Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"My father did a great deal to help restore many of the old buildings downtown," she said as they crossed the street onto Raleigh, which ran north to south. "Of course St. Camille isn't the tourist spot that New Orleans is since we're a small town, but we get our share of the Louisiana tourist trade. And we have a 'Tour of Homes' every spring, in late April, and again in the fall, in early October."

As they continued their walk around town, numerous people spoke to Grace and gave Jed curious stares, but she didn't introduce him to anyone, nor did she linger in conversation. By the friendly yet deferential way the citizens of St. Camille treated Grace, he concluded that they liked her, but didn't really know her on a personal basis; that everyone respected her, but many understood they weren't her social equals.

Jed had been to St. Camille in the past, but he remembered very little about the small, centuries-old town. As a teenager, he'd had no interest in history or culture, but seeing the town through Grace's appreciative eyes gave him a different perspective today. She pointed out four banks, two other restaurants, and several lawyers' offices, including the house where the man she referred to as Uncle Willis had his practice.

"That house is on the historical register," Grace said. "Uncle Willis had it restored as closely to the original as possible."

Jed nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

"Not your thing?" When he eyed her quizzically, she elaborated. "You're not interested in your heritage or the historical significance of Louisiana architecture or history of any kind or-"

"Hey, why don't we just agree that I'm an uncouth barbarian and leave it at that." He paused in front of the two-story structure that housed the St. Camille Register , a local weekly newspaper. "We can even go in and take out an ad in the paper stating the fact." He had overreacted and he knew it, but there was something about Grace's lady-of-the-manor attitude that grated on his nerves. She was so… so untouchable, which made him want to touch her all the more. Made him want to drag her down to his level, and get real-life dirty with her.

"Did I hit a raw nerve?" she asked.

A loud rumble of thunder echoed nearby. When a streak of wide, bright lightning zigzagged unexpectedly through the sky, Grace gasped. Her gaze collided with Jed's. They stood there in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other for several seconds. Another boom of thunder preceded a closer lighting strike, a sound so powerful that it rattled the windowpanes in the old buildings along Main Street.

Suddenly raindrops plopped onto the sidewalk, splattered on their heads and bare arms, warning them to take cover.

But before they were able to respond, a torrent of rain descended. Jed grabbed Grace and pulled her into a narrow alleyway that ran between the St. Camille Register and the renovated Little Theater Playhouse. A small covered alcove at the back entrance to the theater provided a modest barrier of protection from the isolated springtime rainstorm.

Jed's arm tightened around Grace, pressing her body against his. She clung to him, shivering, her hair and face damp from the rain, as she hazarded a glance up and into his eyes. While he stared at her, his body hardened. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life than this flawlessly lovely woman wrapped in his arms. Striking blue eyes looked at him, her gaze riveted to his. When her full pink lips parted ever so slightly, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her.

Another thunderbolt roared, followed by vicious lightning. When Grace trembled, he splayed his hand across the small of her back, then lowered his head to hers. She eased herself up on tiptoe as she prepared for the inevitable. Jed covered her mouth with his, instinct urging him to ravage her; but the moment their lips met, the very hunger of her response gentled his possession. When his tongue came into play, sliding inside her mouth, exploring, she accepted his invasion without protest. The kiss deepened and intensified. Whether it was his doing or hers, he wasn't sure. More than likely a mutual action. Within seconds all reasonable thoughts left his mind; desire ruled him completely.

She smelled of fresh rain, a natural feminine sweetness and an enticing floral perfume, ever so subtle. Her scent assailed his senses as did her taste. A hint of the sugary breath mint she'd eaten after their meal lingered on her tongue. Her mouth was soft, pliable and eager. Her tall, slender body melted into his, the feel of her arousing him unbearably.

God, he could devour her. Every luscious inch.

She whimpered, but at first he thought nothing of it, then when she ended the kiss and tried to break free, he realized she had come to her senses. She had, but he hadn't. He wanted more. So much more. Reluctantly, he accepted her withdrawal. He buried his face against her neck and ran his hands down to cup her buttocks. She made a sound something between a gasp and a sigh.

"Please, release me," she whispered, her voice throaty, wispy.

He dropped his arms to his sides and lifted his head, but his gaze met hers and held.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to kiss you again," he told her.

She glanced away, then crossed her arms and ran her hands up and down, from elbows to shoulders and back. From within the dry security of the alcove, she studied the downpour. He sensed she wanted to run from him.

"Should I apologize?" he asked.

As she continued watching the rain, she replied, "What happened just then was mutual, as much my fault as yours. So, no, there's no need to apologize. We just need to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Despite my admission of being a barbarian, you should know that I don't customarily drag women into alleyways and ravage them."

A tentative smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I haven't been kissed like that-there hasn't been anyone since my husband died. I haven't shared even a kiss with another man."

Jed sucked in his breath, then blew it out in a huff that expressed his surprise. She hadn't been with another man since her husband's death. She hadn't been kissed in nearly four years. No wonder she had responded to him with such passion.

"And here I thought I turned you on." Jed grinned.

Her smile blossomed when she looked at him again. "You did… you do. I guess you affect me the way you do other women after all. But that doesn't surprise you, does it? You have to know you're a very attractive man."

"Why thank you, ma'am."

"But regardless of that fact, I'm not interested in whatever you're offering, be it a one-night stand or a brief affair. Our relationship will remain a professional one. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Ms. Beaumont."

Grace looked up at the sky. "I think the rain is tapering off a bit. Now would probably be a good time to see if we can make it back to the parking lot before another downpour sets in."

"Why don't you stay here, give me your keys and let me run back to get the car?"

"All right." She snapped open her small shoulder bag, dragged out the key chain and handed it to Jed. "It appears that even a barbarian can sometimes behave like a gentleman."

Acting purely on instinct, Jed kissed the tip of her small, pert nose; then before she could respond, he closed his hand over the keys in his palm and dashed off into the light springtime rain.

Jaron stood in the shadows and watched Charmaine, who wore a scanty bikini as she paraded around in front of Ronnie. She was trying to seduce the poor fool. He understood his sister as no one else did. She was hot for Ronnie Martine; and that meant she would stop at nothing until she trapped him. She must think herself in love or she wouldn't take such a huge risk. He wondered if they were already lovers, if they were taking advantage of Booth being away in New Orleans. If so, they'd better be careful and not let anyone else catch them mooning over each other. Not only was Booth's small squad of personal "bodyguards" devoted to him, so was the household staff. Some out of awe, others out of fear alone.