Luc knew he couldn’t go back. Now that he knew what Loretta’s skin felt like, what she smelled like, the little noises she made in the heat of passion, he couldn’t go back. Memories of their lovemaking would haunt him every time he saw her.
Or even when she was nowhere near.
“If you want to, you can find someone else to provide your baked goods-”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re asking me to give up your delectable body, but don’t make me swear off cranberry-orange muffins, too. Have mercy.”
Finally she cracked a smile. “Thank you for not hating me.”
“I could never hate you, Loretta. I saw what hate and bitterness did to my father, and I won’t do that to myself. My motto is forgive and move on. Though I guess technically you haven’t done anything wrong, except let me talk you into bed.”
Her smile faded. “You won’t tempt me again, will you?”
“Would it work?”
She sighed. “Probably.”
But he wouldn’t feel good about it. “I’ll be on my best behavior when I’m around you. Fair warning, though. My best behavior isn’t exactly stellar.”
She pushed back her chair. “I really have to go. I have a zillion things to do for the festival.”
The music festival. Luc had agreed to share a combined booth with Loretta and her family, and he’d promised Celeste he would make their display look like a museum. The only step he’d taken so far was to buy the boat so he could advertise the bayou cruises. “We also need to decide how we want to do our booth.”
She gasped. “I forgot completely. I’ve been so busy dealing with everyone else’s booths-”
“I can work it out with your parents. You have enough to worry about.”
She extracted a bulging Filofax from her purse and pored over the calendar. “I can’t just dump it on y’all. Can we meet on Sunday?”
Luc had a packed house over the weekend, but he agreed, anyway. “You sure you don’t need any help before then?”
She stood decisively. “You’ve done so much already. Getting Melanie to agree to do the dinner has been a huge coup. I can handle the rest.”
He stood, too. “Thanks for the goodies. You’re going to make me fat.”
“Hmph. Not likely.”
They shook hands, which seemed ridiculously formal after all they’d shared. But the gesture served to seal their agreement, so it was the right thing to do. She left quickly, without looking back, and Luc watched her beat-up station wagon depart down the long drive, his heart heavy.
LUC HAD UNEXPECTED walk-in guests arrive that afternoon, so he called and left Loretta a message to bring a few goodies the following morning. The sound of her voice on the taped greeting gave his heart a brief lift, but then his mood plummeted.
He didn’t like the way things had turned out. In the past, if a relationship with a woman went south, he simply moved on to the next one. But of course, here in Indigo there wasn’t exactly a crowd of eligible, good-looking women looking to warm up the sheets with him.
Not that there weren’t some pretty ones. Joan Bateman, a best-selling mystery author who’d made her home in Indigo, was attractive in a mature sort of way. He’d noticed her when he’d first moved here. But she was older than him, and, anyway, she’d recently become engaged to her literary agent. Then there was Sophie Clarkson, who’d come to Indigo a few months ago to settle the affairs of her godmother. Luc had felt a kinship with the woman almost instantly, since she was from the city and something of an outsider, like him. But she’d had a teenage romance years ago with Indigo’s Chief of Police, Alain Boudreaux, and they were now married and expecting their first child.
And Marjo Savoy, who ran the local funeral parlor, was downright beautiful, but he’d had no interest in any of the local women after meeting Loretta. And now that she had eliminated any possibility of an affair…he still wasn’t interested.
Thinking about Loretta, he realized that for the first time since he had opened La Petite Maison, she was late. Fortunately he hadn’t eaten all of the goodies she’d brought the day before, and they were still fresh, so his guests were well supplied. But as the morning wore on and Loretta didn’t show, he became worried.
He knew it wasn’t his place to check on her. He had no right to feel protective or proprietary toward Loretta. But he did.
When he returned from taking his guests for a boat ride on the Bayou Teche, where they were fortunate enough to see a six-foot alligator sunning on the shore, neither Loretta nor her baked goods had arrived.
He called her.
She answered her phone, breathless, and when he said his name, there was a long silence before she finally spoke. “I can’t believe I completely forgot to deliver your order.”
“Don’t worry about it, I managed,” he said, relieved she wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. “I was concerned about you.”
“I am so sorry. You just cannot believe how crazy my day has been. I’ve been inundated with calls from restaurants all over the state wanting to sell food at the music festival. Marjo told me not to turn anyone down who’s legitimate, but we’re outgrowing our space. The people who are building the booths want to charge extra for overtime, the health inspector is on my case about permits and inspections-” She halted abruptly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. Your next order is on the house, okay?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Still.”
Luc wanted to prolong the conversation, but he could tell she was in a hurry, so he said goodbye. But it wasn’t like Loretta to forget a delivery. He hoped she wasn’t in over her head with the festival. Being in the hotel business, he had some experience with special-events planning, and he knew how quickly preparations could spin out of control.
Loretta showed up the next day at her usual time, but she didn’t linger to chat as she used to do. She delivered her basket, picked up the empty one and bolted. Luc hoped it was because she was busy and not because she no longer wanted to spend time with him. Even if friendship was all he could hope for, he didn’t want to lose that.
The next day it was the same thing. She zoomed in, gravel spraying from her tires, dropped off his order, and was gone. Luc was going into severe withdrawal. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, a clean break, but he couldn’t convince himself.
The ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away was as alien to him as the spicy Cajun food had been when he’d first moved to Louisiana. He’d gotten used to the food and had come to love it. But the pain of losing Loretta before he’d even really had her-he wasn’t sure he could ever get used to that. He was reluctant to analyze what that meant, but the realization that any woman could do this to him was almost more upsetting than the situation itself.
By Saturday he didn’t have time to think about Loretta or anyone else other than the guests at La Petite Maison. Every room was full except for the attic suite. By that afternoon, it would be occupied, too. As soon as the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, it was time to get started on lunch. Some of the guests had paid extra for a gourmet picnic under the shade of a two-hundred-year-old live oak. The picnic was another of his experiments, something else he could advertise at the festival.
As he was cleaning up the leftovers after lunch, something caught his eye down on the banks of the bayou. A flash of bright red hair.
His immediate thought was of Loretta, of course. But as he craned his neck and tried to get another glimpse, the figure near the water came into view again and he realized the person was much too small to be Loretta.
Concern for Zara welled up inside him. Should she be playing so close to the water’s edge? The bayou was beautiful, but dangerous, too. He hadn’t forgotten about the alligator, which could eat Zara in two bites.
He abandoned the picnic leftovers and went to investigate. He came across her purple bike first, lying on its side where she’d left it when the ground got too muddy. Then he found Zara, looking adorable in little overalls and a sunny yellow shirt. Her beautiful hair was unbound. Luc had never seen her without her pigtails.