A Season For Love. Bj James

The genteel but impoverished old lady, with her bright, birdlike eyes and manner, had spent her life teaching proper decorum and protocol to the children of the respected and affluent families of Belle Terre. Then there was Maria Elena Delacroix, the descendant of a long line of beautiful courtesans.

      But that was all part of the past. The distant past. Her past. Last night, for a little while, she’d hoped attitudes had changed, and who she’d been would be of little consequence.

      Wrong? She’d never been more wrong. But she couldn’t and wouldn’t dwell on that now. Dismissing the intrusion of old memories, Maria focused her attention on Jericho.

      He’d taken the time to dress in uniform. The austere lines of faultless dark khaki contributed even more to his air of extraordinary strength and quiet dedication. In black tie he’d been the epitome of the gracious Southern gentleman. In the dress of his profession, he became a cold-eyed, grim-faced veteran of the war against crime and disorder. Yet he delivered orders as if he were making a request. Orders surely more quickly obeyed for the manner in which they were given.

      Maria’s life in Belle Terre and afterward had made her cynical. The eye of her camera saw with compassion. Her own eyes, her heart, her soul, did not. On the other hand, Jericho, she suspected, was that rare, indomitable professional in whom compassion and gentleness still lived and thrived, and ruled.

      He’d proved that in the gentle way he’d made love to her, with no condemnation for her desertion, no bitterness for the lost years. What sort of man was this? Maria wondered as she asked, “You’ll call me when you have a definitive report?”

      Beyond taking her hand, Jericho hadn’t touched her since they’d arrived at the parking lot. He’d offered no explanation for the fact that they’d arrived together. With one steady, challenging look from him, no one dared comment that Maria still wore the gown of flowing gold, sparkling brighter in the morning sun than it had in the muted light of the museum. With his own circumspect behavior and the dare in his unflinching stare, he’d protected her from any threat of gossip. Now or later. For she knew intuitively, and from the respect shown by Jericho’s men, there would be no scandalized or secret lecherous whispers behind shielding hands.

      Now, with the gentle cupping of his palm against her cheek, Jericho broke his own unspoken rule of discretion. “I promise. But I’ll do better than call, Maria Elena. I’ll drop by the inn when we’ve done all we can here.”

      Maria wanted to cover his hand with her own, keeping his touch. More than that, she wanted to turn her mouth into his palm and with her lips trace the hard, calloused strength. She wanted to watch his eyes as she touched her tongue to that dark, gentle hollow the calluses protected. As he had protected her when she was seventeen.

      As he would protect her now.

      As if he read her thoughts, he leaned close, his breath a warm caress against her cheek. “Go along with young Court, love. There’s nothing more to fear. For now.”

      “I know.” She did stroke his hand then, in gratitude. She did brush her lips over the pad of his thumb, briefly. Too briefly. But with it a thunderbolt of desire struck as ungoverned and as stunning as if it were the first time.

      For Jericho, too, she realized, for his gray gaze darkened and his breath stuttered. But it was only a heartbeat before his teeth clamped together with such force a muscle flickered like the lightning of this sensual, sexual storm.

      “Go,” he managed hoarsely. His right hand, with the burnished gold band gleaming, fell from the soft allure of her lips. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

      Maria only nodded, her eyes and her heart too full of her need for him to speak. With one smoldering look, she turned. Taking the arm Deputy Hamilton gallantly extended, like a queen she glided through the gathering crowd, oblivious of the rapt gazes of Jericho’s trusted friends and fascinated colleagues.

      The sun was almost gone when Jericho climbed the steps that would lead to the entry of River Walk. He’d wakened with the sun and Maria…now he would end a long, grueling day with them. He’d been longer at the museum than he expected. Worse, this first and crucial investigation had yielded far less than he hoped.

      The only conclusion anyone set forth with any confidence was that the person, or persons, who constructed the simple device then, on a gamble, set it for an hour it would be unlikely anyone would be near, meant no harm to anyone.

      “This time,” Jericho muttered, as he opened the massive leaded glass door leading to the reception room of the inn.

      This time. But what about the next? Or the next? Having failed in scaring Maria away, would this frantically desperate man try again? And again, if he must?

      Jericho had wanted Maria to stay. More than anything in all his life, he’d needed her to stay, to build a life with him. Now, torn and hurt by the logic, he knew she must go.

      “Jericho?” Eden Cade paused in the doorway of the reception room, a covered tray in her hands. Her welcoming smile was worried. “We’d almost given up on you for dinner.”

      “Tonight? Dinner with you and Adams?” Jericho searched his mind, wondering if he’d forgotten an invitation. But surely he hadn’t—no one ever passed up a chance for a meal at the Inn at River Walk. Then, again, maybe he had forgotten. Since he’d learned Maria would be covering the opening at the museum for her network, he’d thought of nothing else.

      “Heavens, no,” Eden exclaimed. “Adams isn’t here.” With an amused and glowing glance at the slight protrusion of her stomach, she laughed aloud. “He’s been rushing around for a week now, taking care of anything and everything he thinks might need his attention before the baby comes.”

      “So soon?” Eden was carrying small, but that small? Jericho frowned, wondering if he’d miscounted, or mixed up the date Adams had announced for the birth of his child.

      Eden laughed again, and Jericho had never seen this always beautiful woman so beautiful. “Of course not. But tell that to Adams. He plans to have a clean slate for the next three months so he can join with Cullen in driving me crazy. In fact, if either my husband or my chief steward saw this tray in my hand, both would very likely suffer from a dire case of apoplexy.”

      Jericho grinned. He could easily believe it of both men. Adams Cade, inventor and businessman par excellence, had been a friend all his life. But when Adams returned to Belle Terre and married Eden, all his successes paled in comparison. It was the same with Cullen. When he’d come with Eden to Belle Terre, no one expected the massive islander to be happy here. But soon it was obvious that the native of the Marquesas Islands had transferred his undying loyalty from Nicholas Claibourne and the islands to Eden, Nicholas’s widow. Loyalty that remained unswerving in her marriage to Adams, her first and true and everlasting love.

      Any other time, Jericho would have chuckled at the idea of Cullen, the only man he knew who was nearly as big as he, acting the lady’s maid for a gloriously pregnant Eden Cade. But now, his mind was too full of Maria. Too full, and too worried even to celebrate the joy and wonder of the coming birth of a child the most revered medical minds of the world had believed could never be conceived.

      “Forgive me, Eden.” Jericho felt a sudden twinge for his neglectful preoccupation. “Let me take that.”

      “Surely.” Eden relinquished the tray graciously. “And thank you, Jericho.”

      “Where would you like me to take it?”

      “Actually, your arrival was perfectly timed.” With a hand at his shoulder, she led him to the small elevator Adams had just installed. “I was taking the tray to the third floor.”

      “The top?” Once Eden had kept her apartment on the top floor. To afford both herself and the guests of the inn more privacy. But after their marriage, she and Adams had chosen to live in the river cottage, a secluded and private residence on the grounds of River Walk. “I thought…”

      “That Adams and I live in the cottage?” Eden paused before the elevator, pressed a small