In Shining Whatever (Three Magic Words Trilogy #2)(27)

Zac drew her into his arms and whispered soft Cajun words in her ear in a deep, sexy voice. She awoke with a start and sat straight up in bed. Thunder rolled in the far distance. Rain fell softly on the roof and against the window, but the wind was barely more than a Texas breeze.

She stretched the kinks out of her neck and looked at the big digital clock that looked so out of place in the antique bedroom. It was six o'clock, but she had no idea if that was in the evening or the next morning until she looked closely and saw the red dot beside the tiny P.M. at the bottom of the clock face.

She peeked out the door and heard soft snores still coming from the room across the hall. She tiptoed into the living room and flipped the light switch. A big, overstuffed, brown velvet sofa faced the fireplace. Brass lamps stood on tables at the end of the sofa, with a matching coffee table completing the grouping. On the other end of the room, a large-screen television hung on the wall in front of two oversize recliners with tables and lamps. It was evident where Hart sat all the time, because a James Lee Burke mystery lay on the table beside his chair, along with an empty tea glass.

She picked up the glass and carried it through the dining room to the kitchen. Her stomach growled, and she opened the refrigerator. She pulled out an apple and munched on it while she took stock of what was available. Maybe later she'd make a Cajun omelet and pan-fried toast.

A ringtone sent her scurrying to the bathroom, where she'd left her purse. She grabbed the phone on the fourth ring, just before it went to voice mail, not even looking at who was calling but expecting to hear her mother's voice.

"Hello. There's a tree down in front of the gate. It will be tomorrow before I can get there," she said hurriedly.

"Hello to you too, Kate. So there's a tree down. You must have had some bad weather over in your neck of the swamp," her former boss said.

"I thought you were Momma," she said.

"Chere, it's been a while since I've seen you, but there's no way I could be your momma," he said.

She laughed. "I'm sorry. I was up all night and slept all day. I'm disoriented."

"Want your old job back?" he asked abruptly.

She was stunned. "What did you say?"

"I've had two replacements in the past few months. Rudy can't work with either of them. He wants you to come home and so do I," he said.

Home? Was that where her heart was? In Louisiana?

"I'm shocked," she said.

He chuckled. "What? That Rudy can't work with the two replacements, or that I'm asking you to come back?"

"Just plain old shocked. How long have I got to think about it?"

"One month. The last replacement has given me a one-month notice."

"Can I call you back in a couple of days?"

"I'll be looking forward to it. And good luck with the tree."

"Thanks. I'll be in touch," she said, and looked at the phone for a full minute before she snapped it shut.

Hart stumbled into the living room, rubbing at his eyes. "Is it morning?"

"No, it's late evening. Hungry?"

"As a bear."

"Cajun omelet? I found eggs and frozen shrimp. Or Mexican. There's also onions, tomatoes, and jalapeiios. You stock a pretty good refrigerator for a bachelor. Or has some woman been around that you didn't tell me about? Have you got a girlfriend and you let me sit with you all night? I may make your head look worse than it does now if the answer is yes, so you'd better lie to me really good"

"You make it, and I will eat. No girlfriend. I have a housekeeper. She comes in two days a week, does the laundry, runs the vacuum, and shops for me. I make a list and leave it on the bar. She's sixty years old, wide as she is tall, and cusses worse than you do. She has a family in Breckenridge and I don't think I would have called her to sit with me," he explained.

Kate smiled. "You lie really good. I'm proud of you."

"It's the truth. Swear it on Grandma's chocolate-chip cookie recipe," he said.

"Not the Bible."

"Lightning is over. Don't want to bring it back on."

She headed for the kitchen. "Truth then."

"Moselle is about forty. She's tall and skinny as a rail. Has a husband who is worthless and won't hold a job. Three kids that keep her drained for cash. I overpay her and invent things for her to do so she can make more money," he said.

"Truth on the Bible?"

"Swear it right on that part about `Thou shalt not lie to the woman about to make you an omelet"'

She decided on a Mexican omelet on the way to the kitchen. Peppers hot enough to make Hart's nose run. Lots of chopped tomatoes and sausage. By the time she got started, hash browns sounded good too. And then there was that can of biscuits; all she had to do was pop them open and put them in the oven. She found a can of cinnamon rolls and lined them up in the same pan with the biscuits, leaving a little space so they wouldn't touch and blend the flavors.

By the time they were ready to fill their plates right off the stove, she'd made a small bowl of sausage gravy. There was, after all, all that good-flavored grease going to waste if she didn't brown some flour in it and add milk.

Hart moaned when he saw the stove top. "God, woman, you've been holding out on me. I'm finding out you can cook too? Marry me and be my love, my sweet chere, forever and ever."