it’s any consolation, there’s no sign of senile dementia.”
“You actually considered that possibility?”
“Of course. Your aunt’s a logical, pragmatic wom-an—”
“Except when it comes to her darling Anna.”
“Except when it comes to Anna,” Zach agreed. “But although she’s admittedly driven and obsessive when it comes to finding her granddaughter, it’s only been these last few months that she’s decided to try the spirit world.”
“That is so bizarre,” Miranda murmured. “I had my barrister retain a private detective when Clara moved into the house with Aunt Eleanor.” She frowned. “Did you know she’s a widow? Three times over? And that all her husbands have been wealthy?”
“I had her checked out, too.” Zach knew Eleanor would hit the roof if she found out about his investigation, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to protect her. “One of her neighbors insists Clara poisoned her husbands with her herbs.”
“How horrible!”
“It would be if it was true. But the police lieutenant I spoke with said that same neighbor calls up after ‘Crime Stoppers’ reports on the news to say she’s seen the criminal lurking around her neighborhood. He also assured me that there was no evidence of foul play in any of Clara’s husbands’ deaths.”
“Are you telling me you believe she’s innocent?”
Zach shrugged. “At the moment, I can only conclude that Clara Kowalski simply seems to have better luck with her plants than with her husbands. But I’m keeping an eye on her.”
Miranda leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “You’ve no idea how that relieves my mind, Zachary. To know that someone besides me cares what happens to Aunt Eleanor.”
Sitting back again, she spread some frothy cream atop a scone, added a dab of dark red currant jam and took a bite. “Sublime,” she said on a soft, pleased sigh. “You have marvelous tastes in restaurants, Mr. Deveraux.”
Her lips left a red mark like a crescent moon on the scone; a dab of cream remained at the corner of her mouth. When she licked it away, Zach felt his body harden.
“Thanks.” He took a long swallow of tea and wished it was Scotch.
“From your disapproval of Auntie’s foray into the spirit realm, I take it you don’t believe in things that go bump in the night?”
“No. Although I grew up surrounded by voodoo, I’ve never bought into the spirit world.”
“Voodoo?” Miranda leaned forward, every muscle in her body taut with interest. Once again she reminded Zach of Fitzgerald’s Daisy. Her voice suggested moonlight and starshine and champagne; her eyes were dazzling jewels.
“I grew up in Louisiana,” Zach revealed. “While it’s not nearly as prevalent as it once was, voodoo still lives on in local superstitions and medicines.”
“Louisiana,” Miranda mused reflectively. Zach watched the wheels turning inside that gorgeous blond head. “But of course,” she said, clapping her hands. “That explains the accent I keep hearing. You’re a Cajun!”
She was looking at him with the overt fascination one might give to a newly discovered species of animal. “Is it true what they say about your people?”
“What do they say?”
Zach braced himself for the usual stereotypical description of fire-eating swamp dwellers who communicated in an archaic French only they could understand and who had yet to join the nineteenth century, let alone the twentieth.
“That your motto is Laissez les bons temps rouler?”
“Let the good times roll?” Zach smiled. “Absolutely.” He tried to remember the last time in his own life recently that the bons temps had roulered and came up blank.
“I’m so relieved.” Her silky voice caressed, like sensually delicate fingers, making Zach consider suggesting they walk to the lobby check-in and get a room.
“So often the most wonderful things you hear turn out to be an exaggeration. And a crashing disappointment.” Miranda’s expression revealed that she was finding Zach anything but a disappointment.
“It must be difficult,” Miranda mused, “trying to run the business while Aunt Eleanor’s locked away in the library with that horrid old witch conducting séances.”
“I’m managing,” Zach said.
Some inner instinct warned him that Eleanor’s niece might have a hidden agenda. The board needed Miranda’s vote at this year’s annual meeting. Zach wasn’t about to give her any hint that the chain’s future was not as sound as ever. Which it was. He wouldn’t allow it to be otherwise.
“Perhaps things will get better for you,” she suggested.
Zach would have had to have been deaf to miss the invitation in her tone. When she smiled at him over the rim of her teacup, he felt another slow pull deep in his groin.
“Perhaps they will,” he agreed.
She inclined her head charmingly. Then, recrossing her legs with an erotic swish of silk, she gave him an enticing flash of lacy garter and smooth thigh.
It had begun to rain; a steady drizzle that streamed down the windows and made the line between ocean and sky blur.
“I’m afraid I must confess I don’t really keep up on the details of the American end of the business,” she admitted. “I have enough to keep me busy with the London store. And, of course, my ongoing effort to increase the chain’s couture lines.
“But I do know that Lord’s headquarters are in Los Angeles. Before Auntie’s unfortunate attack, had you come here to Santa Barbara on business? Or pleasure?”
This morning he would have answered business. But since there was no mistaking her signals, Zach answered, “A bit of both.”
“I’ve always admired a man who knows how to play as hard as he works.” She took another sip of tea and eyed him expectantly from under the silken fringe of her expertly dyed lashes. Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his knee and looked him directly in the eye. “Now that you’ve done your duty and provided me with much needed sustenance, I suppose we should return to the hospital. Heaven knows what that horrid woman has done to Aunt Eleanor’s blood pressure.”
Her demeanor, as they left the lounge and waited for the valet to bring Zach’s Mercedes, revealed that returning to the hospital was definitely not her first choice.
“I have some business to discuss with Eleanor. And then you’ll probably want to visit with her again,” Zach said ten minutes later as he pulled into the hospital parking area.
“Aunt Eleanor and I have a great deal of catching up to do,” Miranda agreed.
“I thought you might. After your visit, I’ll take you back to the house.”
“I’d appreciate that. If you’re certain I won’t be intruding on your busy schedule.”
She was. But Zach didn’t care. Laissez les bons temps rouler. His mind was practically writhing with erotic images. “I’ll shuffle things around while you’re with Eleanor.” He cut the engine and pocketed the key.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“And then, after you get settled in at the house, we’ll go out to dinner.”
“It sounds positively delightful,” Miranda said.
Unable to resist the creamy lure of her skin another minute, Zach ran the back of his hand down her cheek.
“And then, after dinner, you’ll spend the night with me,” he declared in a firm, deep voice that brooked not a single argument. “All night. In