Love in Season Read online

  ****

  The importance of eye contact was ignored as Paul’s gaze continually strayed to the young woman seated at the first table in the last row. Jessica Aucoin. Somehow the name rang a bell, but for the life of him, he could not place her. But her presence was definitely noticed. Raven hair framed a face of heartbreaking beauty. Classically oval, the high cheekbones were softened by thick lashed, almond-shaped, eyes, which were a prominent feature in Creole/French women and their descendants. Only hers weren’t dark brown or black, but brilliant green and glowed with admiration and interest; though she never uttered the first question.

  The lecture came to an end an hour later than scheduled. Relieved, yet oddly bereft, Paul made his way home. His mouth twisted into a grim line when he remembered the not-so-subtle offers by some of the women. All with the exception of one, and he wondered where she’d gone. She must have left through the door with the throng of others. He’d watched for her, but somehow she slipped by him.

  He knew how women looked at him, that he was known as the most eligible bachelor in New Orleans, the best catch in Louisiana. He was wealthy, powerful and dynamic.

  And he was alone, completely and explicably alone.

  ****

  He arose as usual on Saturday morning at five-thirty and prepared for his daily run. A cup of coffee, a Bible verse, and then he was off.

  A heavy mist reached its muggy arms across the Mississippi river and hugged the city. The river had reached an all-time low. The smell of mud and dead fish mixing with the more pleasant aromas, which filtered from area cafes, assailed his nostrils as Paul jogged along the river walk. His mind wandered back to the evening before and he, once again, found himself intrigued by the mystery that was Ms. Jessica Aucoin. He mulled the name and image over in his mind, positive he’d seen her before. But where?

  Though his mind was preoccupied, an ingrained habit of running the same path for years had him turning left at the end of the river walk. He passed through a small alley and crossed the street to head back home. It still amazed him how one side of the street passed along the river, quiet and tranquil, while the other usually bustled with people. Not this morning though. Not yet anyway.

  This was the interlude between the night crawlers and the day creatures, which made it his favorite slice of time. There were enough people about to feel secure, yet enough absence of them to be at peace. The place would come alive within a couple of hours as tourists arrived and souvenir shops opened to hawk their wares.

  He glanced in the window of a small, cozy bookstore along his path and stopped. Surprise caused his breath to falter. The one and only Miss Jessica Aucoin stared out at him from the back of a book cover. He leaned against the store window as facts began to fill his brain: Writer, Romantic suspense, very sought after, a star on the rise.

  Why on earth had she attended a lecture on the basics of law? He glanced at his watch, muttered a curse, and then continued on his way. The bookstore wouldn’t open until nine o’clock, no sense in standing around and staring in the window.

  He returned to his apartment, retrieved the newspaper out of its box and went inside. He rinsed the small two-cup coffee maker--which was actually only one good mug--poured water and measured out grounds for his second cup of the day. While the coffee brewed, he showered and shaved, and then sat down to read his paper. One of the first things to catch his eye was the announcement of a book signing later that afternoon at the bookstore he’d passed, which featured none other than Miss Jessica Aucoin.

  Paul didn’t believe in coincidence, there was a reason their paths had crossed. He aimed to find out. He finished with the paper and booted up his computer. His coffee grew cold as he searched the Internet for whatever he could find about Miss Aucoin.

  What he discovered surprised and intrigued him.

  The only daughter of a wealthy Congressman, Jessica hailed from a small town in southern Florida. Though not one to flaunt the fact, she wasn’t ashamed of it either, nor did she hesitate to use the connection when necessary. Her talent unmistakable, reviews and interviews that raved she was a star on the rise, were everywhere. But the more he studied, the more convinced he became that Jessica’s appearance at the lecture last night must be more than casual interest in the law. Hints of copyright infringement and plagiarism underscored some of the articles and reviews in blatant, highly liable, and all but slanderous, detail.

  Two hours later he had no doubt that he’d see Ms. Aucoin again. Always one to take the initiative, he decided to pay her a surprise visit later that afternoon.

  ****

  Not as spacious as what you’d find in the larger conglomerates, the tiny sitting area offered by the bookstore provided a little islet of peace in the midst of the streams of people who wandered in, out and about--a haven of comfort and relaxation. Housing a couple of chairs, matching footstools, a love seat, as well as end and coffee tables, the tiny oasis resembled a comfortable living room instead of coffee shop.

  Antique, ornate lamps provided enough light for reading without the harsh glare of florescent bulbs. Much like a library, the atmosphere encouraged silence, or at the very least, whispering so as not to disturb other readers.

  He had come early. Hoping to talk with her before fans poured in for the signing, he’d picked up a few of her books, wandered into the secluded area and chosen a chair that gave him a clear view of the table set up for her. He saw her arrive, but waited and watched while she flitted about, set out decorative figurines and arranged photos, books and other promotional items. From his seat, Paul watched the exchange between Jessica and some tall, fair man.

  He’d noticed her reaction when the man approached--the look of trepidation that crossed her lovely features, the wary expression in her eyes that was quickly replaced by anger, the hushed fury in her tone, though her voice was only slightly above a whisper, and he wondered what exactly could be going on. He stepped out from behind the bookshelves which separated them, and couldn’t help but notice that her expression had changed from fury to fear. He knew he’d gotten her attention when Jessica turned, breathed a sigh and moved forward to greet him, hand outstretched.

  “Mr. Seville; how very nice to see you again.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Paul assured. He lifted her hand to his lips and watched her visitor through lowered lids.

  A dark flush crept up the man’s neck. Anger clouded his face. His eyes took on an ominous glow. The guy spun on his heel and stormed off while muttering under his breath.

  “Friend of yours?” Paul queried.

  “Hardly,” Jessica answered, and disengaged her hand from his. The icy tone of her voice warned him not to pry.

  He supposed now was neither the time nor place for such a discussion. There’d be enough time for that later; he’d make sure of it.

  “Would you like me to sign those for you?” she asked, indicating the books under his arm.

  He handed her the books without another word, watched and waited while she stepped over to the table, slid into the chair and searched for a pen. When she didn’t find one right away, Paul watched her beautiful eyes grow watery with unshed tears. No woman would cry over not being able to find a pen; that guy had truly upset her.

  He reached into his pocket and then handed her a pen. Like an electrical conduit, her warmth permeated the slender, gold tube. She smiled her thanks, hurriedly wrote a greeting and signed her name, then handed him the books.

  Paul was not immune to the changes in atmosphere. The icy tension had dissipated, only to be replaced by one of a more intimate nature. He sensed her tremble, noticed her heightened color and felt the breath back up in his lungs. The woman was too beautiful for words. A tiny, but vital--very vital--step back, broke the sensual charge between them. He knew he’d never forget the moment of awareness that sparked between them nor the quick spurt of longing that surged through his system at the sight of her sitting there, those fathomless green eyes swimming with tears and a wealth of conflicting em
otions.

  He took the books, read the inscription, whispered his thanks and strode to the checkout counter as readers gathered and vied for her attention.

  ****

  At nearly ten o’clock that evening Jessica realized she still had Paul’s pen. Scheduled from two to four o’clock, the book signing had run well past six. A firm believer that no fan goes unnoticed, no book unsigned, and no conversation unattended, she usually stayed as long as the store was open or until the manager ran her off. By the time she cleared the table, repacked her things and stopped for a bite to eat, it was nearly eight o’clock. A horse-drawn carriage ride topped off her evening and put her spirit to rest after the long, arduous day.

  Now, alone in her hotel room, she allowed herself to experience the gamut of emotions she’d held at bay all afternoon and evening--first the rage, then the fear and finally the fire.

  Running the pen through her fingers, she could still feel Paul’s touch, the firm but gentle grasp of his fingers, the shiver of excitement, the heat. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to envision him as he’d looked this afternoon. Whether dressed informally or in a suit and tie, the man was gorgeous. But casual worked so much better. Despite being cropped short, his dark hair fell in thick waves across his forehead. The cotton slacks he’d worn conformed to the muscles in his not long, but well-toned legs, and accentuated the pure masculine physique. Rolled up at the elbows, his plaid shirt had been tucked into the waist of his pants and outlined the firm abdomen and strong chest, while his white T-shirt was a stark contrast against the tanned skin which showed through the open collar. There was something intimately appealing about him. Strength of character, gentleness of spirit, all wrapped up in a package that would make any woman sigh with longing.

  Drawing a tub full of water, she added liberal amounts of bubbles, and then sank into the scented, frothy liquid and let her mind wander. Dreams and visions danced in her head until her fingers itched to hit the keyboard, and she had no choice but to write.

  ****

  In bed that night, Paul didn’t have time to consider Jessica or the fact that she still had his pen, his favorite gold pen; he was too wrapped in intrigue and espionage. Twilight Sorcery wasn’t exactly what the title indicated. There were no witches or warlocks, only an extremely crooked cop, an equally brilliant detective, a beautiful woman, and a hint of voodoo that kept him intrigued until he finally fell asleep with the book in his hand.

  He awoke late Sunday morning, groggy and disoriented from reading so late into the night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so caught up in a story that sleep eluded him. Most of the reading he’d done to date was for work or school, rarely for pleasure.

  He fumbled with the coffee pot, rinsed it, poured water, measured grounds, turned it on, and then splashed cold water on his face and waited for it to brew. He sat at the table, picked up the sequel, thumbed through it, and skimmed a few random pages to see if it drew him in like the first. Only the thought of that first cup of coffee prevented his getting too engrossed in the story to put it down. It amazed him that Jessica could craft such deep, well-defined characters. People he identified with on every level.

  Not just the good guys either. The villain whispered to his darker side, the brilliant detective, his mind, and the woman--beautiful, sensitive, vulnerable, and intelligent--his inner man. Something about her reminded him of Jessica. Oh, he’d heard all the rhetoric about how writers poured themselves into their characters, especially those of the same gender. But it was more than that. She pulled at him. Even through her characters, she entranced. And it wasn’t just physical, though there was plenty of that. Something about her more than piqued his interest and captivated his imagination; it reached deep inside his heart to his very soul.

  Paul shook his head to clear away the befuddled musings, rose and poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee, then sat back down. Once again, he thumbed through Inherent Evil the sequel to Twilight Sorcery. Before he could be drawn into the story, the phone rang, caller ID screen flashed. Paul answered with a smile. “Hello, Mom.”

  “Anthony Paul Seville, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in days. Have you been taking care of yourself, eating right, exercising, and getting proper rest? Are you coming over here today? Will you be here for lunch? Are you bringing your laundry?”

  Well-rehearsed in the normal tirade, Paul chuckled. Unable to interject a single word, much less answer a question, he waited until she took a breath before he responded to all with one phrase, “Yes, Ma’am.”

  So much for reading this afternoon.

  “You’re a good son, Paul.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be there shortly. But don’t cook. I’m taking you out to lunch.”

  “But what about your laundry?”

  Paul normally did his own laundry, but knowing that it made his mother feel needed to do it, he always managed to save some for her, even if it were only towels and washcloths. “There’s only one load, Mom, nothing major. I’ll bring it. We can put it on to wash then dry after lunch. Do you need anything?”

  “Just you,” she replied, her tone wistful.

  “Put on your favorite dress and I’ll be right there,” he promised.

  It did Paul absolutely no good to wish things were different with his mother. They were as they were. His father’s death fifteen years ago had left her slightly unstable. Age, grief and loneliness added to her infirmity, and resulted in the early stages of dementia. Despite this, she remained fiercely independent. She absolutely refused to move out of his childhood home and into a retirement residence or nursing facility. Nor would she even consider moving in with him, insisting that he needed privacy if he were to ever consider getting himself a wife and blessing her with grandchildren–Her most fervent wish, he knew.

  To make things easier for her and less worrisome for himself, Paul paid a home health nurse to go twice a day and make sure she took her medication. Contrary to her claim otherwise, he called her daily and visited at least once a week.

  ****

  Jessica slipped into the church and found an empty pew. A trip to New Orleans just wasn’t complete without a visit to the St. Louis Cathedral. Though not a member of the Catholic faith by origin or design, she attended services on occasion and found the celebration of Mass a timeless and beautiful ceremony. Today, she sat in hopeful anticipation of revelation from God’s Spirit. Today, she expected to get her answer.

  For months, God had dealt with her to switch genres in her writing, to change from her normal vein of mysteries and suspense, to Christian fiction. Though she’d always managed to keep the violence in her stories to a minimum, and consciously strove to show that good always triumphs over evil, she’d never thought to weave the faith issue into her plots. It would be a major change, and no doubt one that would cost her, since she’d be forced to seek release from her current contract. But it was a change she knew would be for the betterment of not only her overall life and career, but also her spiritual growth.

  She also hoped the change would rid her of Jasper for good.

  Jasper Tanner was more than the proverbial thorn in her side. He was a downright nuisance. And, as much as she had once loved him, she now despised him. Not good for spiritual well-being, much less growth, she thought as the Mass began.

  “Speak of the devil,” a voice whispered, as familiar and eerie sensations stole over her. She glanced across the aisle and caught him looking at her. He nodded in greeting; his smile mocked her.

  Jessica took a deep breath, forced her gaze forward, closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of the priest’s voice and the prayers he invoked, imploring God’s intervention. Though he’d resorted to stalking her, she wasn’t afraid of Jasper, not physically anyway, but the thought of what damage he could do to her career always caused concern.

  ****

  Paul sat with his mother two pews behind Jessica. Though raised in the Church, he only attended
Mass on occasion and had no idea what drew him to do so today. Until he saw Jessica and the tall, fair man she’d encountered yesterday. Why was it that the three of them were in same place at the same time two days in a row? He pondered the question a few minutes, and then it dawned on him that somehow their destinies were entwined.

  Knowing his mother would sit without complaint as long as he prayed, Paul slid to his knees, rested his chin on clasped hands, and watched them through lowered lids. As the service neared the end, he noticed how Jessica would glance in the guy’s direction then quickly away, bowing her head as though in deep prayer. He watched as the man stood with the crowd and slid out behind the procession, passing Jessica with a brush of his hand on her shoulder.

  She recoiled with a visible shudder.

  As long as she stayed on her knees, Paul stayed on his. When she rose, so did he. He stepped from the pew and stopped her exit with an outstretched hand. “So, we meet again.”

  Jessica hesitated but a moment before she grasped his hand in return.

  “May I say how thoroughly I enjoyed Twilight Sorcery.”

  Jessica regarded him a minute, wondering if he were sincere or if he just offered the same empty flattery other men resorted to. She perceived his honesty and smiled. “Did you figure it out before the end?” she asked and disengaged her hand from his grasp.

  Paul shook his head, grinned. “No. And that surprises me. I don’t often get the chance to read for pleasure and have stayed away from mysteries and thrillers because I usually figure out whodunit within a chapter or two. But you had me guessing right up to the end.”