and serious.
And then, in the space of an instant, he leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against hers in a touch so gentle it was more tease than anything else. He pulled back a centimeter or two, waiting for her to react.
She leaned forward, and her lips met his in a hot, frenzied kiss, the kind that came about on the spur of the moment, fueled by want and nothing else. Fire ignited nerve endings throughout his body, awakening a part of him that had slumbered for so long. Too long. For one amazing, senseless minute, she kissed him, seeming to melt into him as his palms cupped her face.
A bullfrog let out a loud, groaning belch, a stark reminder of where they were.
And why he was here.
Marjo jerked back. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—” He cut off the sentence.
“I’ve really got to go,” Marjo said, breathless, confused by her body’s betrayal. Then, before she could do something really stupid like kiss him again, she turned on her heel and headed off to work.
The one benefit of working with dead people all day—it effectively killed all thoughts of romance.
CHAPTER SIX
O N M ONDAY , Cally came by, dragging Marjo out of the funeral home long enough for a quick lunch at the Blue Moon. Cally knew Marjo well enough to know she’d forget to eat, buried in the paperwork on her desk. Once their food arrived, Cally cocked her head one way, then the other, studying Marjo from the opposite side of their booth. “Something’s different about you today.”
“Same as always.” Marjo forked at her boulettes de chevrettes, but didn’t take a bite.
“You don’t lie very well, you know.” Cally grinned. “And you have that stunned, can’t-believe-I-did-that look about you. So…” Cally leaned closer. “What did you do?”
“I kissed Paul Clermont,” Marjo whispered, knowing the Indigo gossip chain often started right
Similar Books
