Winning the Heiress' Heart Read online

  Jack strolled beside him. “Our heiress is a damn fine cook. You gonna bid for her basket?”

  Were there hidden depths to Eva he hadn’t suspected? And how does Jack know things about her I don’t? “When did you taste her cooking?”

  “You mean you haven’t sampled her treats yet? You’re slipping.” Jack grinned and refused to answer.

  Bidding got underway in the picnic hamper auction as they jostled for position. He tried to visualize Eva’s basket as it sat on her lap in the Jeep and realized he’d paid more attention to the curve of her calf below her full skirt.

  “What am I bid for this beautiful basket? Smells mighty tasty.” The auctioneer peered in then closed the lid and placed the basket on the table. A huge bow in emerald green stirred in the breeze.

  He was sure he’s seen the bow brushing saucily against Eva’s thigh when they arrived. He raised his hand. “Ten dollars.”

  “Twelve.” Jack’s spirited offer surprised and spurred him on.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Sixteen. I know how good she cooks.” Jack gazed beatifically at the basket and smacked his lips together.

  “I brought her and I’m sure not letting you win this time, Jack. Twenty.”

  Amusement rippled through the crowd and speculative glances were thrown their way. It was the highest bid of the auction but he wasn’t about to let Eva out of his sight.

  Jack tutted in resignation. “You win, my friend. Enjoy lunch with our little heiress.” He strolled a couple of steps before he turned back. “Besides, I just wanted to see how far you were prepared to go. Seems like the answer is a long way.” He ambled away, whistling “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool.”

  Luc shrugged and wandered over to pay for his prize at the table where Mitzy Stark guarded the cash box. She twitched the note from his fingers with a smile. “Is it pineapple pie you’re hoping to lunch on or an English rose to chat up, Luc?”

  “Maybe a bit of both, Mitzy.” He winked, picked up his basket and turned to see Eva walking over to join him.

  “So you’re willing to bet on me cooking a decent lunch?”

  “I was assured by an expert that your cooking is exceptional. Shall we?” Offering his arm, he led her to a shady spot a little apart from the throng. He put the basket against the base of the tree.

  Eva handed him a small, tartan rug, which he spread, then she unpacked a deep-dish pineapple pie and assorted sandwiches and treats, a Thermos flask and cups. She smiled as she announced, “Luncheon is served.”

  ###

  Damn if Jack wasn’t right. Eva’s cooking was sensational. He patted his belly and sighed contentedly. “How does an English aristocrat learn to cook like this?”

  “Necessity breeds creativity. Try cooking with only five ounces of butter per week.”

  “But you were barely a teenager when the war ended. Didn’t you have a cook in Bellerose?”

  “You think rationing ended with the end of the War? We struggled with rationed goods well into the fifties.”

  “I didn’t know that. Sounds tough.”

  “It was the same for everyone. Would you like another helping?” She offered another slice.

  He shook his head. “No. That was superb, thank you.”

  “I’ll finish this piece—”

  He touched her forearm. “You realise that, through winning your basket for lunch, you’re also my partner in the charity race?”

  “Pardon? You mean I have to run after that lunch?” She lowered the plate.

  “Worse. I have to carry you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re joking. Aren’t you?”

  “’Fraid not. Want to save that pie for afternoon tea?”

  ###

  “Okay up there?” Luc held Eva’s knees as she wriggled into position on his shoulders. Her full skirt fell down his back and left a tantalizing stretch of bare thigh in his line of view. He’d expected her to decline the challenge. Heiresses weren’t known for risking either manicure or dignity in rowdy races but she’d surprised him. Again.

  “As I’ll ever be. What do I hold onto?”

  “Whatever you like.” He grinned. Eva’s thighs tightened around his neck and suddenly, he wasn’t laughing. Surrounded by her scent and heat, it hit him that her sweet core was pressed against the back of his neck. If he tried for a month of Sundays, he wouldn’t have imagined being in this position with her. Other positions, maybe...

  “Competitors ready...” The race marshal shuffled back from the line of men balancing young women on their shoulders.

  Beside them, Jack crouched with the Pineapple Queen squealing on his shoulders.

  “Go!”

  “Go, Luc!”

  Eva’s command snapped him out of his dream state. He took off after Jack who was already leading the field.

  Eva leaned forward and patted his head. “Faster!” He hadn’t been a track star without learning how to push his body to the limits. They surged ahead of the rest of the field and he had Jack firmly fixed in his sights.

  The Pineapple Queen screamed and covered Jack’s eyes with both hands. Jack veered into the crowd, staggered to his knees, and both he and the Queen fell short of the tape.

  Luc lunged for the line. Eva’s weight shifted on his shoulders and threw them off-balance. Her victory shout became a shriek as she tumbled over his head. He landed on his knees beside the ice cream stand. Eva sat on her butt in a mud puddle.

  She looked up and blinked. Laughter erupted around them and suddenly, she grinned. “We won.”

  He pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Indeed we did. Great riding, partner!” He pulled her up. Two muddy hands landed on his chest.

  “Next time, don’t fall at the finish.” She tapped his nose with her muddy finger.

  “Sorry about that. And your outfit.”

  “What’s a race without a little mud? I’ll just go wash off the worst of it.”

  He watched her muddy backside all the way into the ladies’ tent. Was it possible Eva wasn’t the snobbish heiress he’d labelled her? She’d cooked up a dream, partnered him in a charity race and was laughing at a tumble in the mud. Preconceptions shattered and certainty fell by the wayside. Could he seduce her and still walk away?

  Chapter Ten

  Luc knocked a second time, waited and then stepped into Eva’s hall. The squeal of heavy furniture being dragged across the library floor explained why no one had heard him knock.

  “I think we’ve earned ourselves a break, Seb. What do you say to a cold drink?”

  “Don’t mind if I do, thanks. Hello, Eva.” Luc walked into the room, looked around and whistled long and low. “Looks like one of those display rooms in a magazine.”

  Pink-cheeked, Eva scrambled to her feet and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Luc. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I knocked but with all the banging coming from this room I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  He looked from one to the other and chuckled. “Why don’t you go pour those drinks, Seb? I need to speak to your aunt.”

  The teenager winked at him. “It might take me a while.”

  “No hurry.”

  He loped away.

  Eva twisted a red scarf in her hands, and twitched at her tan shorts.

  “You look fine.”

  “Are you a mind reader now?”

  He grinned. Where she was concerned, it seemed he was.

  Color bloomed in her cheeks and she clutched her dusty scarf to her chest. “Was there a point to your visit other than to comment on my fashion sense?”

  “I came over to check the boys’ repairs to the shed and I ran into Stefan. He said the police report indicated the fire was started by an oil lamp. Difficult to say whether it was deliberate or not but they’re calling it an accident.”

  She nodded and offered him a seat. “That’s good for insurance purposes. And I’d prefer to think it was accidental. The alternative is uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t disc
ount the other possibility, though. Two bad things seldom happen together.”

  “Now you’re worrying me when I was starting to feel things had settled down.”

  “Just be careful to lock up.”

  “Thank you for sending Acky and Moe. They’ve done a great job helping Seb and Stefan with clearing the debris and erecting the new shed.”

  “Have you been sleeping okay?” God knew, he hadn’t. The surge of protectiveness toward the woman and boy who had taken his dream from him, was uncomfortable and unwelcome. Softening his attitude to them wouldn’t help him gain the land, despite the fun of the Pineapple Festival. But it was harder to remember his goal when she looked at him with her clear-eyed gaze. He folded his arms and leaned against the sofa.

  She shrugged. “I kept the gun near my pillow. I tried putting it underneath but I felt like the princess with the pea.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Should I know what you mean?”

  “It’s an English fairy story. Anyway, I was so aware of the bulk of it lying beneath my pillow I still couldn’t sleep. Now I keep it on the night stand.”

  “No chance of you sleepwalking?”

  “Very droll. Perhaps you should leave while you can still walk.”

  “Threatening me, Eva? Play nice or you won’t come to dinner at my home on Friday.”

  “What a gallant invitation. How could a girl resist, but I will try.”

  Luc’s smile disappeared. Gallant would never apply to his behavior around her. They struck sparks as they skirted around the elephant in the room but in spite of the fact she had his plantation, he enjoyed the spice of their encounters.

  “Please come. My father’s returning to Hawaii and he’s bringing his new fiancée with him. The dinner’s a welcome home.” A bitter note crept into his voice.

  Eva reached out and touched his arm. “I thought you got on well with your father.”

  His jaw muscles clenched. “Yeah, we do, but his taste in women is terrible. Witness my mother.”

  “You’re prejudging his fiancée, the poor woman, and that’s not fair. Just because your mother didn’t live up to your expectations—”

  That emotional baggage where his mother was concerned was well known but had it dawned on Eva why Genevieve Benson had rejected his proposal of marriage? The social stigma of his mother’s adultery and divorce was as strong as ever in the islands.

  “That’s a laugh. My mother was always the good time girl, even during the war. The sniff of a party and she’d be pulling on her silk stockings.”

  “All women aren’t the same. Not everyone is just out for a good time. At least give your father’s fiancée a chance before you condemn her, sight unseen.” Her words niggled at him, at his willingness to believe the worst of Eva.

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’ll try. Will you come? As a friend.”

  “It sounds as though it should be a family reunion. I’d hate to intrude.”

  He took her hand between his and brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “I want you there because I know you won’t let me say something I might regret. You can bring your gun if you like.”

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips but didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I might be too tempted if you misbehave. Better leave it under my pillow.”

  “Spoilsport. Tell me about this magazine thing.” Playful Luc emerged and he grinned as the conversation moved to safer topics.

  “They’re coming to interview me tomorrow, a journalist and a photographer.”

  ***

  Eva gestured the two men from the magazine to the sofa and poured cold drinks for them. The young photographer, Ben, fiddled with his camera. He looked barely more than Seb’s age and her heart sank a little. It was probably foolish and a little naïve but she’d hoped the magazine might be one of the bigger ones who paid for interviews. Any amount to pay off the mortgage would be welcome.

  Mr. Kowalski, the journalist, gave her a wide, white-toothed grin and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Thanks for talking with us, Miss Abbott. Nice spread you’ve got here.”

  She offered the tray of drinks and each man took a glass. “Frankly, I was surprised when your editor rang asking for the interview. I still don’t understand why my family history is of interest to your magazine.”

  “Since Hawaiian statehood, we’re running a feature series on new beginnings and you, Miss Abbott, are a fascinating link between the Old World and our fiftieth state of the Union.”

  “Your editor said you had some questions about my family connections in New Orleans, is that right? How does my family history fit with new beginnings?”

  “Well now, you mentioned to the photographer back in New Orleans that you had a pirate ancestor. He passed that on to our editor, along with the fact that you were en route to Hawaii to take over a pineapple plantation. That’s a mighty big undertaking for a lone woman.”

  “I see. So is it the romantic pirate past or the modern woman taking on a man’s role that your editor wants to use?”

  Mr. Kowalski opened his mouth and then closed it without a word. He and Ben turned to each other and a look passed between them that she couldn’t interpret. Caution seemed the wisest course until she knew more.

  “Let’s start at the beginning with that newspaper photo. Who was the woman in the portrait?” Kowalski looked at her, pencil poised over his notebook.

  Unable to pinpoint what it was about the men that made her uneasy, Eva took a moment to answer. Maybe she was seeing shadows everywhere because of the past couple of weeks.

  “My ancestress, Josephine Dubois, married a French merchant, Francois, in New Orleans in the late eighteenth century.”

  “And he gave her that necklace? Do you still have it?”

  “I thought this meeting was to discuss my family history.”

  Kowalski shrugged, apparently unconcerned by her tone. “I’m getting to that. What stones are in the necklace, emeralds and diamonds?”

  “Unfortunately, I’ve never seen the real piece.”

  He pulled out a newspaper clipping, a copy of the photo she had framed on the mantel. “So, your ancestress, Josephine, had this necklace and passed it on to her niece who married a pirate. Is that right?”

  “I assume it was passed on, although I believe her nephew-in-law was not so much a pirate as an abolitionist.”

  “What do you suppose the niece and her pirate husband did with the necklace?”

  “I have no idea what happened to the piece after Josephine had her portrait painted but Madeleine and Sebastien Leclerc eventually settled here in the Hawaiian Islands. He wasn’t following the pirate trade then, Mr. Kowalski. Just a land owner with a sizable plantation.”

  “And is this the property they owned? Is that why you bought this place?” Ben chimed in for the first time, reminding her yet again of Seb’s boyish enthusiasm. “Do you think they buried the necklace here? Are you going to dig for—”

  “Enough, Ben. You’re out of line.” Kowalski’s gruff reprimand caused a dull red to creep up Ben’s cheeks.

  Eva smiled at the photographer, more willing to deal with him than his older partner. “It’s okay. My nephew was speculating on the same thing, only he doesn’t think there’d be any digging involved.”

  “Ben, would you take a couple of shots of Miss Abbott, then you can go and talk to her nephew.”

  “Cool.” Ben jumped to his feet, camera at the ready. “Miss Abbott, would you mind turning a little to your right please?”

  “Happy to oblige, Ben. Like this?”

  He clicked off a couple of shots and looked at his boss. “Do you want me to take some of the pineapple fields?”

  “Sure. Off you go.”

  Ben hurried away, camera swinging against his chest and Kowalski sat back. “So, Miss Abbott, what made you choose Hawaii and pineapple farming for your new life?”

  ***

  Eva waved and watched Seb drive off with his new friend, Ben, until the taillights were out of sight. Ev
en without moving far, a trickle of sweat slid down her back. How she wished she could wear her hair up. She slipped an arm under the mass of hair and lifted it, raising her face to a cooling breeze. With a sigh, she let her hair fall and turned to knock on Luc’s door.

  He was standing in the doorway watching her, his gaze intent. Her breath caught in her throat. Had he seen her scars? She waited for the look of revulsion that Timothy had worn; the look that had said he was worth more than a wife who was damaged goods. Even with a fortune she’d barely been acceptable to him. Without one, who would look at her?

  Luc strolled across and raised her hand to his lips. “Good evening, Eva. You look beautiful.”

  Her knees turned to water and her hand tightened in his. He hadn’t seen. He didn’t know. Relief coursed through her body and she swallowed the knot of fear in her throat. When she smiled, perhaps a little more brightly than usual, his gaze flicked to her mouth. Heat bloomed in her secret places like a tropical flower. She ran her tongue across her top lip and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth.

  “Ah, Eva. You really are well named.”

  If she was Eve in the Garden, was Luc Adam, or the serpent? For tonight, it didn’t matter. She knew what he wanted, and forewarned was forearmed.

  The overhead light highlighted a blue-black sheen in his hair and picked up the satin of his single-breasted jacket. The shawl collar and lack of vest was so unlike the boxy double-breasted jacket and sharp lapels still being worn back in England. Instead, the tailored look and soft evening shirt emphasised his athletic physique. She pressed her thighs together. “You scrub up pretty well yourself.” Was that breathy voice really hers?

  “It’s amazing what a suit can do for a man.” He leaned toward her, his mouth mere inches from hers, their breath mingling. She tipped her head back in welcome of what must surely follow.

  “Luc?” A voice called from within the house and broke the spell.

  He stepped back and offered his arm. “That’s my father.”

  A ridiculous sense of disappointment rushed through her and Eva quashed the need to press into his chest. Smudged lipstick and mussed-up hair were not the best look when meeting other guests. But where Luc was concerned, it seemed common sense deserted her, despite her resolve to keep her distance until she knew where she stood with him.