Page 113 of Frankly, My Dear

James seemed overcome with emotion, unable to respond to his mother’s kind words.

Mrs. Baptiste patted his arm as he sat back down. “Be happy, James. Grab the moment in your fist and hold on tight. You may never have another.” She walked gracefully from the room then, humming a song. Selene could have sworn it was “Achy Breaky Heart.”

In fact, Selene felt a humming in her own head as the implications of the afternoon’s events began to become clear. She was staying at Bayou Noir…with James…and, oh, had he really hinted that he might be in love with her?

“You never answered my question, Selene,” James reminded her when they were alone, seated still at opposite ends of the table. “You think I’ve fallen in love with you, don’t you?”

Selene couldn’t answer his question. Instead, she started to weep—huge, silent tears that testified to her deep emotion.

“Why are you crying, chérie? You have won. You will be staying at Bayou Noir. I thought that would make you happy.”

“I am happy,” she sobbed.

“And so you weep?” He lifted an eyebrow dubiously.

“I’m crying because I’m happy—”

“Hah!”

“—and because you’re not happy.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

“Because you’re still frowning.” She held her breath, trying to stop crying, and hiccupped loudly.

James’s lips turned up ever so slightly, as if he were fighting a smile. “Ah, perhaps I’m just stunned that I could have ever thought to send you away.”

James continued to scrutinize her for a long time, leaning back in his chair lazily, tapping his fingertips thoughtfully on the tabletop.

Finally Selene could stand the throbbing silence no longer. “What now, James?”

There was no mistaking the smile that pulled at his lips…his beautifully firm lips. “Well, chérie, I’m not quite certain. First off, I think I’d like to ‘light your fire’ and then…”

Light my fire? The humming in Selene’s head grew louder and she felt all the fine hairs on her body stand at attention. “And then what?” she asked huskily.

His smile grew wider, seductively teasing. “Perhaps I’ll stoke it into a roaring bonfire.”

She snuffled back the last of her tears. “A bonfire sounds good,” she agreed, returning his smile.

She was rewarded with the first sign of his emerging dimple, and her heart did three quick cartwheels…flip, flip, flip. “Then what?”

“You are a greedy little witch, aren’t you, darlin’?” he said, chuckling, as he braced both elbows on the table and put his chin in his hands.

“Well?”

“Then, Selene, I intend to put out your fire, good and proper.”

“Is that a promise, James?”

“Written in my heart’s blood.”

“Oh, James.”

“Don’t you ‘Oh, James’ me.”

Selene suddenly remembered something significant. “James,” she said, biting her bottom lip nervously, “don’t expect too much of me. I know I talk outrageously sometimes, but I’ve never really had much luck with…sex.” Boy! That’s the understatement of the year.

James flashed a devastating smile at her, dimple and all. “Ah, Selene, your luck is about to change.”