LITMIR.BIZ

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child for appearances’ sake.”

      Lucas thought that was a terrible thing to think about your own parents, and especially about yourself. That brought thoughts of his dead mother and father and how much they had treasured their three children. Pushing bittersweet memories away, he held Willa, his hand cupping her face. “Why do you think that, chère?”

      Willa didn’t try to twist away. Instead, she leaned into his touch. “They were so distant, so formal when I was growing up. They still are. And they expected so very much, more than I was ever able to give.”

      “Do you see them now? I mean, are they still alive?”

      “Oh, yes, I see them during holidays—the obligatory visit. But they travel here and there with the social set, their image intact in spite of their daughter’s disgraceful antics.”

      “I don’t see anything disgraceful in this face,” he told her, inching closer.

      “I was supposed to be just like my mother,” she explained, her expression grim. “I went through boarding school, prep school, college. Then I was supposed to marry some Ivy Leaguer with plenty of old money and settle down to charity events and committee work.”

      “I guess that didn’t happen.”

      “No. I was ‘discovered’ when a modeling scout came to our campus to do some photo shoots. A friend talked me into going to the shoot just for fun. Well, the agency rep seemed to like me, but at first, I resisted the offer. I’m not one to be impulsive, you see. But the scout and the agency were very persistent. Signed me up on the spot a week before graduation.

      “I think I agreed just to spite my parents and their latest catch, a very eligible bachelor who met all their credentials. It was a way to run away, get away. When I turned down his marriage proposal and told my parents I was heading to France for my first modeling assignment, they practically disowned me.”

      “But you’re famous, rich, accomplished. What’s the matter with these people?”

      “I’ve asked my therapist that many times,” she said, her smile warming his hand. “And I’ve longed to know what’s wrong with me just the way I am.” She stopped smiling. “Then, after I informed them I wanted to find my real mother—”

      Lucas watched as she became silent again. He saw the pain marring her face, felt it in the touch of his fingers to her skin. “Did you—find her, I mean?”

      Willa put her hand over his, pulling it away from her face. “I’ve been searching for so long. I had just about given up. But about a month ago, the private investigator I hired came up with a family name and a location. Now I’m trying to get up the courage to go and see if this family might be my family.”

      “Wow.” He held her hand in his. “So…what’s holding you back?”

      Her eyes misted over, but she held the tears at bay.

      “I’m afraid,” she finally admitted. “I’m so afraid of what I might find if I do go to see my real mother. What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

      “That would be tough,” he said, nodding. “But if this is something you have to do—”

      “It is.” She got up, the aloof nature intact once again. “Thanks for the medicine. The itching’s stopped now.”

      “Willa, wait.” He rose to go after her. But she was already in the hall, heading up the winding stairs. “Willa, do you want to talk about this?”

      “No,” she told him, turning to stare at him. “Thanks, Lucas. But there’s so much more to the story. And I really can’t explain all of it right now.”

      “When?” he asked, his heart hurting for her. “When, Willa?”

      “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “And I don’t think I should stay here too much longer. It’s only going to get worse if I do.” With that, she turned and fled up the stairs to the second floor, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

      Lucas turned from the stairs to look out the French doors, his gaze scanning the great oaks surrounding the front of the house. “How could it get any worse?” he wondered out loud.

      After all, he’d already lost his heart.

      He could be persistent. He would find out what Willa was so worried about, what secrets she’d brought to Bayou le Jardin with her.

      And he’d gladly help her to find her long-lost biological mother, if she’d let him. Because he wasn’t about to let Willa leave these gardens in her current state of mind. Nor anytime soon, if he had his way.

      And Lucas Dorsette always got his way.

      Chapter Five

      “I let you get away with this one, Willa, but if you keep pulling these stunts your career is going to be in serious jeopardy.”

      Willa held the cell phone tightly to her ear, the warning words from her agent reminding her that her life was falling apart even as she sat here.

      “I understand that, Samuel. But I need a little more time. I’m exhausted, worried, confused. I have to have a few more days, at least.”

      She sank back on the antique white wicker chair, one hand digging into the soft, plush floral cushion as she looked from the second floor gallery to the gardens below. Contrasting the peaceful, bucolic scene spread out in front of her with the impatient sigh of her longtime agent, Samuel Frye, only made Willa more conscious of her obligations and commitments.

      “If you’d just let me in on what’s going on with you,” Samuel said, his words etched with exasperation as well as concern. “Willa, you are one of my best clients. We’ve made a whole lot of money together, me and you. You’re wholesome, the girl next door, and you aren’t a prima donna. So I don’t get this—”

      “You mean, I’m acting like a prima donna now,” she interjected, her gaze scanning the distant row of hot-pink and fuchsia-colored crape myrtle trees Lucas had tugged her through a couple of days ago. Putting thoughts of Lucas and their time together out of her mind, Willa tried to find a reason to give Samuel for her refusal to come back to New York. “Samuel, have I ever embarrassed you? Have I ever before backed out on any of my contracts or my commitments? Haven’t I worked hard for you?”

      “Yes, of course.”

      She could almost see Samuel’s distinguished, cratered face. He’d been in the business for so many years some of the younger models called him Papa Frye. Samuel didn’t mind the title one bit. In fact, he encouraged it. He had a big heart, and he took care of his clients, especially the young women who were thrust into the sophisticated world of fashion modeling at such early ages. He set high standards for himself and his clients. Willa didn’t want to let him down.

      “Maybe you’re right,” she said at last. “I’m not really accomplishing anything here, and unfortunately, that tabloid story is only going to alert the rest of the media as to my whereabouts. I know I can’t stay here much longer without more questions popping up, but there is something I have to take care of before I can come home.”

      “But you do plan on coming home soon, to help me try to do some damage control regarding this benefit show?”

      Willa looked over the gardens toward the bayou. She’d seen Lucas heading toward the restaurant and boathouse earlier, had watched as he’d steered his pirogue into the brown-black waters of the swamp. He’d disappeared in a low mist, like some figment of her imagination.

      She wanted to escape and run after him, to ask him to take her into that lush landscape so she could hide from the world, hide from her responsibilities and her doubts. She was so very tired.

      But Willa knew that would be a mistake.

      “I just need until the weekend,” she told Samuel. “That’s three more days. I don’t have anything pressing anyway for a couple of weeks.”

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