Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(36)

“No plans except taking care of my client.”

A light flush crept up Sabine’s neck and she lowered her eyes. “You’re sure…I mean, it’s not exactly a short drive back into New Orleans and I don’t want to put you out, especially if you have things to do tomorrow.”

“Not a thing but dirty laundry, and I’m pretty sure it won’t care if I sleep in.” Beau felt his jaw flex with the lie, but he didn’t want Sabine to know he was staying across the street in the hotel. Not yet. Not until he had a damned good reason, and a gut feeling usually didn’t qualify as a damned good reason for spying on a woman. Not to the woman, anyway.

“Well, I have leftover pot roast, chips, and sugar cookies. I can offer you a great sandwich and we won’t have to worry about being overheard. Is that all right by you?”

Beau felt his pulse quicken. Alone with Sabine in her apartment. That was far more than all right. “That’s fine,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal.





[page]Chapter Nine




Sabine took a second bite out of her sandwich and tried to chew, but the roast beef that had been so juicy and filled with flavor the night before now tasted like cardboard. What the hell had she been thinking? Inviting Beau into her apartment? Feeding him roast beef? She should have suggested the restaurant. It was usually loud, and there would have been little chance of being overheard. No, instead she had to play happy hostess, serving home-cooked food just mere feet from the bedroom in her tiny apartment.

Like she didn’t have enough trouble already. She should have told Beau no when he’d asked if she’d like him to accompany her to meet her family, although his offer had sounded more like an order now that she thought about it. Regardless, she couldn’t afford to keep putting herself in this position. She was already horribly attracted to him, and spending time in such close proximity to wine and beds and the sexy lingerie in her dresser drawer wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

But he’s open-minded.

She held in a sigh. The men she’d dated in the past couldn’t be bothered to hear anything about her job, her shop, her beliefs. They liked her but didn’t buy into anything they couldn’t prove. Which shouldn’t have bothered her since, technically, Maryse had never believed either until Helena showed up. But Maryse had never had that smirk on her face when Sabine talked about the paranormal. Her friend had always respected her beliefs even if she hadn’t been able to match them with her own.

And now this super sexy, kind, intelligent, single former FBI agent had actually listened to what she had to say about supernatural occurrences and considered the facts as seriously as he would have a fingerprint or a smoking gun. Sabine wasn’t going to fool herself with thinking he believed everything she’d said, but he hadn’t discounted it either. Which meant he was a rare individual.

“I hope I haven’t scared you with all this,” Beau said.

Sabine snapped back to the present. “Not exactly, although I must admit it’s a little strange.” Beau had been telling her dirty family secrets over the sandwiches and now she struggled to make some sense of it all.

She pulled a pad of paper over in front of her and began to write. After a minute, she pushed the pad over to Beau. “Is that right?”





“Looks good to me.”

Sabine looked at the family tree for a minute. “So the long and short of it is that my grandfather had a twin brother, Lloyd, who disappeared during Vietnam and was wanted for treason. The family is filthy rich and has spent almost a hundred years answering to essentially no one.”

Beau nodded. “The FBI questioned them repeatedly about Lloyd and had them under surveillance for several years, but no one has seen hide nor hair of him since the Vietnam War.”

“Any chance the family helped him hide?”

Beau shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but the government tracked their funds for a long time. No money left their bank accounts that wasn’t reasonable and explainable. And nothing was transferred to other countries.”

“So most likely he died in Vietnam and his body was never recovered.”

“Most likely.”

“Well,” Sabine said finally, “I’m glad you were so thorough. I would hate to start asking questions about the family twin legacy. Those people are so uptight, they’d probably have me removed from the property and banned for life.”

“It does seem they’re a little touchy about appearance,” Beau agreed. “Based on the local gossip, at one time the family was a huge force in local charities, politics, and church, but ever since Vietnam they’ve become more reserved. Catherine still hosts several charitable events for the church during the year, but otherwise, she rarely interacts with the locals, and Frances is almost never seen out of the house except for church.”

“Small wonder there,” Sabine said. “I thought her head was going to spin around when she thought I killed chickens for a living.”

Beau laughed. “I’d say Aunt Frances is definitely missing a step or two upstairs.”

Sabine shook her head. “Hiding yourself away is counterproductive, really. Then people only assume you have something to hide, and let’s face it, you probably do.”

“Probably.”