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  “Why’d you choose to do something so hard, Matt? You could have done anything.” It made no sense to her. If she’d had the advantages he had, she would have made good use of them, not thrown them away getting captured by enemy soldiers.

  He glanced over at her again, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “You think it’s crazy?”

  “It seems a little odd for someone like you.”

  He flipped on the turn signal. “Because I’m a Girard, you mean.”

  She sighed. “If I could have anything I want, I doubt I’d risk my neck jumping out of airplanes.”

  “Maybe you think I ought to sit on my daddy’s porch sipping iced tea all day. Or do nine to five at Girard Oil, pretending I like being a businessman. No, thanks. When I go to work, I know what I do matters.”

  Her pulse throbbed. “A job doesn’t have to be dangerous to matter.”

  He flashed her a grin. “Maybe I’ve just got a thrill-seeking personality.”

  Evie found that she couldn’t look away from him. Even with dirt streaking his face, he looked like he belonged in the pages of a celebrity magazine. When he used words like thrill-seeking, something inside her turned to putty.

  She swallowed. “It’s because of your mother, isn’t it?”

  His hands tightened on the wheel. “What makes you say that? She’s been gone a long time, Evie. And I don’t think she would approve of what I do any more than you do.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t approve.” It wasn’t that she didn’t think it was an important job. She just thought it was odd that Matt had chosen it when he could have been anything he wanted to be. “But when she died… well, I remember what you said to me in the tree that day.”

  Her throat was tight and her eyes stung. Matt glanced over at her, his jaw as hard as a block of granite. “I was twelve, Evie. Twelve-year-olds don’t know what they want out of life.”

  “You said you’d have given anything to save her. You said you wanted to save people when you grew up—I thought you were going to be a doctor.” She laughed, but it didn’t contain much humor. “God, even when you got appointed to West Point, I thought you were going to be a military lawyer or something.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I would have given anything to save her.” His voice was quiet in the darkness. “We needed her. Christina needed her. The old man…” He swallowed. “He’s not bad, Evie. He’s just self-absorbed. It’s always been about his feelings, his grief, his needs. He never really had time for us, and I’d have given anything to bring her back again.”

  “I don’t understand how doing what you do now makes up for any of that.”

  He made a sound in his throat like a growl. “If I’d known you were going to try to analyze me, I’d have stayed home tonight.”

  “Maybe you should have.”

  He glanced over at her. “It doesn’t make up for a damn thing. But I do something important and, yeah, people live because I’ve done my job. Running an oil company would seem pretty meaningless in comparison. And I wasn’t about to be a doctor. No patience for the kind of time that takes.”

  “You’d rather jump out of airplanes and get shot at.”

  “Something like that.” His tone was clipped. “So now that we’ve had fun with me, what about you? I notice you aren’t precisely cooking for a living at the moment. And Christina told me you’d gone to culinary school, so that can’t be the problem.”

  Evie rubbed two fingers along her temple. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard all about it yet. I had a restaurant in Florida, but I also had a partner who stole from me. I lost it all.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, well, lesson learned and all that. Now I wash hair in Mama’s salon and send out résumés every week. Something will happen eventually.”

  “I’ve noticed life has a way of piling on the shit sometimes.”

  “I’d like to think I’ve had all the shit I’m going to get for a while, but with my luck, God only knows.”

  He laughed. “Chère, I so hear you.”

  Evie turned toward him. The lights from the dash illuminated his features, caressed the bridge of that aristocratic nose, those full lips and firm jaw. He was gorgeous, but that had never been the sole source of her attraction. It didn’t hurt, of course, but there was more to it than that.

  He’d always made her laugh, and he’d been her friend, and he’d let her see the parts of him that weren’t strong. She’d never forget hugging him while he cried in the hollow of that tree. She hadn’t quite reached the stage of having a crush on him then, but she figured that was the moment when she’d fallen in love, before she even knew what it meant.

  “Folks in town seem to think you’re in some kind of trouble. Were you really captured?”

  He stared straight ahead. “Yeah, we were captured. People died. It wasn’t pretty, but war never is.”

  “I’m sorry.” She wanted to ask what had happened, how he’d gotten away, if he was okay now—but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. How did you ask someone how he’d escaped death? How it had felt to wonder if you were going to die?

  “It is what it is. But thanks.”

  The car rolled to a stop at a four-way intersection. He didn’t even glance at her as he took a left instead of a right.

  “You turned the wrong way.”

  Mama’s house was to the right, and Evie couldn’t wait to get back there, stand in the shower for about an hour, and then crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head and try to forget everything about this night.

  Well, maybe not everything. Not the part where she’d danced with Matt, even if it had called up all those latent feelings and memories she’d tried to suppress.

  “Reynier’s Retreat is closer than going to the other side of town. You can clean up a bit before I take you home.”

  Her heart kicked up. The thought of entering that fabulous antebellum mansion tonight was enough to drown her in shame. “I can’t see your family looking like this!”

  She’d been inside dozens of times, but an eight-year-old with dirty knees was completely different from a twenty-six-year-old who looked like she’d been rolling in the dirt. Reynier’s Retreat was over one hundred and fifty years old, and it’d been in Matt’s family all that time. It also looked as if it had come straight out of Southern Living magazine. If she ever went inside the grand mansion as an adult, she damn sure didn’t want to look like something off the set of a zombie movie.

  “Relax. We won’t go near the house. I’m in the guest cottage.”

  Evie shook her head. “I appreciate it, Matt, but there’s no reason I can’t go home. Mama’s playing bingo at the lodge tonight and Sarah—”

  Sarah. Hell. What would her sister think if she walked in looking like this? There’d be questions.

  Matt turned toward her. “Your little sister?”

  Evie swallowed. “She’s home tonight.” Then she let out a sigh. Sarah might be grumpy and hostile, but she wasn’t stupid. “Maybe it is best if I clean up before going home.”

  Matt nodded. “That’s what I thought. It won’t take long, I promise. I’ll have you home again before anyone misses you.”

  A few minutes later, Matt pressed a button over the rearview mirror as they turned into the lane to Reynier’s Retreat. Two iron scrollwork gates ground open slowly.

  The drive to the house was at least half a mile. Oak trees lined the lane, the car’s headlights illuminating the Spanish moss that dripped like ragged beards from heavy branches. The main house stood on a low knoll at the end of the drive, gleaming white in the darkness. Light spilled from the windows across the bottom half of the home. Several cars were parked in the circular drive, and several more sat in a cordoned-off area that served as a parking lot. A white-coated attendant sprinted up the stairs as the front door opened. A formally dressed couple emerged onto a sweeping veranda studded with eight fat columns.

  Evie looked at the big house with a pang of env
y. She’d never attended a fancy party here before, though she did have an invitation to Christina’s wedding in a few days. She’d said yes, but she’d been torn about coming. She’d been worried about the wistful memories this place would call up. And about seeing Matt.

  “You came to the lake when you could’ve been here?”

  “Boring as hell. I gave it an hour before I left. Chris understands. Besides, it’s just an excuse for the senator to glad-hand some of his wealthy constituents.” He drove past the house and turned in the opposite direction.

  “Your sister seems happy. I haven’t met her fiancé yet. I’m not sure many of us have.”

  Christina Girard had been in Rochambeau for a couple of weeks now, but her fiancé only flew in a few days ago. The couple lived in Washington, D.C., but according to Mama—and the gossip mill—Christina had always had her heart set on marrying at Reynier’s Retreat.

  “Yeah, Ben’s an attorney on the Hill.” Matt paused as if considering what else to tell her. “If the senator has anything to say about it, he’ll be a congressman in a couple of years.”

  She thought he sounded annoyed.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “What? Ben in Congress?” He shot her a look. “No, not really. But I’m not sure it’s what Chris wants. The old man wants another politician in the family and he probably won’t take no for an answer.”

  She knew what he didn’t say. That his father had wanted him to be the one to follow in his footsteps.

  “Why did your father never run for Congress himself?”

  Matt laughed. “One word, chère. Strippers.”

  “Oh, geez, I almost forgot.” Matt’s father had married a succession of ladies who entertained in nightclubs, to put it politely, after his first wife died. It was almost a cliché in some ways, but politicians and strippers were somewhat of a Louisiana tradition. Though it had played just fine up at the Statehouse at one time, it probably wouldn’t translate well to Washington.

  “The old man has a weakness. He’s married four of them since our mother died.”

  “Four? Wow, a lot happens in ten years.”

  “Yeah. The second one left him when I was still in high school. The third lasted a couple of years. The fourth will be here forever, I imagine.”

  “Really?”

  Matt nodded. “Misty Lee really loves him, though God knows why.”

  At that moment, the guest cottage came into view from behind a stand of trees. Having originally been a carriage house, the building sat a good distance away from the main estate. A hundred years ago, the smell of horses would have been too strong for the residence’s inhabitants.

  Matt parked inside the garage and came around to help her out of the car, though she didn’t need it and had climbed out before he could get there.

  “What?” She crossed her arms, feeling suddenly self-conscious with the lights of the garage shining down on her and the damp dress that clung to her body.

  “I was coming to open the door for you.”

  Evie smiled. “Aw, that’s sweet. You still remember your Junior Cotillion training.”

  He grinned at her and rubbed a hand over his nape. “Well, yeah.”

  The only reason she’d had cotillion training was because she’d begged her mama for it after Matt had to go. They’d learned how to behave like little ladies and gentlemen, and clearly those lessons had stuck. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had tried to open a car door for her.

  “Since you clearly don’t need help out of the car, let’s go in.” He turned and led her into the house, flipping on lights and setting down his keys as they went. Evie’s legs were wobbly, and she shivered anew at the coolness of the house as compared to outside. To think she’d actually wanted air conditioning earlier.

  She rubbed her bare upper arms as goose bumps popped up.

  “You can use the master bath.” Matt flipped on a light switch in the bedroom before continuing across the room. Evie’s gaze stumbled over the king-size bed. The covers were twisted, the sheets rumpled. The room smelled faintly masculine, both spicy and woodsy.

  Matt turned to her as he reached the bathroom and flipped on the light. Then he frowned. “Are you cold?”

  She nodded.

  He walked over and put his arms around her and she leaned into his heat as it enveloped her. Though she’d danced with him only an hour ago, it was still astonishing to be against his body like this again. He was solid, warm, and smelled like earth and man.

  “You’ve had a shock.” His voice was smooth and calming. “It’ll take a little time to process it all, but you’ll be fine.”

  She was already starting to thaw. “I’m sure the shower will help.”

  “Yeah.” He stepped away and put his hand in the small of her back, propelling her toward the bathroom. “There’s a robe on the back of the door. I’ll find something you can wear home.”

  Evie glanced up at him. “I ought to call my mama first. If she hears about what happened—”

  “I’ll do it for you, chère. You’d only upset her with your version.”

  She blinked. “Version?”

  He rubbed her arms, his touch leaving a trail of sensation up and down her skin. “Trust me.”

  “She’s at the Moose Lodge playing bingo.” Evie cocked a hip and gave him an even stare. “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been taking control of this situation since the lights went out.”

  His eyes gleamed as he shrugged. “And I figure the first instant you don’t feel like doing something the way I want you to, you’ll tell me to go to hell.”

  “Damn straight.”

  He grinned. “It’s what I love about you, Evie Baker.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He was teasing her, but those words slid under her skin and set up a longing she hadn’t felt in years. “I’m going to remind you that you said that.”

  His gaze slipped over her, and heat followed in its wake. “Take your shower, Evie.”

  She closed the door, her pulse throbbing in her throat and her temples. What the hell? She hadn’t seen Matt Girard in ten years, and she was panting over him as if high school and her crush were only yesterday.

  Evie lay her forehead against the door and stood there for a long moment, breathing. So many things had happened tonight, so many feelings pinging around inside her. Matt was just as confusing and compelling as he’d ever been. Maybe more so, considering everything they’d said to each other and the way he’d held her on the dance floor before Jimmy cut the lights.

  He’d seemed thoughtful. Even vulnerable in some hidden way she hadn’t quite figured out. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go until she knew all his secrets. Until this itching under her skin went away.

  Forget it, she told herself. You aren’t going there.

  But damn she wanted to.

  *

  She wasn’t coming out. Matt looked at his watch and realized it had been nearly forty minutes since Evie had gone into the bathroom. He shoved a hand through his damp hair—he’d gone across the hall to the guest room and taken a quick shower, then changed into fresh clothes that weren’t streaked with dirt—and stared at the closed door to the master bath.

  He could still hear water running. He stepped up and rapped on the door. “Evie?”

  She didn’t answer. After a moment’s hesitation, he tested the door. It swung open.

  “Evie?”

  “Go away.” Her voice came from the shower enclosure. It sounded smaller and more uncertain than it should. He told himself that he hadn’t seen her in ten years. That he didn’t know her the way he once had. That he didn’t have the right to push her into talking to him or into coming out of that shower.

  And yet he knew something of what she was going through. He understood the crash that came after that kind of adrenaline surge. He understood the self-doubt and the impact of the sudden knowledge of what could have happened. What might have happened. She’d witnessed the kind of violence s
he probably wasn’t accustomed to in her everyday life.

  And he’d been a part of it when he’d taken Jimmy down.

  No, he couldn’t walk away. He wouldn’t. Matt went over and leaned against the marble vanity. Citrus-scented steam curled overhead and he flipped on the switch for the fan.

  He could hear Evie’s gasp. “Go away, Matt! I’m not done yet.”

  In that moment, hearing the uncertainty and plaintive note in her voice, Matt almost wished he’d broken Jimmy’s other arm too. “I’m sorry to intrude, chère. But I’ve been through this kind of thing. I know what you’re feeling.”

  “I’m not feeling anything. I’m just taking a shower.”

  He almost smiled at the underlying current of steel he heard that time. If she could say that to him, in that tone of voice, then maybe she wasn’t feeling too badly. He’d been worried about how she would react once the reality of being held captive set in.

  The incident hadn’t lasted long, and Jimmy hadn’t hurt her, but he had threatened her with that knife. And he’d called her a bitch. He’d also fired a weapon repeatedly and dangerously. Evie would have to be superhuman—or hardened by combat—not to react to the feelings of powerlessness she’d have felt at the time.

  “You’ve been in there a long time.”

  She didn’t speak at first. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Bet the water’s only lukewarm by now.”

  Another long pause. “It’s cooler than it was.”

  “Why don’t you come on out then?”

  “Why am I acting like this?” Her voice was hard, as if she were angry with herself. “Nothing happened. It’s over and no one got hurt. So why can’t I stop thinking about it?”

  Matt sighed. He didn’t have an answer for her. He was still battling his own demons. The only difference was that he’d been trained to deal with it. That and the military psychologists who evaluated him and the team every time they returned from a mission.

  Usually, he put everything that happened in the field into a box in his head and left it there. This time, the box wouldn’t stay closed. Marco and Jim kept coming back to haunt him. It didn’t happen as much anymore, but he still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, reaching for his weapon and determined to kill every goddamn thing between him and his men.