Calloway Excerpts

Read and excerpt from Livia Quinn's contemporary series, the Calloways of Rainbow Bayou in preferred reading order.


Contemporary Family Romance and Suspense by Livia Quinn




He’s the one, isn’t he?” Her mother's eyes lit with a strategic fire. “Isn’t he, Lana Jean Calloway?”
  Buffy couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t heard her full name in that tone of voice since she was eight. “No one’s keeping anything from you, Mom. I’m sure if you ask Ridge right now if he’s the one, he’d back out of here quicker than you could say gumbo. Please don’t blow it.” 
  “You knew about this, Mother,” Pamela said, calling Lillie by her affectionate nickname, to make her point of why she shouldn’t have been left out. It didn’t sound very affectionate.
  “Mom, it’s just not quite time to go shopping for a wedding dress, ‘ya know?” She hugged her mother who relaxed, but Buffy could tell she wasn’t about to give up. She gave Lillie a what now? grimace and Lillie just patted them both on the back.
  “Come on, girls. They could talk until next month about the wars and your Mr. Romano’s project but I think they could use a distraction. Buffy, grab the potatoes, and I’ll call your father to get the ham.”
  Lunch proceeded without a hitch. Luc said his goodbyes and took off. Ridge made the rounds thanking everyone for their support and promised to come back one day. This concerned Buffy. It sounded too much like the distant future. Shaking Earl’s hand he said, “Sir, my company has a more advanced prosthesis. I can arrange it for you if you’re interested; it’s lighter and more flexible than the version you have.” 
  Earl narrowed his eyes and said, “Son, I’m ninety-three years old. This old arm has become like my real arm over the years, and we do just fine. Getting a new one at this stage of my life would be like a woman gettin’ fake boobs when she’s past her prime.”
“Old coot,” Ridge thought he heard Lillie say under her breath.
 “Watch it, Dad,” said Robert who just put his arm around a steaming Lillie and hugged her. “Ignore him, sugar.”
“Now, Earl,” Roberta said, and her look seemed to be the only thing that made him quail.
Then Buffy’s great-grandfather shook Ridge’s hand and, looking around him at Buffy, said, “You chose a fine man, youngin’.”
Silence.
Ridge turned slowly to look at Buffy. She shrugged and shook her head. It wasn’t me. 
Then she watched with an impending sense of doom as her mother put her hand on Ridge’s shoulder and said, “Might as well buy the ring, dear. When a Calloway tells you, you’re the one, it’s like that old saying, “If I tell you the moon is made of green cheese, get your crackers.” She nodded, yep.


“I—” Buffy’s head sank into her hands. Why had she thought this picnic could take place without a bomb going off?

       Soundcloud snippet



      Too Good to Be True


     “Was there something else you needed… Mr. Larue?” 

He chuckled easily. “Yes, actually… Officer Burke.” 
His eyes were on her chest and when Del looked down she realized he hadn’t been admiring her bust—darn—but looking at her badge. Her brows furrowed. 
“Sorry, I was looking for your rank, Off—may I call you Del?”
Delilah started to protest but really, what was the point? He wasn’t a suspect, and he seemed like an okay guy—Navy reservist, gainfully employed, heroic citizen and all. She put the whole sense of “wrongness” yesterday down to the oddities of the circumstances and his attire. That gave her the slightest pause, because she was known for her instincts and she’d been wrong about him. Oh, come on, Del, you were doing your job, covering the bases. 
She didn’t really want to encourage someone who’d been a suspect for even those few seconds,  but he was way too easy to like, and she was getting those boy-howdy-would-we-like-to-jump-his-bones urges out of a rarely heard from region below her gun belt. She sent the little miscreants a Now-is-not-the-time message. They ignored her as well, whining when Luc placed one hip on the corner of her desk, allowing her to catch an enticing whiff of his scent, mingled with some kind of musky after shave. An image of him standing in front of his mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist as he applied that after shave… earth to Burke. Earth to Burke! The man is speaking. 
She shrugged. Why not?
“I have a proposition for you.” Ha. Now they’d stopped whining and were fist pumping, yes!
No, she thought, gritting her teeth. 
“Wait, you haven’t heard me out,” he said, frowning.
Great, she’d spoken out loud. “I’m sorry, I was…had my mind on something else.” Like the way he filled out that t-shirt. The cut of his torso, the way those muscles bunched at the slightest of movements, how that gleaming black hair would feel in her hands.
“Hear me out, please. I need a female officer for a BE day.”
Oh, right, some kind of kinky sex game where he’d “be” the bad “Merc” and she’d “be” the one with the handcuffs. 
He smiled, watching her thoughts move across her features as that scene presented itself.  “Officer, you’ve got a dirty mind.”
She wasn’t usually so readable. She scowled at him. “Larue, I don’t have all day.”
“Luc,” he reminded. “Okay, I’m serious. There’s a group of kids I’m presenting a program to Saturday afternoon. My expert for Saturday had to back out due to his wife going into labor early with twins.”
“You’re not by any chance talking about Detective Dunbar?”
“Yeah. So you know Tony. He’s done it for me the last couple of times. He’s always a hit with the young ladies.” 
“He would be.” Tony Dunbar was an Italian charmer with five daughters and six sisters. “He’s charmed some of the most intractable suspects into confessing. What exactly is it, Larue?”
“Saturday is what we call BE day at LTF—that’s  Larue Teens Forward, the old gym turned teen center.” Del had heard of the teen center, and, she couldn’t help it—the report about possible deviant behavior at the martial arts studio crept into her mind. 
“It’s a pretty big deal. Some of the kids bring friends who are interested in seeing what the group is about. We have experts in different fields in weekend clothing answering questions about what they do.”
“Kind of like a career day?”
“Like that, but many of these kids were cast aside, expelled or otherwise fell through the cracks of society. We work to bring them back on their own terms into a stable and safe environment through mentoring.”
Damn, if she didn’t watch it, she’d fall for this guy. And he was so not her type. They were at it again, aww, yes he is, he’s-our-type—Del ignored them. “So what would I do? I don’t have much psychology o—”
“No, no. Just show up in your weekend clothes and if someone wants to know more about what you do or why you became a cop, you just share your story, answer questions about the job, and maybe steer someone away from some of those misconceptions or negative stereotypes about law enforcement. I think it will be good to have a lady cop. Get the young men asking questions for a change.” He grinned. 
Please nothing from the spectators. She was having enough trouble resisting this guy’s potent charm. Was it a façade or was he the real thing? 
“I don’t know.” She wanted to do a bit more research into those reports in his file.
“Hey, I understand if you have plans. Why don’t you talk to Tony and let me know tomorrow. If you’re going to ditch on me I have to find somebody else.” He handed her another card.
“I’ll think about it,” Del said. 
“I’d appreciate it if you’d more than think about it. Talk to Tony.” 

After he’d gone she flipped his card around with her fingers. It read, Larue Enterprises and his logo was, “Challenge, as necessary as the air we breathe.” 
The man had to have a triple load of testosterone. With that background and a job in private security he’d probably turn out to be an overbearing chauvinist with violent authoritarian tendencies. She’d be crazy to get any more involved with him. 
She hit the intercom. “Gail, get me Tony Dunbar’s cell.” 
It wouldn’t be the first time she did something crazy.

      Soundcloud snippet    


Only the Heart Remembers



The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the symphony of percussion instruments playing between his temples, in concert with the beat of his pulse. Where was he? He heard rain coming down hard on the roof, and tree limbs rubbing against the exterior. Was he at home or still on a job?
 His left arm was asleep. He turned his head and gasped at the white shards of agony behind his eyeballs. But before his eyes shut, something caught his attention and they popped back open.
Holy shmolly, who was that? A gorgeous woman sprawled next to him, her left arm and one long creamy leg intimately thrown over his. He must be dreaming. He closed his eyes. Maybe he’d try getting back into that dream and he’d wake up next time without the headache and make it end a different way.
But then, he might wake up without the brunette.
Too late. Her leg slid along his thigh, giving the term morning hard an understatement. He eased his left eye open and met the bright blue gaze of his female bed partner. “Good morning, darlin’,” he whispered rolling toward her.
His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her face to his so he could taste those pouty rose lips. They were soft and pliant beneath his, her hair silky and thick, curving around his wrist and sliding down his arm. Her lips fit his perfectly and his hand drifted lower to cup her breast…
Pain exploded in his brain again as she shoved against him, backing out of the bed to stand on the other side, mouth shaped in a lovely silent O.
“What’s wrong?” He flung one arm over his forehead.
“What are you doing?” she harped.
“Right now I’m trying to keep my brains from leaking out of my head. Why are you so mad? You were draped all over me.” She seemed to be struggling to come up with an answer. “Look, can you skip the outrage and get me some aspirin? My frickin’ head is about to explode.”
A sympathetic look replaced her surprise. “Uh, sure, stay right there. I’ll be right back.” She held both index fingers pointed at him as if to pin him in position. “Stay put,” she said, and left the room.
He rolled his eyes “Women.” He rubbed his forehead and cursed. When she returned and handed him the pills, he struggled to sit up but let her help him when it became apparent he didn’t have the strength on his own. “Thanks.” He leaned back and tried to ignore the pair of boxers duking it out in his brain.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked quietly. “Are you hungry? Do you…uh, need to…” Her voice trailed away.
He smiled, “I do, uh…but I can’t bear the thought of getting up right now. As soon as my head quits pounding and spinning, I’ll let you know.” It was sweet how shy she was with him, even though they were lovers. The ragged, too big Tulane football jersey did nothing to counteract his hard-on. She was everything he desired in a woman. Exactly his type.
He blinked. His type. What was his type? That spurred a new series of questions. Why didn’t he know her name? Or remember how he got here? Why was he so weak? What had happened to him? He concentrated as his fingers, traced the lump on his forehead. Did he get drunk and fall out of bed? He looked around the room. Is that why she was still half-dressed?
Man, she was probably pissed. If he admitted that he didn’t know the answers to those questions, he might box himself right into the doghouse. So he’d dig a little.
“Still raining, huh?” he asked and immediately chastised himself. What a dumb question. It would take a whack-job not to hear the storm raging outside. He didn’t remember it exactly, just had a vague sense of being wet, some serious lightning, and her—sitting on top of him with the storm backlighting her natural beauty. Of course they were lovers. He remembered the feel of her hands on him.
“It’s a slow moving storm, predicted to last a couple of days, but hopefully the lights will come back on soon.”
With the lighted candle in her hand, she looked like a sunlit goddess. He imagined her raising her arm and firing a lightning bolt straight to his groin. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. He was losing it.
She rushed over to him, “Are you okay?”
He tried to concentrate on the sweetness of her voice and the coolness of her touch, but a swirling ferocious longing overwhelmed him. His fingers stroked her translucent ivory skin, enjoying its velvety softness. One index finger traced her parted lips, but his eyes drifted down despite his wishes.


“You’re so beautiful. I’m sorry…my head…” As his head rolled to the side he promised, “We’ll make love later…”


Soundcloud snippet      


Christmas Wishes



Beau’s head snapped around, and if Victoria hadn’t been so concerned about him, she’d have laughed. 
Madison stood behind him holding a plate piled up with his favorite holiday items, mashed potatoes and gravy, turkey and dressing, yams, and some of Buffy’s famous turkey casserole. 
Beau looked at her briefly, then said, “Thanks,” as if they were strangers. He didn’t recognize her. Madison turned away, disappointed.
Beau stood still for a moment staring at the food on the plate, wondering what he should say. He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt. He could tell he’d hurt Madison’s feelings. She’d caught him off guard. But he supposed it was for the best. He searched for a chair. 
Luc placed an extra chair next to his own and waved him over. “Set it here, Beau, and get something to drink.”
Victoria said, “I’ve got it. Sweet tea, right, Beau?”
Beau shook his head. “Actually, I’d rather have water if it’s okay. I’ll get it.” He started to set his plate down but she waved him off. “Sit. I’ll bring it to you.”
They resumed eating for a few minutes then Luc asked, “When did you get in, Beau?”
Beau paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “A…bout an hour ago. I came directly here.”
Luc said, “Uh-huh,” and looked at Del. 
Beau’s eyes narrowed. What was that about? “I’m filming in Atlanta this coming week so I can’t stay long, but I didn’t want to miss seeing everybody.” He glanced over at Samantha. “I heard about that lightning fast delivery. You are one tough duck you know that?”
She grinned back at him and nodded. “I’ve been telling you boys that for years. When you’re done eating I’ll let you hold the baby.” Something the media didn’t know about the reticent, secretive movie star was his penchant for holding babies.
He grinned, “I’ll try to hurry then,” but Sam noticed he’d barely touched his food.  
The baby snuffled against her neck and she said, “Buffy’s expecting, too, Beau.”
“Congratulations, you two,” Beau said turning to Ridge and Buffy. Everywhere he went there were people putting down roots, having babies, but not him. 
Buffy smiled, “Thanks. We’re beyond glad. And to change the subject, not so subtly, you know whenever you’re home for longer than a day, we could use a famous movie star in our portfolio.”
Beau grinned and shook his head, looking at Ridge. “She’s nothing if not persistent.”
Ridge said, “As I know from experience.”
Beau leaned back in the chair and winced. “How could I have forgotten? You look good on those covers, Ridge. They’re all over the airports. You probably could have made it in LA.” 
Ridge shook his head. “Not interested.”
Beau asked Buffy, “I thought the idea was to use heroes on the cover or something. I’m certainly not a hero type. I haven’t even been in the service.”
Buffy was startled by the edge in Beau’s voice and by his self-assessment, but recovered quickly. “We do try to hire vets when the opportunity arises but sometimes the model is too enticing to resist.” She winked at him.
Beau nodded absently, then frowned and put his plate down. He excused himself and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom.
Buffy’s expression changed to worry. “Something’s wrong.” Ridge squeezed her hand. 
Victoria said, “I think our Beauregard is under the weather. I’ll go check on him.” 
* * *
She waited outside the bathroom for several minutes. When he came out, she was planted in front of the door like the fearsome soldier she’d been in the service. 
“Jeez, Aunt Vic. Can’t a guy—”
“Don’t mess with me, son. You’re sick. What’s wrong?” Her sharp eyes scanned his face as she ran her hands over his shoulders.
“I’m just a little—” She put her hand on his forehead and wouldn’t allow him to jerk away.
“You have a fever, and you look like shit.” 
He blinked. He should have known he couldn’t fool the Commander, but he’d forgotten. He’d been away too long. “Thanks, but…” sighing, he gave up, waited while she squinted at him.
Victoria’s mind clicked through all the possibilities. He’d merely picked at his food, and he’d asked for water instead of his favorite sweet tea. “Is it your kidneys?”
His eyes flared in unwilling acknowledgment. “Quiet, Aunt Vic. No one is supposed to know about that. You promised.”
“And no one does but you, me and your Uncle Sam, but that doesn’t mean I’ll keep it to myself if you don’t do right. I mean it, Beau. Out with it.”
He sighed and leaned against the wall. “I have a kidney infection.”
“How long? What are you taking?” She fired off the questions.
“I have antibiotics.”
“How long? You look terrible. This has been going on a while hasn’t it?” Victoria kept up the pace of her questions, not giving him a chance to think up a lie.
He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and sighed. “Two months… or so.”
To her credit, she didn’t explode and call the family into the hallway. She lowered her voice and her concern came through clearly. “Beau, you can’t keep going like this.”
“I’m not, Aunt Vic. The doctor wants to put me on some new high powered antibiotics, but I have to finish this movie first or I’ll get sued.”
“Your health has to come first, Beau.”
He studied the woman who’d been like a mother to him for most of his life—since his parents had died when he was a child. She was still beautiful even in her seventies and as strong as ever. Her short white hair made her eyes stand out like the winter sky. Actually, his uncle had been a mother to him, since he’d been the ‘mom’ of their family while Vic had been stationed overseas. He knew he could count on either one of them for anything.
“I know, Aunt Vic. As soon as the movie’s done, I’m going back to LA and getting on that protocol. Just don’t rat me out to the pack.” His voice was hoarse with fatigue. “They’d never let me leave, and I can’t afford for this to get out.”
Listening to her big tough nephew, the star people in Hollywood were so intimidated by, beg her to keep his condition from the ones who loved him most nearly broke Vic’s heart, but she had to give him what he wanted. “For now, Beau. But I’m going to call you—when did you say shooting was over in Atlanta?” Her steely eyes drilled into his.
He cleared his throat. “By the middle of February.”
“All right. On February 10th if I haven’t heard from you, I’ll be on your doorstep, or that movie set, carrying you to the doctor personally, and I’ll bring your Uncle Sam, Luc and Mack with me, so don’t think you’re getting out of it.” 
“I promise, mother,” he teased affectionately, but he knew she was dead serious. 
She stroked his hair away from his face. “This is nothing to mess with, sweetheart.”
Beau nearly groaned aloud at the endearment. He gave in briefly to her mothering and pulled her into a hug, more for himself than her. He was so tired and it was taking every bit of grit he had to pretend, much less to argue. What could he say? He was a hell of an actor, or so he’d been told. He’d better be; he had over a month until they finished the movie, and the camera could pick up the smallest lie. God, if he could just lie down until the plane left tomorrow.
Her voice startled him. “Why don’t you lie down back here in the guest room?” He’d almost fallen asleep mid-hug. He really was tired. Perhaps she was right. “But—”
“I’ll make your excuses—lie for you this one time and say you have a bug.”
He hated that she was right. He wanted to see his family, he didn’t get home much. She knew him better than anyone and recognized the reason for his hesitation. 
“We love you, Beau, and we miss you, too, but we’re family. We’ll be here when you get home next time.” She put her fingers over his lips. “Everyone will understand.” She smiled up at him.
“I love you, Aunt Victoria.” He probably loved her as much as any kid could love his mother.
The lines around her eyes lifted as her smile deepened. “And you know I love you too, Beauregard. Now, go on. I’ll come get you before any of us leave.” She pushed him gently toward the open door at the end of the hall. 
He pulled away and nodded, stumbling down the hallway to the guest room. Seconds later, he’d fallen across the wide bed and was fast asleep. He didn’t move when Vic placed the quilt over him.


When Victoria walked back into the living room without her nephew, Madison was the first to frame the question, “What’s wrong with Beau?”
Soundcloud snippet

At Long Last Love

Beau leaned against the porch railing inhaling the scent of home, a combination of swampwater, bugs, humidity and clean air. No smog, no noise, no traffic. He sighed. He'd forgotten how much he missed it. But peace was far from him when he thought of his reasons for coming home. Once again, he was a failure. Six years ago, his most fervent goal had been dashed by the one organization he'd hoped to build his future with, the U.S. Navy, followed by all the other branches and any subsidiary thereof. 
So, he'd taken an offer from the producer he'd met after doing a bit part in a Louisiana movie and moved to Hollywood. He'd show them, he'd thought. Show them that he was physically able to handle the job, tough enough to make it in a tough business, and able to shine a positive light on the service even in that career. He'd done it, too. But hadn't he known it wasn't meant to be? 
His father's death while serving hadn't doused his belief that he would have a career in the service but losing his mom and then having his own health issues as a kid gave him a different perspective, one that wasn't necessarily positive.
Reflecting now, Beau had to wonder if maybe he'd been gung-ho to be in special forces for a different reason. Had he had some kind of death wish all along? Had this latest event been unavoidable?
 He didn't really believe he'd allowed another boat to run over him and end his movie career. It just didn't make sense. But maybe he really didn't care what happened to him, knowing it was inevitable. And now, what did he have to offer anyone?
Gravel on the drive made him back toward the door. He hadn't called anyone and told them he was coming home. The studio had had his Range Rover delivered after he went in the hospital, a sign that they didn't need him for more movies. He'd taken a taxi from the airport which had been expensive as hell, but he couldn't drive yet. 
He slipped inside and peered out at the driveway. He didn't recognize the late model Honda that rolled to a stop in front of the porch but he'd seen the face that stared at the house from the other side of the windshield in his dreams, many times. Maddie. He swore. 
How had she known—wait, maybe she didn't know. Maybe she was just driving by and saw the Range Rover. Curious as a kitten. His heart squeezed once, then he inhaled and cleared his head. He couldn't let on that her presence was affecting him. She didn't need this. She definitely didn't need him. He hadn't worked all this time at staying away from her to just ruin it the first time he saw her again.
He leaned against the inside of the door, pretending not to be home. Go away, Maddie. But he didn't know if he was willing her to go away or to knock.
He heard her step onto the porch and stand there, probably wondering the same thing. Should she knock or drive away. Back against the door, he gave in to the enticing draw of being so close to her even with all that wood in between. Would she smell like she used to, of that special floral perfume she loved so much? 
He could remember the softness of her skin, feel those long toned limbs as they wrapped around him. A step on the porch made his eyes fly open and he realized he'd been day dreaming about her. His jaw clenched as he threw up his guard once again. 
This couldn't happen. He'd put on that face, the one Stone was famous for—taciturn, hard, emotionless. He was an actor, so he'd act.
* * *
When the door swung open he was proud of his performance—cool, detached, like his character, Stone. He steeled himself to inhale her, feast on her with his eyes, her quiet sincerity reminding him that he'd almost slipped and succumbed to her gentleness and caring over the Christmas holidays.
Letting her go had been the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he'd done it twice. The first time had been five years ago when he'd been turned down by the Navy, and the Army, and Marines, and finally, the reserves. He was defective—deemed not tough enough or durable enough to make the grade.
He'd known kidney problems came with a limited lifespan—case in point, his mother. When he found out for sure he suffered from the same illness, he'd set Madison free, placing himself into a kind of hell away from her and then he set out to prove them all wrong. He was tough and he would be a success using his physical skills, the skills he'd honed for a military Special Forces career, or die trying. 
Beau watched her gaze as she took in everything about him starting with his eyes, his upper body and then down to where the hem of his jeans dangled halfway up his calf.
He'd almost succeeded. Her shocked and tearful gaze met his and he knew he couldn't keep up the pretense of indifference. This was Maddie and she'd always cared—too much. Apparently as hard as he'd tried to make her turn away from him, that hadn't changed.
He stepped back using a crutch to push the door open, silently admitting her.
She hurried in as if she was afraid he'd change his mind but once she was inside he acknowledged, or his body did at least, the joy of having her near, in the same room. Even under these circumstances—maybe especially so.
* * *
The door closed behind Maddie and she sagged against it. Then she just stared at him, drank in his wonderful scent, the fine black hair sprinkled at the open neck of his shirt, his strong forearms clinging to the crutch. 
Frowning, she looked into those piercing green eyes, so intense and so lovely. He'd been trying to intimidate her at the door. She knew that but once she saw what he was hiding, there was nothing that could stop her from knowing how he was. She knew when he gave it up.
She wasn't one of his fan girls who lived for a tough "love 'em and leave 'em if only for a night" hero. When she looked at him she saw only her Beau, the boy she'd fallen in love with when she was fourteen, the one she'd given herself to when she was seventeen, and the man she'd planned on making a life with until their plans had been ripped away. He'd been her knight in shining armor, the one who saved her life that night after the junior prom when the team wrestler—she couldn't even remember his name—had attacked her. He'd thought because she was a girl she would be easy pickin's. 
But Maddie had been a scrapper. She'd had to be, coming from the foster homes and moving from some of the roughest areas of New Orleans to this parish. She'd been blessed to land in Larue and through her part-time jobs while she completed her degree in radiology she'd made friends with Buffy, Del and two of Luc's sisters. They knew what a devastating blow the rejection had been for both of them, so when the fiasco over the Christmas holidays happened, they'd shown up on Christmas day, pushed her into their car and took her four wheeler riding. That's when Grandpa Earl gave her his sage advice, "It'll go as it's meant to be."
Now here she was with the man who owned her soul standing silent, waiting as if he expected the worst. Of course he did. Her heart burst open with love and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and sighing against his chest, "Oh, Beau."

For a second, he hesitated, then his arms came around her. She felt his sigh as he dropped his head to hers and held her tight.
Soundcloud snippet


On a hot humid early morning in August, Officer Jed Stern's favorite places to run was the parade route around downtown Larue, especially when he ended his six mile trek at the Main Street dock. The only thing between the town and the Rainbow Bayou harbor were the storefronts along the brick walkway and the grassy park where early-bird locals and tourists gathered to buy beignets and cafe au lait from a kiosk at the center of the promenade.  As proprietors prepared to open for business and a colorful tour boat coasted by in the calm waters, Jed paid a lanky teenager for a bottle of water and downed it in several swallows. 
He would like to say he scanned the park out of pure enjoyment but as a cop he wasn't sure if he'd ever look at public activities again the way the average citizen would. His breath returned to normal and he wiped his neck with the towel draped around his neck. As he turned a scene nearby had him ducking behind a big sycamore tree, his heart suddenly running faster than it had in weeks, even during his intense workouts.
But it wasn’t the discovery of a most wanted criminal or a crime in progress that had his heart pounding. The woman on the other side of the expanse of well manicured grass was tall and curvy, with long dark hair and, Jed knew, eyes so green you lost your train of thought when she turned them on an unsuspecting member of the opposite sex. Jed had personal experience with those eyes.
Anyone meeting Dr. Samantha Larue for the first time invariably guessed her profession as a famous fashion model; others suggested she should have become one but Sam had never desired to be or do anything other than her chosen career as a Naval officer following a long family tradition. 
Sam tossed her head attempting to flip her thick mane out of her face as she bent over to clasp her little girl’s tiny hands between her fingers, helping her lift herself up into a standing position. Jed smiled at the baby’s happy gurgle and as if his feet had a mind of their own, he left the shelter of the tree and sauntered toward the pair.
Nina saw him first. Her eyes lit up and she lifted one foot as if to walk toward him, then wobbled back and forth. When she rolled back on her heels Sam let her fall onto her padded butt probably just to show her falling wasn’t failure. That was his Sam—wrong, not his Samantha any longer. He’d fixed that, hadn’t he? It had been several weeks since they’d spoken, just the two of them, but surely they could carry on normally regardless.
Instead of trying to stand again, Nina proved she was as determined as her mother when she got something in her head. Off she went crawling on hands and knees for all she was worth in Jed’s direction. He laughed at the speed at which she outdistanced Sam, catching her off guard. Then he watched as Sam's gaze shifted from quizzical at Nina to frowning at him. So much for normal.
“Zhe, Zhe!” Nina cried, raising her chubby little arms up in the air toward him. He laughed remembering the scene at the police station earlier in the week when Sam's brother, Luc had come by with Nina to take his fiancee, Delilah, Jed's partner, to lunch. When Nina saw Jed she startled Luc by nearly launching herself from Luc's arms throwing her hands out toward Jed with a gurgling smile and a mangled version of his name. “Zhe. Zhe.”
“Hold on there, butterbean.” Her uncle was quick to get a solid hold on her but she had continued to reach for Jed crying, “Zhet. Zhe…”
Luc shook his head. “She’s like all the women in this family. She’s going to get her way.”
Nina’s legs had been pumping as if she could peddle herself through the air to him. With a sigh, he admitted his pleasure that his mother’s name sake wanted his attention over her uncle Luc’s.
“Hey, baby girl,” his voice had softened to one he reserved only for her. He didn’t see Nina often, but there was a definite connection between them, as if she remembered his hands were the ones that caught her when she came into the world last Christmas Eve. 
Now, as he watched her race toward him he shook his head. What was he supposed to do? He reached down as always and hooked her under the arms with his big hands and launched her into the air, eliciting a squeal of delight from her and a gasp from Samantha. Catching her firmly he brought her face down to his and let her smack him open mouthed on the lips. Her legs kicked furiously and Jed wondered if he set her down right then if she would take off across the grassy lawn.
“Hey, baby girl,” he crooned. “You’re about ready to run your first toddler race aren’t ya?”
Sam looked like she didn’t know what to say. She blew her hair away from her lips and just stood there, her hands fiddling with the zipper of her thin jacket. Jed held Nina in the crook of one elbow while he waited for her to say something. 
Finally, she said, “What are you doing in the park?” 
Just as he said, “You girls having a morning run?”
She shook her head and smiled. “You’d think wouldn’t you? She's not old enough but she seems to think all it takes is determination and it will happen.”
Sounds like her mother, Jed thought, and Sam eyed him as if she expected him to say that aloud. He shrugged. It was that silent communication that had been a part of their relationship from that first day he’d been introduced to her at the station. He’d been turned on despite her slight baby bump and the room full of other officers and family members, including his partner and her mother. And later, she admitted it had been the same for her. Too bad it hadn't lasted. He didn't want to ruin his good mood at this impromptu meeting by thinking about the reasons. But somehow the reasons intruded. 
Their breakup hadn't been Sam's fault though come to think of it she hadn't put up much of a fight. As a young man Jed had made a decision swearing off alcohol and kids, a decision he'd admit now had been made before he'd known he would meet someone like Sam and this sweet little girl.
"I guess I'd better get Nina on over to mother's and get to work."
With Nina wiggling in his arms blowing bubbly kisses at him, her eyes sparkling with love, damned if he could figure out how to fix it.


"Okay." He kissed the baby and handed her back to her mother. They were careful not to accidentally make contact with each other. Then he made an attempt at a smile and said, "See you around."
Soundcloud snippet

Christmas Vows 
Beau sat the container of roofing tacks on the top of the ladder and raised his right foot, the one with the special prosthetic he'd received from Ridge which looked more or less like a climbing club and moved up a step on the ladder of their new home.
"Beau, please be careful," Maddie called from her comfy seat on the lawn chair where she could watch his every move. Well, it was his own damn fault.
He'd wanted her there where he could keep an eye on her. With less than two weeks to D-Day she’d threatened to get down on her hands and knees and dig the old grout out from between the tiles in their entryway and the kitchen of their new house. Before that, he'd caught her scrubbing down the walls and fixtures in the bathroom.
"That's enough, Madeleine." He'd picked her up off the floor and carried her outside to the chaise lounge. Then he'd reached for the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and placed two glasses on a tray. Her look of irritation couldn't hide the look of tired frustration. His Maddie was tired of waiting on the arrival of their baby and she was determined to do whatever she could toward fixing up their fixer-upper, hoping that would bring on that event.
He pressed an index finger lightly on her bottom lip, which showed evidence of a pout.
"No sulking, darling." He poured her a glass of lemonade and instead of drinking it; she held it to her forehead.
Uh-huh. That just proved his point. She was hot and tired. It was early December and the cool Thanksgiving had given over to summer-like conditions — eighty-five degrees and the humidity had returned with a vengeance as well.
The entire family was hoping for a white Christmas or at least a cold one for the big wedding day. It could happen — it had snowed last Christmas. But the odds against it were, well. . .Beau chuckled, he hoped there was a backup plan— snow in Louisiana was scarce. They were more likely to get an ice storm and that would throw a big kink in the works. The entire family could wind up camping out at the Calloway Farm for days. It had already happened twice in his lifetime.
"Beau, what are you doing?"
Oh, right, his lovely pregnant worrywart. He probably shouldn't mention that he'd done a backflip from the ladder while she'd been inside and stuck the landing. Thank you very much.
"Darling. . ." Okay, he'd better change the inflection of his tone. "You do remember I was a stuntman and action hero." Not much better.
Her delicate brown brow rose and those gray eyes bored into his. "Yep." (Emphasis on the "p".) And look how that turned out."
Mmm.  "Low blow, darlin'. The bigger point is I'm completely at home with my new foot and…" He stuck his leg out so she could see.
"Beau!"
The ladder rocked slightly on the uneven ground but he had one hand on the edge of the roof. This was a piece of cake compared to the stunts he'd pulled off in Hollywood. "Ridge gave me this new foot. It's actually for rock climbing. See, it has the gripper on the bottom of the sole."
Okay, she didn't want to hear it. "I'll be down in a few, just got this short stretch to cover."
Maddie sighed and sipped her lemonade. She knew she was being a shrew. Maybe it was a reflex or response to his constant harping, following her around, or she guessed it could be hormones and frustration since she was almost at the end of her pregnancy.
She'd heard, "Should you be doing that? Did the doctor say you could…" Finish that with a dozen tasks that were no big deal. If he had his way she'd be on bed rest, granted on an elegant silk cushioned bed, until the baby was born. She was going to go stir crazy — make that straitjacket material by the time the baby was born; they'd have to peel her out of one.
She knew he meant well, but Maddie decided she was going to have to call in the cavalry. Or talk the doctor into an early delivery.

As if on cue the phone rang. Keeping her eyes on Beau as he finished tacking the shingles down, she pressed her headset to take the call from her future mother-in-law.

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