“I was waiting for you to come out so that I could take a quick shower.” She lowered her arms and stood provocatively in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He tried to avert his gaze, but she made it extremely difficult. She picked up her clothes from a nearby chair and catwalked toward him.

“Feeling better?” she asked. Her eyes moved slowly over him, then returned to his face.

He could feel the heat radiating off her. “Yeah.

Much.”

She reached out to touch his bare shoulder. He turned his head in her direction and before he could react she kissed him, her full chest flush against his arm. Her soft moan was like a song in his ears. She pressed her body against his and he felt the quick tightening in his groin. Her arm snaked around his neck and with her free hand she tugged at the towel wrapped around his waist.

“Touch me,” she whispered against his lips.

About the Author

DONNA HILL

began writing novels in 1990. Since that time she has had more than forty titles published, including full-length novels and novellas. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television. She has won numerous awards for her body of work. She is also the editor of five novels, two of which were nominated for awards. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. She was the first recipient of the RT Book Reviews Trailblazer Award, won an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and currently teaches writing at the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center.

Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website

at www.donnahill.com.

Books by Donna Hill

Kimani Romance

Love Becomes Her

If I Were Your Woman After Dark Sex and Lies Seduction and Lies Temptation and Lies Longing and Lies Private Lessons Spend My Life with You Secret Attraction

SECRET

Attraction

DONNA

HILL

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

It is a blessing in life when you get to do what you love. Trust me, I am blessed! I have been given the opportunity to bring stories, issues and people to life that hopefully make you laugh, cry, shout, think, hug someone and seek out your significant other! And nothing tops creating a group of characters that you cannot wait to share with readers. That’s what happened with the Lawsons of Louisiana.

Can you believe that in the twenty years of my writing career this is the first time I’ve actually developed a family? The first book, Spend My Life with You, introduced the Lawson clan and showcased the eldest daughter, Lee Ann. Now you will meet Desiree Lawson, one of the Lawson twins. Her twin sister, Dominique, has gotten Desiree into a hot mess, to say the least, and it just may cost her the one man she cares about—übersexy restaurateur Spence Hampton. Against a backdrop of politics, fast cars, sexy men, ex-girlfriends and dangerous suitors, Secret Attraction has something for everyone.

And, yes, the dashing, sexy bachelor brother Rafe Lawson is still hot and single. Rafe was introduced in Heart’s Reward. So expect to hear his story soon!

I do hope you enjoy Secret Attraction. I love to hear from readers and I welcome your comments about the Lawsons of Louisiana. Who do you want to see featured next? Who is your favorite character? Let me know at dhassistant@gmail.com.

Until next time,

Donna

Chapter 1

The near-deafening roar of the red Ferrari’s engine vaulted through her veins. Her limbs vibrated as the low-riding race car hurtled forward. Concentration and survivor’s instinct took over as images left, right and center flew by too quickly for recognition. The speedometer teetered at 159 mph. Oh, God. The car held the ground on two wheels, barely missing the guardrail as it made the long turn and pointed straight ahead.

A plume of smoke burst on her right as motion met the inanimate concrete wall. Almost there. Her heart thundered in her ears. Almost. Red and white flashed in front of her. One hundred … ninety … seventy-five … fifty … thirty … twenty …

Within seconds she was surrounded. The door was yanked open and the smell of burnt rubber, exhaust fumes and gasoline swirled in the air.

She pulled off her helmet and a head full of wild spiral curls sprung out around her face like a dark auburn halo. Her five-foot-five inch frame was dwarfed by the towering, bulky pit crew. The throb of the engine still pumped through her veins. She stood on wobbly legs.

“Great job, D.J.,” Mike, the pit boss, said, clapping her on the shoulders. “Took that turn like a pro. See you in two weeks?”

“As always,” she said, pride and adrenaline lifting the corners of her full mouth. She made her way off the track, toward the locker room, while the team pushed the car away.

The locker room was no more than a testosterone-drenched boys’ clubhouse, complete with backslapping, ribald jokes, cussing, beer guzzling and plenty of naked behinds. They’d grudgingly made room for her when she started racing about two years earlier, and once they witnessed her skill behind the wheel and her resolve to be respected in the locker room, she became one of the boys. Although there wasn’t a man among them that wouldn’t give his left nut for five minutes of her time off of the track.

To them she was just D.J., the pint-size race car dynamo that could beat some of the best of them on a bad day. Back home in Baton Rouge, she was Desiree Janel Lawson, twin sister to Dominique, younger sister to Rafe and Lee Ann, older sister to Justin and daughter of Senator Branford Lawson. In the cacophony of those larger-than-life personalities in the Lawson home, Desiree felt lost, a shadow. But here on the track she had found her footing, which wasn’t one of a political celebrity, “the daughter of,” “the twin sister to”—here she was a person with her own identity.

Weekend racing had become her secret passion over the years. She had always had a love for fast cars and would spend hours as a teenager watching the Indy 500 or the NASCAR races on television. She’d confessed to her twin sister, Dominique, that one day she would get behind the wheel of one of those babies, which Dominique had summarily dismissed as being ridiculous, dangerous and out of the question. What man in his right mind would want a woman who always smelled of fumes and gasoline? Not to mention that their father would be apoplectic and the press would have a field day.

So Desiree kept her dream to herself and began taking lessons in New Orleans, away from prying eyes. She could never come out publicly, she mused as she stripped out of her gear and got into the shower, but she could still enjoy her passion. The idea that it was her very own secret made what she did, twice a month, that much more exciting. The only one who knew about her “getaway Saturdays” was her best friend, Patrice Lamont, who was waiting in the lounge.

“You do realize I now have a heart condition because of you,” Patrice said as the two walked through the building and out into the parking lot.

Desiree laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be fine after lunch.”

“Humph. So you say.”

They’d driven down in Desiree’s very conservative black Volvo, a far cry from the lightning-fast Ferrari. Desiree’s door locks chirped and they got in. She pushed the key into the ignition. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

“How about Emeril’s place in the Warehouse District?”

“Sure. We haven’t been there in a while.”

Desiree zipped the car out of the space.

“And, uh, try to keep the speed under seventy.”

“Maybe.”

Patrice sat back and held on—just in case.

Of course they arrived at Emeril’s New Orleans in record time. Patrice barely had enough time to get her story out about the latest scandal on Capitol Hill in D.C. before they were being escorted to their table.

“This is not a good time to be under an ethics investigation in the middle of an election year,” Patrice was saying as they sat down.

“No time is ever good. My biggest issue is that the Democratic Party, whenever they come into full power, winds up getting beat up on every issue by the Republicans. And instead of taking a stand, they collapse. They need to learn to fight below the belt, too.” Desiree fanned open her menu.

Patrice shook her head. “I have to agree. We need some backbone.”

“My two favorite guests.”

Desiree and Patrice looked up into the ruggedly handsome face of Paul, the general manager.

He leaned down and kissed each of their cheeks. “How are you ladies today? It’s been a while.”

“Just fine, Paul,” Desiree said. “I’ve been salivating thinking about the andouille and chicken jambalaya.”

“I will oversee it myself.” He turned his Mediterranean blue eyes on Patrice. “And what about you, Ms. Patrice?”

“I think I’ll have the Creole fried chicken.”

“Excellent choice. But, of course, whatever you choose at Emeril’s is excellent. I’ll put your orders in myself and send your waiter to get your drinks. Enjoy your meal.”

“Hmm, if he wasn’t gay, I would eat him up,” Patrice said under her breath as she watched him walk away.

Desiree snickered. “I know you would. But what else is new?”

“Oh, don’t go hating. Just because I have a lusty appetite for men …” She took a sip of her water, then took a lemon wedge from the china bowl on the table and squeezed it into the water.

Desiree looked at her from beneath her lashes and bit back a smile. Lusty was putting it mildly. Patrice had more men and more dates than she could keep up with. What she needed was a personal assistant to help her keep it all straight. There were times, though, that she envied Patrice and her cavalier attitude about men and sex, and her sister Dominique, as well. Certainly, she’d dated off and on, nothing really serious. Most of the men she met really wanted to get close to her sister Dominique or sought entrée into the political life dominated by her powerful father. So she tended to keep her love life, such as it was, to a minimum. But if she was truly honest with herself, the real reason was her attraction from afar to Spence Hampton. She’d spent too many nights wishing that it was her in the passenger seat of his car or that she was the recipient of his dimpled smile and hungry stares. They’d known each other since their late teens, when Dominique brought him to the house for one of the family’s massive Independence Day barbecues. She thought her heart would stop and she had to concentrate on not staring at him. But Spence was her sister’s friend, always had been, and that was a line that she didn’t cross.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. What are you thinking about?”

Desiree blinked. How long had she been daydreaming? She gave a light toss of her head. “Sorry. Just the race.” She focused on Patrice. “So … what were you saying?”

Patrice pursed her lips, feigning annoyance. “I was telling you we should double-date next weekend.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to get out and I want to make sure that you do. Jay has a really cute friend.”

Desiree propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her palm. “And who is Jay, may I ask?”

Patrice frowned. “Didn’t I tell you about Jay?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I met him at the Laundromat.”

“What? Why were you in the Laundromat? You have a washer and dryer in your town house.”

“And your point is?” Patrice picked up her glass of lemon-flavored water. “You can always tell who a man lives with by his laundry.”

“Oh, right. What was I thinking.” She shook her head as the waiter approached and placed their entrées in front of them.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

Patrice glanced up and ran her cinnamon-tinted eyes up and down his lean body, zeroed in on his name tag, then back up to his face. She ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “What would you suggest, Felix?” she asked, clearly not interested in anything on the menu.

Desiree had a mind to kick her under the table but watching Patrice in action was always fascinating.

A slow, lazy smile eased across his wide mouth. His lids lowered just a fraction over his dark eyes. “I’m sure I can find something that would interest you. A light wine or something a little stronger? And, of course, there is dessert,” he added with only the slightest hint of his South American accent.

Patrice drew in a breath. “Yes, I think I’d be interested in dessert.”

He turned to Desiree. “And you, ma’am?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

He gave a short nod to both women. “I’ll bring the dessert menu.”

Patrice returned her attention to her meal.

“How do you do that?”

Patrice glanced across the table. “Do what?”

“That! That thing you do with every man you meet.”

Patrice frowned slightly. “You mean, let them know that they are totally male and I notice it?”

“Is that what you call it?” Desiree took a forkful of food.

Patrice shrugged her right shoulder. “I like men. Plain and simple. All kinds of men. Testing my attraction to them is exciting. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just harmless flirting. You should try it. Let yourself go. It’s very liberating.”

Desiree swallowed slowly. “I don’t want to flirt and tease and play games.” She put down her fork. “I want something real and someone who is real with me. Is that so wrong?”

“Desi, you’re much too serious. I have to tell you, if I wasn’t your best friend and didn’t know that you were this crazy, secret race car driver, I would think that you were really an uptight, reserved, conservative chick. But I know that you’re not, sweetie. The thing is, it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to be who you are.” She raised her glass to her lips. “But you could always put a little more dip in those hips,” she added with a wink and a smile.

Desiree thought about their conversation, one that they’d had on several occasions in the past, as she prepared for work at the city council. She’d always tossed off Patrice’s commentaries about her lack of sustained or even intermittent relationships as Patrice’s way of validating her own lifestyle. But the more she considered it, the more she had to admit that Patrice was probably more right than wrong. Although she’d never told anyone about her thing for Spence, not even Patrice, maybe it was long past time to forget him once and for all. So that she could actually find someone that could light that same spark in her the way Spence did whenever she saw him.

Maybe.

Chapter 2

“Got a delivery, boss,” Jacques, the day manager, said, poking his head into the busy kitchen. All hands were busy preparing for the weekend rush.

Spence glanced over his left shoulder, not missing a beat while whisking his famed cream sauce to simply smooth perfection. “Have Michelle take a look. It should be the new glassware that I ordered.”

“Will do.” The door swung closed behind him.

Spence dipped a spoon into the sauce and took a small taste. His dark chocolate eyes momentarily closed in instant euphoria. “Peter,” he called out with a lift of his cleft chin, peering across the rows of stainless-steel preparation tables, simmering pots and sizzling skillets. “Take over from here.” He wiped his hands on his pristine white apron and began his preinspection of the menu.

As owner and executive chef of Bottoms Up, one of Baton Rouge’s swankiest supper clubs, he was ultimately responsible for each and every thing that happened in his establishment, from the decor to the dessert. His goal was to make each experience for his guests an unforgettable one. Bottoms Up, since its opening five years earlier, had consistently been listed as a must-see destination in restaurant and entertainment magazines. For weekend seating, reservations often had to be made weeks in advance, and when major performers appeared, which was often, the club was packed from front to back.

Spence’s skills in the kitchen were so renowned that he had been offered his own cooking show on more than one occasion and had done a stint on Beyond Top Chefs as one of the celebrated judges.

Much of his notoriety he could attribute to his longtime relationship with Dominique Lawson, who made certain that all her well-connected friends and her father’s associates made it a point of wining and dining at Bottoms Up.

They’d been close for years, and when he’d grown tired of working for someone else and decided to pursue his dream of opening his own supper club, Dominique was behind him, pushing him along on those days when he didn’t think it would work out. She’d even gone so far as to cosign the bank loan, and tossed in some extra cash to cover a few unexpected expenses which he’d since repaid. Even though she insisted that she didn’t want it, Spence refused to be in debt to anyone, even to Dominique, who although was wealthy had her own money management issues due to impulsive spending.

Tonight’s special was seared sea bass, hence the special sauce. He’d been offered money more times than he could count in exchange for sharing the ingredients with the world. He always teased the interviewers, saying that the secret was in the whisk.

He lifted pot covers, checked the refrigerators and pantries. Satisfied that his staff had everything under control, he went up front. Less than three hours remained before the dinner crowd would begin to arrive, and with Harry Connick, Jr., as the guest performer he would not leave anything to chance.

Michelle was just signing off on the shipment when Spence walked into the main dining room. She was giving instructions to one of the staff about the glassware.

Michelle Davis was a transplant from New York who had attended college in Louisiana and had never gone back home. They’d met while he was head chef at what was now his competitor’s restaurant. She was the general manager. After a few drinks and a long night they fell into an on-again, off-again relationship, no strings, no commitment. An agreement that suited them both very well.

When Spence opened Bottoms Up, Michelle asked to work for him, and together they turned it into a showplace. Michelle’s eye for layout and detail, along with her impeccable management skills, allowed Spence to breathe easy. Their sporadic relationship came to a mutual end when Michelle came to work at Bottoms Up.

Michelle tucked the inventory sheet into a folder on her clipboard just as Spence approached.

“Everything in order?”

She pressed the clipboard to her chest. Her brandy-toned eyes sparkled with excitement behind her designer frames. “The glasses are more exquisite than when we first picked them out.”

“You mean when you picked them out.”

Her sandy-brown face heated from beneath, giving it a toasted glow. “It would have been a joint effort if you had come shopping.”

“You stick to shopping and running the club and I’ll stick to cooking.”

“Speaking of running the club.” She lowered the clipboard and tucked a stray lock of shimmering auburn hair behind her ears. “The phone has been ringing off the hook for tonight’s show. Nichole has had to turn folks down all morning. We may need to get extra security.”

Spence nodded. “You’re right. No sense in leaving things to chance. I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

“I think that covers it for now.”

“Great. I’ll make those calls.”

“Oh, Spence …”

He stopped and turned. A thick, silky black brow rose in question.

“Is Dominique coming tonight?”

He caught the edge in her voice, but being a wise man, he chose to ignore it.

“If she does, she’ll take her usual table.”

She gave a short nod and went in search of the maître d’.

Spence walked away. He didn’t know what it was with women. They had this sixth sense or something. The thing between him and Michelle was long over, even if they often teased each other about “the times we had.” Yet anytime a woman came within sniffing distance of him, Michelle would get all … He didn’t even know what to call it. And Dominique was often the same but for different reasons. Her rationale for the arched brow and tight lips when he introduced one of his dates was that she was only trying to look out for him. “Women can be quite cunning,” she’d warn him, as if he didn’t know. The two of them in the same space was like watching two panthers scope each other out. It was all very sleek and polite but potentially dangerous.

What he did hope, barring everything else, was that Desiree would come along with her sister, if the unpredictable Dominique decided to show up.

It had been a while since he’d seen Desiree. The few times that he’d stopped by the Lawson mansion with Dominique, Desiree had been out, and it had been months since she’d come to Bottoms Up for dinner.

Even though there was no doubt that Dominique and Desiree were identical twins, they were as different as night and day. Dominique was the storm. Desiree was the calm that followed. Although he and Dominique were never a couple—although they’d come really close—he often wondered how things would be if he’d met Desiree first.

For the moment he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had a big night ahead.

“How about I get you a date, Desi?” Dominique said as they sat on the pool deck, soaking in the last of the sun.

“I don’t want you to get me a date. How about that?”

Dominique twisted around in the chair to look at her sister. “Why not?”

Desiree lifted her sunglasses from the bridge of her pert nose and glared at her twin. “Because I don’t need you to get me a date. If I wanted one, I would have one,” she said, struggling to control her temper. Patrice, her sister … everywhere she looked someone was trying to hook her up with somebody, as if she was some sort of hopeless spinster. Their older sister, Lee Ann, used to be able to run interference, but since her marriage and relocation to Washington with her husband, Desiree had been left on her own to fight off the onslaught.

“Look, I just want you to be happy.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

Dominique’s confusion drew her thin brows together. “How can you be? I mean … women have needs, too, Desi,” she said, lowering her voice as if someone else could hear.

The rims of Desiree’s ears burned. She turned away. Dominique always knew what buttons to push intentionally or otherwise. She could count on one hand and still not reach five, the number of men she’d had in her bed—or whose bed she had been in. Dominique, however, was another story. She was the female version of their very notorious playboy brother, Rafe. Dominique changed men and relationships like nail polish. They were varied and often.

Dominique reached out and placed her hand on Desiree’s arm. “I’m not saying that you’re not happy …. It’s just that I want you to have someone in your life … to look out for you, take you on great vacations, hot dates, massage your feet.” She grinned and so did Desiree.

“I want those things, too, Dom, when the time and the person are right. These two things haven’t lined up for me yet. But they will.” She hoped but didn’t say.

Dominique sighed. “Well, at least meet some of my friends.”

“I know all of your friends,” Desiree said drolly.

Dominique made a face, then suddenly brightened. “Hey, what about a dating service!”

Desiree held up her hand. “Oh, hell, no.”

“Why not? Cyberdating, speed dating and all those blind dates are the rage.” She leaned close. “I’ve done them all.”

Desiree’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

Dominique shook her head. “Nope. And it’s a blast.” She reached for her frosted glass of mango juice and took a sip.

Desiree thought about it. Blind dates, speed dating, internet dating. What happened to dating the old-fashioned way? “Okay,” she finally said on a breath.

Dominique sat up. “Okay … like okay, you’ll do it?”

Desiree drew in a long breath. “Yes. But on one condition,” she quickly added.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Sixty days. That’s it. If I don’t find someone worthwhile in two months, then the deal is off and you will never utter another word to me about my love life again. Deal?”

Dominique pursed her lips in thought. Sixty days was not a lot of time. But if she couldn’t find the perfect hot body to warm her sister’s bed at night, then no one could.

“Deal.” She lifted her glass.

Desiree touched her glass to Dominique’s. “Deal. Sixty days and not a minute more.”

“Fine. But I think this calls for a celebration.”

“What kind of celebration?”

“Harry Connick, Jr., is at Spence’s place tonight. Let’s go.”

Desiree’s heart knocked at the sound of his name. “The place will be packed. We’ll never get a seat.”

“I always get a seat.” She winked. “Don’t even worry about it. So come on. Let’s celebrate this new venture.”

If she decided to go, she’d have a chance to see Spence. Not that it mattered. Spence had women all over him. Not only was he eye candy, but he was also charming and funny, talented and wealthy. She’d often wondered if Spence and Dominique had ever … If so, it was none of her business. “Sure. I don’t have plans and I love Harry.”

“Great.” Dominique popped up. “I’ll call Spence and tell him to hold my table. Show starts at ten!” She sauntered off toward the house.

Chapter 3

When Desiree and Dominique arrived at Bottoms Up, the line to get in wrapped around the block. Dominique pulled up to the valet.

“Evening, Ms. Lawson.”

“Hi, Eddie. Big crowd tonight,” she said, grabbing her purse. She exited the car and Eddie got in behind the wheel as Desiree got out.

“Just go right up front, Ms. Lawson,” Eddie said before shutting the door.

“Thanks.”

Desiree followed Dominique up to the front of the line, bypassing the waiting throng held at bay by a red velvet rope.

“Hey, Charles,” Dominique greeted the bouncer.

Charles looked like a bear but was as gentle as a kitten. He was truly a testament to looks being deceiving. He smiled when he saw her. “Good to have you with us tonight. And, Ms. Desiree, it’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Charles.”

“Come on in, ladies.” His burly body made a path for them and they stepped inside, ignoring the grumbling at their backs.

Bottoms Up might have been billed as a supper club, but it certainly had an upscale nightclub feel. Two circular levels with multi-rows of tables allowed the seated guests to see the stage from any vantage point.

The decor was chic and avant-garde with smoked glass tables and chairs, muted recessed lighting, gleaming silver railings, mirrored walls, three bars and several private booths for larger groups. Between the dining tables were couches and lounge chairs and, of course, the menu was to die for.

The sisters stepped into the dim interior and were immediately met by the hostess, who took them to Dominique’s reserved table.

Michelle was crossing the room and spotted them the moment they were seated. Her body tensed. Not one, but two of them, she thought to herself. Desiree, the other sister, wasn’t really on her radar. She had always seemed nice whenever they had the chance to meet, and she was cordial, if not almost aloof, when she saw Spence. It was Dominique that was the fly in her ointment. She put on her happy face and walked over to their table.

“Good evening, ladies. Nice to see you both.”

“Michelle, how are you?” Desiree offered a big smile.

Dominique glanced up. “Michelle.” Her gaze did a sixty-second inventory. “You put on a little weight. It looks good.”

Michelle’s jaw clenched. “I love the shoes. They add about what? Three inches to your height?” she said, taking her dig at Dominique’s diminutive stature.

“So, great crowd tonight,” Desiree said, jumping in before she became a casualty in the verbal catfight. “Harry can definitely draw the crowd.”

Michelle drew in a breath and forced a smile. She turned to Desiree. “Yes, he can. We’ve reached capacity and it’s still early. Well, you ladies have a great evening. Good seeing you.”

“Oh, could you let Spence know we’re here?” Dominique smiled sweetly.

Michelle turned away before she lost her manners and smacked the lip gloss right off of Dominique Lawson’s mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” Desiree said from between clenched teeth. “You act like you’re twelve every time you’re around that woman.”

Dominique rolled her eyes. “She irks my last nerve.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual. But the both of you need to get over it. Whatever it is.”

“She’s jealous because of my relationship with Spence. She always has been and she wishes it was her.”

So do I. Desiree sighed inwardly and turned her attention to the crowd.

Michelle wound her way around the tables and bodies until she reached the kitchen, where she was sure she would find Spence overseeing each and every dish. He had little tolerance for any slipups or shoddy service or improperly prepared meals. His cooks and servers were thoroughly screened and trained and he paid well for their time and talents. But he had no qualms about letting anyone go that could not live up to the standards that he’d set. He was a hard taskmaster, but his staff knew that above all else he was fair. Michelle admired him for that and everything else that made up Spence Hampton.

“Full house.” Michelle eased up alongside him as he tasted the lobster bisque.

Spence took the wooden spoon and dropped it in the sink. He wiped his hands on his apron. “How are we doing outside?”

“Charles has started turning people away. We probably should have had two shows.”

Spence shook his head. “One show, one night. It gives it that much more cachet to have been here.” He winked at her, then crossed the wide, bustling kitchen, peeking over shoulders as he went. Michelle was close behind.

“The Lawson sisters are here.”

Spence’s step stuttered for a moment and Michelle bumped into his back.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Did they get seated?” He continued walking.

“Yes. Dominique got her table.”

He gave a short nod of his head. He checked his apron. “I’ll go out and say hello.”

Before Michelle could say another word, Spence had pushed through the swinging kitchen doors and stepped out into the main lounge. As she stood there, she wondered for the countless time what Dominique Lawson had that she didn’t. In her heart she knew the answer but refused to accept it. One day she would have him back, once and for all, and she’d never have to think about Dominique Lawson with Spence ever again.

Michelle was right, Spence thought as he took in the capacity crowd. Every table was taken, the couches were full, the bar was lined from end to end and the waiters and waitresses were doing double time to keep up.

After a bit of maneuvering, he eased around the mezzanine floor and worked his way toward Dominique’s table.

Desiree had her back to him, but he’d know that slender neck, the curve of her bare shoulders and those wild spiral cotton candy curls anywhere. Dominique, as usual, was busy charming the waiter, encased in a body hugging minidress that looked as if it was painted on. Spence smiled to himself as he approached.

“Ladies, ladies.” He looked from one to the other.

Dominique beamed. Spence slipped his arm around her waist and she did the same as she kissed his rugged cheek.

Desiree watched the exchange, thankful for the muted light that hid the longing in her eyes. Looking at the two of them together, one could easily conclude from their body language that they were lovers. Her stomach tensed. She glanced away and concentrated on her apple martini while her sister teased and cooed with Spence. He towered over her sister. His slender but hard body slid along the lines of her sister’s and she wished it was her. The deep chocolate of his smooth skin always made her hungry for what she knew would be sweetness, if she only got a chance to taste it.

“Desiree.” The deep ripple of his voice vibrated down to her pedicured toes.

She casually glanced up and tumbled into the depths of his onyx eyes. “How are you, Spence?” The lighting played with the deep, dark waves of his closely cut hair.

“I can’t complain. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit tonight?”

Desiree felt all fluttery inside. “You have Dominique to thank. She convinced me to come out tonight. And when she said Harry would be here …” She lifted one shoulder and smiled. Her deep dimples flashed.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”

She refused to read more into what he said. “I’m looking forward to the show.”

Spence took a step back. He was thankful that his face was hidden in the shadows that played around the room. It was silly of him to think that Desiree might have wanted to see him. In all the years that he’d known the sisters, Desiree had not once given him reason to think that they were anything more than acquaintances.

“Well, you ladies enjoy your evening. Whatever you need is yours.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Dominique said. “If I don’t see you later tonight, I’ll give you a call during the week.”

He nodded and walked off.

Dominique turned to her sister. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

Desiree blinked and brought the room and her attention back into focus. “Yeah, just taking it all in.”

“Spence has done an incredible job with this place, hasn’t he?” She reached for her drink.

“Wonderful,” Desiree said absently and wondered if she would see Spence again before the night was over. But what was the point, anyway? He had no interest in her, and for her to continue to daydream about the two of them together was a waste of valuable brain cells. Spence Hampton was off-limits and that was the end of it. She only wished that her heart was as reasonable as her head.

Spence continued to keep his focus on the menu and ensuring that his guests were all taken care of. Although that part of running Bottoms Up was Michelle’s job, he always wanted to keep his hand in. He didn’t want to be one of those owners that had no idea of what went on in their establishment.

Once Harry took the stage and the majority of the dinner guests had been served, he took a moment to relax. The tough part of the evening was over. He made his rounds of the tables and checked on his guests, seeing many familiar faces and plenty of new ones.

When he opened Bottoms Up, he had no idea that it would take off the way that it did, but his business was one of the premier locations in Baton Rogue and all the surrounding areas. He had much to be proud of.

The enthusiastic crowd kept Harry and his band onstage long after his set was supposed to be finished. But being the consummate entertainer, he had no intention of disappointing his fans, who clamored for “more, more.”

By 2:00 a.m., the crowd was down to a few die-hard stragglers who were finishing up drinks or collecting numbers for potential rendezvous.

Spence took a look around, hoping to get a last glimpse of Desiree. Their table was empty.

“Thanks for coming, sis.” Dominique yawned as she unlocked the door to their home.

“I’m glad I did. I had a great time.” She pulled off her shoes and walked barefoot up the stairs.

“It’s so different without Lee Ann around. Just a few months ago she would have been sitting in the living room, pretending to be reading but really waiting up for one of us to come home.”

Desiree laughed. Their older sister, Lee Ann, was definitely the nurturing one of the family. She’d taken over the care of the family and the running of the household after their mother passed. But now that she was married to Preston, she finally had a life of her own. She was sorely missed.

“I’m actually tired,” Dominique said, opening the door to her bedroom. “I must be getting old.”

“You! I doubt that.”

Dominique turned beneath the threshold of her door. She wagged a finger at her sister. “We still have a deal, right?”

Desiree drew in a breath and sighed. “Yes, we still have a deal.”

“Great. Tomorrow is going to be the first day of your brand-new life. Just leave it to me.”

“Night.”

Dominique blew a kiss and closed her door.

Desiree continued down the hallway to her bedroom. Slowly getting undressed, she thought about her evening and how she had felt when she saw Spence. She’d made it a point to steer clear of him as much as possible. There was no point in window-shopping—seeing what you want in the window and knowing that you can’t have it. Yet every time she saw him, the desire that she felt never lessened. If anything, her longing for him had only increased over the years. But truth be told, she didn’t want to be one of many. Spence Hampton had a line of women whom he’d either dated or who were waiting in line to do so. As far as she knew, there had never been anyone serious in his life and not even Dominique had managed to slow him down.

She didn’t fully understand their relationship, she mused as she slipped under the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp. There was no doubt in her mind that there was an intimacy between them. But she dared not ask. She didn’t think she could stand to hear what she already knew.

Desiree lay on her back. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. Tomorrow is the first day of your brand-new life. She flipped onto her side and shut her eyes.

It was nearly 4:00 a.m. and Spence still couldn’t sleep, so he found himself in his garage with the overhead lights glaring and the shining insides of a 1978 Ford Mustang open for view. Had his passion for cooking not been stronger than his love of working on and restoring cars, he would have been in a completely different business.

His father was a mechanic, and when he was a kid growing up in Memphis, Spence spent many afternoons after school and during the summer watching his father work on cars in his small automotive shop. “If you have a trade, you’ll never be without food on the table,” his father used to always say. And growing up, he always assumed that he would be a mechanic like his father.

He’d been working on the Mustang for about two months. Every night, after closing the restaurant, he would come out to his garage and work on it. It was bright red, with a white leather interior. The body was fully restored and the engine purred like a satisfied kitten. But the soft sounds of the engine belied its truth. The Mustang could reach 120 miles per hour without a shudder.

The restored beauty would fetch a pretty penny if he ever decided to put it on the market, something that his best friend and film producer Dexter Beaumont tried to convince him to do.

Working on a car, to Spence, was akin to unlocking the mysteries of women, their fine lines, sleek and smooth bodies and the power that they possessed beneath their exterior.

He turned off the overhead lights. There wasn’t anything else that he could do with her besides taking her out for a spin and opening her up. It was late, his mind said, but his body needed to release some of his pent up energy. He closed the hood and opened the driver’s side door, got in behind the wheel and inserted the key. A touch of a button and the roof eased back; the engine purred softly beneath him. He put the car in gear and eased out of his garage and into the early morning.

The streets of Baton Rouge were still. A light breeze blew in the spring air. Lamplight joined with the starlight and the half-moon, giving the slow drive an almost surreal feel.

He knew these streets and back routes like he knew his own name. Although he wasn’t a native of Louisiana, he had spent the better part of his life here and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Above the crest of the trees and homes the first pink rays of daylight began to spread across the inky sky, as if being slowly painted with the stroke of an artist’s hand. He headed for the highway and once there he shifted gears, pressed on the accelerator and soon the city was no more than a tiny image in his rearview mirror.

He drove for more than an hour, relishing in the feel and power of the car. Driving usually relaxed him, took his mind off things he didn’t want to think about. But not tonight. As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake images of Desiree out of his head. On more than one occasion he’d started to talk to Dominique about her sister, but good sense had prevailed. For reasons that he couldn’t put his finger on, he didn’t think that it would sit very well with Dominique. She had her own impressions of him and teased him constantly about his parade of women. What she didn’t know was that the parade was only a replacement for who he really wanted—Desiree Lawson.

He turned onto his street and pulled into his garage. Maybe it was time to do something about his unrequited feelings once and for all.

Chapter 4

Desiree had always known that her twin was determined and single-minded. However, she’d never been on the receiving end of all that focus, and in the first twenty-four hours of their pact, she was already regretting it.

“First I thought we could do some double-dating. Chris, a guy I met a few weeks ago on the tennis court, has some really great-looking friends,” Dominique was saying while she sipped her orange juice.

Desiree groaned. “Dom, you make me sound like some kind of castoff.” She pushed back from the kitchen island counter and walked to the sink.

“Okay, how about this? What if I just invite Chris and one of his friends over here? That way, no pressure, only a friendly gathering at the pool.”

Inwardly, Desiree cringed. She must have been out of her mind or truly desperate to have agreed to this. “Fine,” she said on a breath of frustration.

Dominique clapped and hopped up from her stool. “I’ll give Chris a call.” She pranced out of the kitchen.

“Hey, sis, why the long face?”

Desiree glanced up to see her brother Justin en route to his favorite spot in the house—the refrigerator. Every time she looked at her handsome younger brother, she was reminded of their mom: they both shared the same open and welcoming countenance.

“Oh, just thinking about some issues at work. How is school going?”

He shrugged. “Easy semester. Just looking forward to graduation.”

“It will be here before you know it. Do you think you’re going to take the consulting job or the congressional aide position?”

“I’m still deciding. Both opportunities are great. I want to make the right decision.” He took a carton of eggs and a package of bacon out of the fridge.

“You will.” She smiled. “I have all the confidence in the world in you.”

“Thanks. Man, I sure miss having Lee Ann around.” He took the eggs and bacon to the stove and took down the frying pan from the hanging rack overhead. “She always had breakfast ready on Sunday morning.”

“Yep, Lee Ann always had everything under control. We were spoiled.”

“When is Grace coming back?”

“Hopefully soon, sweetie, and then things can get back to normal,” she teased.

Grace Howard was their longtime housekeeper, who’d gone to her native home of Grenada for more than two months, leaving shortly after Lee Ann’s wedding to take care of her ailing mother.

“She said her mother is much better and getting up and around.”

“That’s good. I mean, I wouldn’t want her to leave her mother but she sure is missed around here.” He lined up the bacon and the pan sizzled.

“Well, I will leave you to your cooking. See you later.” She patted him on his broad shoulders and walked off.

Located on the ground floor of the sprawling mansion were two home offices, one that Desiree used and one that her father used when he was in town. Even though it was Sunday and she could have been lounging on the pool deck, there was paperwork that she wanted to go through to prepare for a community forum later in the week. Rezoning was a major issue in the parish and the residents wanted to have their say.

Just as she was settling down to work, the opening and closing of doors and the sound of voices drifted to her from the front of the house. Her heart tumbled. Pushing back from the desk, she crossed the room to the partially opened door.

Dominique’s laughter floated to her, followed by the rugged baritone of Spence. A slow heat moved through her, even though all she could make out was the impression and resonance of his voice, not the words.

She held the frame of the door to keep her feet from moving by the magnetic pull of him. He’d obviously come to see Dominique and placing herself in front of him for some trumped-up reason would only make her look ridiculous.

Drawing in a long breath of resolve, she shut the door and returned to her computer. She was determined to focus on the work at hand even as images of her and Spence together, with her body wrapped around his, continued to battle for control of her senses.

As Spence followed Dominique through the house, he took surreptitious looks around in the hopes of spotting Desiree. The house was relatively quiet aside from the faint sounds of music coming from one of the upstairs rooms, which he assumed was Justin.

“So to what do I owe this surprise?” Dominique asked, leading the way to the back patio.

“I decided to take the Mustang for a ride and wanted who else but my best girl in the passenger seat.”

“You’re just the sweetest,” she cooed, turning to him and lifting up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her warm brandy-toned eyes moved slowly over his face. She used her thumb to gently wipe the lipstick from his cheek.

Why couldn’t this be Desiree? he thought, taking her hand and kissing the inside of her palm. “Are you game?”

“When have I ever not been game?” She flashed him a wicked smile. “Let me run up and change. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is.” She darted off and left Spence on the patio.

He walked over to the railing and looked out onto the expansive lawn. The Lawsons lived well, he mused. They were part of the elite of Louisiana. Yet, each member of the Lawson clan was as ordinary as the next person. None of them were known for lauding their family name and using their clout to get what they wanted. They worked hard in their chosen fields and didn’t look for a free ride, although their name provided entrée into any door that they wanted opened.

The sound of the sliding door opening behind him turned him in that direction. His nostrils flared as he drew in a short breath.

“Hey,” said Desiree.

“Hey, yourself. I didn’t know you were here,” he answered.

“Tucked away in my office. Last-minute stuff. I thought I heard a car pull up.”

“Yeah, I brought over the Mustang, which I’d been working on. Came to see if Dom wanted to go for a ride.”

“Hmm.” She glanced at her sandals for a moment. “Well, you guys enjoy yourself. I’m going to get back to work. Good to see you.”

She started to close the door.

“How did you like the show last night? I didn’t get to see you afterward.”

She was half in the door. “It was great. I had a wonderful time and, of course, the dinner was superb.” She smiled. “I dreamed about you—it all night.” Her face burned. Why did she say that?

“So did I … I mean, I have these crazy dreams sometimes before a big … event.”

She leaned against the door frame. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets … lets things get you all worked up … sleepless.” Oh, God, she was babbling.

Spence gripped the railing behind him to keep from walking right up to her and taking her in his arms the way he’d been dreaming about when he finally did fall asleep. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure I would.”

“You should come more often.”

The air stuck in her chest. She knew good and well what he meant but her libido had taken charge. “Come?”

“To the club.”

She ran her tongue lightly across her lips. “I don’t get out as much as I should.”

“All work?”

“Something like that.” She ran her hand absently along the door frame. “Especially with the elections coming up and all of the local referendums.” She finally felt the floor beneath her feet again, having moved the topic to something that she could manage.

“Yeah, the whole rezoning thing,” he said, nodding his head as he spoke. “I’ve been following you—it, in the papers.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly in pleasant surprise. “A very hot topic for the community. The rezoning will bring business but at the expense of much needed housing.”

“There has to be a middle ground,” he said, his expression tightening in thought. “I know from experience the good, the bad and the ugly about gentrification.”

“Experience?”

He nodded. “Back in Memphis, where I grew up, the same thing happened. City claimed eminent domain and ran a highway through the neighborhood, pushed people out and built a mall.” He expelled a mirthless laugh.

“I’m sorry, that must have been horrible. How old were you?”

“Hmm, ‘bout fifteen. Old enough to be angry, but not old enough to do much about it.”

“What did your family wind up doing?”

“They gave my mother some money for our place.” He glanced off, back to that unsettling time in his life. “We moved into a walk-up apartment in a three-family house.”

In all the years that she’d known Spence this was all a revelation. She knew he wasn’t born in Louisiana but had no idea that Memphis was home or that he was raised by a single mom. Desiree watched the montage of emotions crease his brow, tighten his casual body language and put a hard edge in his voice. That experience, she sensed, changed him somehow. Forced him to see the injustices of life, perhaps too soon.

Spence blew out a breath and returned from that place he’d put behind him and smiled at Desiree. He opened his mouth to speak just as Dominique appeared behind her sister. Desiree stepped out of the way.

“Good seeing you, Spence. Enjoy the ride!” She gave a short wave and walked away.

Dominique slid her sunglasses on her nose. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

He walked alongside Dominique as they rounded the house from the back to reach his car on the driveway.

“She sure is a beauty.” Dominique ran her hand along the high-glossed side.

Spence glanced at the house and could have sworn he saw someone drop the curtain in the window. “Yeah, she is.”

Desiree turned away from the window, mortified at the thought that she might have been caught staring. She felt as if he’d looked right at her—or through her. Why did she even care? He hadn’t come to see her. He’d come to see her sister. He never even asked if she wanted to come along. Why should he? She would have just been a third wheel.

She pushed out a long breath. Yes, Patrice and Dominique were right. It was time she got a life and put a man in it. She reentered her office and shut the door behind her.

“Where are we headed?” Dominique asked, leaning back against the cool leather as the warm Louisiana wind blew around them. She rested her elbow against the frame of the open window.

He should have asked Desiree to come along. Although he was pretty sure she would have said no. She’d never seemed interested in whatever he and Dominique might be doing together, whether it was a day at the shore, going out for drinks with friends … parties. She always had “other plans,” which was why he was so surprised to see her last night. And seeing her had only stirred up all the desires he’d kept under a lid. She was the real reason he’d come to the Lawson home in the first place.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” He snatched a glance in Dominique’s direction.

She pursed her lips in feigned annoyance. “I asked you where we were going. If you don’t have any place special in mind, I want to pop by and see Rafe for a minute. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Not a problem.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Why?”

“You seem distracted or out of it.”

He chuckled. “Naw. I’m good.” He turned to her and winked.

She cut him a look from the corner of her eye, studying his stiff profile, which was so out of character. Spence was usually so laid-back and relaxed, always an easy smile on his face. But today his entire body was tight and inflexible. He barely looked at her, and when he did, it was as if he didn’t really see her. And that was something she certainly wasn’t used to. She ran her fingers through her short, spiky hairdo and wondered what was really on Spence’s mind.

“How’s the new program going at the agency?”

Dominique shot him a look. “Oh, you’re talking to me now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I might as well not even be here for all the attention you’ve paid to me since I got in the car.”

“Now you’re being silly.”

Her neck jerked back. “Silly?”

“Yes, silly.”

She folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts and pouted.

Spence inhaled deeply. He and Dominique had been close for years. He’d grown accustomed to her moods and her often irrational feelings of being ignored. It had taken him a long time to understand that it wasn’t him or anything that he was or wasn’t doing; it was pure insecurity on her part. At times it could be endearing, and he’d want to comfort her and make it all go away; other times it was totally frustrating. He knew it was why she was always flamboyant, the party girl, the one who needed to be noticed. And when she wasn’t, she pouted, like now.

“So are you going to tell me how the program is going, or are you going to keep those luscious lips poked out until we get to Rafe’s house? My mama always said, ‘If you do your mouth like that, your lips are gonna stay that way,’” he said in a bad falsetto with a heavy Southern twang.

Dominique turned to look at him and rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh.

“It’s going fine. Thank you very much for asking.”

Dominique was the executive director of First Impressions, a nonprofit agency that provided clothing and training to disadvantaged women and single mothers. She’d recently been approved for a grant to fund a GED program.

“How many students so far?”

“Can you believe we already have a waiting list?” She shook her head in wonder.

“Yeah, actually I can. Lotta people are struggling out there, Dom. All they need is a chance.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think I ever realized how much until I started the agency.”

“You do good work.” He turned to her. “I’m proud of you.”

She reached across the gears and squeezed his hand as the car drew to a stoplight. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.” Her eyes held his for a moment.

He turned his attention back to the road. “Rafe’s town house is on the next street, right?”

“Yep. Third one from the corner, on the left.”

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“No.”

“Dom, suppose he’s … busy.”

She chuckled. “What else would be new?”

“I’ve been trying to get him to come down to the club and play. He’s always busy,” Spence said, pulling into Rafe’s driveway.

Dominique got out of the car and shut the door. “You should’ve told me. I would have spoken to him for you. Rafe can never tell me no.”

They stood in front of the door. Spence turned to her. “Who can?”

Chapter 5

The house was too quiet. Justin had gone out with friends earlier and Dominique had yet to return. The rooms began to echo in Desiree’s mind, highlighting her growing feeling of loneliness. Today would have been a perfect day to take a spin around the track, work out some of the kinks and get her mind wrapped around something that she could actually control. But Sundays were reserved for competitions only and she was not a competitive driver. At least not yet.

Restless, she went into the kitchen. Next to driving and reading, cooking was her passion. She decided to make jambalaya and went in search of the ingredients. While she gathered her ingredients and seasonings, she turned on the small television to her favorite cable channel—The Food Network.

As she cut and sliced sausage, deveined the shrimp and chopped green and red peppers, a smile came to her lips and she felt a rush of warm memories of the many hours she’d spent at her mother’s side, watching with fascination as she prepared a meal. She could almost see her mother standing next to her, watching in approval.

The ringing phone jarred her away from the warm but melancholy thoughts. She wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the phone from the counter.

“Lawson residence.”

“Hey, sis, I meant to tell you before I darted out that I called Chris and he’s going to stop by later this evening, around six, and he’s bringing his friend Maxwell. I thought we could have a few drinks, something light to eat and chat ….”

“Dom! How could you do something like that without telling me first? Did it occur to you that I might have something to do?”

“Do you?”

“That’s not the point,” Desiree tossed back, her anger boiling over. “This is so typical of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you have tunnel vision. You think the whole world revolves around you and your wants. And it doesn’t!”

“Rafe is coming,” she said in her sweetest voice to try to smooth things over. She knew how close Desiree was to Rafe. She could almost see the tight line between her sister’s eyes begin to ease.

Desiree pushed out a breath. Seeing her brother would do her a world of good, even if she was pissed off with her sister.

“Don’t you dare tell Rafe about this friend of yours, Dominique, or I swear our deal is off and I’ll never speak to you again. Understood?”

“All right, all right. I won’t breathe a word.” She smiled with triumph. “Um, you want me to pick up anything while I’m out?”

Desiree squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Her sister was truly a piece of work. “A couple of rolls of French bread. I am making jambalaya. Guess I’ll have to make some extra.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite! I’ll bring some wine, too.”

“Hmm.”

“See you later.”

Before she could ask if Spence was with her, Dominique had disconnected the call.

Dominique returned to the living room, where Spence and Rafe were talking about Rafe coming to play at Bottoms Up. She stood between them. “Hey, just got off the phone with Desi. Guess what? She’s fixing her specialty and wanted to have some folks over.”

“Tonight?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah, around six. Bring a date.” She turned to Spence. “You can come, too. Bring someone. It’ll be fun.”

The two men looked at each other.

“I’m always up for a free meal. Next to you, my sister is a damned good cook,” Rafe said over a light chuckle. “And I’m sure I can find some hungry young lady to be my escort.”

“What about you, Spence?” Dominique asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I had plans to make this an early night.”

“It will be. Come on,” she cooed, bending down in front of him. She ran her finger along his jaw.

He hesitated. It would give him a chance to spend some time in Desiree’s company. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

Dominique popped up. “Great.” She looked at her watch. It was almost two. “Can you drop me at the market before you take me back? I promised Desi I’d get some French bread and a couple of bottles of wine.”

Spence pushed up from his seat. “I’m apparently at your disposal.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yes, my darling sister does have a way of manipulating people.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say about your own sister,” replied Dominique.

“What would you call it?” Rafe asked while he walked them to the front door.

“Hmm, the power of positive persuasion,” she said.

“Riiight,” Spence and Rafe chorused.

Dominique tossed her head and sashayed out. “See you tonight, Rafe.” She finger waved.

“Later, man,” Spence said, shaking Rafe’s hand. “I’m gonna hold you to coming down next month.”

Rafe bobbed his head. “We’ll work it out. Take care of my crazy sister.”

“Always.”

“See you in a few.”

Desiree had been trained well by her mother, Louisa, and her sister, Lee Ann, on how to put a dinner party together, from small gatherings to full-out banquets, but it never got easier. Like her mother and sister, Desiree was a perfectionist.

After putting the jambalaya on to simmer, she prepared the ingredients for dirty rice and fixed a huge tossed salad. She chilled the only bottle of wine in the house, and cut up exotic cheeses and mixed a bowl of spinach dip that her brother Rafe loved.

With all the preparations done, she went out back to check on the seating by the pool and to stock the ice chest with water, beer and soda. Since the dinner would be totally buffet style, she set out the dishes, cutlery and glasses on the granite counter in the kitchen. Every man for himself, she thought, taking out the linen napkins and placing them on the counter. She took a quick look around at her handiwork. Satisfied, she lowered the flame on the pot and darted upstairs to find something to wear and take a shower.

She didn’t like this whole blind date thing, she thought as she stood beneath the relaxing spray of water. What if he was a real jerk and she was forced to play nice all evening? She groaned. She should have never let Dominique talk her into this. But a deal was a deal. She would have to make the most of it.

“Need some help?” Dominique asked from the other side of the kitchen door.

Desiree was taking the citronella candles down from the cabinet. “You think you can manage to light these?”

As usual, Dominique had made herself scarce the instant she’d returned home, leaving everything up to Desiree to handle.

“Fine, but you get the door. It’s probably Chris and his friend Max. I can’t be in two places at once.” She took the tray that held the six glass-enclosed candles and went out back.

Desiree forced herself not to scream and went to the front door. She put on her best smile, took a breath and opened the door.

“Spence!” She looked from Spence to Michelle. Her heart thundered.

“You look surprised,” said Spence.

“No … not at all. I. Come in. Michelle, it’s good to see you again.”

“We brought dessert.” Michelle held up a bag that contained a gallon tub of raspberry sorbet.

“I’ll take that. Thanks so much. We’re out back. Spence, you know the way.”

Desiree swallowed over the dry knot in her throat as she watched them walk toward the backyard, still held in place by shock.

“Something sure smells good.”

She turned back toward the opened door and felt a brief moment of calm when she saw her brother Rafe. For an instant she wanted to simply rest her head on his chest. She opened her arms instead. “Hey, sweetie.” She hugged him tight, then stepped back.

“Desiree, this is Crystal. Crystal, my sister Desiree.”

Crystal stuck out her hand, which Desiree shook. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. Please come in.” She shut the door and slid her arm around her brother’s waist. “How ya doing?”

“Good. Better,” he said quietly.

Mere weeks before Lee Ann’s wedding to Preston, Rafe had taken a real dive. He’d gone on a drinking binge and got himself pretty banged up riding his motorcycle. They’d all been worried about him. Rafe was always so carefree and invincible, for lack of a better word, and to see him the way he had been gave them all pause. The volatile relationship between Rafe and their father, Branford, had been at the root of it. It had taken a lot of years to get to where it was and it was going to take time to mend it.

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