Just Say Yes

By Wendy Rosnau

HARLEQUIN®

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Chapter 1

The sign read, Beer with Breakfast. Home of the Buzzard Burger.

Stephanie Arnou read the sign twice while her silver Mustang idled in the dirt-packed parking lot of the Muddy Bar & Grill. She reached for the letter in the empty seat beside her and tried once again to decipher her cousin's directions. It was no wonder she'd made a wrong turn somewhere. Arley's instructions were as poor as his handwriting.

She reversed the Mustang and backtracked to Crawford, again noticing how small the Louisiana town was, and the general age of its population. When she'd stopped for gas at the Henny-Penny on the outskirts, there had been a moment when she'd considered this might be a retirement community. Then she'd gone inside to pay, and was relieved to see two young women in their twenties working a lunch counter in the back. Twins with big brown eyes, identical glasses and the same crooked smiles in reverse.

She parked in front of Crawford's police station— an aging building in need of a fresh coat of paint and a carpenter's estimate on a new porch railing. One quick look at the town's lean but clean main street and she knew she would be spending her free time in New Orleans sixty miles away. After all, she had been born and raised in a big city and was used to buying milk at 2:00 a.m. if she felt like it, and shopping for shoes on Sundays.

She exited the car, grabbing Arley's letter at the last minute. As she entered the police station she saw that the interior mirrored the outside. The walls were gray, and it wasn't the color they had been painted twenty years ago. She noticed the chipped linoleum, another shade of gray; and the metal desk stacked high with papers. The skinny file cabinet in the corner had a similar paper stack.

There was a door behind the desk, a noisy hum coming from inside. Stephanie circled the desk to read the name plate on the door. On closer inspection, she saw that the plate had been stripped from the wood frame and replaced by a single piece of white paper that read Sheriff William Walker.

She knocked on the door.

''I'm here. 'Bout done with supper, too.''

She arched a delicate blond eyebrow at the unprofessional greeting, then opened the door and stepped inside the sheriff's office. She found him behind his desk relaxing in a cheap swivel chair, his jean-clad legs stretched across the desk like a paperweight holding down another stack of papers.

The man had dark brown hair, brown eyes and looked to be in his early thirties. He had bulky shoulders that went along with a wrestler's chest and sturdy legs.

''Sheriff Walker—'' Stephanie raised the letter to find the paragraph that was most important in her cousin's letter— ''I'm looking for the M...ondy Restaurant.'' She looked back to the sheriff, eyed his runover black tennis shoes, then the gray cat perched on the corner of the desk enjoying the remains of the sheriff's high-fat evening meal—a burger, onions and cottage fries. Heavy on the grease.

In spite of her long and exhausting two-day trip, Stephanie smiled. From the looks of the leftovers, Crawford could use some of her heart-smart recipes.

She'd been the manager and top chef at Cafe Lean in Minneapolis for three years. Last year she'd received the lean and tasty award—an honorary gold star and an engraved plaque for being the most cognizant chef in the Twin Cities—an award her employer had insisted on displaying in the restaurant lobby under glass. Which is where it had been until three days ago.

''Did you say Mondy?''

''That's how I read it.'' Stephanie offered the sheriff her cousin's letter.

He pulled his feet off his desk to reach for the letter, sending a dozen papers off the pile to the floor. Ignoring them, he scanned the letter.

Stephanie noticed his cheeks slowly turn an ashy puke color. ''What is it? Am I lost? Do I have the wrong Crawford, Louisiana?'' She pointed to the letter. ''As you can see, my cousin writes like an eight-year-old, and spells like he didn't make it out of the fourth grade. He never put a return address on the envelope, either, so I'm not sure if he lives in town.''

''You say this letter was sent to you? That you're my...Arley's cousin?'' ''Yes.''

''Then you'd be Melvin's...'' ''Daughter. Stephanie Arnou. My friends call me Stevie. Did you know my uncle Clarence?''

''Clarence? Oh, you mean Buzzard. Sure thing. Everybody in Crawford knowd Buz.''

''And Arley? Do you know if he lives around here?'' ''Brown house south of town about a mile.'' Stevie laid her hand on her chest and sighed. ''Thank God I'm in the right town. I was beginning to wonder if Arley had spelled that wrong, too. I won't go into what an awful time I've had this past month, or how much I'm looking forward to a fresh start. Believe me, February can't come close to being the nightmare January was. You just don't want to know.'' She glanced at the narrow floor fan doing the shimmy in the corner. ''Is this heat normal? I expected low seventies this time of year. It must be eighty outside. Not that I'm complaining. I left the Twin Cities in a snow storm and single-digit temps.''

''Gets warm some days. Nowhere near what we're used to come July and August, though. Back to this here letter. It's addressed to Stephan.''

''Stephan, Stephanie...'' Stevie shrugged. ''Consid-ering all the other misspelled words in there, I'm not surprised he left out a few letters in my name.''

The sheriff mumbled something, then dropped the paper on his desk. ''He's gonna skin me.'' ''What? Are you talking about Arley?'' ''No. Justus. And he's good with a knife, too. Nobody can skin croakers faster that I know of.''

Stevie had no idea what the sheriff was talking about. ''Who's Justus?''

''Your business partner, Stephan...ie. He's over at the Mud... Mondy.''

The man's complexion had gone from puke to paste. It was that hamburger he'd eaten. It had started to congeal. And no wonder. Whoever had fried that grease bomb should have known it would explode the minute it hit bottom.

She glanced at the sheriff's soft belly. His cholesterol was probably off the charts and through the roof.

''I'm anxious to see the Mondy, but if you could direct me to my uncle's house, that would be even better. I'd like to unpack and take a shower. I've been driving all day.''

The unpacking wouldn't take long, Stevie mused. An electrical fire had swept through her apartment building a week ago. She'd lost nearly everything she owned. Her cousin's letter two days earlier had been a gift from God—though at the time she hadn't realized that inheriting her uncle's home and half of his business would come to be such a blessing.

Everything happens for a reason. Stevie had heard that expression, though she'd never understood it. She had been twenty-one when her parents died, and she had often contemplated what possible reason God could have had for allowing a tragic accident to take them from her. An only child, there had been no siblings or close family to lean on. She'd been left alone with her memories, and the Arnou instinct for survival.

''In the letter, Arley says Uncle Clarence has lake-shore property. For the record, I know how valuable lake frontage can be, but that's not why I'm here. It's not the land, but the house that interests me. I've always wanted a place of my own. A real house with a full-size refrigerator and stove, and a bathroom with a tub, and a shower.''

The sheriff came to his feet mumbling something Stevie couldn't make out. He stepped away from the desk and gave her a thorough up and down, followed by a low whistle that could have been taken as a compliment if it hadn't been for the loud belch that climbed his esophagus a second later.

It was rude of him to stare. The belch, worse, without begging pardon. Stevie would have mentioned both, but she was a midwesterner who knew protocol, as well as a few rules that had saved her butt more than once in the big city. One of those rules was never present attitude when asking a stranger for a favor. Or bring attention to his shortcomings. Truthfully, the belch was tacky. But she'd forgive him this once because he really did look like he was suffering from indigestion.

''You gotta pickup I s'pose?'' ''I have a car. It's right outside.'' ''You wanta get back in yer car and go on out to the fork. When you—'' ''The fork?''

''The stop sign a block back. Take a right and head out of town 'bout a half mile. Then take a left. The Mudd... Mondy is another half mile, and then some, down Turtle Road. Caint miss it. It's the only waterin' hole... I mean, building out there with a string a cars out front.''

''Business is good, then?''

''Real good. Busiest grill...ah, restaurant in town.''

''That sounds wonderful.''

''Don't it though. Buzzard's floater— Ah...Uncle Clarence's place is on the same road. Can't miss that, neither, on account they both are on the same swam...lake.''

''My house and restaurant share the lake? That's fabulous.''

''Ain't it though.''

''You bet.''

''No, I don't gamble much. Play a little bingo, though.''

Stevie frowned, wondering how they had gotten on that subject.

He walked past her and swung the door open. ''You take off and I'll give Justus a call and warn... I'll call him and tell him you're on your way.''

The minute Stephanie left the police station, Arley grabbed the phone and dialed the Muddy. When he heard the busy buzzer, he swore, then slammed the receiver down. Fayda Mae must still be scrapping with Hawg. Those two had started that feud two days ago, and it didn't look like Hawg was making much headway at getting back in his wife's good graces.

Fayda Mae had a cannonball temper, and held a grudge longer than a skunk's stink. Thirty years on the same dog leash, Hawg should have known that. Should have known, too, that when he gave Henrietta that fool wink over at the Henny-Penny, the whole town was gonna pay the price.

Arley glanced down at the letter on Justus's desk. His cousin Stevie had said he wrote like an eight-year-old and spelled like he hadn't made it out of the fourth grade. But that wasn't so. He'd made it all the way through high school. Damn hard thing to do, it was, but he'd gotten his diploma right alongside William Justus Walker and Elroy Fachon.

He'd wanted to quit plenty of times, but Justus wouldn't let him. No, siree, the orphan from Bogalusa never believed in quitting at anything. The townsfolk had all known Justus was special the day Mamma Dula brought him home. He was smart as a whip, and friendly as a puppy.

Arley picked up the letter and examined it for errors. How Stevie had gotten Mondy out of Muddy, he didn't know. He squinted at each of the letters and decided he'd spelled Muddy just fine. Maybe not her name, but then that was old Buzzard's fault. The chicken scratch on his uncle's will had been about as clear as Turtle Bayou after sunset when the mosquitoes came out to feed.

My friends call me Stevie.

They should have nicknamed her Steamin' Hot. Ar-ley had no idea they grew 'em that curvy in Minnesota. Must be all that cold weather up there. A natural fat burner.

''A blonde with lips,'' Arley muttered. ''No, not just lips. A pair of heart-shaped yumbuggers that would taste sweeter than Fayda Mae's seven-minute frosting.''

Arley's cheeks turned red. Shame on him for thinking that way. Stevie was his cousin.

He tried to call the Muddy again, then gave up. He wasn't going out there. No, siree. Not until Justus got a good look at his partner, and she got a good look at the Muddy and Buzzard's floater.

Stevie sounded like she had her heart set on indoor plumbing. A picture of Buz's House of Plenty, as it had been named, formed in Arley's mind. The outhouse sat back in the woods between a stand of May-haw trees. It was a pretty spot. Real quiet. A thinking man's place.

Maybe he ought to go out there and take down that Playboy calendar him and Justus had given Buz last Christmas. Maybe he ought to take home the old ones stacked between the two-seater, too. He was partial to last year's August issue anyways. Jinx had mentioned the '93 November issue was his favorite. Maybe he'd pass a few out to some of the boys.

Arley winced thinking about how often this week he'd screwed up. Only none of them had been as bad as this.

What would Justus have to say about his partner being a steamin' hot female with seven-minute lips? Probably nothing. Justus never talked a lot when he got mad. He'd just skin his best friend without saying a word. Then dig up old Buzzard and skin him, too.

Chapter 2

The jukebox hadn't taken a rest all day, and neither had Justus. He would never admit he missed Buzzard Arnou—certainly not his onion breath—but he did miss the old bird's talent in the kitchen.

Since they had buried Buz a week ago, the Muddy had been operating on a cylinder and a half—Justus and Fayda Mae. He'd closed the Bar & Grill for the funeral in honor of his partner's sudden exit. It had been the first time in its history that the Muddy had closed its doors in the middle of the day.

At age fifty-eight, Buzzard hadn't been old enough to croak, but as Mamma Dula had recited graveside, Buz had been invited to cook for the King, and the fastest way to get there had been by car.

Justus had been relieved when Mamma had skipped over the details. It had taken him and Arley half a day to get Buzzard's Mercury out of Turtle Bayou—he'd really sent her to the bottom when he'd sailed over Cottonwood Bridge.

Fayda Mae let out a yell from the kitchen, and Justus knew what that meant—another Buzzard burger had just gone up in smoke. Her two-day feud with Hawg was getting expensive. Not to mention the fallout effect it was having on his customers—she'd burned up more orders in the past two days than Buz had burned up in the Muddy's thirty-year history. But that wasn't the worst of it. She was serving the burnt offerings—daring the customers, and him, to complain.

No one had. Everyone in Crawford would agree Fayda Mae had a short fuse and a long memory. He was still on the outs with her since he'd suggested she might be putting too much shrimp in the gumbo and not enough crispy in Nate Gruber's bacon.

''Burger's comin' right up, Jinx.'' Justus stepped behind the bar and slid LaMarr Jenkin's a cold brewski.

''You tink dat nephew of Buzzard's is gonna come claim his half of the Muddy?''

Justus sure as hell hoped so. Fayda Mae was a waitress, not a cook. He could put up orders, but if he was in the kitchen, no one would be behind the bar. And to make matters worse, a month ago he'd been appointed sheriff of Crawford. Today he'd had to have Arley Arnou hang around the station house just in case something happened in Crawford that required his attention.

''You ain't gonna close down the Muddy are ya, Just? Hawg's been spreadin' that rumor.''

''No, I'm not closing.''

Jinx let go of a heartfelt sigh along with a loud belch. ''That's a relief. I'd starve if'n that happened. You know I can't cook. That's why no matter what that burger looks like when it comes out dat kitchen door, I'm gonta eat it. The Muddy's been feedin' me three squares a day for thirty years, 'cept on Thursdays.''

Everyone in town knew that on Thursdays Jinx drove over to Belle Chasse to visit Onella Simons. They all knew why, too.

''So how you gonna split yourself between here and your other doins as sheriff, Just? Best thing is for dat nephew of Buzzard's ta get off his honky and come down here and lend a hand. Where did Arley say he sent that letter?''

''Minnesota,'' came a gravel-crusted voice from a high-sided booth on the right side of the dining room.

''Is that above Nebraski, or Coloradi?'' LaMarr asked.

''Iowa,'' Nate Gruber offered, still keeping himself hidden inside the booth.

Justus headed into the kitchen to check on Jinx's burger, and to remind Fayda Mae—as gently as pos-sible—that Jinx liked his burger open-face, with a mess of cheese grits over the top. Grits on a Buzzard burger, and bacon grease, still warm from Nate's double decker BLT, drizzled over the top.

The order didn't look quite like it should when Fayda Mae handed him the plate. The burger was under the grits somewhere, Justus had faith, but it was anyone's guess what kind of shape it was in. The black specks mixed in with the grits were a mystery, but Jinx didn't mention them when Justus slapped the plate down in front of Crawford's seventy-six-year-old barber, so neither did he.

When the screen door squeaked, Justus didn't need to look up to know that Mamma Dula was on her way in. It was five-thirty, and the two things you could count on in Crawford were the turtle population and Mamma's routine.

He reached for the glass of iced tea he'd just made for her a minute ago, then cut across the dining room to meet up with the woman who had raised him.

The tea glass was on her table next to the window before she got comfortable in her chair. For his efforts, Mamma smiled, then turned her soul-searching eyes on him to take inventory. Her look told Justus she was still debating the issue she had been debating since he'd moved back to Crawford a year ago—whether or not he was going to stick, as the townsfolk called it.

The general consensus was, if you were lucky enough to leave Crawford, you were usually smart enough not to come back.

''Evenin', you handsome blue-jean devil, you,'' Mamma drawled. ''The sight of you sure makes a woman wish she was twenty years younger and forty pounds lighter. How you've kept single all these years is beyond me.''

Justus gave Mamma his famous wink, the one he used on Saturday nights to get the Folly twins up on the bar to entertain the crowd for free. ''You know you're the only woman who has my heart, Mamma,'' he teased.

''You tell it good, just like you should.'' Dula sang the words, then took a sip of her iced tea. When the glass was back on the table, Mamma said, ''I heard Sue Ann left you.''

Jinx's granddaughter hadn't exactly left him. They weren't married. Not even living together. Sue Ann had come to Crawford on a visit last summer and had ended up staying through Christmas.

''She never intended to stick,'' Justus reminded. ''She's back in New Orleans were she belongs.''

Mamma snorted. ''Does that mean this is gonna be one of those long-distance affairs, or do you plan on packing your bags one of these days for good?''

Mamma must have heard the rumor, Justus decided. ''Sue Ann did ask me to move in with her.'' He reached for a chair, turned it around and straddled it. ''But you and me made a deal, remember? I plan on keeping my end of it. I've come home, just like I said I would. Guess you could say you, and the good folks of Crawford, are stuck with me.''

Mamma had rescued Justus from the orphanage in Bogalusa when he was nine. She'd raised him and sent him to college after high school on one condition—that he return to Crawford an educated man worth something by the age of thirty.

Justus had studied hard, gotten his law degree and returned a little over a year ago at age twenty-nine.

''I was hoping that Sue Ann would like it here. A prize stud needs a flashy filly,'' Mamma said. ''That's what my daddy used to say. We don't have too many fillies in town under the age of forty. Jinx said you was laughing and having a good time with those Folly twins the other night. Maybe you ought to see if one of them can fill the bill.''

''Now that Buz is gone I've got my hands tied being sheriff and keeping this place open,'' Justus offered. ''The twins are entertaining, but you know it ain't no fun playin' with your hands tied if you're too tired to fight the ropes.''

His comment, followed by a wide grin, had Mamma shaking her head. ''When you was a squirt, I shoulda used barkeepers on that smart mouth of yours ta keep yer thoughts clean. But I didn't. Spoiled you stink rotten, I did.''

Justus chuckled.

''It's probably just as well you leave them twins alone. Everybody knows those girls ain't gonna marry unless they can marry the same man. I don't think those two have ever done one thing without the other. Now don't you say it, 'cause I can see in those devil-blue eyes of yours what you're thinkin'.'' Justus tipped his head back and hooted. Dula made a half-hearted swipe at his head, then changed the subject. ''I hear Buzzard's nephew might be coming ta Crawford.''

''Buzzard didn't put Justus in his will.'' Jinx spun on his bar stool, a piece of Buzzard burger—resembling a charcoal briquette—pierced on the end of his knife. ''Buz gave all he owned to some kin he never met before. That nephew.''

''He what?'' Mamma's eyes bugged. ''Some doo-dah big city duffer.'' This time Nate's hand shot out of the booth, the middle finger on his bony hand extended to let everyone know how he felt about Buzzard's betrayal.

''Buz promised me that he'd...''

''Promised you what, Mamma?'' Justus asked. ''Nothing.''

''What did he promise?'' Justus reached out and took Mamma's plump hand in his.

Dula made a face, like she was trying to decide what to spill and what to keep to herself. Finally, she said, ''He promised he would see to it that you stayed in Crawford. What I thought he meant by that was he was going ta sign over his half of the Muddy to you before he...''

''Before he what? Died? How would he have known when that would be?''

Mamma pulled her hand free and tugged on the edges of her orange and pink turban. ''I musta heard him wrong. Some days I swear I'm losin' my ears.''

Justus studied Mamma's face as she reached for her tea while trying to avoid his eyes. She was hiding something. But what? He said, ''I'm here because I want to be. I told you when I came back, I was here to stay. The Muddy isn't what's holding me here,'' he clarified. ''And I agree with Jinx. I can't run this place and be a good sheriff, too. I was thinking that I'd offer to sell my half of the Muddy to Buz's kin when he gets here. What do you think?''

Before Mamma could comment, Nate Gruber's middle finger left the booth once more. No words followed. He'd clearly given his opinion on Justus's sell out.

Dula plunked her tea glass down on the table, this time having no trouble looking Justus square in the eye. ''You can't walk away from the Muddy. Crawford needs this place.''

''They'll still have it.''

''This city duffer is a stranger. We don't know nothing about his character. Putting the Muddy in a stranger's hands is reckless. You've never been reckless your entire life, Justus. No, that's a bad idea.''

''I second that,'' Jinx muttered, working his false-teeth hard to get his burger off the end of his knife.

''That makes it three to one, Just,'' Nate yelled from the booth. He knew protocol. He was president of the bingo club that met on Tuesdays on the Muddy's back porch—that is, unless it was windy.

Mamma grinned, then patted Justus's arm. ''Now that that's settled, am I gonta get my usual Tuesday night special, or is Fayda Mae on strike? I hear she and Hawg are still shouting their words.''

Justus stood, spun the chair around and slid it back. ''Fried cheese grits and blackened catfish.'' He leaned forward and kissed Mamma's smooth brown cheek. ''Coming up.''

''You know I don't like my catfish blackened,'' Dula reminded, spearing a handful of Justus's white T-shirt tucked into his low-riding jeans. ''Beer-battered, lightly golden. Double tarter.''

Nate Gruber let go of a loud snort from inside his booth. ''That's a tall order for today, Dula. Shoulda gone down to the Coffee Cup if'n you wanted something you could recognize 'cause everythin's blackened on the Muddy's menu today. Even my crispy bacon.''

It was after six, and the number of vehicles in the Muddy's lot had doubled within an hour. Stevie parked her Mustang in the third row. There was nothing else she could do but go inside and ask for directions.

She couldn't believe she'd missed the turn again, but that was the only explanation she had for ending up back at the Muddy Bar & Grill.

While she sat in the car, going over the sheriff's directions in her mind another time, five more pickups pulled into the lot. By the looks of it, the entire town had plans to eat cheap and dirty tonight. Hoping that wasn't the case every night, she climbed out of the car and picked her way between the pickups to reach the screened-in porch, where a number of customers were seated around picnic tables enjoying the warm evening air. Or maybe they were trying to get away from the loud music. Stevie could feel the pounding beat of Zy-deco coming up through the weathered steps beneath her feet as she made her way to the front door.

Inside the Muddy, the vibrating music was bouncing off the walls. The ventilation system must be broken, she decided. The windows were open and still the smoke was hanging in layers. Either something in the kitchen was on fire, or the bug zapper arcing in the corner frying mosquitos was doing double time.

No, it wouldn't be hard to steal this crowd away from the owner of this dump once she settled into the Mondy. A little soft music and a wine list, and this crowd would be making reservations a week in advance.

For all the noise and good time being had by all, Stevie managed to turn heads. She smiled pleasantly at one and all—potential customers for the Mondy—then started toward the bar, aware she was a little overdressed in her electric-green shift and white sandals.

''Hey, sweethin', you can sit on my lap!'' a grinning fool in a muscle shirt and jeans called out from a table in the middle of the room. He was wearing his hat backward and straddling a chair as he played cards with three other men who had similar tastes in hat fashion and, no doubt, shopped at the same thrift store.

Another man, this one older—a silver fox three times her age peered around a high booth and answered the fool with, ''She's mine, Elroy. I sawd her first. And you know the rules. Age before beauty as long as she's willin'. Name's Nate, Missy, and there's plenty of room in my booth.''

Stevie slipped onto a stool at the end of the bar. She kept her eyes averted from the other men seated next to her on the line—all over the age of fifty.

''Call it, and it's yours.''

Stevie looked up, confronted by a pair of scoundrel-blue eyes. Call it, and it's yours?

Don't expect something for nothing, that was one of the golden rules she'd grown up with in the big city. ''I'll have a cosmopolitan, heavy on the cranberry juice, please.''

The bartender winked, then offered Stevie a beamer of a smile that parted his lips wide enough to guarantee that he had all his teeth. There must be a dentist in town. That was positive, Stevie thought.

Like the good ol' boy at the card table, Stevie noticed the bartender also had a broad set of shoulders, nice biceps, and when he turned to retrieve a glass off the shelf behind him, a great ass. The all-in-one package immediately brought back a solid memory of her ex-boyfriend, Tony. He was a body builder. A brawny beefcake who had decided to go professional after winning the midwestern Big & Beautiful title. Six weeks ago Tony had moved to California without a lengthy goodbye or an invitation to go with him. They had dated for over a year.

The bartender turned up the wattage on the beamer, and with it came Connie's warning just before Stevie had left Minnesota. ''Remember, girlfriend, the way to tell if a man in the south is an oversexed animal is his beamer. I roomed in college with a girl who was born in Mississippi. She said that if you smile back at a beamer, he takes it to mean she's agreeable.'' ''Agreeable to what?'' Stevie had asked Connie. ''Agreeable to whatever. Oh, and she said the hunky, good-looking beamers are the worst. They're the ones who prey on whoever, willing to do whatever, whenever.''

Stevie locked her jaw in the midst of a return smile and looked down the line of men seated at the bar, noticing that they had all shifted their butts like dominoes and were now drinking their beers—all the same kind—left-handed, while they stared a hole through her.

To the bartender, she said, ''I'll take a beer, if you don't know how to make a cosmo.''

The bartender pulled a bottle of vodka from under the counter and, still flashing his glow-in-the-dark smile, said, ''One Bullfrog coming up.''

''They're not the same.'' Stevie's mouth was moving into a polite smile to soften her contradiction, when she freeze-framed it. Whoever. Whenever. ''No way.'' ''Pardon?''

She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud. ''I said, I don't think a Bullfrog has cranberry juice in it.''

''You sure, honey?''

''Pretty sure.''

''Is that pretty sure leaning left or right?''

''I'm sure,'' Stevie answered, refusing to back down.

''And will you have a twist of lemon with a cherry, or without?''

''No cherry.''

A cosmo wasn't served with a cherry. The bartender's unwavering grin told Stevie he knew that. He knew that and a lot more.

He wore jeans and a T-shirt, like his customers, and talked with a thick syrupy drawl. But there was something different about him. Like he'd been educated somewhere else. In the midst of her musing it registered that the room had grown quiet. Stevie glanced around the smokey bar, spied the jukebox, and decided that someone must have turned it down.

Okay, so a few more people were going to hear her ask Mr. Beamer for directions. At least she wouldn't have to shout over the top of the music when she asked where the Mondy was hiding? And if he didn't know what she was talking about...if no one did?

Then Stevie would assume that after she'd turned off 1-10 she'd driven through a vortex and into the Twilight Zone.

Chapter 3

It was while Justus was pouring the cosmo into a glass that he realized the smoke coming from the kitchen was thicker than usual and that Fayda Mae was burning more than just another Buzzard burger.

He heard her scream, only that was nothing unusual either—she'd been back-flashing to Hawg winking at Henrietta Penny every hour on the hour for two days. But when he saw a streak of green join him behind the bar, then dart into the kitchen, Justus followed. Not as fast, of course—folks born and bred in the south didn't rush anything.

Not that he wasn't fast on his feet. Three weeks ago he'd been dozing on Mamma's front porch in her rocker with his feet propped up on the newel post just after sundown when Willy Carr had snuck by and swiped Mamma's favorite broom. Barefoot, four beers loose, he'd caught the little snot before he'd made it to the post office.

The little lady's cosmo in hand, Justus watched the cute blonde with the spitfire eyes grab the fire extinguisher off the wall and race to the stove, where a small puppy of a grease fire was making an awful stink. She took a stance, gripped the tank like a pro, then told Fayda Mae to stand back.

Her aim was true, and in a jiffy she had smothered the puppy. Applause went up behind him lickity-split, and Justus turned to see that the Tuesday night barstool, shoot-the-bull crowd had followed him and was jockeying for the best spot to watch the show in the kitchen. When he turned back, the curvy blonde had pivoted on her sandaled feet, her look-at-me green fitted dress covered with white powder retardant.

Maybe curvy wasn't the right word, Justus decided, getting a full, front-and-center view. She was fine-boned, narrow-waisted and small-featured—well, not all her features were small. She had a pair of those Angelina Jolie lips, big violet snapdragon eyes and a sizable pair of knockers that had knocked his eyes half out of his head the minute she had come through the front door.

She was either wearing one of those padded pushup affairs or she'd opted for surgery and a set of rubber playmates. Justus would never hold either against her. He liked the natural look best, but if a man was just going to look and daydream without getting his fingers in on the action, this sweetheart was every man's fantasy gal all the way.

Small-bodied women—compact perfection, Justus called it—turned him on without a doubt. A man was a fool if he couldn't admit to plain facts that were staring him in the face. Truth being, the short-haired blonde was one of those beautiful fillies Mamma was always talking about—and this one, no doubt about it, would be the one he'd cut away from the herd first.

He sauntered toward her and traded her the fire extinguisher for the drink she'd ordered minutes ago.

''Here you go, honey. One cosmo, with a twist of lemon, plenty of cranberry juice, hold the cherry. It's on the house for saving Fayda Mae and rescuing the Muddy. You wouldn't be interested in rescuing anything else I own, would you? Say something south of my heart?''

She ignored his teasing way and his easy smile. The cosmo on its way to being half-gone, she asked, ''What I would like is directions if you don't mind. Decent directions to the Mondy? I'm Clarence Arnou's niece. I was over at the police station, but the sheriff's directions were as bad as the ones in the letter I received from my cousin, Arley, a week ago.''

Justus thought he had heard wrong. She'd used the words Clarence and niece in the same sentence. Buz had a nephew named Stephan. That's what Arley had told him, anyway. And he knew every restaurant in town. There were two others besides the Muddy: the Coffee Cup downtown next to the post office, and the lunch counter at the Henny-Penny gas station on the outskirts near the 1-10 turnoff.

A chorus of mumbling started up behind him, and Justus turned back, gave all the ears a look, then closed the door in their faces. What he didn't need now was a confab going on while he tried to sort out who was who.

When he turned back, he said, ''You spoke to the sheriff?''

''Yes. William Walker.''

She hadn't talked to William Walker. He knew that to be a fact. He knew that because he was William Walker, and unless he'd had an out-of-body experience, he hadn't seen her before she'd stepped into the Muddy and turned his head—and every other man's head, to boot.

Arley was at the station sitting in for him like he'd been doing ever since Buzzard had cashed in and he'd been forced to spend more time at the grill. ''You said you're Buz's niece?'' ''Yes. I'm Stephanie Arnou, from Minnesota. Stevie, if you like.''

There was no doubt he liked her no matter what name she went by. He liked, and then some. The bouncers up front. Her pouty lips. Her sexy northern accent. Even her cute short hair, which was a switch for him.

Justus was deciding how best to explain the situation to Buz's niece, when the phone rang and Fayda Mae picked it up. A second later she was striding toward him, her mood a bit tempered, saying, ''It's him. He says it's urgent.''

''He used the word urgent?'' ''Uh-huh. Strange word for Arley, don'tch think? You suppose he knows what it means?''

Justus shifted his attention back to Buz's niece, and as he spoke into the receiver, he decided a more in-depth inventory of Stevie Arnou wouldn't hurt. Perfection to this degree was rare. There had to be something he wasn't seeing. A flaw of some kind that he'd disregarded in the confusion. A crooked tooth, or a dou-ble-wammy wart. A furry mole tucked under her chin. Or maybe she was knock-kneed. Justus angled his head and sent his eyes south. No, her knees looked perfect just like everything else.

He kept looking. Something would eventually crop up. It better, or the stiffy in his jeans was going to hemorrhage soon.

''Hello, Arley. You got something urgent on your mind?''

''You have anythin' ta drink tonight, Just?''

''No.''

''Not even a beer? Maybe two ta slow down your reflexes?''

''Not a drop, Arley.''

''Been busy, then?''

''Oui. Busy. What's on your mind, Arley? Or do I already know why you were hoping I was half-snauckered?''

''Ain't she's perty, Just?''

Justus was still looking for that flaw that hadn't cropped up yet. She was one flashy filly, all right. Only flashy fillies didn't stick in Crawford.

''Guess you being quiet means she's in earshot, ya?''

''She is.''

''Did you get a whiff of her, yet? Gaalee... And what about those lips? I ain't never seen yumbuggers like them ones. Anywho, I think the mistake in this,

Just, was made on Buzzard's end. You know he wrote his own will, and it was damn hard ta 'cipher.''

''I'd have to take your word on that, Arley. I never saw it on account you said you'd handle it, remember?''

''I did say that. Yes, I did. You had your hands full with the funeral doin's, and I wanted ta help, too. After all, Buzzard was my uncle, too. Not just Stevie's. But his chicken scratch is about as poor as...'' ''Yours?''

''Now don't go saying something mean you're gonna hafta apologize for later, Just. It was a honest mistake.''

''I don't think she's going to agree, Arley. She says she stopped by the station and talked to Sheriff Walker.'' Justus turned his back on Stevie. ''She's looking for a place called the Mondy, but then I figure you already know that.''

''She read my letter wrong. And I can explain about her thinking I was you when she walked into your office. I was having my supper at your desk when she showed up.''

Justus turned back the minute he heard water running. Stevie was at the sink trying to wash the retardant off the front of her dress. He said to Arley, ''You sent her here so I would have to break the news to her.''

''You're better at soothing feathers than me, Just. You're the one with the law degree. Ah...there's one more thing. I think she's expecting a little nicer house than Buzzard's floater. She mentioned a full-size some-thin' or other on lakeshore property. I reckon I coulda called the cabin property, but I knows I never used the word lakeshore in the same sentence. How long do you think it would take us ta fix up the floater?''

''She's not going to be here long enough to worry about it, Arley.''

''S'pose not. She mentioned something about a bathroom. That would take running water, right?'' ''That it would, Arley.''

''Thought so. I don't s'pose the rain barrel would—''

''No, it wouldn't. You should have told her you were her cousin, Arley.''

Justus eyed Stevie's trendy white sandals, then her silver ankle bracelet sporting a mini red heart. His gaze followed the length of her slender legs, enjoying every inch. He shifted his stance, trying to get air moving between his legs to keep the noose from tightening into a choke hold. In the middle of Arley's weak explanation, she turned and the water from her efforts of washing the retardant away had plastered her dress to her million-dollar assets.

Justus, still looking for flaws and having no luck, felt the noose tighten, and he hung up on Arley. ''Did I hear my cousin's name?'' Justus set the phone on the counter. ''That was Arley on the phone.''

''I'm anxious to meet him. We've never met. I've never even seen pictures of my father's family.'' ''You know anythin' about the restaurant business?'' ''As a matter a fact, I do. I've been a chef for three years in Minneapolis.'' ''Nice place?'' ''Five star.''

''Why did I already know that?''

''Excuse me?''

''Nothin'.''

Justus wanted to blame Arley for the sour situation, but he knew it was his fault, not his friend's. He should have attended to Buzzard's will himself. After all, he was a lawyer. More to the point, Arley's track record in the mistake department had a history. He was no longer on the Baptist Church board of directors after mixing up his numbers on their supply slip. Arley had purchased enough toilet paper to outfit the entire town for the next ten years.

He said, ''I'll get you another cosmo, then we'll take this conversation outside. You hungry? Want somethin' to eat?''

She glanced around the kitchen, wrinkled up her cute nose when she spied the six dead Buzzards laid out on the grill. Shaking her head, she answered, ''Just the cosmopolitan, thanks. No cherry.''

Justus made the cosmo stiffer than a steel pecker and poured it into a sixteen-ounce water glass. Before he corked the vodka, he took a healthy swig from the bottle, then returned to the kitchen with Stevie's drink, minus the cherry.

He told Fayda Mae to get Nate behind the bar. The seventy-year-old logger had never been behind a bar in his life, but if you could believe his tall tales, he'd spent plenty of hours on a stool in front of one in his wilder days.

Justus ushered Stevie out the back door and headed for the biggest oak tree in the backyard. Encouraging her to use it as a back rest—she was going to need the support—he said, ''So, you're from Minnesota.'' ''You bet. Minneapolis, all my life.'' While she took a sip of the cosmo, Justus pivoted on one boot heel and motioned to the Muddy, then to the dirt road that led to her lakeshore property. ''This is it, Stevie. This is the Mondy.''

''What?'' She wrinkled up her nose again. ''You're joking, right?''

''Afraid not.'' Justus started over, pointing once more to the two-story building with weathered clapboard siding. The Muddy had needed a paint job for over ten years. ''This is what you own half of. The Muddy is the...Mondy. Arley's not too good with putting words or numbers down on paper.''

She stared at the Muddy. ''But...but this can't be it. In the letter it sounded so nice. This...this place is a dump.''

''Dump?'' Justus took offense. ''The Muddy's no dump.''

''Trust me,'' she sniffed, ''it's a dump where I come from.''

''Trust me. Here, it's called a lucrative investment. Money in the bank.''

''I can't believe it...hell has followed January. The devil's followed me through four states and into February.''

She looked at him with a pathetic ray of hope. Like maybe he was going to slap his knee and tell her he was pulling her leg after all. He wouldn't mind getting his hands on her legs, but for other reasons entirely. ''Didn't you say earlier that the Muddy was yours?''

''Half mine. The other half is yours.''

She shook her head. The small ray of hope in her eyes died, and they suddenly turned glassy. ''Then you're Justus. The sheriff told me my partner's name was Justus.''

''Oui. I'm your partner.''

She gripped her stomach. Laughed. The sound was as offensive as her use of the word dump. Justus jammed his hands into his back pockets and lost his smile. He never lost his smile, not even when he got mad.

She took a sip of the cosmo. ''This can't be happening.'' She laughed, again, then took another sip. ''It's the third of February.''

''Which means?''

She looked at him like he was an idiot. ''February is fix-a-heart month.''

''Heart month?''

''That's what my dad used to call it. Valentine's Day. It's my favorite holiday.''

''Every holiday is a favorite here at the Muddy,'' Justus offered, remembering how busy it was last year. Buzzard had made the burgers extra big and in the shape of hearts. They had hung out of the buns like they had grown wings.

Her gaze shifted to the Muddy. She looked like she was going to cry, but instead she raised the glass and up-ended it.

Holly hell! ''No...'' Justus lunged forward to stop Stevie from emptying her drink like a good ol' boy would a beer on a scorching hot day, but he was too late. The Bullfrog was a goner, and Stevie Arnou would be, too, in a matter of minutes—the vodka was eighty proof, the cranberry juice mostly red food coloring.

If he intended to get all the facts out, he'd better get to it before she passed out. ''There's more,'' he said. ''Before you need to lie down, let me finish.''

''I'm not going to need to lie down. Cosmos are my drink. I assure you I can handle cranberry juice with a stiff shot of vodka in it.''

She had the ingredients right, but she was way off on the ratio.

''You don't have to accept Buzzard's gift, you know. You can always sell your half to me and go back to Minnesota,'' Justus suggested.

''I can't go back.'' She closed her eyes. ''At least I've got the house.''

Justus realized too late he should have agreed with her.

She blinked open her eyes, read his thoughts, and asked, ''What's wrong with the house?''

Nothing, by Justus's standards. But he was sure Stevie wouldn't see it that way. Arley mentioned she was expecting indoor plumbing. ''I think you should sit down.'' ''Oh, God...not the house, too. Lying bastards!'' She pulled back her arm and lobbed the empty glass at Justus's head. He ducked and the missile sailed over his shoulder. ''What the hell was that for? I wasn't the one who wrote you that letter, or spelled Muddy wrong.''

''I'm going to kill my cousin!''

''Now, hold on. Arley made a mistake, but it wasn't intentional.''

She moaned and pressed her hand into her stomach. ''I feel sick. Ohhhh...'' She glared at him, leaned against the oak. ''What did you put in my drink?''

Justus lunged for Stevie and caught her before she slid down the tree. Gripping her arms to keep her on her feet, he said, ''Easy, honey. Lean on me. Oui, that's a good girl.''

She looked up at him. ''What did I drink, you slippery weasel? My stomach is on fire, and my head... Ohh... I need to lie down.''

''There's a bed in the cabin,'' Justus said.

''My cabin?''

''Oui. It's yours.''

''A real bed?''

''A real bed.''

She sagged against him. ''I can't feel my feet.'' Justus ran his hand along her slender waist, then over her shapely backside and lifted her into his arms. ''You're going to be fine—'' he assured ''—after the vodka comes up.''

She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Still looking for flaws, Justus checked under her chin for the furry mole. Nothing.

He started walking down the road toward Turtle Bayou. A million stars were peeking through the tall oaks that framed the road, their branches heavy with Spanish moss. Around the bend stood the magnolia tree, and next to it the sign Buz had made welcoming one and all to Turtle Bayou. He reached the landing and stopped. Stevie's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and he glanced down at her doing one last flaw check.

Under the crescent moon, he was so mesmerized by her perfection, it didn't register she was trying to get him to put her down until she cried out, ''I'm going to be sick. Put me down. Hurry! Put me down. It's coming up!''

Chapter 4

She stood on the deck of her uncle's cabin in the morning sunlight. To say her uncle had lived a simple life was an understatement. The one-room cabin sat on wooden poles thirty feet from shore, accessed by a wooden dock that had been built almost on top of the water.

The cabin was beyond primitive. There was no running water. No kitchen. No bathroom. There was, however, a rain barrel on a corner of the wraparound deck.

The entire scenario was something out of Swiss Family Robinson, Stevie decided. The only thing that didn't fit—thank God—was that the bed wasn't tied between two trees. There was an actual real bed in the cabin—double-wide, complete with a soft mattress and a yellow quilted bedspread. Stevie didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Her hangover warned her, however, that both acts required effort and movement, and that in either case, she would be chancing another stomach eruption.

Yes, the vodka had come up. She vaguely remembered Justus Walker holding her around the waist to keep her from going to her knees as she retched.

Stevie moved her hands slowly to her temples and rotated her fingers, hoping to ease the pounding in her head. Squinting across the marshy bayou, she focused on the sign at the end of the dock.

WELCOME yawl ta TURTLE BAYOU

HOME of The BIgGEST SnappeR this Side of NAWLiNS.

We Got oUR Own JAWS. SAY HEllO ta HUSH PUppY.

The early morning breeze swept past Stevie's bare legs just as she finished reading the sign and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Moaning from the sudden movement, she scanned the water looking for Jaws. When nothing showed up, she sent her gaze back to the shore and located her Mustang parked beneath a carport a short ways from the dock. She didn't remember moving it, but then she didn't remember much.

She was wearing a T-shirt and panties. That was it. She didn't remember removing her dress last night. But then she didn't remember going back to her car for her luggage, either. And if she had, she wouldn't have found anything that resembled an oversized white T-shirt in her suitcase.

Stevie glanced down at the T-shirt. It looked familiar. She lowered her head. Sniffed. It smelled familiar, too. Like smoke and a hint of cologne. Men's cologne.

Just then it all came rushing back. The Bullfrog and the bad news about the Mondy. Her partner had gotten her falling-down drunk. And then... Stevie looked down at the T-shirt once more. And then what?

She closed her eyes and moaned. What had she done? No, a better question to ask was, what had he done?

She shook her head. Regretted it. No, she didn't want to know what he'd done. It was clear as day what had happened.

''Stephanie?''

Stevie blinked open her eyes to see a woman standing on the end of the dock. She was African-American, in her mid-fifties, maybe, and wore a loose shift in shades of red and orange. Her hair had been twisted into a knot on the top of her head along with a strip of red cloth.

Framed by the Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees along shore, the woman carried a paper sack in one hand and a red heart-shaped helium balloon in the other.

''Jinx said you saved the Muddy,'' she called out as she started forward. ''He said, 'Buzzard's niece saved the Muddy, Dula.' So I'm here ta thank you, cher, and welcome you ta Crawford.'' When she reached Stevie, she added, ''Jinx told me you didn't look nothing like Buz, but land sakes, he didn't mention you was a filly. Oh, my...''

Stevie felt self-conscious in the T-shirt and bare feet.

''You'll have to excuse my appearance. I'm not feeling well this morning.''

''Of course you're not. That's another reason I stopped by. My name's Dula Walker and I come ta bring you a gift. Here, this is from me.'' She handed Stevie the paper sack. ''And this—'' she tied the balloon to the railing ''—is from Justus. Why he insisted on a Valentine heart, I'm not sure. But he was specific about it. I found it over at the Henny-Penny. Henrietta is always good at keeping the holidays straight.''

The woman let go of the string and the balloon floated upward until it caught and held, high above the cabin on the morning breeze.

Once Dula was facing her, Stevie said, ''My cousin lied to me. He misrepresented the restaurant and...'' She glanced back at the cabin door. ''This cabin is no house. And it's not on a lake, it's in the middle of a swamp.''

''This morning I looked over Buz's will and the spelling of your name was written shabby. It was clear how Arley could have made that mistake. Especially Arley.'' Dula motioned to the paper bag. ''That's my special tummy tonic. I call it Mother's Milk. I came up with it years ago for my dearly departed. Ojoe enjoyed his whiskey, sometimes a little too much. I put together the tonic so he wouldn't have no excuse to lay in bed all day long. Course I never told him that. That first morning he took my tonic, he said, 'That concoction, Dula, is as soothing as mother's milk.' So I named my tonic Mother's Milk.''

While the helium balloon danced overhead, Stevie opened the bag and pulled out a pickle jar. The tonic was the color of the scum floating to the left of the dock and as thick as mud. Just looking at it made Stevie nauseous all over again.

''I guarantee it'll turn toad scum into cream.''

Stevie looked at the jar once more, then Dula. ''Excuse me?''

''That means it'll cure what's ailing you, cher." Dula leaned close. ''He told me what he done. He came knocking on my door before sunrise lookin' guilty as sin.''

He told me what he done.

The doomsday in that statement sent color into Stevie's cheeks. ''Do you mean Justus told you about last night?''

''Oui, child. There are no secrets in Crawford. But don't you think for a minute I didn't give my son a piece of my mind. I taught him better than that.''

My son... Stevie let the words settle around the situation and decided that Justus must be adopted.

''And what did he say...happened exactly?'' Stevie considered her question a moment, then quickly shook her head. Was she nuts? She didn't want this strange woman detailing something that had ended up with her wearing a stranger's T-shirt and having no memory as to how she'd come to be wearing it. ''No, don't answer that. I don't want to discuss this, or the weasel responsible.''

Dula chuckled. ''I don't think it was right, my Justus doing what he done. But he's no weasel, child. He's the pride and joy of Crawford. The best thing that ever happened to me, and this ink-spot in the road. He could be the best thing that happens to you, too, cher. That's, if'n you can stick.''

''Stick? What does that mean?'' Dula didn't answer. She simply patted Stevie's hand where it still gripped the railing, then turned away. As she sauntered toward shore, she hollered back, ''You need anything, cher, more Mother's Milk, or a good ear, my house is the pink one on the corner of Main and Tickle. Only pink house in town. As I always say, I'd be tickled pink if'n you come by for a visit. Oh, almost forget. Justus brought me your dress. I washed it and hung it on the line. Be ready by noon.''

The Mother's Milk had gone down hard, but the good news was, it had stayed down. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a lavender tank, Stevie parked her Mustang in front of the police station. She still had a headache, but she was thinking more clearly.

It was two in the afternoon, and she had just come from the Muddy. She'd gone looking for Justus Walker and found Fayda Mae Daniels instead—the woman she'd helped out in the kitchen last night. Fay had been friendly and sympathetic, too. She'd told Stevie she could find Justus at the police station. She'd even ransacked a drawer to locate a bottle of headache pills when she noticed Stevie massaging her temples.

When she entered the front lobby at the station, she heard voices coming from the back room, confirming that no doubt Justus was speaking to the sheriff. He was probably anticipating trouble and trying to cover his ass...the snake.

She had been practicing what she was going to say to him. Had considered filing a formal complaint with the sheriff, too, over what he'd done. But she hadn't planned on doing both at the same time.

She knocked on the door and the male voices inside quieted. A moment later the door swung open and Stevie found herself staring into a pair of familiar crystal-clear blue eyes.

''Mornin', Stevie, honey.''

He had the nerve to keep his smile in place, but this time Stevie had no problem keeping her expression as cold as an arctic ice cube.

''How do you feel this mornin'?'' Stevie removed her RayBans and pushed her way past him, quickly locating the sheriff in the guest chair on the opposite side of the desk. ''Stevie, honey, I asked how—'' She spun around. ''I feel like pressing charges. Do you think I have a legitimate reason?'' She turned back. ''What do you think, Sheriff? Do you think if a woman passes out, then wakes up the next morning wearing a stranger's shirt and not much else, she has a justifiable case?''

The sheriff looked first to Justus, then back to Stevie. Then back to Justus again. ''You said nothin' happened, Just. You said—''

''He's a liar.'' Stevie stepped close to the desk and thumped her finger on the metal surface. ''Aren't you going to take down my statement?''

''Yeah, Arley. Take down her statement.'' ''Shucks, Just, you know I caint do that.'' He shifted his torso forward, his hands resting on his knees. ''B'sides, I was fixin' ta take Nate fishin' right about

now. Listen, Stevie, if Justus said he didn't do nothing, then I bleeve him. He's my best friend and he's the squarest deal in town.''

Stevie scowled, looked from one to the other. ''Did he call you Arley? I thought you told me yesterday your name was William Walker.''

''I didn't say that, Stevie. You said that.'' He pushed to his feet, rocking back on the heels of his black tennis shoes. ''I feel bad about not telling you who I was yesterday, Stevie. Real bad.'' He glanced at his left hand, rubbed it on his jean-clad thigh, then stuck it out. ''I'm your cousin, Arley.''

Stevie backed up, feeling sick all over again. She took a quick inventory of the man she'd been led to believe was the sheriff, noted the classic Arnou oversized nose, with deep-set brown eyes to match. These were two strong traits she hadn't been blessed with. She had taken after her mother's Swedish heritage. ''Oh, God...'' ''Yesterday you didn't let me explain, Stevie.'' ''That's not true.'' Stevie felt another wave of nausea. How had everything gotten so mixed up? ''You're Arley? You're the cousin I want to kill?''

''Yes, siree, Stevie. I mean...no, not kill. We're cousins, after all.'' That said, a goofy grin peeling his lips back from his teeth and he stepped forward, lifted Stevie off her feet, and pulled her into his arms. After giving her a bear hug, he set her down. ''My daddy was Harlen. He was your daddy's big brother.''

''If you're not the sheriff, then where is he? I'd like to speak to him, Arley. I'd like to—''

''You don't hafta look far, Stevie. You wanta talk to the sheriff, he's right over there.'' Arley pointed over Stevie's shoulder.

She slowly turned, her stomach balling into a knot. No, she thought, not the slippery weasel. But by the look on his grinning fool face she knew he was Sheriff Walker. Then suddenly it made sense. It was William Walker. Sheriff Walker.

''Arley—'' Justus unfolded his arms and shoved his brawny body away from the jamb ''—why don't you go roust Nate out of that rocker on his front porch and take out the boat?''

''Sure thing, Just. I'll catch you a perty catfish, Stevie. See ya later, Cuz.''

When the door closed behind Arley, Stevie finally managed to get her tongue unglued from the roof of her mouth. ''You're the sheriff of Crawford? You're William Walker?''

''William Justus Walker. Townsfolk call me Justus. Sometimes they shorten it up. I'm the sheriff, and the only lawyer in town. Own some rental property.'' ''And you own the Muddy?'' ''Half of it. Buz needed to make some improvements a year ago. I offered him the money, but he insisted on making me a partner in his business. He said that's the only way he'd take it.''

''It sounds to me like you practically own the entire town.'' Stevie's stomach was slowly turning into an acid ball.

''More like it owns me.''

Stevie wasn't going to ask him to explain that. His eyes were drifting away from her face, moving over her, giving her a slow, thorough shakedown, reminding her of her state of undress that morning. ''What happened last night?''

''You had a little too much to drink.'' ''I know that. And?''

''You were having trouble standing up. I carried you to Buz's floater and put you to bed.'' ''You got me drunk on purpose.'' ''No. I was only trying to help.'' ''Help yourself, you mean.'' ''No, last night it was all about helping you get over this first hurdle.''

''Remind me to refuse your help next time. Your help made me throw up.''

''It did that, all right. Soaked my boots.'' ''That wasn't my fault.''

''No, ma'am. I take full responsibility for the Bullfrog goin' down and comin' up.''

His drawl was low and deep. And annoyingly soothing.

''What happened after the Bullfrog came up?'' ''I was a lawyer in Houston for a few years. I have to tell you, honey, that admitting you can't remember what happened last night shoots a hole in pressing charges against me. It's called conjecture, and it's not admissible evidence in a court of law. They deal in facts.''

Stevie's nose shot up. ''I woke up without my dress on. That's a fact.''

''I would have to plead no contest to that. But then I would have to explain why I found it necessary to remove it. I'd have to say you threw up on it after getting snauckered. I'd have to tell the judge, and those big ears on the jury, I was concerned with getting the stink off you. Then I'd have to ask the judge, and those ears, if they knew a better way.''

Stevie dug in her canvas bag and hurled his T-shirt at him. ''I suppose you have an explanation for why you found it necessary to undress, too.''

''Your bags were still in the car. The car was back at the Muddy. I took off my T-shirt and put it on you, after I pulled your dress off. Plain and simple, it was an artifice.'' ''What?''

''A trick. It's obvious you tricked me, honey. You were naked underneath, except for them candy-pink panties. You looked real good in that dress. Out there and perky. Figured it was due to one of those special bras. I would never have stripped you if I had known you were into trifling with a man's mind and playing tricks.''

What was obvious to Stevie was that Justus Walker was a smooth-talking southern lawyer with a silver tongue. He had completely turned the whole incident around and was blaming her for the entire ordeal.

The writing on the wall was that there would be no filing charges. Not even an apology. Stevie started past him, intent on leaving. But before she could open the door and escape, he stretched his hand out flat against the door, then followed her around, trapping her between the door and his body.

He lowered his head, his left cheek making contact with her right. ''I did look. Maybe longer than I should have, but I didn't touch. Not that I didn't want to. You're the real thing. I knew that the minute the dress came off. But I didn't touch...nothin'. I looked, honey. That's all.''

Stevie spun around, her eyes blazing. ''You, Justus Walker, are an immoral, silver-tongued—''

''I got morals, honey. I just said I never touched you. And I won't. Not until you say so.''

He was smiling as if he was expecting an invitation any minute. ''Stand aside and let me leave, snake,'' Stevie insisted.

Her words weren't meant as a challenge, but she could see that he had taken them that way. His smile spread—if that was possible. He was a grinning fool, she decided.

He closed the few inches between them. Toe-to-toe, she could feel his breath on her face.

''I could lock you up for bad-mouthing an officer of the law like you just done.'' ''You wouldn't dare.''

He angled his head, his smile touching his eyes and adding another level of handsomeness to his tanned rugged face. ''You're right, I wouldn't lock up my business partner. I need her. Things have been crazy around here since Buz died.'' He studied her face without laying a hand on her. ''Mamma bring by her Mother's Milk?''

Stevie fought the relaxing effects of his never-get-riled, slow-and-easy drawl. It was soothing her feathers even though she was angry. Even though she wanted to stay angry.

She closed her eyes and told herself she was still recovering from the Bullfrog. That was the only explanation she had for wanting Justus Walker to lean closer. To lean in and use that mouth of his for something other than grinning.

She couldn't help wondering if he kissed as slow and easy as he spoke.

''Stevie, honey, where did you go? I asked if Mamma came by?''

Stevie blinked, then refocused her thoughts. ''Yes, she came by.''

''And did you drink the tonic?'' ''Yes.'' Stevie remembered the heart-shaped balloon that was still tied on the railing. ''If that balloon is supposed to be some kind of peace offering, you can forget it. I just traded my favorite job in the world, and my best friend, in on a greasy spoon, no plumbing and a lying snake for a partner.''

''I'm no liar, honey. You woke up in a bed this morning, out?"

Stevie made a face. ''One truth. I have a bed wrapped in fishnet. ' '

''Baire, honey. It's called a baire. Mosquito nettin' has a finer weave to it than fishnet. This here is mosquito country. Turtle Bayou's got a healthy crop. Don't sleep without it, hear?''

''Turtle Bayou also has the largest turtle this side of Nawlins,'' Stevie drawled poorly. ''I was considering an outdoor bath this morning until I read the sign.''

''You don't want to bathe in Turtle Bayou. The snappers aren't the worst of it. There are water moccasins, and gators out there, too. So far, I ain't found one flaw on you. I'd like to keep it that way.'' He reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. ''You can use my shower.''

''Thanks, but no thanks.''

''Come on now, honey. Don't go gettin' uppity. The door locks from the inside. You can have the place to yourself anytime you want.'' ''And your place is where?'' ''Top floor of the Muddy.'' ''You live above a bar?''

''And grill,'' he finished. ''It's small, but I'm hardly ever there, so it don't matter much. What matters most is—'' his scoundrel-blue eyes lit up ''—I've got running water. Hot running water. Sounds nice, don't it?'' Stevie was dying for a shower, and he knew it. ''And this is an offer out of the goodness of your heart?'' she asked, knowing the man's heart was as black as sin.

He straightened and laid his hand over his brawny chest. ''She noticed I have one. Smart lady.''

''Smart enough to question everything,'' Stevie countered.

''Spoken like a woman who's been hurt a time or two.''

Yes, she had, but Stevie had no intentions of discussing Tony with Justus Walker. Or the other three before him.

''Okay, I'll accept your offer, and in return, what do you want? I'm sure there's something.''

''Well now...let me see.'' He rubbed his cleanshaven jaw, thinking. ''Okay, for starters, two things.'' Stevie snorted. ''No, and no.'' He chuckled. ''Whoever hurt you, he was a fool, you know.''

''I agree. Men are fools.''

His chuckle turned into laughter. Easy laughter.

Stevie had never met anyone so comfortable with himself.

He sobered, but his smile remained. ''I like a woman who has a sense of humor and can make me laugh.'' Stevie scowled at him. ''You said two things.'' ''Yes, ma'am, I sure did. I want you to believe me when I tell you I never touched you last night. Believe I'm a moral man and no liar. That you can trust me.'' Well that wasn't going to happen, Stevie thought. ''Number two?''

''The Muddy has been a staple in Crawford for thirty years. The folks here are afraid I'm goin' to close it down. I don't want to do that. I need my partner. I need her experience and her willingness to share it. I need her to be a stand-up gal and lend a hand. I need you, Stevie, honey... I need you to stick.''

Chapter 5

If she was going to be a stand-up gal things were going to have to change. Stevie had come to that conclusion the day after Justus had made his speech to her at the police station. The next morning she'd toured the Muddy, and, seeing what there was to work with, she had started making a list.

Three days later she was still adding to that list. She didn't know the first thing about making roux, or what exactly went into gumbo or jambalaya, but from what she could tell by watching Fay, it really didn't matter. The people who frequented the Muddy were a forgiving crowd.

Fay was in her mid-thirties, was married to the local banker, Hawg Daniels, and had stepped into Buz's shoes in the kitchen after his funeral. She admitted she knew the basics of cooking, but that she was actually the Muddy's one and only waitress, and had been for ten years.

With no hesitation after she'd explained the situation, she'd removed her apron, handed it to Stevie and picked up her order pad—promptly handing the kitchen over to Stevie.

So it began, Stevie spending long hours in the Muddy's kitchen learning the menu by trial and error. And in between times, Fay had enlightened her on the primary characters who lived in Crawford. Today, she was discussing Justus Walker.

''So that's how Justus came to Crawford,'' Fay said. Dula had adopted him. ''The town loved him as a boy, and they love him still. Especially since he lived up to his promise and came home after he got educated at that fancy college in Texas. Some of the folks in town didn't think he'd come back. But I did. Justus Walker is the most reliable and honorable man I know.'' ''He told me he was a lawyer.'' ''He worked for a big law firm in Houston for four years. Jinx says that's not how he made his money, though. He says, Justus played at investments and struck it rich. That's how Buz got the money to fix this place up. There never used to be a deck looking out over the bayou. They done all new plumbing, too. Put in them two microwaves, and got all new tables and chairs for the dining room. You should have seen it a year ago. This place was a dump.''

Stevie listened to Fay, as she had Arley yesterday. The general consensus in town was that Justus Walker was a saint. And if that was true, then she should have every reason to believe him when he said he never touched her three nights ago.

I did look. Maybe longer than I should have. But I didn't touch.

Every time she thought about his smooth liquid drawl next to her ear, her heart started to race, and she felt warm all over.

''He's all man, that one,'' Fay continued. ''Dontcha think?''

Stevie blinked. ''What?'' ''Justus. He your type?''

''Type? Ah...no. He's too...'' He was too what? Stevie scrambled for the right word. ''Too happy.'' ''Happy? You don't like a happy man?'' ''I think it's the smile,'' Stevie clarified. ''I don't think I would like being around someone that happy all the time. It would be too depressing.''

Fay was looking at her like she was crazy, then suddenly smiled. She lowered her voice even though they were alone in the kitchen, and said, ''I shouldn't tell you this, but folks are making bets on whether you're going to stick it out here, or head back to Minnesota. Most think you're too uppity for the likes of Crawford.''

Stevie had heard the rumors. ''Is that why the tables in the dining room have been full every day since I arrived, or is the Muddy normally this busy?''

''We're always busy, but you're packing 'em in a little tighter than usual. That's a fact. You're the most exciting thing to happen to Crawford since they redid the county road and added shoulders to it. So have you made up your mind yet? You goin' to stay, or is it too early to tell?''

Fay was looking at her with hopeful eyes, but Stevie couldn't promise something she wasn't sure of. She said, ''I'll have to see. I've been thinking about adding some of my favorite Minnesota dishes to the menu. Do you think I stand a chance of selling the idea to Justus?''

''She claims she can take the grease out of the Buzzard burger. You ain't gonna let her, are you, Just?''

That rumor had been circulating a full two days now. Arley's worried face was just one of many who had come to see him on the same score.

Justus listened to Arley's continued whining, while he worked at getting the pile of papers on his desk filed away. On a day when he didn't need one more problem stacked up on his busy plate—he'd already been out at five that morning to pull Elroy out of the ditch, and over to the Folly twins' house to fix their washing machine—he wasn't in the mood to hear more about how dry the Buzzard burgers would be without any grease.

When the phone rang, Justus looked at it not sure he wanted to pick it up. He didn't have to. Arley reached for it, and said, ''Crawford Po-leece. Service with a smile. Oh, hi there, Nate. Say what? Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Hmm... Uh-huh... Just a minute, I'll ask him.'' ''This here's Nate on the phone. He's over at the Muddy. He wants to know which side he should sit on?''

Confused by the question, Justus shoved himself up from the chair behind his desk. ''What does he mean, which side? He always sits on the right, second booth from the door.''

''You hear that? You always sit on the right. You having a senior moment, Nate? Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Hmm... I'll tell him.'' Arley scratched his head with the butt end of the phone. ''He says the booths are in the middle now, and on the back wall where the picture of Hush Puppy used ta be.''

Justus closed his eyes and counted to ten. Blinking them open, he said, ''Tell him I'll be right over.''

''He's on his way, Nate. Have a beer at the bar, and— You're sittin' at the bar now. Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Hmm... Been sittin' there for a while. Well, have another bottle. He's comin'.'' When Arley hung up, Justus said, ''Stay here.'' ''I was goin' fishin'.'' ''Later.'' ''But—'' ''Later.''

Justus parked his black 4x4 Ranger in the lot. Nodding to the crowd out on the porch, he stepped inside the Muddy, and finally understood why Nate had been confused. The booths had been moved into a line down the middle, with tables on either side.

How she had managed to move the solid oak booths was beyond him, but she had, and with it she'd successfully drawn an imaginary line down the middle of the grill.

''I don't like this new arrangement at all, Just,'' Nate grumbled as Justus rounded the bar on his way to the kitchen. ''I like Stevie's cookin', but she needs to stay in the kitchen.''

''She in the kitchen now?'' Justus asked Fayda Mae as she waltzed past him with an order.

''She is. But ifn' you've come to yell at her, you'll have to go through me first. She's a sweetheart, Just, and she makes pancakes lighter than a cotton ball. Don't you mess nothing up, you hear?''

When he stepped inside the kitchen, Justus, again, noticed how clean everything was. Unless she was planning on scrubbing the paint off the walls, he didn't know what more she could clean. Even the pots and pans were shiny. He didn't ever remember them being shiny. He glanced at the grill, then took a second look. Holly hell, she'd scrubbed every speck of grease off the grill; she'd unseasoned the seasoned grill. Buzzard must be rolling in his grave.

He found Stevie on a ladder five feet in the air in the narrow storage room. She had a clipboard in one hand and a pencil between her teeth. She was wearing a yellow sundress with skinny straps that sent his eyes straight to those beautiful breasts he'd been dreaming about since the unveiling.

He took a deep breath, wished he didn't have such a damn good memory, then cleared his throat. She looked down.

His gaze went from her chest to her face. ''We need to discuss what's going on out front.''

She gave him a placid smile. ''Later. I'm working on my grocery list in between orders. I need to know what to have shipped in for my new menu.''

''New menu? The Muddy's menu has been the same since Buz opened the door thirty years ago.''

''Exactly. I respect the staples, as you call them. Actually, I'm not changing much on your side of the menu. I'm assembling my own.'' ''Your own what?''

She looked at him as if he was a dunce. ''Menu. You don't expect me to serve grease without an option do you? I'm a heart-smart expert, not a lard lover. I received an award for responsible cooking last year. I care about my customers' health. I can't, in all good conscience, deliberately clog arteries, and put extra pounds on Arley that he doesn't need. You're right, the people of Crawford depend on the Muddy. That means it's our responsibility to offer them a choice.''

Justus grinned. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, get angry with her. Besides, this wasn't going to amount to anything so there was no reason to get lathered. As nicely as he could, he said, ''I'm sorry, Stevie, honey, but Arley's an adult and if he wants to eat Buzzard burgers all day long, that's up to him. And about these alternatives. Serving the good folks of Crawford a diet of lettuce and tofu is gonna get a few laughs, nothing more, but if you need to find that out for yourself, you go on. So, how was your shower this mor-nin'?''

''The same as it was yesterday and the day before. Inconvenient.''

''If you want to leave your soap and shampoo, I'll clean out a drawer in the bathroom.''

''That won't be necessary. I don't intend to share your shower indefinitely.''

''We haven't shared my shower yet, honey, but I'm willin' whenever you give the go-ahead. Now, about the booths...''

''A two-sided menu, or separates altogether, Justus. That's your choice. What will it be?''

''You mean you're thinkin' of splittin' the Muddy in half if I don't agree?'' He chuckled at the thought.

''I'm trying to meet you halfway. Can't you do the same?'' She backed down the ladder and brushed past him. ''Have you really looked at the Muddy's menu?'' ''Of course I've looked at it. I grew up with it.'' ''It was put together by a man,'' she said. ''No argument there.''

She turned to face him. ''I checked with Marge at the Coffee Cup, and Henrietta Penny over at the gas station, and they both think some fresh salads would be a nice addition. Broiled fish for a change instead of fried. And some low-calorie desserts.''

''You ever think that maybe the reason they're in your corner on this is because it'll drive business their way?''

''Are you saying they're vengeful women?'' Justus shook his head. ''No, but we do get triple the business they get.'' More, lately, he mused. He had been doing double time behind the bar since the word had gone out that Buzzard's nephew was really a niece—a blond baby-doll with hooters. After that had circled for half a day every man in the parish—young and old—had made the Muddy a regular stop off at least once a day to take a look at Crawford's new filly. Once they'd found out Stevie could cook—cook better than Buzzard—the place had been humming.

He wasn't the only one who was seeing her as flawless. The scuttle at the bar had been steady. She'd been nicknamed Miss Purr...fect. But they didn't know the half of it.

''And raspberries. I'd like to offer fresh fruit for breakfast. Melons, pineapple and fresh raspberries.'' Justus blinked. ''Raspberries?'' ''Do you prefer strawberries? I have a low-calorie strawberry pie. Dula has expressed interest in losing twenty pounds, but she loves the Muddy's bread pudding and pecan pie. I told her I would support her by coming up with a few alternatives.'' ''Anything else?''

''You bet. I've got a ton of ideas to make the menu healthier. Oh...and we'll need to hire two waitresses. Fay has agreed to give up her past position and become my assistant in the kitchen. That way we can all get a day off now and then. I think it wouldn't hurt if you trained in a bartender, too. Arley has expressed interest.''

Justus winced. ''I don't think Arley's a good choice. Measurements are too much like numbers and letters.'' She angled her head, one pretty eyebrow lifting. ''Okay, so I suppose I could learn the bar. That way you can spend more time at the police station.''

The idea of her serving the men at the bar with those sexy lips smiling at each and every one of them would drive him crazy in a week. ''I'll think on it.'' ''We'll need a salad girl, too.'' ''What's a salad girl?''

''She cleans the vegetables and makes the salads. What are you staring at?''

''You sure look pretty in yellow.''

''Thank you.''

''I've been had, haven't I?''

''What?''

''Changin' the booths around, that was to get my attention. Get me hightailin' it over here?'' Justus's smile widened. ''If you wanted to see me that bad, honey, all you had to do was whistle and I'da come runnin'.''

''If you don't like the booth arrangement out front then you'll have to agree with changing the menu.'' ''That's blackmail, honey. Plain and simple.'' ''That's such an ugly word.'' She may have thought it was ugly, but the mischief in her eyes told Justus that she wasn't beyond a little ugly if it got her what she wanted. Determination, then. Oui, he liked that in a woman. Especially in bed.

''All I'm asking for, Justus, is equal representation. To let me perk up the menu a little.''

The word perk sent his eyes to her breasts. Remembering how unbelievably perfect he thought they were, he slowly came toward her, his fingers itching to touch her. He kept moving until he had her backed against a stack of boxes. She raised her chin, set her jaw.

She was an intelligent woman, with looks. Some men found that a scary combination, but not him. He liked smart, and he liked pretty. Combine the two with curvaluscious breasts, and he was willing to sell his soul for fish bait for one night in Stevie Arnou's bed.

''How about I come by the floater after I close up and we'll talk this out?''

''You mean try to change my mind. No thanks. I

have to be here bright and early tomorrow morning again, and I'm going to bed before midnight so I can get here on time. Last night I noticed the lights were still on until way after one. I can't stay up that late and be any good in the morning.''

''I'll kick the stragglers out by eleven. How's that? Be over five minutes later.''

He broke his promise and brushed a damp strand of hair away from her temple. ''Maybe we ought to get one of those air-coolin' units back here in the kitchen.'' ''You would agree to that?'' ''Sure. Whatever you need.'' He had money to do pretty much whatever she wanted to do to the Muddy. He'd offered the air-conditioning idea to Buz, but the old bird was too stubborn to change too much.

''You're not wearin' a bra again today, are you?'' She had been on the verge of giving him a smile, but he'd gone and stuck his foot in his mouth and ruined it. She gave him a shove instead and left the storage room in a huff.

Justus trailed after her. ''Now, hold on. That came out wrong.''

Her hands were on her hips when she spun around and glared at him.

''Don't give me that pissed off look, honey. My eyes are twenty-twenty, all right?'' ''Meaning?''

''Considerin' what I know about the artifice and all... Well, I—'' It wasn't normal for him to sputter, but she'd had

him tongue-tied and restless for days. She turned away, and he started trailing her again.

''Fay,'' she called out. ''We won. Tell Elroy he and his brothers can move the booths back the old way. Tell him I'll meet him at eight o'clock at the bar so he can collect on our deal.''

Justus lost his smile. ''Deal? What kind of deal did you make with Elroy Fachon?''

Chapter 6

At a few minutes to eight Stevie left the cabin to meet her date. She had wanted to pay Elroy Fachon for moving the booths...twice, but he had refused to take money. When she'd offered dinner, she hadn't meant dinner with her, but Elroy had jumped to the wrong conclusion and, before she knew it, he was calling it a date.

To refuse Elroy would have been rude. She had smiled and they had arranged to meet at the bar at eight sharp.

Dressed in a cropped black tank, a skinny leopard print skirt, and black strapped sandals, Stevie walked the short quarter mile to the Muddy. Instead of meeting her at the bar, however, as she rounded the building, Elroy was in the parking lot leaning on the hood of his brown pickup.

He was the owner of the local junkyard on the north side of town. Stevie hadn't been there, but Fay had filled her in, saying the Fachon brothers bought, sold, swapped and borrowed. If the hardware store didn't have it, Elroy Fachon likely did...somewhere.

Average in height, average in weight, with short brown hair and deep-set brown eyes, Elroy was the same age as Justus—thirty and single. Fay said Elroy didn't date much because everyone in town knew after four beers he got as obnoxious as a woodpecker—he just wouldn't shut up.

Determined to hold Elroy to three beers, Stevie smiled and waved at him. He waved back, then shoved himself away from his '73 Ford. Quicker on his feet than she would have guessed, he sprinted toward her.

Grinning, he said, ''Guess we timed that perfect.'' He eyed her outfit. ''Dayum, you're gonna start a riot in there dressed like that, woman. But don't worry—'' he flexed his muscles ''—I'll tell 'em they can look but don't touch.''

Stevie slipped her arm around Elroy's and tugged him toward the door. There was only one man she wanted to notice her tonight, and that was the man juggling the kitchen orders and the bar at the same time.

She had come to Crawford with her pride bruised. Tony walking out on her had been more of a shock than an emotional setback. Still, she wasn't interested in backsliding into thinking a relationship is what she needed. At this time in her life, what she needed most was a house with running water and a bathroom of her own.

But in the dark of night her needs shifted. Recently, as she fell asleep, Justus's face would appear. She would fall asleep thinking about his infectious smile, and, in the morning—like a pet toothache—she would wake up with him still there, grinning at her with that look in his eye.

They entered the Muddy, greeted by an expectant crowd. It was as if the entire town had turned out to witness Elroy's date.

Stevie's eyes went straight to the bar where Justus was serving a line of old-timers. As he slid beers in both directions, he glanced up. It was almost as if he had sensed she was looking at him. She noticed his smile slid a little, before he wiped his hands on a white towel tucked in the waistband of his jeans, then went into the kitchen.

They managed to find an empty table smack in the middle of the dining room. Suspicious, Stevie sat, noting that they were now the center of attention.

It felt odd being a customer in her own restaurant, especially when the person who came to take their order was Justus. Stevie frowned and asked, ''Where's Fay?''

''She went home sick.''

''Sick? So you're running the Muddy all by yourself tonight? The kitchen, and the bar? Why didn't you send someone to get me?''

His smile was back. ''You deserve a night off, honey. You've been at it all day. I can handle it.''

''But we're packed.''

Someone called from the bar, followed by Nate from his favorite booth asking where his BLT was.

''Be right there, Nate.'' Justus slapped a menu down in front of Stevie, then Elroy. ''I'll be back to take your order, you two.'' He winked at Stevie, then hurried off to get Nate his BLT.

For the next several minutes, Stevie watched Justus working the room, the kitchen and the bar. He was handling it, but he was doing it on the run. ''This is ridiculous,'' she muttered. ''Say what, Stevie?'' Elroy had his head stuck in the menu. He laid it down and pointed to the all-you-can-eat fish platter with a choice of three side dishes. ''That's what I'm gonna have,'' he stated.

''A good choice,'' Stevie said, standing, ''I'll get right on it.'' ''What?''

''I'm sorry, Elroy, but we're going to have to do this another time. As you can see, the Muddy's shorthanded tonight.'' She reached for his menu. ''If I don't help Justus, you're not going to be eating for an hour.''

''An hour. I usually eat before seven. I'm an hour late already. An hour? You sure?''

He looked hungry and disappointed. Stevie touched his arm and smiled. Elroy melted like a butter patty in the sun. ''Okay, Stevie. You go on and put up the order. I'll just sit here and, if'n you get time, you can come sit and watch me eat. How's that sound?''

''That's real generous of you, Elroy,'' Justus said appearing suddenly to plunk a beer down in front of her date. Then without further ado, he started herding Stevie toward the kitchen.

The Muddy didn't slow down all night. Elroy ate alone while the crowd watched him ask for seconds, thirds and fourths. About nine-thirty, he joined his brothers for a few hands of poker. By ten, he was on his seventh beer, his laughter drowning out the jukebox. By eleven, he was howling and pounding his fist on the table, and shortly after that, Justus advised his brothers to escort Elroy home.

By eleven-thirty, Justus entered the kitchen saying, ''I shooed everyone out. I'll walk you home.''

They left by way of the back door. Side-by-side, walking slow, and in silence, Stevie kept her eyes straight ahead. The night was warm and the moon was out. When they rounded the bend in the road, the red heart balloon came into sight high above the cabin.

''I see the balloon's holding its own,'' Justus drawled.

''Yes, it is. Why did you send it?'' ''You don't remember?'' ''No.''

''The night we were out by the tree you said February was one of your favorite months on account of Valentine's Day. The holiday seemed important to you, so I sent the balloon hoping it would cheer you up.'' He grinned down at her, and Stevie couldn't help but smile back.

He ushered her onto the dock, his hand on her back. ''Careful now. I don't want to have to fish you out of the bayou.''

''The sandals were a mistake,'' Stevie confessed. ''But they make the outfit.''

''Oui, that they do. Just not too practical for standin' at a grill all night. Guess I'll have to take you to Naw-lins one of these days so you can dress up.''

Stevie reached the deck, put a hand on the railing and slipped out of the sandals. Then, opening the cabin door, she tossed them inside. ''I haven't spent any time in New Orleans. That would be fun.''

''Then it's a date.'' He leaned a hip on the railing next to her and propped his elbows behind him on the top rail.

''Sorry about you havin' to pull a double shift. You're right. We need more people working for us. Buz lived for the Muddy. He didn't mind being there day and night. But it's different now.''

He angled his head, and looked at the moon. ''Beautiful evenin'. No mosquitoes to speak of. Perfect night.''

What was beautiful was Justus Walker's smile, Stevie realized. She had lied to Fay. It was fun being around someone happy all the time. It wasn't depressing, it was therapeutic.

She asked, ''Don't your lips get tired of smiling all day long?''

His eyes found hers. ''You got somethin' against smilin'?''

''I've just never known a person who can keep one up that long.''

The words weren't meant to be sexual, but when Justus's smile turned into a nasty grin, she knew what he was thinking. Her cheeks flushed. ''You have a dirty mind, Justus Walker.''

He shoved away from the railing and turned to face her. ''It must be your outfit. It's leadin' me astray.'' ''You don't like it?''

''It's not a matter of liking it or not, it's just a major factor in what I'm thinkin' and how I'm feelin'.''

Stevie felt her knees go weak as his hips hemmed her in and she was forced to lean hard against the railing. ''Justus...''

He took his sweet time putting both hands on the top railing on either side of her. ''You know I'm crazy about you.''

''No... I didn't know.''

''Sure you do. I've been wantin' to kiss you for days. You gonna let me?'' ''I...''

''I told you I wouldn't move on you without your say so. But if I've been missin' your subtle go-ahead, I'm all ears.''

He couldn't move much closer. She was tight against the railing, his thighs brushing hers. He was dressed in hip-hugging jeans and another fitted white T-shirt. ''Invite me, honey. Go on.'' Stevie released a heavy sigh. ''Justus, we're business partners. I don't think mixing—''

''Don't tell me what you think. Tell me how you feel, honey. Let's start there.'' ''Feel? You mean right now?'' ''Oui. Right now.'' ''I...I'm feeling warm.'' ''Warm is good. What else?'' ''Short of breath.''

''Oui, me too. And my heart—'' He reached for her hand and laid it on his chest over his heart. ''It's trying to keep up with my head. Feel that?''

She felt it...him, and it was heavenly. ''What's going on in your head, Justus?''

''You, honey.'' His eyes studied her face while Stevie sucked on her lower lip. ''Say it. Say, 'Yes, Just, I want you to kiss me.' Say it, honey, just like that. Say it and we'll get started.''

Stevie had never had a man sweep her off her feet before, but Justus Walker's southern drawl and lazy smile had been keeping her off balance since she had arrived in Crawford.

''This is different,'' she sighed. ''Different? How?''

''I've never been asked to ask for a kiss.'' He didn't answer, just waited. Stevie wanted him to kiss her. She really did. She'd wanted it for days. ''Yes, Just. Kiss me.''

''That'll do. That'll do fine, honey.'' He reached down and took hold of her wrists. ''Now then, I think you should hang on to something sturdy.'' ''Something sturdy?''

''Somethin' you can lean on if you feel the need. Something dependable.'' He placed her hands on his chest, then slowly slid them up his chest and around his neck, all the while watching her reaction. The act dragged Stevie forward and flattened her breasts against his chest.

''That's it, honey,'' he crooned. ''That feels nice.'' Stevie tilted her head back. ''I like your drawl.'' He blew out a slow breath. ''I like the way you talk, too, honey. Even though it's got a few people in town confused.'' ''Confused?''

''That expression, you bet, has got Jinx stumped. He's been wondering for three days what kind of bet you're talking about and how much it's gonna cost him.''

Stevie laughed.

''You sure got a sweet laugh, honey.''

''Whatever.''

''See, there's another one of those meaningful expressions. What exactly does whatever mean in Minnesota?''

Stevie shrugged. ''It means whatever yawl want it to mean.''

This time it was his turn to laugh. When the laughter played out, he asked, ''Am I sturdy enough for you?''

''Like an oak.''

''That kind of flattery is goin' to get you everything you want, honey.''

''And you think you know what I want?''

''My ears are open. I'm told I'm a good listener.''

He leaned forward.

She angled her head.

It was time, she thought—time to stop wondering what it would be like to be kissed by Justus Walker. Time to stop thinking, as he said, and address her feelings directly.

Stevie parted her lips.

Justus lowered his head.

It was going to be perfect, she could feel it. Wonderful.

She closed her eyes ready for contact, but the moment was halted by a familiar voice calling her name.

''Steeevieee... Steeviee, it's me, Arley. I come ta

warn you it smells like rain. If'n you ain't closed the winders, you best get to it. Steeviee, you awake?''

Justus was a second away from claiming Stevie's sweet lips when Arley's voice reminded him that it was Saturday. He raised his head at the same time a loud splash sounded from somewhere in the middle of the bayou.

He released Stevie, took a step back. ''Hell, I think he fell in.''

''And that's not good, is it? You said Hush Puppy wasn't the worst of it.''

Justus reached for the flashlight on the side of the cabin dangling from the end of a long rope, then walked around the corner of the cabin. ''Arley!''

''That you, Just? What you doin' out here at Stevie's place?''

''Arley, did you fall in?''

''Yes'um I did.'' He laughed. ''Lost my balance. Don't worry. Didn't roll the boat. The croakers are safe.''

''Croakers?'' Stevie had followed Justus. ''What is he talking about?''

''Bullfrogs. It's Saturday.''

As if that explained everything, Justus turned on the flashlight and scanned the water until he found Arley's head bobbing beside his boat twenty feet from the dock. Ruby Duke, Arley's hound dog, was still sitting in the bottom of the boat, her butt planted between two plump gunnysacks. She was looking over the side at her owner with a bored look on her face.

''What is he doing out there after midnight?'' Stevie asked.

''He's been out froggin'.''

''Froggin'? He sounds like he's been out drinking.'' ''He's been drinking, too. Arley always drinks when he goes froggin'. But he's not stink-drunk or he wouldn't be bobbing. Arley can't swim. Crazy-drunk he'd of sunk by now.'' ''Oh, God!''

''Don't get riled,'' Justus drawled. ''In this case, drunk is good. It means his gunnies are full of croakers.''

Stevie was looking at him as if he was a half-wit. ''Your cousin is the best frogger in Crawford, honey. Only problem is, he's also squeamish when it comes to handling them. Especially the fat ones. Hoppin' Froggies is the Sunday night special at the Muddy. Saturday nights Arley takes a bottle of whiskey and Ruby Duke out with him to get the job done. If he comes back snauckered he's had a good night.'' ''Who is Ruby Duke?'' ''Arley's hound dog.'' ''That's a strange name for a dog.'' ''There's a story behind that. A year ago, Arley picked out a puppy. He wanted a male, and he thought that's what he'd picked out at Jinx's place. Swears to it to this day. The way Jinx tells it, though, Arley was like a kid in a candy store looking at those puppies. Picking up every one of them at least twice like he couldn't decide which one he wanted. And Gloria had sixteen.''

''Sixteen puppies?''

''That's a fact. Arley named the pup Duke. Guess it was about a month later he noticed the pup was a female. Only problem was, by then she was coming real good to Duke, so Arley decided to give her two names.''

''Say, Just... You wanta get the fetch pole. You wanta hurry. I reckon I heard Hush Puppy come off that log he likes ta sleep on.''

''Oh, God!''

''Take it easy, honey.'' Justus retrieved the long pole that hung on the side of the cabin, then walked to a section of railing that opened like a gate. He unhooked the gate and swung it open. Sticking the pole out, he said, ''Come on, Arley, get swimming. Move your ass.'' To the hound, he said, ''Ruby Duke, get off yours and bring the boat in.''

As Arley began to swim for the pole, Ruby Duke stood and found the rope in the bottom of the boat. Taking it between her teeth, she leaped into the water and started swimming for the dock.

''She's doing it,'' Stevie said excitedly. ''She's bringing the boat to the dock, just like you told her to.''

''Women like it when I talk forceful to them.'' Just winked, then wiggled his eyebrows at Stevie. ''How about you goin' on over there to meet her, honey, and loop that rope around a post for me?''

''Only if you can guarantee those frogs are still in the gunnysacks. I don't like frogs any better than Ar-ley.''

''I'm sorry to hear that, honey. Tomorrow night we're gonna be knee-deep in customers orderin' Hoppin' Froggies. I'm gonna need two fryers goin'.''

While Stevie headed to the dock to tie up the boat, Justus waited for Arley to reach the pole.

''Is Ruby friendly to strangers?'' She called back. ''She's gonna like you fine, honey,'' Justus assured, then seeing Arley was almost within reach, he stretched the pole out to his friend, and he pulled him in hard and fast.

When Arley was at last standing dripping wet beside Justus, he leaned close and said, ''I knowd what you was doin', Just. You were kissin' her, weren't you?'' Not yet, Justus mused. But he had been damn close. ''You was,'' Arley continued. ''Elroy's been wantin' a taste, too. Them frosting lips is sugar sin, he says. But he says he'll gladly suffer a toothache if'n he gets a chance to suck on 'em.''

Justus felt the green-eyed monster start growling inside his gut. It had been a long while since he'd felt it, but it was there. A solid growl. No mistake. That's why he'd sent Fayda Mae home tonight... sick.

''Elroy says that heart balloon out here on her porch ain't gonna stop him from going after Stevie for himself. He says she's hotter than Buzzard's pepper cabbage, and it's open season on her. He's even been havin' dreams 'bout her. He says it's an omen. Specially since Stevie asked him to flex his muscle for her at the Muddy moving them booths.''

Justus's nostrils flared even though he hung on to his smile. ''You can tell Elroy that if he don't stop dreamin' about Stevie and omens, he's gonna be in for a nightmare he ain't gonna wake up from.''

The words were out before Justus could take them back. It wasn't often that he let loose with a threat. The worst of it was that he'd exposed his feelings to Arley, and by morning his words would be all over town. He only hoped that Arley was drunker than he looked, and that he wouldn't remember half of what Justus had said, or what order he'd heard it in.

''No, Ruby! Get down. Ohhh... You're getting me all wet.''

Both Justus and Arley turned to see Ruby Duke on her hind legs, her paws wrapped around Stevie's trim waist. ''See, honey,'' Justus called out. ''That hound likes you just fine.''

''Everybody likes Stevie,'' Arley muttered, suddenly turning a sober face toward Justus. '''Member when you said she wouldn't last a day? It's been four full days now and I'm wondering if'n that means she's gonna stick? I'm thinkin'...no, she's too smart and pretty for us. But then, it sure would be nice if'n she would. You given it some thought, Just?''

He'd given it a lot of thought. And, like Arley, some days he thought, no, she wasn't going to stay—he wouldn't be that lucky. Then he'd see her in the kitchen making her little improvements, or hanging her panties out on that line behind the cabin, and he'd think she was here to stay.

She sure wore skimpy panties, and in the damndest colors, too.

Chapter 7

sized up Justus and decided he was holding up progress. If they were going to get Stevie to stay in Crawford, Justus was the only man who could make it happen.

''Best be gettin' them croakers tied down and head for home. You gonna whack 'em for me, ain't ya, Just? You know I hate that part.''

''You hate any part of froggin', Arley. But you're a good sport about it. There isn't a man in Crawford who's got a better nose for sniffin' out croakers than you.''

Arley puffed up. ''Yep. I do have the knack. But whackin' and skinnin'...'' His puff deflated, and he made a face. ''My stomach caint keep nothin' down for two days afterward. A man can starve if'n he don't eat for two days.''

''Tie the sacks down and leave 'em in the boat. I'll whack 'em and see they get into the fryers tomorrow night.''

Arley left Justus holding the fetch pole and sauntered toward the dock where Stevie was still fighting off Ruby Duke's affectionate nature. He sometimes wished he was a dog so he could take liberties like that. He hadn't ever climbed all over a woman, and lately he was starting to wonder if it was ever gonna happen.

He hadn't told Justus all that Elroy had said about Stevie. But he was in agreement with Elroy on a couple of points. One of those points was none of them was getting any younger. Him, Elroy or Justus. Bachelors they were. Thirty-year-old virgin bachelors. Well, all except Just. Arley suspected he hadn't been a virgin since high school.

Elroy had announced at the barbershop that afternoon when he was getting a little trim for his date with Stevie, that he would be willing to change his ways, and then some, if he could turn Stevie's head even a snail's inch. And he must have meant it, because there were changes being made over at the junkyard. There was grass showing in the front yard, and Jinx had said Elroy's lawnmower was over at the fix-it shop. There was some talk about him putting in an indoor outhouse with all the trimmings, too.

Wringing wet, Arley stopped two feet from Stevie. ''Come on, Ruby Duke, get on down and stop slobbering on your cousin. Thanks for catchin' my boat, Stevie. Justus said I should leave it here. I'll pick it up late mornin', if'n that's all right.''

''Whatever, Arley.''

''What does that mean, exactly, Stevie? You say that an awful lot.''

''Whatever means sure, Arley. Whatever you want is fine.''

Arley grinned. ''That's pretty slick. Okay, I'll come by for my boat whatever.'' ''You mean whenever.'' ''Huh?''

''Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow.'' Arley got down on his knees and tied up the gun-nysacks. On his feet once again, he started past Stevie. ''Are you all right, Arley?'' He stopped and turned back. ''Wet. A little hungry. Fine mostly. You?''

''I'm fine, too.'' She reached out and ran her fingers through his wet hair to push it off his face. ''You didn't drink so much that you won't be able to find your way home, did you?''

''Ruby Duke knows the way. She's got a nose on her that won't quit. We'll be home lickity-split.''

''All right, then.'' Stevie leaned forward and kissed Arley's cheek. ''I'll see you tomorrow.''

Stevie watched Arley until he'd joined Ruby Duke on shore and the two disappeared around the bend toward town, then she returned to the deck where she'd last seen Justus. But when she found him nowhere in sight, she rounded the deck and started through the open door into the cabin.

The sight of Justus stripping off his T-shirt had her stopping dead in her tracks. The cabin had few lights, and the ones it did have were oil lamps—two small wall sconces and one larger table lamp that sat next to the bed. The table lamp was lit.

Stevie studied Justus in the amber lighting. He was broad-shouldered, long-legged, with a butt that put her in a pinching mood every time she saw it.

For days she'd struggled to keep her mind on the restaurant and off that butt, but the memory of their first night here in the cabin had made a lasting impression on her subconscious. Or the lack of memory.

Yes, Justus Walker, without a doubt, was the most handsome, smooth-talking man she'd ever met. And happy. She hadn't seen him in a bad mood yet.

He turned, his all-day-long smile in place. ''Shame on you for staring.''

''If you don't like being stared at, keep your clothes on and your body out of my house,'' Stevie countered, admiring his six-pack.

''That kiss on Arley's cheek, honey, made his night. You gonna make my night, too?''

''And how would I go about doing that?'' His grin spread. ''I think you know what would make my night. Those gorgeous arms of yours hanging around my neck would be good for starters.''

Stevie had never met a man so honest about his thoughts. ''I was thinking that maybe out there—'' she pointed to the deck behind her ''—what was about to happen before Arley showed up was maybe not such a good idea.''

''The word maybe is an ambiguous word. Used twice in a sentence it strengthens debate. In a court of law it's a discreditable word if you're a witness for the defense. Then, too, if I'm the prosecutor and I hear the word maybe, I feel down right hopeful. Maybe means, maybe the witness can remember, and maybe she can't.'' He paused, then said, ''See where I'm going with this, honey? Maybe we should kiss, and maybe we should kiss and then some.'' ''And then some?'' ''Oui, then some.''

His lazy speech and slow-never-get-riled demeanor was misleading. It fooled you into thinking he was a slow thinker, too. But the truth was, Justus Walker was a sharp-as-nails lawyer.

Still, she wasn't sure stepping over the line was a good idea. They were partners and that was probably the safest relationship to be in with Justus Walker, even though she couldn't think of a better way to end the evening than in his arms, kissing his lips.

She said, ''Mixing business with pleasure can be—'' ''A whole heap a fun with the right partner.'' He finished for her.

When he started toward her, Stevie held her breath. ''You sure do make me feel good, honey.'' He didn't stop coming until they were toe-to-toe. His free hand stretched out to rest along the jamb a little ways above Stevie's head. His T-shirt was in his other hand, and he tossed it through the open door. It landed near the string that anchored the balloon to the railing.

''It's gonna rain, like Arley said. You ever make love in the rain?''

The question sent a rush of heat between Stevie's legs and she shivered in response. ''Justus...''

' 'Hmm...'' He leaned forward and sniffed along her jaw, moving in the direction of her ear. From there, his lips grazed her temple, his nose drawing a path for his lips to follow.

Stevie sighed, reached out and slid her hands up his warm, bare chest. ''That's it, honey.'' ''Just...''

He slid his arm around her waist and encouraged her to touch him further. ''We're goin' to kiss now,'' he drawled. ''We're goin' to get it done.''

Stevie raised her chin, angled her head and slid her arms around his neck. ''Yes, Justus,'' she whispered, ''we're going to get it done.''

He ran his hands over her backside, then outlined her hips. ''I'm gonna put my hands on you, honey. Put 'em everywhere before the night's over. You alright with that?'' ''Yes, but...'' ''Yes, but what, honey?''

''If you spend the night, I don't want the people in town to know about it. Do you understand?'' ''Only a scumball kisses and tells.'' That said, Justus covered her mouth and kissed Stevie with all the passion and expertise she knew he would. The kiss was slow and deep. Unhurried, just like the man. Straightforward. All or nothing.

Stevie was glad she had wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt a rush of heat go through her, felt her knees grow weak. Sometime in between the third and the tenth kiss, Justus lifted Stevie off her feet and carried her outside. It had started to rain, a slow, sweet-smelling sultry rain that felt warm on Stevie's skin. He backed her against the cabin, tucked her under the eave and kissed her again. Seconds later, his hands began to explore her body. He slid his fingers beneath her black top and cupped her bare breasts. ''No bra.''

He let go of a heavy sigh, an honest reaction to the amount of pleasure she offered him. He flattened out his hands and when his palms rolled across her nipples, Stevie moaned and closed her eyes.

''I want to see,'' he whispered against her mouth on the end of another kiss.

''Shouldn't we go inside?''

''No, not yet.''

When he shoved up her top and revealed her breasts to his eyes and the warm night air, Stevie locked her knees.

He was going to look at her now, look his fill. Stevie closed her eyes anticipating his mouth on her breasts. But when it came she nearly collapsed. His lips were hot, but gentle as he stroked and licked, teased and sucked.

''Ohhh...''

Stevie sagged against the wall, thankful for its support. She raised her hands and threaded her fingers through his black hair to keep him close. ''That's amazing.''

''I agree. You're amazing. Bon Dieu, ma douce."

Stevie sighed. ''I don't speak French.''

He looked up, his smile strong. ''How 'bout I teach you this summer?''

''Does it take a long time to learn?''

''Oui. A long time. I'm a slow teacher. But I'm thorough.'' He kissed her breasts, sucked on her nipples.

''A stickler for details, my college professor used to say. Unzip your skirt.''

Stevie reached behind her and slid the zipper down at the same time she arched her hips forward.

''That's it, honey.'' Justus took over and he tugged her skirt past her hips. She felt suddenly nervous, but then his fingers were stroking her belly and making her forget about everything else but him. ''Oranges...'' ''What?''

''Your panties. They're the color of an orange. I like the taste of oranges, honey.''

He had crouched in front of her, his words followed by a series of kisses starting at her belly button and moving downward. Another shiver sent Stevie writhing on the wall as Justus's skilled lips began to work their magic. Slowly, his fingers slid their way into her panties and eased them down her hips to expose her to him. ''Just...'' ''Shhh...''

''We'll need a condom?''

He stood slowly, his hand cupping her triangle of hair. ''I wager more than one, honey.'' His fingers followed the seam of her, parted her slightly. ''At least three before morning. Maybe four. Breathe, honey.''

She did what he said. Concentrated on keeping air in her lungs while his fingers touched her. ''You ever do any marathon running?'' ''No.''

''How's your wind?'' ''My wind?''

''Your endurance, honey.''

''I can hold my own.''

''And then some, I'll bet.'' He kissed her again, moved his hands away from her heat. ''You want to touch me?'' he whispered close to her mouth.

Stevie angled her head back to look into his eyes. ''Do you always say what's on your mind?''

''It's the fastest way to communicate that I know of.''

Stevie considered that, then offered him a mischievous smile. ''Oh, I don't know, sometimes actions speak louder than words. Let me see if I can get across what I'm thinking without talking.'' That said, she moved away from the wall, stepping out of her panties and skirt at the same time. Wiggling her tank top back into place, naked below the waist, she pushed Justus against the wall. ''We'll call this silent communication. Let me show you how it works.''

Stevie started to kiss her way down his hairy chest, then bent her knees and kept going. Her fingers found the snap on his jeans, then the zipper.

She was going to touch him, all right. Touch him with more than her hands. Justus watched as Stevie peeled his jeans off his ass and down his thighs, taking his shorts down at the same time.

Hard and hurting something awful, he never took his eyes off her as her hands slid down his belly and into the hair around his swollen shaft. On his way to dying of pleasure, he spread his legs and arched his hips. She slipped her hand around him, squeezed.

He kept reminding himself to breathe. Telling himself that this was just the beginning. Hell, he hoped it was just the beginning.

He kept watching, kept his mouth shut, hoping hers would open soon. Then like a psychic nurse moonlighting for the good of mankind, she said, ''Say, yes, Justus. Say, yes, and I'm there. One word is all it'll take.'' At the moment, Justus couldn't think of anything he wanted more than her mouth on him.

''Oui, honey,'' he drawled. ''You're there. I'm yours.''

Chapter 8

Justus sat with his back against the headboard, his eyes fixed on Stevie asleep beside him, while the rain continued to fall, tapping out a tune on the roof.

He had been right about the condoms. They had used three. And for never running a marathon, Stevie definitely had amazing stamina.

He slid his legs off the bed, pushed the baire aside, and climbed out of bed. He had noticed earlier that she had been cleaning the cabin. She had boxed up Buz's clothes, and some of his personal things. In doing so, was she making a statement? Was she planning on staying?

He walked to the dresser and eased open the top drawer. Inside he found underwear and a few bras, some T-shirts. He smiled seeing the bras. She hadn't worn one yet as far as he could tell.

She'd brought only two suitcases. He'd wondered about that from day one. Yesterday Fayda Mae told him Stevie's apartment in Minneapolis had burned just days after she'd received Arley's letter. The fire had been extensive, she'd lost most everything she owned.

He spied a small red book on the dresser and turned it over. 203 Ways to Drive a Man Wild in Bed. Well, now, Justus mused, it looked like his little playmate had been brushing up on silent communication.

''Just...''

He turned around and found Stevie sitting up. The sight of her naked behind the baire sent his body on another growth spurt. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her bare breasts beautiful. In the amber lamplight her full lips and her pixie-short hair reminded him of an exotic doll—her perfection breathtaking.

''What do you have in your hand?''

Justus carried the book back to the bed. ''Is this why you're such an expert in communicatin' without words?'' he drawled.

''An expert? I never said I was an expert.''

''Trust me, honey, you're an expert.''

She stretched like a lazy feline, thrusting her pretty breasts high so he could see that her sweet nipples were puckered tight. He drew the baire aside, his body reacting to her uninhibited nature. He flashed her the cover of the book, then stretched out beside her.

''Where did you get that?''

She reached for the book, and he easily rolled her onto her back, flattening her to the mattress with his weight and a long hairy leg across her thighs. ''Don't get riled. It was out in plain sight on the dresser.''

''I don't think so.''

''Oui, it was...sorta.'' He grinned. ''So what should I make of this book, honey?'' ''Let me up.''

''You want to trade places, do you?'' ''Don't get me mad,'' she warned. He chuckled, kept himself tight against her as he flipped open the book. ''So this is where you learned all those fascinatin' tricks.'' He flipped to chapter four. ''Here it is, 'Oral Treats.'''

''I didn't buy that book,'' she protested. ''Connie gave me it as a gift. A little joke between friends.''

''Was the bookmark stuck on chapter four a gift, too?''

She narrowed her eyes. ''Give me the book.'' Justus scanned the first page of chapter four. ''Learn the three C's,'' he read out loud.

''Oh, God... Don't you dare read it.'' ''There's even a checklist. Crave it. Concentrate. Continuous movement.'' Justus looked down at Stevie. ''I think that describes your technique perfectly, honey.''

She squeezed her eyes shut, causing her cute nose to wrinkle up. Justus bent down and kissed the end of it. ''I like your nose. Almost as much as your mouth and... talented tongue.''

She blinked open her eyes. ''You're embarrassing me.''

Justus snapped the book closed and laid it down on the bed beside them. ''Mais non, honey. You have nothin' to be embarrassed about. Not with me.'' ''I've never owned a book like that before. January

was a tough month, and Connie was just trying to cheer me up. She and I have been through a lot together. We both lost our parents at the same time a few years ago, and we met at a grief meeting.''

''Then I owe Connie a thank-you.'' Justus lowered his head and kissed her sexy mouth, then nipped her lower lip to urge her to join in on the kiss. ''That's it,'' he encouraged, when she responded.

Just as they were coming up for air, she bit him.

''Ouch.''

''I want you to know I've never done anything like that before. What I did outside. Honest. I don't usually...''

''Shhh... I liked everythin' you did.'' Justus couldn't put into words what it had been like for him— Stevie Arnou on her knees loving him with her mouth. Loving every inch of him.

''That book title is pretty accurate. You did drive me wild,'' he admitted, lowering his head to kiss her again. ''And now it's my turn.''

''Your turn?''

''It's early. Too early to get up.'' He slid down her body and took a perky nipple into his mouth and cherished it. ''Your heart's pounding, honey. You excited?''

''You make me hot,'' she sighed. ''I want...''

''What do you want, honey? You want me everywhere?''

' 'Yes... everywhere.''

''Say, 'Yes. Just, drive me wild.' He moved to her other nipple and sucked on it. ''Say it, and I'm there.''

''Yes. Just, drive me wild,'' she mimicked. ''I'm yours.''

''You bet you are, honey. All mine, and then some.''

She closed her eyes when he parted her legs and began kissing a path to the blond curls between her legs. She arched for him, and he liked it, liked watching her beneath his touch.

This was nothing you could plan for, Justus decided. In a man's wildest dreams, he couldn't have ever dreamed this. He'd been stripped naked—literally and figuratively—by an angel with pixie hair and seven-minute frosting lips. Stripped and pleasure-tortured into surrendering not only his body, but something more. He'd gone willingly knowing the price would be high. Knowing the odds of a happy ending were slim.

But for now, Stevie Arnou was his. She'd just given him the go-ahead to know every inch of her, and he was determined to read every page of her just like that book. Read her cover-to-cover, and take his time doing it.

Rushing was a fool's game. Justus was glad he'd never learned how to play that game. Stevie would be, too, before the night was over, he intended to make sure of that.

Stevie's body writhed between the sheets as Justus kissed her again—an illicit nasty kiss that left her breathless and aching.

His hands and mouth were everywhere, and she loved the way he was never in a hurry. Loved the gentle words that went along with his touch. Loved his smile. Loved the way he talked.

Loved...him.

Stevie sat straight up in bed. Her eyes wide open, she glanced around the room looking for the man who had been occupying her dream, but Justus was gone. She turned her head to the window, confused by how light it was outside. When she glanced at the small clock on the table she gasped.

How could it be eleven-thirty? How could she have slept the entire morning away? She was supposed to cook for the breakfast crowd at the Muddy. The breakfast crowd that had now turned into the lunch crowd.

She'd set her alarm for five-thirty. Justus must have turned it off before he left at dawn.

It didn't matter now. She was late. Late!

Stevie swept the baire aside and leaped out of bed. In a matter of minutes, she'd tugged on a pair of jeans and pulled a white tank top on. She raced through the door and was halfway to the dock when she heard voices. She glanced around, saw the boats. She had never seen so many fishing boats.

For a moment she thought there must be some kind of fishing contest going on, that is until she noticed no one was fishing. They were all looking toward the cabin. No, they were looking up in the sky above the cabin.

Slowly she turned around to see what they were looking at and nearly keeled over. There were balloons everywhere, big red heart-shaped balloons floating high above the cabin.

They had been tied to the railing, and they went around the perimeter. They were identical to the balloon that Justus had sent to her days ago.

Justus...

He had said he wouldn't kiss and tell. He had said it so matter-of-factly that she'd believed him.

''Lying...scumball,'' Stevie growled, then looked back at the many boats. The men were no longer looking at the balloons. No, of course not. Their eyes were now on her.

''Mornin' Stevie. Beautiful day, ain't it?''

Stevie could feel hot color rise up in her cheeks as she glanced at the two men occupying a boat less than fifteen feet from her dock. It was Arley, with Nate. Arley lifted his hat off and waved excitedly.

Stevie returned his good morning with a wave much less enthusiastic, then hurried to shore, ignoring the catcalls and whistles that had started up from several of the other men who had come to witness her humiliation.

''Scumball,'' Stevie growled again as she raced up the path to the Muddy's back door. Swinging the door wide, she entered, not expecting to find the person responsible for her anger behind the grill flipping Buzzards. When she laid eyes on him, the hurt and betrayal overwhelmed her and she fought tears. Shaking them off, she spat, ''Only a scumball would kiss and tell. Well, Mr. Scum, I hope you choke on the ball.''

Justus looked up, his smile widening at the sound of Stevie's voice. That is, until her words registered. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but something sure was. Stevie's spitfire eyes were blazing.

He sent the burgers, one at a time, into the open buns on the three plates he'd lined up, then said, ''Fayda Mae, take over.''

He made a move toward Stevie, but she scurried backward as if she couldn't stand to be touched by him. That was crazy. He'd touched her everywhere there was to be touched last night and she'd purred like a kitten the entire time.

''Don't you touch me, you...you...lying pond scum.''

''What's going on?'' he asked calmly. ''As if you don't know.''

''I don't,'' Justus assured her. ''And I won't until you tell me, honey.''

''Don't you 'honey' me.'' Stevie waved her hand in the direction of the back door. ''How could you do it, Just? Why would you deliberately humiliate me like that? Advertise like that?''

''Advertise what? Come on, honey. Make it simple and spell it out. I've been here in the kitchen all mor-nin', so you're goin' to—''

''I said don't call me that! Never again. In fact, don't call me at all. And as far as this stupid partnership goes, there will be no joint menu. No joint...anything!''

''Stevie—'' Justus trailed her to the back door. ''Come on now, honey. Don't chew my head off and leave me bleedin' without knowin' why. Stevie!''

By the time Justus decided to go after her, Stevie was running flat out down the road toward the cabin, making Justus winded just thinking about how fast he was going to have to move in order to overtake her. But there was no need to consider that. As he started off the back stoop, he heard her car start up. Seconds later the silver Mustang was churning up a cloud of dust as Stevie shot past the Muddy, shifting into fourth before she hit the parking lot.

He turned around and stepped back into the kitchen, his eyes finding Fayda Mae where she stood balancing three plates loaded down with Buzzard burgers and fried okra.

''What do you make of that?'' he said, not really expecting an answer.

But he got one anyway. Fayda Mae blasted him with both barrels. ''Justus Walker, if you've hurt my friend Stevie, you best fix it, and fix it fast, or this whole town is gonna whack you into next week. She's ours and we all want her to stay. We ain't gonna give her up 'cause you done her wrong. So, fix it. Whatever you screwed up, unscrew it, or I quit.''

''He bought out Henrettia's entire balloon stock!'' ''I heard. Now, you just take it easy.'' An hour later Mamma Dula steered Justus away from Arley and into the rocker on the front porch of her house. ''Sit down.'' ''Have you seen the cabin?'' Justus asked. ''Arley's motives were pure.'' She gave Justus a little shove and his butt landed in the rocker. ''There are heart balloons tied to everything.'' ''He had your best interest at heart.'' ''You knowd I wouldn't do nothin' to hurt you, Just. Not Stevie, neither,'' Arley drawled. ''Elroy's been talking about puttin' in indoor plumbin'. I thought the best way ta squelch that right quick was ta let him know Stevie was already taken.'' Never before had Justus wanted to strangle Arley

more than he did right now. His scowl red-hot, he branded Arley where he stood leaning against the railing with his hands shoved into his pockets. Arley lowered his head.

''Justus, you stop it right now,'' Dula scolded. ''He didn't mean any harm. Besides he's feeling bad enough.''

He ought to, Justus thought. Most days he could overlook Arley's blunders. But this time he'd outdone himself; the cabin looked like a bandbox on the Fourth of July. No wonder Stevie was hopping mad.

''I went ta pick up my boat,'' Arley began. ''Went just before sunup. I noticed the door was open on the cabin and I got worried about Stevie. I went ta check on her and that's when I saw.''

Justus's scowl deepened. ''Saw what, Arley?'' ''You and Stevie curled up like two possums.'' ''That's all you saw? Us sleepin'?'' Justus stared down his friend, feeling both protective and possessive of Stevie.

''I didn't see nothing I shouldna, if'n that's what you're askin', Just. I decorated the cabin with the balloons after you left so's Elroy would know cutting his grass was gonna get him nothin' more than a better view of the road.''

''It's true, Justus. Elroy's got his lawnmower runnin' for the first time in ten years,'' Mamma confirmed.

Justus rubbed his jaw, his anger cooling slightly. ''Either of you see Stevie since she tore up the parkin' lot and run Jinx off the road?''

Mamma shook her head. ''No. I've been asking around, but no one's seen her.''

Arley looked at his feet.

''Arley, out with it,'' Justus insisted. ''You've seen her haven't you?''

''I saw her at the Henny-Penny. She was gassin' up the silver bullet.'' Justus stood. ''Did you talk to her?'' ''Uh-huh. We had words.''

Arley kept looking at his tennis shoes, which Justus took to mean there was bad news coming his way. ''And?''

''She said she was goin' into Nawlins. I asked her if'n she wanted some company, but she said no. I asked her if'n somethin' was wrong 'cause she looked like she'd been cryin'. She said real sad like, 'Somethin' awful's happened, Arley. That's why I have to go back to Minnesota.' Then she kissed me and hugged me real tight. That part was nice. I was still thinkin' about how good she smelled when I heard the bullet start up. I blinked twice, and she was gone.''

Chapter 9

Stevie's plane landed at the Minneapolis airport at 7:00 p.m. in a snowstorm. She'd worried her lip the entire flight, going over in her mind what the nurse had told her on the phone. Connie had been in a serious accident.

She flagged a cab and told the driver to take her to Abbott Northwestern Hospital pronto. Asking at the desk where she would find Connie Nelson's room, she took a deep breath outside the door, then opened it. To her surprise she found Connie sitting up in the hospital bed talking with the nurse.

When Connie saw her, she stopped talking and started crying. ''Oh, Stevie, you flew back!''

''Now honey, don't cry. Of course I flew back.'' Stevie came toward the hospital bed noticing Connie's left arm was in a cast. She hugged her friend carefully, her worried gaze finding the nurse.

''Don't worry. She's going to be fine,'' the nurse assured. ''She has a broken wrist and sprained shoulder. The other gal was treated for minor injuries and released.''

Stevie stepped back and looked Connie over like a mother hen.

''They say I can go home tomorrow,'' Connie said. ''But I don't know what I'm going to do for money. A secretary with a broken wrist. Dilby is going to fire me. I just know it. I'm the one who made that order mistake last month, remember? The one that caused the overdraft from the bank. It wasn't really my fault, but after I hit his car in the parking lot a few days earlier, he wasn't willing to listen to any excuse I had.''

''Don't worry, Connie,'' Stevie patted her friend's hand. ''What are you staring at?''

''You look different.''

''How can I look different? I've only been gone six days.''

''I know, but you do. You look really good. Does that mean you're happy with the move? Are you going to stay in Louisiana?''

The question was a hard one to answer. Stevie definitely wanted to stay in Crawford, that is if she could live down her humiliation after the balloon fiasco. It would have been so easy to tell Connie everything if Justus had been the man he had led her to believe he was.

But now... How could she tell Connie she was in love with a scumball?

''Dilby's going to fire me,'' Connie started again. ''No, he won't,'' Stevie crooned. ''Think positive.'' ''You don't know about the coffee.'' ''What about the coffee?'' ''I soaked Dilby's desk two days ago.'' ''Accidents happen,'' Stevie consoled. ''His crotch got it good. By the look on his face I cooked the whole meal.''

''The coffee was straight out of the pot?'' Stevie questioned, already knowing what the answer would be. Connie reminded her a little of Arley. She had good intentions, but often those intentions turned on her and took a healthy bite out of her own behind.

Connie nodded. ''The girls in the phone pool said they heard him as clear as they do the fire drill that goes off once a month. This is it for me. I just know he's going to fire me this time. He's been looking for a reason, and when he sees my arm in a cast he's going to break out in a song and dance.''

Connie was probably right. Her friend rarely stayed longer than a year at any one job. Stevie brushed Connie's long red hair away from her face to examine the small bruise on her forehead. ''Tell me how this happened. The nurse who called me said something about being thrown on impact. If that's true, you're lucky to be alive. Was your car totaled?''

Connie lowered her head and chewed on her lip a minute. Finally she said, ''No, the car's fine.'' ''It's fine? Meaning you can still drive it, right?'' ''There's nothing wrong with the car. The collision happened at the supermarket.''

''That's what probably saved you. You weren't going all that fast.''

''Oh, I was going pretty fast. I was running late for my yoga class.'' Connie went back to munching on her lip.

Stevie could see there was more to the story. ''Okay, so you were speeding. What else?''

Connie stopped munching. ''I was speeding inside the supermarket with my shopping cart and somehow it just flipped over.''

''Your cart flipped?'' Stevie's eyes widened.

''Don't give me that look, Stephanie Suzanne Arnou. I never saw that woman in the motorized shopper, okay? Actually I think she was the one who sideswiped me, but it happened so fast I'm not sure who hit who first. I did go flying. A witness said I was airborne when I took out the peanut butter pyramid. Jiffy, I think. The good news is the woman has decided not to sue.''

Justus had never had trouble holding onto his smile, but the past four days it had been hard. Still, he made a conscious effort as he slid a beer across the bar to Jinx.

''So what do ya say, Just? You takin' off after her?''

''You got a wager on this, too? Is that what you're telling me?''

''No. I didn't bet on you, boy. I bet on Stevie. I bet she was the one for you, and that sooner or later you would stop lickin' your smartin' pride and go fetch her home. I'd like it to happen sooner than later, 'cause there's a time factor involved. I lose fifty if'n things

don't change in two days. Nate says you ain't gonna go after her. I say he's wrong. What do you say?''

''I say your burger should be about ready.'' Justus headed for the kitchen.

''Fayda Mae said she'd come back if'n you asked her. Now that she knows it wasn't your fault Stevie hightailed it.''

Fayda Mae had already come back. Justus had gone to see her early that morning. She had been amicable. Especially once he told her he intended to fix the situation.

He returned to the bar with Jinx's open-face Buzzard burger. ''There you go. Hot and greasy.''

Jinx reached for his fork. ''Back to Stevie. I'm in agreement with Arley.''

''And what would you two be in agreement on?'' Jinx lowered his voice. ''Arley says Stevie's done the dirty with you, and she's triple H'd you. We all know the dangers of that, Just. When your heart, head and hammer get involved with a woman it's a done deal.''

As much as Justus would have liked to have argued with Jinx, his words rang true. Stevie had turned his head and snagged his heart the first night they had met. The other night at the cabin his hammer had gotten in on the action, and he'd been bagged quicker than a dizzy croaker.

Oui. Stevie had triple H'd him using the three C's. Justus locked the door on the Muddy at midnight, then ambled outside. A few minutes later he found himself standing on the deck of Stevie's cabin in the middle of Turtle Bayou thinking about how soft and cuddly she had been in his arms.

He heard a noise and turned to see Mamma on the dock sauntering toward him. He said, ''Kinda late, ain't it?''

''Sky's clear, a mess a stars out tonight. Figured I'd go for a stroll and enjoy 'em. You don't look so good.'' ''I'm fine.''

''I'll be the judge of that. I'm your mamma, remember?''

Justus grinned. ''How could I forget, you remind me of it every day.''

''That's 'cause I'm proud of it. Proud of you. If'n a mama caint speak her mind and tell her son important stuff, then what good is she?''

''So what important stuff did you come to tell me? You can see the stars from your front porch as well as out here,'' Justus pointed out.

Mamma leaned against the railing. ''I come ta say a bunch. First off, Stevie belongs here. She's a one-of-a-kind. The prettiest filly I ever saw. We caint lose her.'' Justus leaned his backside against the railing next to her. ''Okay. What else?'' He motioned to the paper in her hand. ''What's that?''

''It's a letter from Buz. I found it tonight in my cookie jar under the chocolate delights.'' ''He wrote you a letter?''

''It's a little hard ta read, but I finally made sense of it. It explains what he done and why.'' Curious, Justus held out his hand. ''Can I read it?'' ''You can. You should. It'll clear up some important stuff. Loose ends.'' She put the letter in his hand, then

started into the cabin. ''Best read it inside. Buz's chicken scratch is poor. Worse when you're straining your eyeballs.''

She lit the lanterns, while Justus pushed the baire aside and sat down on the bed. After scanning the letter, then reading it again, he looked up and said, ''He was dying and he knew it. A tumor in his head.''

''I remember him taking a trip into Nawlins. Remember him being vague about where he'd gone and why.''

''He was having headaches a lot,'' Justus said. ''I caught him taking painkillers more than once.'' ''Had some dizzy spells, too,'' Mamma added. ''So he knew a year ago he was dying, and set me up to become his partner to take over the Muddy.''

''That's how I see it. I had confessed my concerns about you sticking in town when you first came back home. I said I wished you had a better reason to stay than just your promise to me. I guess he decided to find you one. From that letter, I take it that Buz had plans to leave Stevie the other half of the Muddy once he was gone. You think he knew she was a cook in Minneapolis?'' ''Probably.''

''I don't think he meant to con us into thinking Stevie was his nephew. He just wrote the name down wrong and Arley took it from there, screwing it up like usual.''

Justus stood, handed the letter back to Dula. ''I agree.''

She took the letter then hung her head. ''You don't think Buz drove off that bridge deliberate, do you?''

Justus wrapped his arms around Dula and hugged her. ''Buz didn't kill himself, Mamma. He'd been feeling poorly for a long time. Worse lately. I caught him taking those painkillers daily that last week. I figure one of those dizzy spells happened that afternoon on the bridge.''

Mamma looked up, smiled sadly, then patted Justus's arm. ''You're a good boy. My boy. Thank you for setting me straight on that.'' She stepped back. ''Now then. Are you gonna go after our Stevie, or wait till she gets good and homesick and comes back on her own?''

''Homesick for Crawford?''

''Silly boy,'' Mamma stuffed the letter back in her pocket. ''Homesick for that smile of yours. It's a killer, don't you know? It was all I could see that day you was brought to me in that orphanage office. You was a sorry sight. Skinny as a broom handle. I 'spect you hadn't had a good meal in years. You was pale as flour, too. But in spite of all that, you was smiling. Smiling like you was the luckiest little duffer alive. You stole my heart that day. Stole this whole town's heart that afternoon I brought you ta church with me. From what I been seein' this past week, you've stolen our Stevie's heart, too. She ain't been able to take her eyes off you since she got here.''

Arley saw the lights on in the cabin as he rounded the narrow channel that led into the bay. Stevie had cleared out with no word, so there was no reason for those lanterns to be burning, unless someone was robbing her after dark, or poking around snooping.

That was it. Somebody was snooping. The folks in Crawford were generally honest. Nosey, and ready to gossip a second after the spit hit the street, but they weren't thieves.

He paddled toward the dock, then tied up the boat, motioning to Ruby Duke to stay put. In a crouch, he snuck up on the cabin, then flattened himself out as much as he could against the wall. Inching to the window, he spun his hat backward, then peeked inside.

He made out one person, not clearly, but from the back the redhead looked either like a woman or a longhaired drifter. The minute the drifter idea entered Ar-ley's head, he realized he'd been wrong about the situation. What he was witnessing was a robbery.

The idea that someone had the gall to steal something from his sweet cousin, Stevie, soured Arley's disposition. He wished he had time to go get Justus, but by then the thieving varmint might be long gone.

Arley made a quick decision, counted to one, then made a mad dash for the door and swung it open. He gave one banshee yell as he entered the cabin and charged the intruder.

The yell startled the thief, and the long-haired drifter spun around. Arley saw it was a woman seconds before he plowed her over, following her down, his weight and momentum flattening her into the floorboards with a loud thud.

It happened so fast, his speed and accuracy dazed him. When his head cleared, he got his hands under him and shoved himself up. He shook his head, blinked twice, then focused his eyes on the prettiest female he'd ever seen.

The freckle-faced Bambi finally found her voice, and surprised him with, ''You must be Arley.'' ''Uh? Yes, 'um. That's me.'' ''I'm Connie. Stevie's friend from Minnesota.'' ''Ah... Stevie ain't home.'' ''Not at the moment, no. She took a walk. She said there was something she had to do, and that I should make myself comfortable. I don't think this is what she had in mind, though.''

Arley heaved himself off Connie, then reached down to help her up. Once she was on her feet, he took a quick tally—green eyes, flaming hair, twice-blessed hooters, and a broken wing. ''Sorry I laid you out. Thought a thief was stealin' from Stevie. You mentioned she had something ta do. You sayin' she's here? She's come home?''

''She's home. So tell me about this partner of hers. Is Justus Walker good enough for my best friend, Ar-ley? Or should we shoot him between the eyes and bury his body in the swamp?''

Chapter 10

Stevie paused outside the Muddy's back door and inhaled the sweet, sultry scent of tropical heat and lush foliage. It was amazing how fast she had grown to love her new home.

She opened the door, knowing it wouldn't be locked. Justus had told her that most people in Crawford didn't bother to lock their doors.

The minute she stepped into the kitchen she was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. She didn't want to call it homesickness, but that's what it was. She'd been homesick for days. Homesick for her new friends, Uncle Buz's cabin and the Muddy. Most of all, Justus.

Stevie walked into the kitchen aided by a night-light that was set on a timer. She walked around the room, touching and looking, pride surfacing. Everything was just like she'd left it—shiny and clean.

She was so lucky. She hadn't realized how lucky until she had landed in the Minneapolis airport and stood shivering in the cold waiting for a cab for twenty minutes.

She owed her future to Uncle Buz. She wished she could tell him how much it meant to her that he had shared such a precious gift with her.

With every setback, a new door opens.

Yes, the Muddy was her open door. She knew that now. Knew that she belonged here. It hadn't taken twenty-four hours for her to realize that, and ever since she had, she'd been aching to return.

Stevie left the kitchen and slipped behind the bar to look out over the Muddy's dining room. The lit-up jukebox in the corner aided her, and she looked around, knowing nothing had changed, but unable to stop looking just the same. Looking and smiling. The chairs had all been turned over on the tables, the floor swept and scrubbed, ready for tomorrow's breakfast crowd.

She stepped around the bar, spinning the stool where Jinx always sat. He was quite a character. They were all characters—Nate and Dula, Fay and Arley.

She meandered around the room wearing a silly grin and warming with pride. She stopped and closed her eyes and without any effort at all, she could picture the tables full of customers. They were eating and laughing while the jukebox played and the bar was lined with old-timers.

''Thank you, Uncle Buz,'' she whispered. ''Thank you for trusting me with your life and loves.''

In that moment, Stevie realized just how much she had needed to belong somewhere. How much she ached to belong to someone.

She had wronged Justus, and she owed him an apology. She had jumped to the wrong conclusion and falsely accused him just like she had that day in his office.

It's called conjecture and it's not admissible evidence in court, honey.

Stevie had stopped at the Henny-Penny on the way back into town. When she'd gone inside to pay for her gas, Sissy Folly was at the checkout. She'd said, ''I'm sure glad you're back in town, Stevie. I'm getting tired of being blamed for selling Arley all those balloons. If I had known what he was going to do with them, and that you were going to have a hissy-fit over it, I wouldn't have sold them to him. But I didn't know what he had planned. Honest. You shouldn't be too hard on him, though. He's been pretty low since you left, blaming himself for ruining things between you and Justus.''

''Call it, and it's yours.''

Stevie spun around to find Justus behind the bar. He must have been upstairs. She hadn't heard him come down, but there he was, wearing a white dress shirt that looked like it belonged under a suit jacket. It was unbuttoned, and the sight of his bare chest brought back a flood of hot memories.

''I'll have a cosmopolitan, heavy on the cranberry juice, please.''

''One Bullfrog comin' up...with cranberry juice.'' ''No cherry.'' ''Yes, ma'am.''

Stevie slowly walked back to the bar and slipped onto a bar stool. ''Did I wake you? It's after one.''

''No. I just got back from Nawlins about an hour ago. Had business there.''

''Who kept the Muddy running while you were gone?''

He set the vodka and cranberry juice on the bar and reached for a glass. ''Fayda Mae and Nate.'' ''Nate?''

''He's decided that bartending is his calling. Besides I told him if he was willin' to come to work for us all his BLTs would be on the house.'' He mixed her drink, set it in front of her, then gave her his full attention. ''I've missed you.''

His eyes penetrated hers, searched. Stevie had missed him, too. So much, she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she'd left.

''What's been going on, honey? Where have you been?''

''I went back to Minneapolis.'' ''Runnin' off never settles much.'' ''I never ran off. Connie had an accident that put her in the hospital. She needed me to come.''

He frowned. ''So that's why you took off. That's what you meant by somethin' awful happened.'' ''What?''

''That's what you told Arley at the Henny-Penny the day you left. You sayin' it wasn't the balloons that sent you runnin'?''

''I told you I didn't run. Well, I did at first, but I would never have left town if it hadn't been for the phone call.''

''You ever think that maybe you should have let me know where you took off to? That I might worry?'' ''Did you?'' ''Oui. Every day.''

''I'm not used to having to check in with someone. I guess I didn't think.'' Stevie suddenly realized she had been very irresponsible. ''You're right. I'm part-owner in the Muddy. I should have called and let you know I wasn't going to be able to be here. I should have explained how long I would be gone.''

He stared at her, his intense blue eyes unwavering. He hadn't cracked a smile since she'd turned to look at him. She missed his smile. Missed the way it warmed her inside.

''I owe you an apology. Sissy Folly told me tonight that Arley bought the balloons. I made a mistake.''

''I did, too. I should have run after you when you took off out the back door.''

Stevie watched as Justus reached for the phone behind the counter and punched in a number. He waited a minute, then said, ''Say, Leland, you can cancel that investigation we discussed this mornin'. There's no need. Catch you next time I'm in town.''

When he hung up, Stevie said, ''You hired an investigator to look for me?''

''Leland is an ex-lawyer turned private investigator. You haven't told me much about your life in Minnesota so I didn't have much to go on. I did locate your exboss, but he wasn't much help. He said he hadn't seen you since you'd moved. You should have cleared it with me, honey. I've been losin' sleep.''

''Cleared it with you? I haven't had to clear anything with another person besides my boss in years.'' ''Best get used to it.'' ''I will not get—''

He placed his hands on the bar and in one easy motion, vaulted over the top of it. Before Stevie could get off the stool, he had her spun around, and she was pinned between the bar and his powerful body.

Stevie hiked her chin. ''What now? Are you going to manhandle me?''

''That's one way of puttin' it.'' He reached out and threaded his fingers through her hair, at the same time he tugged her head back. ''You all right with me kis-sin' you?''

He was towering over her, his legs spread wide, cradling her between them. Her back was against the bar. ''Give me an answer, honey.'' She nodded. ''That'll do.''

The kiss came fast, loaded with possession and hot scorching passion. Stevie moaned, raised her arms and slid them around Justus's waist. She opened her mouth and let him take what he wanted. As he continued to kiss her, he lifted her off the stool and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. He walked to the jukebox and set her on the lit-up glass top. ''I want more,'' he muttered against her lips. ''I want it all.'' ''Are you saying I turn you on, Justus Walker?'' ''You turn me on, over, upside down and inside out, honey, and you know it.''

Stevie touched his cheek. ''Yes, I know. You don't hide it very well.'' She reached out and ran her hand

along Justus's zipper. He moaned, pressed himself against her hand.

''Right here,'' he said.

''Yes, here,'' she agreed.

''Let's get rid of these jeans.''

Stevie leaned back, closed her eyes, and hung onto the sides of the jukebox as Justus unzipped her jeans, then peeled them off.

''Candy-apple red.''

''What?''

''Your panties. I love the taste of apples. Let's get rid of the T-shirt, too.''

Stevie sat up. ''I don't have a bra on.''

''I know.''

He pulled her shirt up and encouraged her to raise her arms. As she did, he slipped her purple T-shirt off over her head. The minute her breasts were bare, he lowered his head.

Stevie closed her eyes and threaded her fingers through his hair. She loved the way he touched her, how unhurried and gentle he was. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders, wanting him as bare as she was. ''You make me crazy,'' she whispered. ''Have I told you how much I love everything you do to me, Just? Everything inside and out.''

Stevie lay naked on Justus's bed content to watch him sleep. They had made love on the jukebox, then on the stairway three steps away from his apartment door.

Now hours later, he had fallen asleep with his arms

wrapped around her waist and his face pillowed between her breasts.

She bent her head and kissed his temple, stroked his hair. Studying him, she decided he was absolutely the most sexually hot, exciting man to ever exist.

She sent her eyes over his naked body, again appreciating him in detail, marveling at all the controlled power that held her—loved everything about him from his sturdy hips, and beautiful butt, to his rock-hard legs and flat abdomen.

''Am I a keeper, or are you goin' to throw me back?''

The question brought a smile to Stevie's lips. ''A keeper? Hmm... I'm not sure.''

She felt his hands slowly release her, then suddenly he came to his knees and jerked her beneath all that controlled power. Straddling her, he said, ''You're not sure? What aren't you sure about? You seemed pretty sure on the jukebox.''

He laced their hands together and flattened them to the bed. His smile slid a little and he said, ''Stevie, honey, have you come home to stay? I need to know.'' The seriousness in his voice sobered her. ''I'm here aren't I?''

''But for how long?''

''There are some things we need to discuss, Just.'' He rocked back and, still straddling her, rested his hands on his bare thighs. ''This would be the time, honey.''

''I've changed my mind.''

''Changed your mind about what? The Muddy?''

''Yes. I can't make it work...without a joint menu like we talked about before I left. And I really have found a way to take the grease out of the Buzzard burger, and keep it juicy. Want to hear?''

He looked down at her for a long minute, then slowly his smile returned. ''You're stickin' then?''

She nodded. ''Yes.''

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, then with more fervor.

Stevie didn't remember when he flattened out and slipped between her legs, when he entered her and took possession of her body. But it didn't really matter when it had happened, only that it had, and that Justus was there, filling her up and taking her on another heavenly ride.

Justus Walker's heaven was this side of nowhere Stevie had ever been before. Each trip, new and exciting. Each touch more potent than the last.

''I love you,'' he whispered. ''Love everything about you, honey. Welcome home.''

As he slid deeper and began to move, Stevie closed her eyes and clung to him. Home... Yes, she was home. Home in every way that mattered. Home in Justus Walker's capable arms.

Chapter 11

1 hear Stevie's friend is a big city secretary. You think she's got what it takes ta stick like our Stevie?'' Justus glanced over the top of Jinx's head to where Connie and Arley sat at a table near the window. They had eaten lunch together. Actually they had eaten lunch together yesterday, too. And like yesterday, they were both grinning like love-struck kids.

He watched as Connie raised her fork and fed Arley a bite of low-fat strawberry cheesecake. He couldn't help but smile over that.

''Somebody said you offered her a job.'' ''I did. The police station could use some organization.''

''Did she accept?''

''She did. Said she would be happy to take the job. Guess she approves of me dating Stevie.''

Arley had told him what Connie had said about him two nights ago—shooting him between the eyes and burying him in the swamp if he didn't measure up.

''This here dating business, Just. Don't you think you're a little too old for that sorta thing? I mean, why not up and marry Stevie and get it over with. You two are doin' it anyways.''

Justus angled his head and looked at Jinx. ''Doin' it?''

''You know what I'm talkin' about. Long as she's yours, you oughta be claiming her before she gets a wild hair ta run off again. Or Elroy gets another notion. I heard his yard is mowed and the junkyard is around back of his house now.''

''Drove by yesterday.'' Justus shoved Jinx's burger platter a little closer to him, hoping he'd take the hint and put his mouth to better use. ''Yard looks pretty sharp.''

''That might be,'' Jinx agreed, ''but I was just starting to know where things was at out there. Heard he's still talkin' about indoor plumbin'. I think you should be poppin' the question before he gets that stool ordered and you're plumb flushed out of the picture.''

Justus raised a black eyebrow. ''You make another bet with Nate?''

Jinx's cheeks turned red. ''A small one. Now don't go gettin' riled. It's in your best interest, boy. I'll cut you in for half if'n you get to it first before Saturday.'' ''First? You sayin' Elroy's in on the bet, too?'' ''I ain't for sure, but Nate's got somethin' up his sleeve.''

''What about Nate?''

At the sound of Stevie's sweet voice Justus turned his head, his smile spreading. She looked pretty today. She was wearing jean shorts and one of those skinny-strapped tops of hers. This one was red.

Like always all he had to do was think about her eager response to him and it sent his body into motion and his heart pounding.

''Hi, honey.''

She acknowledged his greeting with a smile, and then some. ''Hi, yourself.''

Jinx cleared his throat to pull Stevie's eyes around and get himself noticed.

''Afternoon, Jinx. Something wrong with your burger? You haven't touched it yet.''

''Nothin's wrong with it, Stevie. Looks fine. You look real fine, too. Come ta think on it, you always look fine these days. Don't she, Just?''

Justus ignored the way Jinx was giving him the go-ahead nod, and sent his eyes over Stevie again, this time a little slower—he didn't want to miss anything. Taking inventory with pleasure, he said, ''Oui. She's an eyeful.''

In the few days she'd been back, they had settled on a joint menu, and things were progressing nicely at the Muddy. They had hired two waitresses, and a salad girl, and with Nate behind the bar a few hours every day, Justus had been given some breathing room.

''It's good ta have you back in the Muddy's kitchen, Stevie.'' Jinx finally cut into his Buzzard burger and sighed. ''Sure do like the way you make these burgers so juicy. Guess you gave up that fool notion of taking the grease out, ya?'' ''Actually, I—''

Justus wrapped his arm around Stevie and pulled her close. ''Jinx ain't interested in the lowdown, honey. Only the taste. You get enough sleep last night?''

She smiled up at him, slipped her hand around back of him and gave his butt a pinch, then wiggled out of his arms, and asked, ''You were saying something about Nate. What about Nate? He's all right, isn't he?''

''He's fine. Say, Stevie, you gonna help with the big shindig on Saturday?'' Jinx asked, around a mouthful of burger and grits. ''The Muddy always celebrates Valentine's Day with a shindig. Everybody in town shows up for a burger and a beer.''

''A party?''

''It's a big'un,'' Jinx guaranteed.

''This is the first I've heard of it.''

''Last year Buz outdone himself and decorated the Muddy with balloons. Even ordered napkins with hearts on 'em. Burgers was shaped like hearts, too. Ar-ley and some of the boys pulled out the fiddles after a fashion, and we moved the party outside when it got dark. We had ourselves an all-night mudbug boil.''

''Arley plays the violin?'' Stevie couldn't hide her surprise.

''Here we call it a fiddle, honey,'' Justus said.

Stevie shrugged. ''Whatever, Just.''

''Our boy, Justus, plays, too,'' Jinx added. ''He's got a sackful of talents. 'Course I figure you already know that.''

Stevie looked at Justus. ''You play the fiddle?''

''Jinx is stretchin' it, honey. I don't play near as good as Arley.''

Stevie didn't believe him. She was in agreement with Jinx. Justus had a sackful of talent. More than a sackful. He could be a high-powered lawyer anywhere he wanted to. Or do anything else he chose to do. But instead he'd come home to Crawford because he'd made a promise to Mamma Dula.

Nate came through the door of the Muddy and covered a bar stool. When he looked at Stevie, she knew what was coming.

''So, Stevie, you give my heart-smart idea some thought?''

Yes, she had, but as much as she was in agreement with him, she was nervous about popping the question.

''Stevie, honey, what idea was that?'' Justus asked.

She smiled pleasantly at one and all, then to Justus, she said, ''Maybe we should discuss this in private.''

Nate cleared his throat. ''Witnesses would be best if'n you're planning a speech. Case there's a dispute later on.''

He rubbed his fingers together, and Stevie knew what he was trying to tell her. He was concerned with winning the bet he'd made with Jinx.

She didn't really care who won. The bottom line was she wanted a steady diet of Justus Walker. An everyday diet of him, and she was determined to have it. And if Mamma Dula was right, Justus wasn't going to make the first move. She said that he was concerned with moving too fast for her, and knew she wasn't ready to make a permanent commitment, even though he was.

How dare he say she wasn't ready. She was ready. More than ready.

She glanced across the bar to where Dula sat at her favorite table. As if the woman had been summoned, she raised her eyes and nodded her encouragement. It was the shove Stevie needed, and her mind was made up. She slipped her arms around Justus's neck and encouraged him to wrap his around her waist. He said, ''What's going on, honey?'' ''I've got something to ask you.'' On tiptoes she kissed him, then angled her head back to check his response. ''Just...honey,'' she began.

Jinx groaned. ''I've lost. She's your ace in the hole, ain't she, Nate?''

''You bet your boat, she is,'' Nate laughed. Stevie kissed Justus twice more, then whispered, ''I'm ready.'' ''Ready for what, honey?''

''Ready to commit.'' Stevie paused, then said, ''I'm asking you to marry me, Just.''

Nate let out a catcall, while Jinx lowered his head and put his mouth to better use, digging into his burger like a starved animal.

Even though Justus said nothing, Stevie felt his arms tighten around her, and his lazy smile touched his eyes. She said softly, ''I love you, Justus Walker. If you love me, too, say, 'Yes, Stevie, honey, I'll marry you.' Say it, Just. Say yes.''

He laughed, squeezed her a little tighter, then said, ''Yes, Stevie, honey, I love you. You hear that, boys?

I love her. Sounds like we're tyin' the knot on Saturday, and afterward we'll have the biggest Valentine's Day celebration in Crawford's history. Hosted right here at the Muddy.''

Epilogue

The wedding was the biggest ever in Crawford. Mamma Dula put the word out, with an open invitation to anyone along the river and beyond who was interested in witnessing the marriage of her boy, Justus, and the prettiest filly this side of anywhere.

Henrettia Penny had called in a rush order on red balloons and another tank of helium, and the men started netting mudbugs.

Come Saturday morning the Muddy's backyard was lined with picnic tables, a mess of well-wishers, and too many red heart balloons to count. Connie walked up the grassy aisle first as Stevie's maid of honor, followed by Stevie on Arley's arm wearing a summer white dress, carrying a single red rose. After the ceremony was over, the fiddles were pulled out, and enough food and mudbugs to feed the entire parish.

The day was one of the happiest of Stevie's life. She brushed a tear from her eye, and again silently thanked her uncle Buz. He had given her more than the Muddy. So much more.

''Stevie, honey, where did you go?'' ''I'm out here.'' Stevie turned from the railing to see Justus standing in the doorway of the cabin. He was so handsome in the moonlight wearing blue jeans and his white shirt.

''We sure had a wild day, didn't we?'' ''You bet we did.''

''Speaking of bets. How much did you make?'' Surprised by the question, she asked, ''You knew?'' '''Course I knew.''

''You knew Nate recruited me? How?'' ''I heard about the bet a day earlier. Jinx was bettin' on me proposin', and Nate took up the challenge claimin' you'd be the one to pop the question first. When I heard that Mamma had joined Nate's side, I knew the smartest thing to do was to keep my mouth shut. That is until you popped the question.'' Stevie was speechless.

''Now, honey, it's all right. It really doesn't matter who asked who, does it?'' ''Mamma was in on the bet?'' "Oui."

''I was set up.''

''I'd say from day one.'' His hands slid over Stevie's backside and he drew her against him. ''I'll let you in on a little secret. I've heard Jinx and Nate have made another wager.'' ''On us?''

''Oui. It involves both of us.''

''What is it this time?''

Justus nuzzled her neck, then whispered in her ear. ''How soon we can make a baby.''

Stevie jerked her head back. ''They're making bets on our children now?''

''Jinx says the first one will be a boy. Nate says it'll be a girl.''

''And what do you say?'' Stevie asked, slipping her hands around the back of him to squeeze his sexy butt.

''I say...whatever.''

Stevie angled her head back an grinned. ''Whatever?''

''Boy, girl... One of each. Four of each. How's your wind? You up for a marathon tonight, honey?''

She slid her hand over his hip and touched him there, along his zipper. ''Feels like you're up for a marathon, and then some.'' She kissed him. Sucked on his bottom lip. ''I finished the book. Chapter five is titled the 'Main Course.' There's a checklist involved.''

He let out a heavy sigh, then lifted her off her feet and into his arms. They were on their way back into the cabin when they heard giggling out in the middle of the bayou. Stevie reached for the flashlight on the side of the cabin and while Justus held her, she scanned the bay. Seconds later she located Arley, Connie and Ruby Duke.

''Hi, Stevie. Hi, Just. Nice night, ain't it,'' Arley hollered.

''What are you two doing?'' Stevie called back.

''Connie's going froggin' with me. Don't that sound like fun?''

Stevie glanced at Justus. ''Connie has no clue,'' she whispered.

''If she did, she wouldn't be grinnin' ear-to-ear,'' Justus offered.

''What should we do?''

''Wave.''

''Wave?''

''Come on, honey. Maybe if we're lucky they'll get lost and it'll give us a couple extra hours to work on that checklist before they find their way back.''

Justus raised his hand, and Stevie followed suit. ''You two have fun,'' she called out cheerfully. ''Now douse the light.''