"It was a long time ago," Ronnie said. "So long ago I barely remember."

"Then it wasn't real love. I remember Jed, you know. Even though Booth thinks he's erased his nephew from my memory. He hasn't."

"Mrs. Fortier, I don't think you should be-"

"There it is!" She squealed with delight, then sighed when she noticed the dilapidated state of the old house. "Lord, what a pitiful sight."

Ronnie pulled up in the weed-infested driveway, the dirt path almost totally obscured by vegetation of various varieties. "Do you want to get out? Looks a bit shaky to me. Might not be safe."

Charmaine flung open the door and stepped out. "I was a lot safer in this house than I am in the one where I live now."

Ronnie got out and joined her as she walked toward the ramshackle front porch with rotting floorboards and a sagging roof. He came up beside her, his gaze scoping out the area, his open palm hovering over the small of her back. Hovering but not touching.

She paused before she reached the rickety front steps, turned slowly and smiled at him. "I came here for another reason. Other than to visit some old and very pleasant memories." He waited for her to continue, his gaze downcast as if he didn't want to make direct eye contact with her. "I brought you here for a reason."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't you want to know what that reason is?"

"If you want to tell me."

"The first time I made love, it was in this house. One cold winter night when I was seventeen. Jed Tyree was the sweetest, most tender lover."

Ronnie cleared his throat, then shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't still love Jed, if that's what's bothering you. I just love the memory of him."

"Mrs. Fortier-"

"It's just the two of us. Call me Charmaine." When she reached out and laid her hand on his chest, she felt the hard, steady beat of his heart.

He stood there, stiff as a board, unmoving, except for his eyes. His eyes devoured her.

"I brought you here because I want to make some new memories," she told him. "New sweet memories to add to the old ones."

"Ma'am, I don't… you shouldn't-"

Charmaine slunk closer, lifted her arms up and around his neck, then pressed herself against him. "I want you to make love to me, Ronnie. Here in this house. No one will ever know. Only the two of us."

He hesitated for a split second before he reached up, grabbed her arms and flung her away from him. "I'm taking you home right now, Mrs. Fortier. And we're both going to forget this ever happened."

For just a moment, she felt the sting of rejection, then she looked at Ronnie and saw how desperately he was struggling to remain in control. It was so obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he was fighting his desire.

"All right. We'll go home," she said. "But we won't forget. We can't forget. And tomorrow you'll drive me into town and we'll make this same detour on our way back. Think about it tonight. Think about the two of us… naked… making love… over and over again."

Ronnie swallowed hard. His hands knotted into tight fists. Charmaine tilted her chin high and walked toward the convertible. She could have forced the issue today. Right now. And Ronnie would have made love to her. But she didn't want to seduce him. She wanted him to be unable to resist her. She could wait another day. After all, she'd been waiting seventeen years to fall in love again. One more day couldn't possibly matter.

«^ »

"That was the best Crawfish Etoufe I've eaten in years," Jed said as he held open the door at Beula's Crab Shack and waited for Grace to exit.

"Didn't I tell you? The place really is a shack, but the food is to die for."

Grace smiled. Sweet and genuine. Instinct told him that she had no idea how sexy her warm smile was, how alluring, especially since she possessed such a cool, aloof sophistication. His gut tightened. He wanted to touch her; run the back of his hand over her cheek, down her neck, and dip his fingers into the vee of her silk blouse.

"Walk or ride?" she asked. "It's really sticky outside today because of the high humidity, so you might prefer the air-conditioned car."

It took him a second to dislodge his lustful thoughts and realize she was talking about the tour of St. Camille he'd requested before lunch.

Since there was little chance, this early on, that Booth Fortier knew anything about Grace having been contacted by a traitor in Fortier's ranks, any danger to Grace was probably nonexistent at this point. However, all that would change once the investigation into the allegations went into full swing. An investigation of this type, especially with the FBI involved, wasn't something that could be rushed. By tomorrow at this time, the wheels would be fully set in motion and after that everything would switch from slow gear into high. But before that happened, Jed wanted a chance to get to know the woman whose life was in his hands. Not only would a casual, relaxed tour of St. Camille give him the opportunity to acquaint himself with Grace Beaumont, it would also allow him to get the lay of the land. Whenever he began a new assignment, he always tried to make time to check out his surroundings, and that included the town or city. The more he knew about his employer and his or her environment, the better he could do his job. At least that was the way Jed worked.

"Which do you suggest?"

"Despite the heat and humidity, I recommend the walk. It's really the best way to see the town. And unless we dawdle along the way, the tour won't take long. Downtown St. Camille isn't all that big, only a few blocks."

"Then why don't we shed our coats, dump them in the car and tour the town on foot?"

"Let's go."

She headed for the parking lot shared by three restaurants side-by-side along the street and a voodoo/magic shop on the corner of Avenall. After opening the back door of her Mercedes, she removed her lavender jacket to reveal a sleeveless, V-neck silk blouse that clung to her high, round breasts. After folding her jacket and placing it on the back seat, she turned to Jed. He'd already removed his jacket-one of only two sport coats he owned-and was in the process of folding it when he heard her gasp. He glanced at her face, then followed her line of vision to the hip holster he wore.

"Where did… when did…?"

He patted the weapon. "I'm licensed to carry the gun. Dundee 's handles all the legalities that affect us whenever we cross state lines or work in foreign countries."

"I don't like the idea of your…" She frowned. "At present you're working as an investigator, not a bodyguard, so why is the gun necessary?"

"It's not." Jed removed the holster and placed it beneath his jacket on the seat. "Is that better?" There was no reason to tell Grace he carried another gun strapped to his ankle. A seasoned professional usually had a backup weapon.

"Yes, thank you. If someone had seen you wearing a gun, they might have reported it to the police."

"I thought you and Chief Winters were personal friends. All you'd have to do is explain to him that I'm working for you, as a bodyguard. Your being who you are, he'd buy that."

"How did you know Charles Winters and I are friends?" Her eyes widened with realization. "That Dundee report on me really was very thorough, wasn't it?"

Jed grinned. "Thorough enough, as far as preliminary reports go."

"Then the second report you're expecting will no doubt list my shoe size, my bra size, how many fillings I have in my teeth and whether I sleep in pajamas or a gown."