Leslie Lafoy Read Free Page A

talkative.
    Unfortunately, she was every bit as physically appealing and he couldn’t seem to keep his mind fully engaged in what she was saying to him. It kept wandering back in his recent memories and wondering if Isabella Dandaneau was anywhere near the skillful lover her cousin had been. Oddly, and most disconcertingly, part of him rather hoped she wasn’t.
    Not that he was ever going to know one way or the other, he reminded himself. The encounter with Mignon had been a memorable one from a physical standpoint, but he was going to be put through the proverbial mill for the pleasure. The last thing he needed now was to complicate his existence even one whit more. The fact that she’d walked into his office … Jesus.
    He had to give her credit for the sheer courage it must have taken, though. Courage and, no doubt, a sense of desperation. Try as she might to appear cool and calm, he could hear the slight hesitations in her speech, see the indecision in her dark eyes, could feel her constant assessment. She wanted something from him and was slowly working up to the point of asking for it. It was a sure bet, however, that she wouldn’t ask him to bed her. The woman’s fires were well banked. Thank God.
    Pouring out two cups of coffee, he asked, “Cream or sugar?”
    “Plain, please.”
    He carried them back to the desk, handed her one, and then took up his position on the corner. As he expected, she thanked him politely and immediately launched back into what she called her “story.”
    “Mignon’s and my grandmother was…” She made a little face that suggested she was trying to find a delicate way of putting an indelicate truth. “Well, the family has always referred to her relationship with Lafitte as a ‘special friendship.’”
    “They were lovers,” he supplied bluntly and then took a sip of his coffee.
    “I think so,” she admitted. “And, judging by the look that always came to my grandmama’s face whenever anyone mentioned Lafitte, it must have ended badly.”
    “The affair that ends without hard feelings is the rarest of exceptions.”
    She nodded as though she had some experience at such things and then added, “In fairness to Grandmama, though, it was before she met and married Grandpapa. Who was, in his own right, something of a pirate himself. He and Grandmama had two daughters, Juliana, my mother, and Michelle, Mignon’s mother.
    “Three months ago a package was delivered to the law firm that has represented our family for four generations. It was addressed to Grandmama. Since Mignon and I were her only living descendants, we were summoned to the office for the opening of the package.”
    “Let me guess,” he said, at last seeing the pattern of her discourse. “It was from Jean Lafitte.”
    “In a manner of speaking.” She sipped her coffee before explaining, “Apparently he died some years ago and under circumstances which aren’t quite clear. His last will and testament was only recently discovered and the package was an attempt to see that it was, at last, executed.”
    God, the woman took forever to get to the crux of a matter. Hoping to move her along in the telling, he prompted, “And what did he bequeath your grandmama?”
    “That’s where things become a bit of a mystery.”
    “A mystery,” he repeated, a dull ache beginning to bloom in the back of his head.
    “There have always been rumors that Jean Lafitte buried a great treasure.”
    “As any self-respecting pirate does,” he quipped, struggling against the urge to roar in frustration.
    “Part of it is assumed to be the proceeds of his pirating days and part of it the reward given for services rendered to his country. It’s rumored to be worth millions of dollars.”
    “Of course,” he observed tightly. “What would be the point of burying a few shillings? Keeping its location a secret wouldn’t be worth the lead and powder to kill the poor bastards who helped you dig the hole.”
    She gazed up at him