Don't Tempt Me Page 5

  "You know, I've been thinking," he said as he set a plate of appetizers on the bar.

  "Always a dangerous thing," Rory said.

  "No." Adrian smirked playfully at her. "It's dangerous when you start thinking."

  Chance choked, earning a sharp look from his wife.

  "What I was about to say," Adrian continued, "is that we might want to reconsider the housing situation."

  "What housing situation?" Rory asked, handing her daughter a piece of bread crust to gnaw on.

  "The situation that has me living by myself in this four-bedroom apartment while you married people live in houses that are half the size. Doesn't this seem a little backward?"

  "What do you suggest?" Allison asked. "That Scott and I move in here after the wedding and you move back to the cottage?"

  "Wait a second." Scott held a hand up. "I like living in the cottage. And no offense, but I don't want to live here. I need privacy and quiet to write, not guests hounding me all day and night."

  "Understandable," Adrian agreed. "But it seems ridiculous for me, the only single one left, to have the biggest place."

  "Except you're the oldest," Rory said. "And you won't always be single."

  "I plan to be for a while, at least. I mean, yeah, I'd like a wife and kids eventually, but not right away. I'm not even seeing anyone." Jackie sprang to mind, but he pushed the thought away. Even if she were interested, she didn't strike him as the kind of woman who was looking to get married ---which would have made her perfect for his current interests if she weren't off limits.

  Chance looked at him over the top of Lauren's head. "If Scott and Allison don't want to move, would you be interested in swapping with us?"

  Adrian tried not to jump on the offer too fast, since he'd love nothing better than to swap living quarters with Chance and Rory. He'd been hesitant to suggest it, because Chance had built the house behind the inn with his own money. He kept his voice nonchalant as he checked on dinner. "I might be persuaded."

  Chance smiled sheepishly at his wife. "I have to admit, I've felt guilty for taking Aurora away from the inn. Part of her reason for buying the house and restoring it in the first place was because she's always dreamed of living here. Yet she's the one who never has, because of me."

  "Like I regret marrying you." Rory smiled at him.

  "No, but you do regret not getting to live here."

  "True." She turned hopeful eyes to Adrian."Would you really consider swapping with us?"

  "It is a perfect solution," Adrian said. "You two will be on premise, which will make it easy for you to manage the inn, but I'll still be close enough to walk to work in the morning. That is, if Chance is willing to make me a good offer."

  "We'll work something out on the money end," Chance said.

  Rory looked at her brother. "Won't you be lonely, though, cut off from the inn?"

  "Privacy? Quiet?" He sighed. "It'll be a burden, but I think I'll adjust."

  A sound on the stairs drew his attention. He looked up to see Jackie standing on the bottom step ---and did a double take when he noticed what she was wearing. It was a simple, long-sleeved T-shirt with horizontal stripes of red and white tucked into blue slacks. But it fit her more snugly than what she usually wore and had a scooped neck that showed a tantalizing hint of cleavage to a pair of incredible breasts.

  The sight threw him, since he'd thought she was nearly flat-chested. Then he realized that every time he'd seen her, she'd been wearing one of those sports bras that squashed a woman fiat, or a top so loose he couldn't tell what was beneath.

  The fact that he'd found a flat-chested woman such a turn-on had mystified him, because he happened to like breasts. In fact, he considered them among God's finest creations. He'd reasoned that her spunky personality and sexy face had outweighed her lack of curves.

  The realization that Jackie had a spunky personality, sexy face, and curves sent a rush of heat through him more intense than anything he'd felt since high school. Oh, man, he wanted to whimper, why does she have to be off limits?

  "I, um ..." She shifted nervously. "There wasn't a door, so I just came on down. I hope that's all right."

  "Hmm?" Adrian shook himself. "Oh. Yes! Of course. Come in." He hurried over to usher her into the room. "We were all waiting for you. Let's see, it's been a while since you were here, so let me reintroduce everyone."

  Jackie braced herself as he pulled her into the circle of his family. It wasn't that she disliked people; she liked them fine. She'd just never been good at idle chitchat. Give her a crew to command or passengers to welcome, and she did much better.

  "You met my sister Aurora earlier ---"

  "Hi." Rory waved at her.

  " ---and this is her husband, Oliver Chancellor."

  "It's good to see you again." Jackie offered her hand for a firm shake with the tall gangly blond man with wire-rimmed glasses and conservative haircut. She remembered Chance well enough to know he and Rory hadn't even been married the last time she'd been here, and now they were parents. She nodded to the baby in his arms. "You work fast."

  "Apparently." Smiling, the man turned his daughter to show her off. "This is Lauren. Lauren, say hi to Captain Jackie. "Lauren kicked her feet and let out an ear-piercing screech. Chance cringed at the sound. "We're, uh, still working on her social skills. Obviously."

  "My other sister, Allison," Adrian continued.

  "How do you do?" Allison greeted her with a soft smile and a friendly handshake. "We're delighted to have you stay with us."

  "Thanks." Jackie returned the smile.

  "Is that the letter?" Allison nodded at the envelope.

  "Yes." Jackie's grip tightened.

  "We can't wait to see it," Allison said.

  "And this is Alli's fiance , Scott Lawrence," Adrian finished.

  "Ah yes, the writer." She shook his hand, taking in the dark hair, whiskey-colored eyes, and trimmed beard that accentuated, rather than softened, the sharp angles of his face. She searched for something appropriate to say. "I've read some of your books and always wondered, where do authors get their ideas?"

  To her surprise, the man burst out laughing and turned to Allison. In unison, they said: "Online from Plots.com."

  Heat climbed up Jackie's neck as she wondered what faux pas she'd committed.

  "Sorry," Scott said, still smiling. "Inside joke. It's good to finally meet you in person."

  She laughed self-consciously. "I wish I could say the same, but I haven't quite forgiven you for putting two and two together."

  One of his black eyebrows arched upward. "You mean figuring out you're Jack Kingsley's descendant?"

  "Exactly. I'm curious as to how you did figure it out"

  "Your friend Bobby told me you were named after Jack Kingsley because your father was enamored of tales about Lafitte's missing treasure. So I started thinking, 'What if he named you after Jack for another reason?' Then I learned Jack Kingsley had had a child by a barmaid in Corpus Christi, and it clicked into place."

  "That's all you had to go on when you got me to confess?" She shook her head in self-disgust.

  "Sorry." He shrugged, clearly unrepentant. "But once I read the diaries, I couldn't let it go. I had to know what happened after they ended."

  "Speaking of the diaries ... " She glanced around. "When do I get to see them?"

  "First we eat." Adrian plucked the envelope from her hand.

  "Does food always take precedence over business for you?"

  "Food is my business. And it's taught me that anticipation makes the dessert taste sweeter. Sort of like fore-play."

  She started to complain as he carried the letter to the living area, but then he laid it on the coffee table next to a canvas book bag. Her interest was piqued as she realized the diaries must be in the bag.

  "Bobby called to say they can't make it ---Paige has the flu ---so it'll just be us."

  How in the world would she eat a bite, knowing the answers to so many questions sat there, waiting
for her, mere feet away?

  Chapter 6

  A wonderful sort of chaos reigned throughout the evening as the family passed huge bowls of chicken pasta, tossed salad, and steamed vegetables around the table. Little Lauren, who truly was one of the cutest babies Jackie had ever seen, banged happily on the high-chair tray while a pretty sheltie cruised beneath the table for crumbs.

  "So, tell us about your great-grandfather," Scott said as he passed Jackie a basket of bread. "What happened to him after Jack died?"

  "Sweetheart, at least let her finish eating before you start interrogating her." Allison gave Jackie an apologetic look. "You'll have to forgive Scott. Ever since he read the diaries, he's been fascinated by Jack Kingsley."

  "And frustrated by how little I've learned."

  Jackie looked at Adrian. "I thought you said the diaries told all about Jack Kingsley."

  "They reveal what manner of man he is, but very little about his past or his family history."

  "Apparently, he didn't like to talk about himself." Allison gave her fiance a meaningful look. "Sort of like someone else we know."

  "Few men want to parade their past sins before a woman they're trying to impress," Scott said.

  "Only because they underestimate a woman's ability to admire them even more for what they've overcome." Allison smiled at him.

  Watching them, Jackie felt a pang of envy. What would it be like to have that sort of total acceptance?

  Scott turned back to her. "Not to badger you, but can you tell us anything about your great-grandfather? Marguerite mentioned his name was Andrew Kingsley even though Jack never married the mother, but I can't find him in any of the census records after the Civil War."

  "Actually, he's my great-great-grandfather, but that's such a mouthful, I usually shorten it."

  "Same for us and Marguerite," Adrian said. " 'Great-great-great-grandmother' sounds like we're stuttering."

  "Exactly." Jackie nodded. "Anyway, he was christened Andrew Taylor Kingsley. Andrew after his father, whose full name was Andrew Jackson Kingsley, and Taylor because it was his mother's last name."

  "Jack's name was Andrew Jackson?" Rory asked, wiping a glob of orange baby food from her daughter's hair. "Well, there's something Marguerite never mentioned. No, no, peanut, let's eat the carrots, not wear them."

  "Ca-ca!" Lauren shouted loudly, making Jackie blink with the force of her lungs while Adrian and Scott burst out laughing.

  "Don't laugh," Rory pleaded. "You'll just encourage her."

  "Ca-ca!"

  Chance shook his head. "Every time she says that, it sounds like she's saying S-H-I-T in Spanish. And wouldn't you know, carrots are her favorite food."

  Jackie hid a smile as the baby clapped her sticky hands. Lord, she was adorable.

  "Ca-ca! Ca-ca!"

  Chance turned to Jackie with a long-suffering sigh. "You were saying ..."

  Jackie pulled her attention away from Lauren. "I was just explaining why there's no Andrew Kingsley in the census records. He went by Andrew Taylor after his father died."

  "Why?" Adrian asked from the opposite end of the table, where he sat as the head of the family.

  "Well, you know ..." Jackie looked around uneasily.

  "Ah, let me guess." Adrian topped off his glass of wine. "Did it have anything to do with Henri's accusations that Jack Kingsley was a Yankee spy, so that he could literally get away with murder?"

  "I don't think Andrew believed it." Jackie toyed with the pasta on her plate, wishing she had more of an appetite. The little bit she'd managed to eat tasted incredible. "He had the letter that claimed otherwise, but during and after the Civil War, being connected to an accused Yankee spy could be hazardous to one's health. The crew members of the Freedom who survived had to scatter and go into hiding for fear of being killed. Through the years, most of my family has preferred to deny the connection. The war may be over, but Southerners have long memories."

  "True," Adrian said. "But in this case unfair, to Jack and to your family."

  "And," Allison said, as she passed the bread, "it's one more reason to excavate the Freedom. We'll all be working closely with the Galveston Historical Society on the museum display, since we want to be sure the right story is told. We want people to finally know the truth about Jack and Marguerite. Even if that means including excerpts from the diaries, something we've never shared before."

  "And your letter," Rory said to Jackie, as the baby started to fidget. Now that the meal was winding down, Rory pulled Lauren from the high chair onto her lap.

  Jackie looked at everyone around the ta8le, frowning. "Won't it bother all of you that telling the truth means telling the world that Henri LeRoche was the leader of a smuggling ring and a murderer?"

  "Not at all." Allison looked at her in surprise. "After what our family has put up with since he disowned his daughter, Nicole, having people know the truth about Henri will be long-awaited justice."

  "But Henri is as much your ancestor as Nicole and Marguerite," Jackie pointed out. "Having people know about him won't bother you?"

  "It's not like his sins have anything to do with us personally," Rory said. "The important ones are Jack and Marguerite. After all these years of waiting, they deserve to be exonerated." She looked at her siblings. "Right?"

  Jackie saw a flash in Adrian's eyes as he glanced her way, a moment's hesitation. And she knew in that instant that he and his sisters actually believed Jack and Marguerite were trapped between worlds. She looked at Scott and Chance for their reaction, but they were calmly finishing their dinners, showing no surprise at Rory's statement. So that was why they were doing this. These people believed in ghosts.

  She looked back at Adrian. You can't be serious.

  He lifted his wine glass. "To Jack and Marguerite ... and the truth."

  "May it help to set them free," Allison added, touching her glass to her brother's with a bell-like ring.

  "To Jack and Marguerite," the others echoed, raising their glasses.

  Jackie joined the toast even as her mind raced. Did they think clearing Jack's name of false charges would free his spirit? The thought of erasing that one blemish at least from her family name thrilled her on one level, but frightened her on another. Searching for truth held all the dangers of opening Pandora's box.

  How did one control how much truth escaped?

  As she lowered her glass, she found Adrian watching her. Worry showed in his eyes and she could almost read his mind: You're not going to back out, are you?

  No, she sighed. He and his sisters might be nuts, but at this point she was committed.

  "Okay, then." He stood. "If everyone's done, why don't we have dessert in the living room so we can take a look at the letter?"

  Jackie's stomach churned as she realized the time had come. Allison and Scott started clearing the table while Adrian headed for the kitchen to serve dessert.

  "I need to change Lauren's diaper," Rory said. "Don't y'all dare get started without me."

  "Who wants coffee?" Chance asked, then glanced at Jackie. "That's my one culinary achievement ---brewing the coffee. You want some?"

  "I'll stick with wine, thanks," she said, deciding she might need it to settle her nerves. "Is there anything I can do to help, though?"

  "Absolutely not," Adrian said. "You're the guest of honor. Just sit back and let us wait on you." She chafed a bit at being cut out of the tight circle, but when it came to families, she supposed she should be used to being the outsider.

  Within minutes, she found herself seated in an armchair in the living area with a plate of Black Forest cake that looked delicious even though she knew she couldn't possibly eat a bite. Adrian sat in a straight-backed chair beside her, having no trouble devouring his dessert. Rory and Chance settled on the sofa as Lauren lay on her tummy between them, showing the first signs that her energy wasn't infinite.

  "So, who's going to read the letter?" Rory asked.

  "Me!" Scott said as he took the chair opposite Jackie
. Allison perched on the arm, balancing her dessert plate as she ate.

  "Why you?" Adrian challenged.

  "Hey," Scott said, "if it weren't for me, y'all wouldn't even know it existed."

  "True," Adrian conceded. "So I guess the honor goes to you, unless ..." He turned to Jackie. "Do you want to read it?"

  She shook her head, trying to relax.

  "Okay, then." Scott wiped his fingers thoroughly on a napkin before opening the large envelope. For the first time that evening, the room fell quiet as he extracted the protective sleeves that held several aged and brittle pages.

  Jackie kept her eyes fixed on her wine glass. If Adrian and his sisters believed in ghosts, they were going to love the very part of the letter she feared would make most people doubt its validity.

  " 'Dear Andrew'," Scott began, his voice relaxed yet resonant, as if accustomed to reading aloud. " 'It is with sincerest regret that I have not written sooner. By now, I know news of your father's death has reached you along with any number of rumors. First let me assure you that those who accuse your father of betraying the South are nothing but lying traitors themselves who seek to cover up their own treachery. Your father loved four things in this world: you, Texas, his ship, and a woman named Marguerite. He would never, nor did he ever, betray any of those loyalties.

  " 'Forgive me. I've hardly begun, and already I digress. I shall endeavor to speak simply, so as not to confuse you more, though I must confess, after these past months, my passions run high.' " Scott glanced up at Jackie. "I take it the man wasn't used to corresponding with children."

  "I don't think so, no."

  "How old was Andrew?" Rory asked.

  "Nine or ten." She cleared her throat. "Old enough to understand he'd lost his father and that people were saying some horrible things about him."

  "Tough age," Scott said before going back to the letter. He read on about the night of the tragedy, of how Jack had received word from Marguerite saying Henri had found out about them and she feared for her life and the life of her child. The letter relayed it all in chilling detail, the lightning and thunder, anger and fear, as if the man scribbling words across page after page were exorcising his own demons in an outpouring of emotion.