Chapter Three

      Callie came waltzing into the café and strolled around the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. “I hear Nick came by to see you this morning,” she called to Brenna.

      Cringing for the second time that day, Brenna shut the door to the supply closet and grabbed her smirking sister by the arm. “Do you have to announce that so loud they heard it in New Orleans?”

      “Well, did he or didn’t he come by?” Callie asked, her loosely knotted bun bouncing against her head. Why did she always have to be so perky?

      “Yes, he came to eat breakfast,” Brenna replied. “And how do you know this already?”

      “I have my sources,” Callie said, spinning on her short suede boots. She slid onto a barstool and did a matching twirl. “I knew you two would hit it off right away.”

      “We didn’t hit it off,” Brenna replied while she stacked napkins into the nearby holder. “But he did offer me a good job.”

      Callie actually clapped. “Sounds like you did more than just hit it off. This is better than I expected.”

      Brenna held up her hand. “Whoa! Don’t get the wrong idea. We clicked enough that I think I can enjoy working for him. The man offered me a huge amount of money, so yes, we got to know each other rather quickly.”

      Callie beamed with pride. “I told you he’d hire you on the spot, didn’t I?”

      “You did and he did,” Brenna confessed. “It seems a bit too easy to me. I’m afraid there’s a catch.”

      “What catch? No catch other than you’ll be doing the work you love with a handsome man who also appreciates art and beautiful homes.” Callie grabbed a piece of sweet potato pie and began to dig in with relish. “Oh, this is so good. I love Winnie’s sweet potato pie.”

      Brenna giggled. “I can tell.” She took a fork and had a bite, then dropped the fork onto a napkin. “I miss Alma.”

      “Me, too. She’ll want to hear all about this. You and Nick, I mean.”

      “Hey, there is no ‘me and Nick,’ got it?”

      “Got it,” Callie said between chews. “I wonder if he’ll want children. Does he know you’re kind of gun-shy in that area?”

      Brenna slapped her sister on the arm. “Will you stop talking like that, please? I don’t intend to marry the man. I just want a good job for a good day’s work.”

      “And I just want nieces and nephews and another wedding to plan. And I wouldn’t mind living at Fleur House, while we’re wishing.”

      Brenna pretended to not notice the sadness in her sister’s eyes. Callie deserved to be happy and she’d make such a wonderful mother. She said a prayer for her sister, then teased, “Get your own man. Preferably, the one who actually owns the house. I hear he’s filthy rich and quite mysterious. He’ll have to show up to claim his property sooner or later. You’d better be ready.”

      Callie shook her head. “No, I had my turn. One divorce is quite enough for me, thank you.” She gave a dainty shrug. “But this mysterious owner is intriguing.”

      “So you’ll just mess in my life to occupy yourself until the owner shows up?”

      “Yep. Seems to be working. Wait until I tell Elvis. He’ll be thrilled, too. He loves Nick.”

      Brenna finished filling napkin holders. “That big mutt loves anybody who breathes. But I can agree with your dog on one thing. Nick is nice-looking.”

      “Of course he is. Would I set you up with just any ol’ body?”

      “We are not set up, remember? We’re working together.”

      “Got it.” Callie finished her coffee and pie, then waved her hand in the air. “Just working together. Right.”

      Brenna shook her head, then finished her busywork, her mind in turmoil at the thought of working so closely with Nicholas Santiago. She didn’t even know the man and already, he was messing with her head. Telling herself to stick to the plan—business, business, business—she decided it wouldn’t hurt to research her new boss just so she’d be familiar with his style and the demands of her job. She’d do that first thing when she got home tonight.

      * * *

      He’d research her, see what kind of credentials she had. Nick rarely hired anyone without doing a thorough vetting, but he had no doubt Brenna Blanchard would be an asset to his renovation team. She knew the area, knew the history and she seemed to have a passion for art and literature—two things his boss demanded in all of his employees.

      Nick remembered the pride she’d displayed when discussing Fleur and the surrounding areas. Brenna might not want to spend the rest of her life in her quaint little hometown, but she sure did care about the place. That was the kind of intimate passion he needed to renovate and decorate Fleur House. While he had a great interior designer ready to re-create and decorate the house, he also wanted a curator to oversee hanging the art pieces his employer already owned and to buy other pieces to complement the entire house and collection.

      Brenna would do the job and he’d enjoy the fringe benefits of her delightful company. A win-win situation. Or one he’d regret when it came time to pull up stakes and leave. Which he’d have to do sooner or later.

      Nick got up and looked out the window of his temporary home—a construction trailer parked behind Fleur House. The nondescript trailer served as an office and a place to stay. He’d designed it that way so he didn’t have to rent out a room or stay in run-down hotels. And while Fleur had some quaint little cabins along the bayou, he much preferred to be alone in his own traveling home. He liked the privacy and the ease of transporting himself.

      A quick, clean getaway.

      That was how the last woman he’d left had described his mode of operation. Or rather, she had called his trailer a means of a quick and easy escape.

      And she’d been so right.

      He liked to get in, do the job and get out.

      No ties to bind him. No hassles to hold him.

      So why was he sitting here now doing an online search for any information he could find on Brenna Blanchard?

      Because he needed to know her so he could work with her. Of