"I don't care how rich you are." She snapped the lid back down on the sparkle of blood and ice. "I don't care how much money you've got stuffed away in your portfolios and your bank accounts. I don't want you buying me expensive jewelry. If I want diamonds and rubies, then alors, I'll buy them for myself. I'm not sleeping with you for baubles and profit.”

"Well, these were a big hit." He tipped back in his chair to meet her furious eyes, as she'd leaped to her feet as she'd shouted at him. "So, they'd be okay with you if they were glass? Let me get the ground rules clear. If I see something I'd like to get for you, it has to be, what, under a hundred? One– fifty? Give me a ballpark.”

"I don't need you to buy me things.”

"Lena, if you needed me to buy you things, I'd buy you groceries, for Christ's sake. These were pretty, they made me think of you. And look at this." He picked up the box, ran his free hand around it. "No strings attached.”

"Something costs as much as a decent secondhand car's got strings, cher.”

"Wrong. Money's relative. I have a lot of it, so deal. You don't want them, fine." He shrugged, picked up his coffee. "I'll give them to someone else.”

Her eyes went to slits. "Oh, will you?”

"They appear to upset your moral balance, but there's no point in them going to waste.”

"You're trying to make me sound like an idiot.”

"No, you're acting like an idiot. I'm just playing my part in your little drama. I'd like you to have them, but not if you're going to think they're payment for services rendered. That's just as insulting to me as it is to you, Lena," he said when her mouth dropped open. "Your telling me you don't want payment for sex is telling me I'm willing to buy it from you. They're just goddamn rocks.”

"They're beautiful rocks." Damn, damn, damn! Why did the man constantly throw her off balance?

And wasn't it just like him, just exactly like him, to sit there, calmly watching her flash and burn?

She took a deep, steadying breath while he looked at her with both patience and amusement. "I was rude, and I overreacted. I'm not used to men handing me diamonds and rubies over bowls of cereal.”

"Okay. Want me to wait and give them to you over a nice steak dinner?”

She gave a weak laugh, dragged her hair back. "You're entirely too good for me.”

"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

But she shook her head, then picked up the box. She studied the earrings against their bed of velvet for a long moment before taking them out, putting them on.

"How do they look?”

"Perfect.”

She leaned down, kissed him. "Thank you. They just scared me a little, but I'm getting over it pretty quick now.”

"Good.”

"I'm going to have to wear my hair back with them. Show them off. Damn it," she said as she ran for the door. "I have to see." She stopped at the mirror, held her hair back with one hand. "Oh God! They're fabulous. I've never had anything so lovely in my life. You're a sweet man, Declan. A hardheaded, crazy, sweet man.”

"When you marry me," he said from the doorway, "I'll give you diamonds for breakfast once a week.”

"Stop that.”

"Okay, but keep it in mind.”

"I've got to get on. I want to stop by and see my grandmama before I head back.”

"Give me a ride over? I've got something for her.”

Her eyes, when they tracked to his in the glass, were indulgent and just a little frustrated. "You bought her another present.”

"Don't start on me," he warned, and stepped back out to gather up the bowls.

"Why do you have to buy things all the time, cher?”

She knew him now, and the little ripple movement of his shoulders told her he was annoyed and uncomfortable. So she softened the question by giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I've got money," he said. "And I like stuff. You trade money for stuff, which is more fun and interesting than having a bunch of green paper in your wallet.”

"I don't know. Me, I like that green paper just fine. But …" She fingered the diamonds at her ears. "I could grow mighty fond of these pretty rocks. Go on, get whatever you've gone and bought for Grandmama. Bound to brighten her day, whatever it is, 'cause it's from you.”

"You think?”

"She's sweet on you.”

"I like that." He turned, wrapped his arms around Lena's waist. "How about you? You sweet on me?”

A long line of warmth flowed down her spine, nearly made her sigh. "You make it hard not to be.”

"Good." He touched his lips to hers, then eased away. "I like that even better.”

He carried a little gift bag out to her car. It struck her as odd and charming that he would think of things like that. Not just a present, a token he could so easily afford, but the presentation of it. Pretty bags or bows, ribbons or wrappings most men-or men she'd known-would never bother with.

Any woman she knew would call Declan Fitzgerald one hell of a catch. And he wanted her.

"I'm going to ask you a question," she began as she started the car.

"True or false? Multiple choice?”

"I guess it's more the essay type.”

He settled back, stretched out his legs as best he could as she started down the drive. He'd always aced his tests. "Shoot.”

"How come with all those fine ladies up in Boston, and all the good-looking women here 'round New Orleans, you zeroed in on me?”

"Not one of them ever made my heart stop, or sprint like a racehorse at the starting gun. But you do. Not one of them ever made me see myself ten years, twenty years down the road, reaching out to take her hand. But you do, Lena. And what I want most in the world is to hold onto you.”

She didn't look at him, didn't dare, as everything inside her seemed to fill up so she knew one glance at his face would have it all spilling out. Warm and sweet and conquered.

"That's a good answer," she managed.

"It's a true one." He took one of her tensed hands off the wheel, kissed it. "God's truth.”

"I think it is. I don't know what to do about it, Declan. You're the first man who's ever made me worry about what to do. I've got powerful feelings for you. I'd rather I didn't.”

"Here's what I think. We should elope to Vegas, then you won't have anything to worry about.”

"Oh, I'm sure the Boston Fitzgeralds would just be thrilled hearing you've eloped to Vegas with a Cajun bar owner from the bayou. That'd set them up right and tight.”

"It'd give them something to talk about for the next decade or two. My mother would like you," he said, almost to himself. "And she's no easy mark. She'd like that you're your own woman and don't take any crap off anyone. Run your own business, look after your grandmother. She'd respect that, and she'd like that. Then she'd love you because I do. My father would take one look at you and be your slave.”

She laughed at that and it loosened some of the tightness in her chest. "Are all the Fitzgerald men so easy?"

"We're not easy. We just have exceptional taste.”

She pulled up in front of Odette's house, and finally turned to look at him. "Any of them coming down for Remy and Effie's wedding?”

"My parents are.”

"We'll see what we see, won't we?”

She hopped out, headed to the door ahead of him. "Grandmama!" She bumped the door open and strolled in. "I brought you a handsome gentleman caller.”

Odette came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a red checked cloth. The smells of fresh coffee and baking followed her. She was, as always, decked out in layers of jewelry and sturdy boots. But there was a strain around her eyes and mouth even Declan spotted instantly.

"A gentleman caller's always welcome. Bibi," she replied and kissed Lena's cheek.

"What's wrong?”

"Baked me some brown bread this morning," Odette said, evading Lena's question. "Y'all come back to the kitchen." She wrapped an arm around Lena's waist to nudge her along. "What you got in the pretty bag, cher?”

"Just a little something I thought you'd like." In the kitchen, Declan set it on the table. "Smells fabulous in here. Maybe I ought to learn how to bake bread.”

Odette smiled as he'd hoped she would, but the tension in the air didn't lessen. "Could be I'll teach you a thing or two. Kneading dough's good therapy. Takes your mind off your troubles, gives you thinking time.”

She took the small wrapped box out of the gift bag, turned it in her hand, then tugged the ribbon free. "Lena, you don't nail this boy down, I may just snatch him for myself." When she opened the box, her face softened.

The trinket box fit into the palm of her hand. It was heart-shaped and hand– painted with a couple in old-fashioned formal dress sitting on a garden bench. When she lifted the lid, it played a tune.

"I've been hearing that song in my head for weeks," Declan told her. "So when I saw this, I figured I'd better buy it.”

"`After the Ball,`" Odette told him.

"It's an old waltz. Sad and sweet." She looked up at him. "Maybe you got a nice widowed uncle you could send my way.”

"Well, there's Uncle Dennis, but he's homely as a billy goat.”

"He's got half your heart, I'll take him.”

"Isn't this a pretty picture?”

At the voice, Lena went stiff as if someone had pressed a gun to her head and cocked the hammer. Declan saw the look pass between her and her grandmother. Apologetic on Odette's part, shocked on Lena's.

Then they turned.

Lilibeth slumped against the doorjamb. She wore a short red robe, loosely belted. Her hair was a tumble around her shoulders, and her face already made up for the day with her eyes darkly lined, her lips slick and red as her robe.