Part 3 (1/2)

Jack gave her a careful look before replying, ”Just Jack, thanks. And no, she was merely one of the guests. Met her last night.”

”And fed her breakfast in bed!” Chuck said, following up with a whistle.

”She did not spend the night here, and all I fed her was fruit!”

The brunette's lips twitched slightly, telling him she found his predicament amusing. ”Seems like that's the way Adam and Eve got started.” Before Jack could reply, she added, ”I think I prefer Jackson.”

”Chere, only mah grandmere calls me Jackson, but...I'll make an exception in your case, considering you're visiting my Eden,” he replied, turning on the charm. ”How did you know my given name?”

”Do you treat all of your guests like this, Jack?” Chuck interrupted.

”I couldn't even tell you her name. She didn't spend the night.” Jack kept eye contact with the brunette who seemed bent on peering into his soul. He tried to shake the feeling that she was sizing him up and that somehow he wasn't faring well in her judgment.

”She tried to come over last night but I told her I needed to clean up the clubhouse, so she came over this morning to say goodbye. You know how some women are. Just won't take no for an answer.”

He looked up from the brunette's gaze and gave Chuck a candid, bright-eyed smile.

”Traveling together?” He indicated the women, secretly hoping if they were all together that Chuck's interest was focused on the pet.i.te blonde instead of the sa.s.sy brunette.

”No!” the brunette rushed to say. ”We met on the plane, and once we found out that he was coming here as well, we offered him a lift. Didn't seem right for both parties to rent a car when we could share expenses.” She stuck out her hand, ”I'm Marilyn Ma- that is, Marilyn. This is my best friend, Colette, and we're staying in one of your cabins. Your grandmother told us you might be here and that you'd show us the way.”

Jack took the hand she offered and noted with amus.e.m.e.nt that her pulse seemed to quicken when he held it a little longer than necessary. ”I'm Jack Delacroix,” he said, p.r.o.nouncing the last name with a delicious accent. ”Welcome to Tsa La Gi.”

”That sounds Native American,” Colette mused, ”but you're French, aren't you?” When Marilyn gave her a not-too-gentle gouge in the ribs, she added, ”You have a slight...accent.”

”My grandmother is French,” Jack told her. ”She raised me and my two brothers, so I 'm sure we all talk like her just a bit. Me...I'm just a mutt mixture of Cajun and Cherokee, and Tsa La Gi is Cherokee-it means the people. You're deep in the heart of Cherokee County right now. You'll find many things named in honor of the people.”

He nodded toward the key in Chuck's hand. ”Mimi give you that?”

Chuck nodded back. ”Yep. She even gave me some candy, commented on my sunburn last time and sold me sunblock before she'd give me my key.” He held it up so Jack could see the number. ”I'm down the road a bit, as you know, but the girls are next door to you.”

”That's mah grandmere! Oh, before I forget... she doesn't know about us being shot down and stranded in the jungle. I slipped up and said something earlier and almost had to explain myself!” Jack said with a laugh. ”All these years of hiding it, and I slipped up today. She'd never forgive me for not telling her the truth back when it happened, even though it'd have just worried her. C'mon. I'll take you to your cabin. I' ve got your usual one ready for you. How about you ladies? Which cabin is yours?”

Marilyn held up her key with the number 12 painted on it. ”We've already unloaded our bags and put them on the porch.”

”Yep. Right next door,” Jack said, a smile creasing his face. ”So if you need anything...ya jess holler. Ya know where I'll be most likely. Either here or at Pelican Point-that's the clubhouse on top of the hill-you pa.s.sed it on your way here.”

He motioned for them to precede him out of the door.

”What a magnificent view!” Colette cried, standing on Jack's front deck.

Jack smiled in satisfaction. He'd worked hard helping his brothers, clearing the land and erecting cabins, and this particular spot had a marvelous view of the river and the wooded area to the south of the campgrounds.

”Best view on the whole site,” Jack said proudly. ”I figured if I was to help build all of these cabins with my bare hands that I should at least get my choice of cabins. I get this Leonardo di Caprio 'I'm king of the world' feeling when I sit out here.”

He caught Marilyn looking at his hands and grinned.

”I-I'm sorry,” she stammered. ”I guess I wasn't expecting you to be such an outdoorsman.”

”I'm surprised that you were expecting me at all. I didn't catch your last name.” He felt a not-so-gentle throb in his crotch as he looked into her eyes. If she didn't quit staring at him, he was going to cream his jeans.

”The t.i.tanic sank, by the way, and Leo's character drowned.” She tried to act nonchalant but was unable to avoid noticing the incredible bulge in his pants.

”What she means,” Chuck rushed to say, grabbing hold of one of Jack's arms and pulling him off the deck and in the direction of Jack's old white truck, ”is that I told them on the plane about your being a writer. I think they expected someone with smooth palms instead of calluses.”

”I see.” Jack frowned, not seeing at all.

”Yes, you must cook for us some night!” Marilyn chimed in. ”I've read your last two books and am looking forward to tasting at least one of your delicious meals before we leave!”

Her very tone and the glint in her eyes alerted Jack that something was not quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. ”We'll see...Marilyn, was it? I don't cook much while I'm in between books, and right now I'm recharging the emotional batteries. Perhaps when you visit us again?” he asked smoothly.

”Oh, but surely someone as polished in the culinary arts as you are could spare us at least one trip to your kitchen to watch you in action before we leave!”

Jack c.o.c.ked his head slightly and nodded. ”I'm afraid my reputation there is exaggerated. The kitchen's not the room where I truly excel.” He quirked an eyebrow, flirting with her.

Score one for the Creole, thought Jack. Marilyn's lips lifted in a sarcastic smile. He'd weaseled his way out of that one easily enough, and he wondered if somehow she knew.

”Don't you think you should tell him...?” Chuck s.h.i.+fted his weight from one foot to another, and the muscles in his neck visibly tightened. He licked his lips and nodded towards Marilyn. ”I mean it's only fair, don't you think?”

”No!” both women cried simultaneously.

Chapter Five.

Native American Fry Bread.

Ingredients:.

4 cups all-purpose flour.

1 tablespoon baking powder.

1 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 cups water.

1 cup vegetable shortening.

In a bowl whisk together flour, baking powder and salt, stir in the water and knead the mixture on a

floured surface until it forms a soft but not sticky dough. Let the dough stand, covered with a kitchen towel for 15 minutes. Pull off egg-sized pieces of the dough and stretch them into 1/4-inch-thick rounds. Poke a hole with a finger through the center of each round so that the breads will fry evenly. In a large heavy skillet heat the shortening over moderately high heat until it is hot but not smoking, in it fry the rounds, one at a time, for 2 minutes on each side, or until they are golden, and transfer the breads as they are fried to paper towels to drain. They can also be fried one at a time in a deep-fat fryer for 1 1/2 to 2 minutes.

”There's always time for that later tonight,” Marilyn said, flus.h.i.+ng.

”What's going on?” Jack asked.

”Buddy...I wish...that is...” Chuck eyed the two women who were staring daggers at him. ”Like they said. We have a surprise for you later.”