Angel Sabato, one smoking hot man, is head over heals
in love with Grace O'Brien, a woman who has held multiple
extreme careers. He proposes marriage to her, and she turns
him down. Why can't Angel be satisfied with just being
friends? If there was anything more, she would have to
admit her secret and risk losing him completely. It doesn't
matter anyway because licking his wounds, Angel joins Jinx
team for the Amber Project in Germany while Grace stays
with Louise Rivard better known as Tante Lulu and learns
traiteur.
Tante Lulu is an eccentric meddlesome busybody with
local and common sense wisdom to match her age and an
unstoppable sense of adventure and romance. When Grace and
Tante Lulu find four orphaned children, the Duvals, hiding
from the Child Protection Services so they won't be split
apart, she takes action and starts by setting up a
charitable foundation for 'families' struck and still
suffering from Katrina.
This seems like the perfect opportunity to reunite the
wayward lovebird, and Tante Lulu provides a helpful hand to
her patriot saint, St. Jude to bring them together. The
Duvals need more than the safety hazard trailer home, and
she hires Angel as the organizer. In addition to the money
Tante Lulu contributed to Jude's Angels, community events
are organized and multiple board meetings.
When a poker tournament is planned as Grace and Angel,
previous champions as guests of honor, the couple wager a
private bet. Grace has to face her secret and let the chips
fall where they may. Is the baggage she carries too much
for his shoulders to carry?
SO INTO YOU by Sandra Hill is a light read that will
have you laughing and crying. Imagine a romance as gumbo
soup. Bring Grace and Angel to a boil, simmer and wait for
the aroma as Grace finds forgiveness and Angel gets the
woman of his dreams but not before we have to worry about
too much salt (incriminating past) has been added. The list
of ingredients in gumbo doesn't always make sense, but if
prepared correctly, it's an unbelievable tasteful dish.
Angel Sabato has been in love with best friend Grace
O'Brien for 10 years--but he's only just realized it. Too
bad she doesn't take him seriously when he tells her about
his feelings. Reeling from the rejection, Angel hightails
it out of town.
Now Grace is left to
wonder if her problems from the past are keeping her from
opening herself to love. But she brushes these "useless"
musings aside, concentrating instead on the work she's
doing as an apprentice to folk healer Tante Lulu and
keeping up with the old woman's good deeds.
Such as starting a foundation to help
families still homeless after Hurricane Katrina. One
family consists of 5 children who lost their parents. The
eldest, only seventeen, has been struggling to take care
of her siblings and lying like heck to the state agencies
in order to keep everyone together. Tante Lulu and Grace
take the children under their wings and decide the
foundation will build a house for them.
Re-
enter Angel, who helps with the construction. Unbeknownst
to Grace, Tante Lulu has decided to try her hand at
matchmaking again. And Tante Lulu has never failed before!
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
The angel was wild tonight...
Angel Sabato stood at the edge of the dance floor, like a
dunce, shaking in his thousand dollar Tres Outlaw boots,
as he watched the redhead shake her bootie to the beat
of "Wild Thing." For an ex-nun, she sure had moves.
Ironically, he was the one feeling wild. His hands were
clammy, his heart was thumping--da dump, da dump, da dump--
and, truth to tell, he was scared spitless. Tonight was
going to be the night. Do or die time.
It was ridiculous, really. He was thirty-four years old.
He'd been around the block so many times, there were
probably street signs named after him. At the least,
his "tread marks" were notorious. Shyness wasn't even in
his vocabulary. After all, he was the dick-for-brains
who'd bared it all for Playgirl Magazine at one time.
Just then the redhead in question, Grace O'Brien, noticed
him and smiled widely, crooking a forefinger for him to
come out and join her.
Not a chance.
It wasn't dancing he had on his mind.
She said something to her partner, one of the young
LeDeuxs...a freshman at LSU. Then she left the kid behind
and snaked a slow, sensuous boogie toward him, her green,
twinkling eyes holding his the entire time, her arms held
out in front of her, fingers beckoning. She must be half
plastered, or more likely, in a teasing mood.
He was not in the mood for teasing.
"Yo, matie," she drawled at him.
This was the tail end of the Pirate Ball. It was being
held here in Houma, Louisiana to celebrate the successful
hunt by Jinx, Inc., a treasure hunting company, for Jean
Lafitte's hidden gold. Thus, the silly pirate talk. Not
to mention silly pirate costumes.
He and Grace had worked on the Jinx team's Pirate Project
these past weeks. Before that they'd been professional
poker players. And before that, Grace had been a nun, and
he had been in the Navy, then construction, and...well, a
lot of things.
She was dancing around him now, dressed in a saucy tavern
wench costume with a jagged knee-length hem, while he was
in a puffy shirt tied with a red sash. Jerry Seinfeld
would be so proud of me.
When he pretended to ignore her sexy dancing, she grabbed
his upper arm and attempted to tug him forward. Being
about seventy-five pounds heavier at six-foot-one to her
measly five- feet-five, he was pretty much immovable.
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Come
out here and shake a peg leg, you randy buccaneer."
He had to grin at that. "Who says I'm randy?"
"You're always randy."
"And you know this...how?"
"All the satisfied smiles I've seen on women exiting your
revolving bedroom door the past ten years."
"You noticed?"
"Stop changing the subject. I wanna dance."
"Are you blitzed?" he asked with a laugh.
"Just a little," she slurred.
Luckily, the DJ changed the music to a different pace.
Mariah Carey urging "Touch My Body."
He opened his arms to Grace and adjusted her so that her
arms were around his neck, and his hands were linked
behind her waist, just above her butt. And, yes, Mariah,
he had touching in mind. Touching Grace.
"I'm flying back to Jersey early tomorrow morning. I need
to talk to you," he said into her hair that smelled like
apples, or was it peaches? Some kind of frickin' fruit,
anyway.
"Uh-huh. I'm listening," she replied, definitely not
listening as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his
neck, inadvertently pressing her belly against the crotch
of his tights.
Yeah, he was wearing XXX-sized tights. With testosterone-
induced hysterical irrelevance, he mused that the guys
back in his old gang in Newark would get a kick out of him
in latex, unless it were of the prophylactic kind. Or was
that spandex? Spandex, latex, whatever! That was beside
the point. Call me crazy, but did she just lick my ear?
Blood drained from his head and slam dunked into sex
central. For a second, he thought his knees might give
out.
"Not here," he gurgled. "Let's go outside for a walk,
down by the bayou. Better yet, I'll take you back to your
hotel room."
"I already checked out. I'll be staying with Tante Lulu
from now on." She leaned her head back to look at
him. "You sound serious."
"I am serious, babe." He wondered if she was aware that
when she arched back like that it caused his erection to
rub against her belly button which was exposed by her low-
riding wench skirt. And that was damn serious.
"You can drive me to the cottage. Let's go tell Tante
Lulu that I'm leaving."
"So, you're staying with that Cajun dingbat, huh?" he
asked, arm looped over her shoulder as they walked to the
other side of the hall where Tante Lulu was chattering
away to some guy in a frock coat and tricorn hat. At
least he wasn't wearing tights.
Louise Rivard, better known as Tante Lulu, was the
craziest old woman he'd ever met. But she was a noted
traiteur, or folk healer, and Grace had decided to
apprentice herself to the fruitcake in hopes of learning
more about the healing arts. Really, Grace's life was
like a pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other.
Nun to poker player to treasure hunter to healer. He
couldn't wait to see where she landed next, as long as she
took him along for the ride.
"Don't call her a dingbat." Grace turned slightly and
swatted him on the chest, then grinned. "Even if she is a
dingbat."
"Grace...Angel...hope y'all had a good time t'night."
Tante Lulu was dressed as a senior citizen pirate gal. A
scary sight, to be sure...she was ninety-two, after all.
She eyed them suspiciously when Grace told her she would
be leaving with him. Grace was oblivious to that pointed
look, which took in his arm on Grace's shoulder, but he
could practically see the matchmaking wheels churning in
Tante Lulu's little brain. "That full moon t'night, she
is purty enough to make a cat smooch a hound dog."
"Huh?" Grace said.
"Welcome to TanteLuluville," he muttered under his breath,
then smiled.
"Ya gots a hope chest?" Tante Lulu asked Angel just before
they walked away. Tante Lulu had a tradition of making
hope chests for the men in her family, or male friends of
the family, just before the "thunderbolt of love" hit them.
Hah! He had news for the Louisiana love bug. That
thunderbolt had done its business with him a long time ago.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Grace asked,
once they were sitting in his rental car back in Tante
Lulu's cottage driveway. She didn't seem so tipsy anymore.
A full moon allowed him to see Grace's face. She was
concerned. For him.
"I want you to come back with me, sweetheart." Well, that
was laying his cards on the table from the get-go.
She frowned. "Back to your motel room?"
"No. I mean, yeah, that would be great, but I meant, fly
back to the east coast with me in the morning. Come with
me and the Jinx team to Germany for our next project." He
gulped. "Just come with me, that's all."
"I don't understand. You know I quit treasure hunting.
It was never intended to be more than a one-shot deal for
me. I've already explained why I'm staying here." She
moved closer and accidentally put a hand on his thigh.
Big mistake, that.
He picked her up by the waist and laid her across his lap,
her head cradled over his left elbow. "This isn't about
treasure hunting, or folk healing, or any other damn
profession. It's about you and me." He leaned down,
kissed her lightly on the lips, and whispered against her
gaping mouth, "I love you, Grace."
She squirmed into a sitting position on his lap. "I love
you, too, sweetie. You're my best friend."
"Dammit! That's not what I'm talking about. I'm in love
with you, have been for a long time."
A stunned silence was not what he was looking for here.
"You're kidding, right? What's the punch line? You gonna
tell some lame nun joke?" She nipped at his lower lip
with her teeth as punishment.
Angel jerked backward, though he didn't release Grace from
his embrace. It was true, he had been teasing Grace with
nun jokes for ages, even though she hadn't been a nun for
ages, but not now. "This is not a joke, Grace."
She stared at him for a long moment. "Sex. All this
forced celibacy while trapped out in the bayou must have
turned you horny. You want to have sex with me."
Grinning, she taunted him with that last accusation.
"No! I mean, yes. Here's the deal: I don't want sex for
sex sake, as in any ol' female would do. I want to make
love with you. But that's not all I want. C'mon," he
said, opening the car door and hauling her outside. Oh,
God! I'm blowing it. What the hell is wrong with
me? "Let's walk."
"You're scaring me, Angel."
"I'm scaring myself," he muttered as he linked his hand
with hers and led her onto Tante Lulu's back porch facing
the bayou. Once they were leaning against the rail, he
raised their linked hands and kissed her knuckles.
"Oooh, you are smooth."
"You have no idea." Something occurred to him then,
related to her mentioning going back to his motel
room. "Would you have sex with me? Just like that?" He
snapped his fingers. "Friends with benefits?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
Angel was both angry and intrigued.
"Actually, I probably wouldn't. Even half drunk. You and
I have been friends for a long time. I wouldn't want to
do anything to ruin that."
He shook his head. "Not anymore."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, friendship isn't enough anymore. Haven't you
felt it, too, Gracie, these weeks we've been here in
Louisiana? Those LeDeuxs are crazy as coots, but they're
a closeknit family. They would do anything for each
other. And you can just see the passion between the
husbands and wives. Luc and Sylvie. Remy and Rachel.
René and Val. Rusty and Charmaine. John and Celine.
That's what I want."
"Passion?"
"Passion, yeah, but more than that."
"Family?" she said with an oddly sad sigh.
"Bingo. I want a woman to love who will love me back.
And a home...a real home, not some luxury condo. And
kids."
The more he explained himself, the stiffer she got. Then
she started biting on her thumb nail, a nervous habit
she'd been trying to break ever since he'd first met her.
Angel sensed he was losing her bit by bit, but he didn't
know how to fix it.
"You and I have no close family ties," she reminded him,
pulling her hand out of his grasp and walking to the other
end of the porch. He followed after her. "The LeDeuxs
have family out the wazoo."
"We can make our own family. I love you, honey. That's
what people in love do."
"Where is all this coming from?" Her voice was shrill
with panic. "You never mentioned love before."
"It's been there for a long time. I just haven't had the
nerve to say anything."
"You? Lacking nerve?"
He nodded. "But I had to say something now. This Amber
Project...Jinx's next job...is going to take months, maybe
even a year, and it'll be mostly on site in Germany.
We're searching for that famous Amber Room that the Nazi's
supposedly dismantled and hid. Definitely Jinx's most
ambitious treasure hunt yet, and I want you to be there
with me. As my wife. Doesn't a honeymoon in Europe sound
great?" His heart was racing so fast it felt as if it
might explode. Deep down, he sensed he was fighting a
losing battle. How could he have misread her so badly?
"This is insane. You've never even kissed me...that way.
You can't ask someone to marry you without even a proper
kiss." That was his cue. "I thought you'd never ask."
When she saw his slow grin and his equally slow approach,
she stuttered, "That's not what...oh, good grief, what are
you doing?"
"About to kiss you properly." Before she could blink, or
tell him to get lost, he backed her up against the log
wall of the cottage, cupped her butt cheeks, raising her
to just the right height on her tip toes, spread her legs
with his knees, anchored her with his belly against her
belly, combed his fingers through her hair to hold her in
place, then kissed her with all the love he'd been holding
in for so long.
It should have been a gentle kiss, coaxing. An
introduction. Something that said, "Hi! We've known each
other forever, as friends, but this is how I really feel.
I love you. Do you love me?"
Instead, his sex drive shot from zero to speed of light in
a nanosecond, and the gentle, coaxing kiss was anything
but. It was hungry and demanding and said, "Oh, baby, I
want you so bad. I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't
wait..."
Just then, a loud bellow echoed behind them.
"What was that?" he asked, his head jerking back.
"An alligator, I think. Probably Remy's pet Useless.
It's harmless."
An alligator? Close by? Harmless? He pressed his
forehead against hers, both of them panting for breath.
"This is not the way I want to make love to you the first
time, sweetheart. Come back to my motel room with me, and
we can talk."
She tried to laugh but it came out choked. "I think we've
done enough talking." Ducking under his arm, she stepped
away.
Immediately, Angel sensed the tension in the air, and it
wasn't a good tension. She put up a halting hand when he
moved a step closer.
"Angel, I am not going to marry you, and we are not going
to have a family together. It is just not going to
happen. Ever."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not in love with you."
Angel had been playing poker for too many years not to
read her "tells." He'd like to think she was lying
through her teeth. She wasn't. How could he have
interpreted her signals so wrong? "You don't mean that,
Gracie." Please, God, don't let her mean it.
"Angel! Come on. I've seen you puking your guts out when
you've drunk too much. That's a friend, not a lover."
He shrugged. "I've gone out and bought you tampons when
you had an accident in white slacks. Didn't make me go
`eeew!'."
"I saw you clipping your gross toenails in the kitchen."
He grinned. "You have funny looking toes. The pinkies
are crooked."
"You told me my toes were cute."
"They are cute. Crooked cute."
All this was just blowing smoke, in his opinion. Of no
importance. Once again, he tried to move closer.
Once again, she put up a halting hand. "You've been the
best friend I've ever had, but I don't feel that way about
you. Really, I had no idea..."
"Your kiss," he said, indicating with a wave of his hand
the section of porch they'd just left, "your kiss said
something else."
There were tears in her eyes. "Sexual attraction fueled
by too much alcohol."
"I'm not buyin' it."
"You have to. Besides, there are things in my
past...things you don't know about me."
"Hell, I have secrets in my past, too. Big deal!" He
waited a moment, then asked, "What things?"
"I can't say. Just know that I have good reasons for
saying that you and I will never be a family, aside from
my just thinking of you as a friend...my best friend."
"Well, we're sure as hell not gonna continue being friends
with this between us now."
"Oh, Angel."
"I'm leaving, Gracie. Are you coming with me?"
She shook her head, unable to speak.
"So be it. I doubt we'll be seeing each other again. I
don't do begging very well." He stared at her, then
added, "I love you, babe. I really do."
*****
Two weeks later, and the news heard 'round the world, or
at least, down the bayou...
Grace was in the pantry, using a mortar and pestle to
grind dried herbs for Tante Lulu's amazing medicinal
potions.
Pennyroyal, horehound, sassafras and catnip, which could
be brewed into a tea and used for coughs.
Yarrow and jimson weed to go in poultices.
Sumac for arthritis.
So many healing uses for nature's bounty. And any one of
them could have varying uses, depending on their stage of
development...seed, flower, or full-grown plant.
Dust motes danced on the stream of sun light coming from
the lone window. Through the screen she could hear a
hundred bayou birds join together, celebrating their
unique habitat. As she worked, she glanced over at the
floor to ceiling shelves, neatly lined with dozens of
glass bottles. Some of them baby food jars. Some jelly
jars. Even old green Mason Jars with lead lids. Each had
its own label. Each followed specific ingredients for one
of the noted traiteur's remedies--nine hundred eighty
three, at last count--that were outlined, longhand, in
numerous journals which had their own shelf. No computer
software for her boss. Nosirree, as Tante Lulu would say.
The pungent odors in the room, the feeling of history, the
warmth of Tante Lulu's essence...all these things
contributed to Grace's sense of well-being. She was at
peace. Not happy precisely, but finally she was where she
belonged.
A psychiatrist would have a field day with her history.
From promiscuous teenager to nun. Nun to poker player.
Poker player to treasure hunter. Treasure hunter to folk
healer. Still, she'd found a place that felt safe and
promising to her. The only thing interfering with her
happiness was Angel. Her heart grieved at the hole her
former friend had created in her life by his absence. The
louse hadn't called her. Probably his pride had kicked
in. And she wasn't going to call him. That would give
him false expectations. Even if she was in love, and she
wasn't, there were other reasons why a future with him
would be out of the question.
"Yoo hoo!"
Tante Lulu must be back from her trip to Boudreaux's
General Store. Her nephew John LeDeux had picked her up
an hour ago.
Grace finished bottling her concoction, dusted her hands
off, then walked into the kitchen where Tante Lulu and
John were unloading armfuls of overflowing paper bags.
Both of them glanced at her. And said nothing.
"What?" It was obvious by the way they avoided direct eye
contact that something was wrong.
"Ah, Gracie, bless yer heart," Tante Lulu said, reaching
up to pat her cheek.
Now Grace was really frightened. "Tell me."
"Tee-John was talkin' ta Ronnie this mornin'," Tante Lulu
started to explain, then stopped, turning to her nephew
for help.
Ronnie was Veronica Jinkowsky, owner of Jinx, Inc., the
treasure hunting company.
"Oh, my God! Is it Angel? Has something happened to him?"
"You could say that," John drawled out. The sympathy in
his dark Cajun eyes caused alarm bells to go off in her
head and her heart rate to accelerate alarmingly.
"He got married yesterday," John told her. "To an airline
stewardess he met on the way to Germany. Talk about!"
Grace plopped down into the kitchen chair, stunned. So
much for true love! She tried her best not to be hurt.
After all, she was the one who'd sent him away, but the
tears came anyway.
They would never renew their friendship now.
She tried to tell herself it was best this way.
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