Needing Nicole (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

The house on the property she’d entered was a double-galleried home set back from the street in a lush garden setting and surrounded by an ornate iron fence with still-blooming plumbago peeking through the grillwork. Jack admired the well-tended grounds. Someday, if he ever had a home of his own, he wanted a garden and lots of flowers and trees. The house was shaded by two mammoth live oaks that dripped from the morning’s rain and probably kept the big house cool and comfortable in warm weather. He could see another building farther back on the property, and he wondered if Nicole lived in the big house or in the smaller structure.

A half hour later, Jack’s feet were numb. He wished he had his car. At least then he could turn on the heater instead of standing outside freezing his butt off. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe Nicole had lied to him, and she wasn’t going anywhere. He could stand out here until doomsday, and she’d probably be inside laughing at him.

Just as these black thoughts crossed his mind, he saw her. She emerged from the back of the property and opened one side of the big garage. Minutes later, Nicole and a little girl, who looked to be about two or three, had loaded a couple of suitcases into the trunk of a small red Geo and were backing out of the driveway. He wondered if the little girl was Nicole’s. He was certain she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring.

Jack, with all the finely honed instincts of a veteran reporter, wrote down the numbers on her license plate as Nicole drove away. He took one last look at the house, then, whistling, he walked rapidly toward the streetcar stop.

Whether Nicole Cantrelle knew it or not, she hadn’t seen the last of him.

Mommy, when are we going to get there?”

Nicole grinned. She’d lost count of the number of times Aimee had asked this same question. She patted her daughter’s leg. “Soon,
chere.
”

“That’s what you said the last time.”

The grin erupted into a chuckle. Aimee was nobody’s fool, and she wouldn’t be put off with vague answers.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,
Nicole’s mother was fond of saying, and in their lack of patience, Nicole knew she and Aimee were very much alike.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes. Do you know how long ten minutes is?”

“Ummm...”

Nicole slanted a glance at her daughter. Aimee’s dark eyes were narrowed in thought, and her silky blond hair, which she’d inherited from her father, fell forward in defiance of Nicole’s every effort to keep it neat. Once again Nicole constantly marveled at Aimee’s beauty. The combination of golden hair, creamy skin and eyes the color of dark chocolate was striking. How a child so lovely and bright could result from one of the worst mistakes in Nicole’s life was a continuous source of mystery... and joy.

“Look at your watch,” Nicole instructed.

Aimee held her wrist up and seriously studied the face of the Mickey Mouse watch both she and Celeste had gotten as Christmas presents last year from Nicole’s brother Norman and his wife, Alice.

“See how the little hand is on the three?”

Aimee nodded.

“And the big hand is on the one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, watch the big hand. When it moves around so that it’s on top of the little hand, then we’ll be there.”

For the next ten minutes, Aimee was quiet, and Nicole was free to let her mind wander as she drove the last few miles to Patinville, the town just west of Baton Rouge where she was born and raised.

Jack Forrester.

She hadn’t been able to forget him. Ever since her conversation with him a couple of hours earlier, he’d hovered at the edge of her mind. While she’d been saying her goodbyes to Margaret and Caldwell Reed-Douglas—her landlords and friends as well as Aimee’s baby-sitters—and the whole time she’d gotten Aimee dressed for the trip, she’d been thinking about Jack and what he’d had to say.

Now, as she exited Interstate 10 and turned south onto Route 77, which would take them straight into Patinville, she remembered how keenly his blue eyes had studied her and how she’d felt when she’d gazed into their depths.

Quit thinking about his eyes.

She bit back a giggle. What on earth was wrong with her? A perfect stranger spies on her, follows her, accosts her on the street, gives her some cockeyed story about a missing woman who looks like her, and she’s thinking about his eyes!

You’ve been without a man far too long, Nicole, my girl.

Nicole sighed.

“The big hand’s on the three!” Aimee said, her childish voice squeaking in triumph. She started to bounce on the seat, struggling against the restraining seat belt on her booster seat. “Where’s Grandma’s house?”

“You’ll see it in a minute,” Nicole said as she turned onto Lafayette Lane, the dead-end street where her parents lived.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Aimee struggled to release her seat belt as Nicole spied her parents. They must have been keeping watch at the big bay window, because they were already on the front porch.

Nicole pulled in behind her mother’s decrepit Plymouth station wagon—a vehicle she refused to give up, no matter how many times her husband and sons lectured her—and turned off the ignition. Then she turned to Aimee, pushed the release on the seat belt and waved to her parents.

Réne was already opening Aimee’s door. “My darlin’ grandbaby,” he crooned as he scooped Aimee up into his strong arms. “How your grandpapa’s missed you!” Aimee giggled as he covered her face with kisses.

Nicole got out of the car and walked around the other side, gravel crunching under her feet. She took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. Her parents’ home sat just at the edge of a small wooded area, and she’d always loved its tranquil setting. She and her brothers and sister had spent many happy days playing in the woods, pretending they were explorers and hiding out from their long-suffering mother.

Arlette Cantrelle now had Aimee in her arms, and Réne enfolded Nicole in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you,
ma chere,”
he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. Nicole hugged him back. She knew her father missed her. With the exception of her older brother, Neil, she was the only Cantrelle who had ever left Patinville. And now even Neil was back, once more working in the family’s roofing and home improvement business along with Norman, her other brother.

“Hello, Papa.”

Réne finally released her, but his dark eyes carefully studied her face, then her body.

“Don’t worry, I’m still all in one piece. Those nasty big-city people haven’t done anything to me,” Nicole teased.

Her mother grinned, and Nicole grinned back. The two of them leaned toward each other and kissed.

“Hi, Mama. It’s good to see you.”

“We’ve been watchin’ and waitin’,” her mother said. “Your papa and I, we thought you’d never get here.”

“Your mama exaggerates,” Réne said, but he winked, and Nicole knew they’d probably been doing just that: watching and waiting impatiently for that first glimpse of their baby and
her
baby.

An hour later, with Aimee happily eating her way through a dish of ice cream, Nicole and her parents got caught up on one another’s news.

“Everyone is comin’ for supper tonight,” Arlette said, her dark eyes sparkling with happiness.

Nicole sniffed. “Is that gumbo I smell?”

“What else?” her mother said. “But that’s not all, of course.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “I’ve got a ham in the oven, and your papa’s gonna make some sausage on the grill, and there’s jambalaya and cornbread and—”

“Stop! My stomach hurts just thinking about all that food! ” But Nicole’s admonishment was more teasing than serious, and she knew her mother knew it. Actually, one of the highlights of coming home was eating Arlette’s wonderful cooking.

“When is Celeste gonna be here?” Aimee asked.

“Uncle Neil said they’d get here early,” Réne answered.

“Laura’s pregnant again, did she tell you?” Arlette said.

“No!
Is
she? That’s wonderful!” Nicole was thrilled. Laura and Neil had gotten off to a rocky start, so Nicole was doubly happy for them. She knew they’d wanted another child ever since Celeste was born. Neil had laughingly told Nicole he didn’t want to be the oldest father at the PTA.

Arlette smiled her secret smile as she nodded. “An’ that’s not all...”

“Come on, Mama, tell me everything. You know you’re dying to.”

“Alice is pregnant, too!” Arlette said triumphantly.

“Oh...” Nicole felt her eyes mist at the news. Although she loved Laura, Alice was her favorite sister-in-law. She had been a young widow with two small children when she and Norman married, and she had once confided to Nicole how much she wanted to give Norman a child of his own.

“He loves Lisa and James, and he treats them as if they’re his natural children, but I so want to have his baby.” Alice’s gray eyes had shone with intense longing.

“Both babies are due about the same time,” Arlette continued, joy creasing her round face. “Around the middle of July.”

For the next hour or so, they gossiped and chatted, and Nicole thought about mentioning Jack Forrester, then decided against it. Maybe later. Instead she related a couple of amusing stories about Julianne and the office. Although Arlette and Réne resisted most of Nicole’s efforts to get them to New Orleans, they had visited twice in the past year, and both times Julianne had insisted on taking all of them out to dinner. Nicole knew that part of the reason for Julianne’s generosity was that she was a naturally warmhearted person, but the other part stemmed from the fact that Julianne’s own family was so different. Nicole knew her boss envied Nicole’s close relationship with her family.

“And what about boyfriends? Are you dating anyone?” her mother asked.

Nicole shrugged. “Just Guy.”

“You could do worse,” Arlette said.

“Leave her alone, Mama,” Réne chided, but his tone was mild. “She’ll marry when the time is right.” He reached over the top of the big round kitchen table and squeezed Nicole’s hand. “When she meets Mr. Right.”

For some reason, Jack Forrester’s good-looking face popped into her mind again. Nicole caught her lower lip between her teeth.

“What’s the matter,
chere?”
her astute father asked.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Nicole shook her head to clear it of Jack’s image. “No, really, it’s nothing.” Again she wondered if she should tell her parents about Jack and his mission. She still wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to worry them, and she knew they
would
worry if they thought strange men were following her around.

Besides, she would probably never see Jack Forrester again, so she’d worry her parents needlessly if she brought up his name.

* * *

Jack had stayed at the Marriott Hotel on Canal Street the first couple of days he was in New Orleans. But since he traveled so often, and had to stay in hotels so much, he always tried to make his surroundings away from home as home-like as possible. So he’d rented a furnished apartment near the Superdome for a month, and after he returned to it that afternoon, he changed into warmer, drier clothes and fixed himself a hefty scotch and water and a fat baloney-and-cheese sandwich accompanied by a handful of chips. He didn’t like to cook, and he’d stocked the refrigerator with a few simple things for emergencies. The rest of the time he preferred to eat out.

As he ate his sandwich and chips and sipped his drink, he thought about Nicole. He was intrigued by the idea that whether she was aware of it or not, she might know something that could help him find Elise Arnold.

Hell. Why not be honest with himself? He was intrigued by Nicole, period. For whatever reason, the moment she’d looked at him with those blazing dark eyes, he’d been tantalized and
intrigued.

The woman practically oozed sex appeal. From the tip of her shiny dark hair to the toes of her pointed black boots, she was one enticing number, full of a crackling energy and vitality that nothing could hide.

He wished he could have seen her smile. He wondered what those full, red lips would look like when she was happy. Somehow he knew Nicole Cantrelle was usually happy.

Full of the joy of living.
He had read a lot about Cajuns, had long had a fascination with the culture, and he knew they were a people with a zest for life. His interest in them had started when he’d met Charles Petitjean, a fellow journalist who had covered the Persian Gulf War with him. Charles and Jack had spent many long nights in Saudi Arabia, talking while waiting for the bombs from Iraq to fall.

Charles was a font of information about his ancestry, and to pass the tense hours, he’d told Jack stories.

“Cajuns are people exiled from the old French Acadia—better known as Nova Scotia,” Charles explained. ”In the 1700s more than five thousand of them settled in Louisiana.” His voice had grown soft. “They’re a wonderful people—warm, fun-loving, unfailingly cheerful. There’s an old saying in Cajun families,” Charles added. “
‘Love life, and life will love you back.’
That’s pretty much my philosophy.” He grinned. “I don’t spend a lot of time worryin’. Whatever happens, happens. Generally speakin’, if you expect good things in life, that’s what you’ll get.”

Jack had thought about those words many times since Charles had spoken them. He had tried to hang on to that philosophy even when he’d received the news that Charles was dead, killed by stray sniper fire when he’d been interviewing the front-line troops in Kuwait.

* * *

“Nicole, I’ve missed you,” Alice said as they hugged.

Nicole closed her eyes. Yes, she’d missed this, too. If only she could have her independence as well as be with her family. But one canceled out the other, and always would, she knew.

“Let me look at you,” Nicole said.

Alice grinned, her pretty face flushed and happy.

“You look wonderful. You’re not even showing yet.”

Alice darted a look at Norman, then at Arlette. “You told her!”

Arlette blushed, and they all laughed.

“Well, it’s only been three months. Isn’t it wonderful?” Alice said.