LITMIR.BIZ

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don’t you like Edith?”

      He gave her a long, considered look. “I like you. I don’t like anyone who hurts you. That should cover it.”

      “She’s changed.”

      “People don’t change.”

      Jilly hitched at the thin straps on her yellow sun-dress. One of the nicest things about Edith’s mother having been part black was that Jilly had inherited skin the color of pale gold coffee. Edith had it, too. Guy’s eyes flickered toward her thumbs, where they were hooked beneath her straps, then away again. Most of the time he treated her like one of the guys, but there were those moments that let her know he didn’t entirely think of her that way. Those moments tended to make her legs wobbly.

      “I already told you how I felt about that, Jilly,” he said. “People changing. But I understand you wanting to believe something different.”

      “I don’t like to disturb you, Guy, but I am going to ask you something. As long as there’s nothing to suggest Edith is some kind of criminal who came here just to ruin my life, could you try to back me up? Give me some confidence until I know, one way or the other, if she wants to make things up to me like she says she does?”

      “How do you intend to find out these things?” he asked her. “One way or the other? Do you wait till you get dragged in too deep to get out? Or until the man you insisted watched you from across the street decides to wait for you inside your house one night?”

      “Stop it!”

      “I can’t. I can’t pull any punches. What if Sam Preston decides you could be dangerous to him?”

      She crossed her arms. “I couldn’t be. That’s silly.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      “What have you got against the man? He’s married to my mother, that doesn’t make him a criminal.”

      And there she had him. “You’re right.” He couldn’t tell her Joe Gable had already confided that he didn’t trust Edith’s supposed reason for being in Toussaint, or that he thought all the flash was to impress Jilly for some ulterior motive. Joe had speculated that Edith might know about an inheritance Jilly was about to get—a big one—only between them they couldn’t come up with a plausible benefactor. “Preston’s an antiques dealer in the Quarter, right?”

      “Yes,” Jilly said. “I told you that before.”

      “I guess you did. I can’t help thinking about the guy seeming to be stinking rich. I suppose there must be a lot of money in antiques.”

      “I suppose there must. Guy, all I want is for you to tell me everything’s okay,” Jilly said, feeling empty. “Just be there for me while I allow it all to settle down.”

      “Everything’s okay,” he said, his eyes burning in their sockets.

      “No! Please don’t patronize me. I know what I’m asking is kind of silly, but I won’t find out what happened between my parents, not for sure, unless I can take this chance I’ve been handed and make the best of it.”

      He let out a long sigh. The dog, with his long fur shining like sealskin, had slid his head onto Guy’s thigh. He stood quiet, like a statue—as if he could be invisible if he tried real hard.

      Guy gave the mutt a rub and that earned him a look of adoration. “I don’t want to patronize you, Jilly. I’d be a fool if I did, because you’re one smart woman.” Why would she want to know anything more about the senior Gables’ dysfunctional relationship?

      “Could you try to be happy for me?”

      “I’m happy for you.”

      “You’re doing it again.” She blinked and her eyelashes were wet. “Repeating what I say in that flat voice you can put on. I’ve finally got what I’ve always wanted, a family. Can’t you be glad about that?”

      “You’ve always had Joe. Now you’ve got a sister-in-law, too, and Ellie’s one of the best. You’ve always had a lot of people in this town. You’ve got…” Whoa.

      “Yes? What else have I got?”

      “I’m not the same as family, but I hope you think of me as a good friend,” he told her rapidly, feeling the hole he’d dug open up beneath his feet. He smiled at her and reached for her hand. “Jilly, you’re the best friend I’ve got and you know it. That’s why I worry about you so much.”

      She smiled back. “Thank you. Forget what I said about that man. You’re probably right and he wasn’t looking at my house at all.”

      He’d let it go at that, even though the thought of Daddy and his expensive gift made him crazy.

      Jilly got up from her bench and came around the table. She slipped her arms around his neck, pressed his face to the soft, bare rise above her bodice, and hugged him. She rested her cheek on top of his head and rocked a little.

      What was he supposed to do? Be real careful, he guessed. His hands fitted around her waist and came close to touching at the back. “You are a sweet thing, Miz Gable. You’ve had too much hardship and it’s time for the good stuff to come along for you.” If he had his way, it would, even if it probably shouldn’t be with him.

      Her face dropped to his neck.

      This could so easily go further than he had promised himself it ever would.

      Lifting her with him, he got up and swung her around before setting her feet firmly on the ground. She smiled up at him and he smiled back, tapped the end of her nose with a forefinger, tried not to stare at her mouth.

      Over her head he saw a black Corvette slide past the gas station and come to a stop. The driver maneuvered until the nose of the car pointed uphill.

      Ready to get away fast, Guy thought.

      Jilly felt his attention move away and looked behind her. A man got out of a flashy black car. A man with a linen fedora tipped over his eyes, and a shirt so white it made him look even darker than he was, especially where the sleeves were rolled back over his bunched forearms. His pants were dark, his tie loosened, and he carried a suit jacket tossed over his shoulder.

      Guy waved, shouted, “Some wheels you’ve got there.”

      “Hard work and clean livin’ pay off,” the other man said, walking toward them. “Less vices a man got, the better he lives, and I got no-o vices, Guy.” The grin was as white as the shirt and he was one spectacular looker. The dimpled grooves beside his mouth only got slightly less defined when he turned serious and looked at Jilly.

      “We get good cell reception down here, huh?” Guy said in the most obvious attempt at distracting someone that Jilly had ever heard.

      “Yeah,” the man said, nodding.

      Jilly wished she could sit down again. Guns were a part of life in these parts, but this man wore a shoulder harness with the kind of ease that yelled “cop,” and she didn’t have to work hard to figure out this was someone Guy had worked with.

      She didn’t like to be reminded of his other life.

      The man’s eyes went from Guy to Jilly and back again. “Son of a gun, Gautreaux, you never did have manners. You gonna introduce the pretty lady?”

      His easy manner made Jilly grin.

      “Jilly’s a friend of mine,” Guy said. “She was just leavin’. Take it easy as you go, kid.”

      He might as well have said, get lost. A creepy sensation shot up her spine and she felt sick. “Yes, right.” She backed away, perfectly aware that the newcomer was just about as uncomfortable as she was. He shot out a hand and she took it, shook it and tried not to wince.

      “Nat Archer,” he said. “Guy and I go way back. Like I said, he’s got lousy manners.”

      “Jilly

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