Truly Yours. Deborah Fletcher Mello

and those full, lush lips. Her eyes flitted briefly toward him, hesitating for a quick moment before she looked away.

      There was something seductive and intoxicating about the man’s stare. Camryn struggled not to meet his gaze, knowing that nothing good could ever come from her staring into Darryl’s eyes. Yet the look of longing he was giving her persisted.

      “What do you know about my family, Darryl?” she suddenly asked, still looking out the helicopter window.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Our history. What do you know about it?”

      Darryl shrugged his broad shoulders. “I know that you and your family come from a long line of architects.”

      She nodded ever so slightly. Closing her eyes, Camryn took a deep breath before continuing, drawing on the family stories that she’d been told since she was a little girl. “My mother was a Toutant before she married into the Charles family.”

      At the mention of the Toutant family name Darryl’s eyebrows lifted curiously. The Toutant family was legendary, their lineage going back to the early 1700s when immigrants first took refuge in the newly established New Orleans. The infamous Lucian Toutant, son of a wealthy Parisian architect, had been an instrumental player in the development of the Vieux Carré, or French Quarter, as it was now known. Darryl leaned forward as she continued, not wanting to miss a word over the loud hum of the helicopter’s engine.

      “I’m sure you know that the French Quarter was composed of eight streets in a perfect square. And most of the architecture in the area was built during the time of Spanish rule. Some of the old French colonial influences were lost after the big fires of 1788 and 1794. Lucian Toutant’s business ventures financed a significant portion of that rebuilding.”

      Turning to stare where Camryn pointed, Darryl could just imagine the views back then. Having scoured thousands of old maps and street plans, he knew that within the boundaries of the old square, construction had been happening wherever they turned, high-ceilinged homes rising grandly from the rich earth beneath them. The massive white columns and the black ironwork that adorned balconies during that bygone era still existed. Young trees that had lined the length of walkways with newly sprouted branches now loomed large and full, limbs stretched sky-high. In the distance, along the Mississippi waterway, a cruise ship was now docked where cargo ships had once landed and unloaded their goods.

      “And it was rumored that his wife, Alexandra Fortier, influenced a number of those designs?” Darryl queried.

      Camryn nodded. “My great-great-great-great-grandparents left quite a mark on this city.” Her gaze moved back to the sights below.

      As the pilot gestured in his direction, indicating that it was time to end their adventure, Darryl reflected on the moment. He understood that the landscape of New Orleans had changed under the dynamics of Hurricane Katrina, the Category 5 storm that had flooded the whole of the city in 2005. The French Quarter was one of the few areas to remain substantially dry, experiencing minor flooding and wind damage. Areas outside the Quarter had not been so lucky. And with everything their beloved city had endured, Darryl was desperate to ensure that nothing the Boudreaux family ever did would negatively impact the home they loved so dearly.

      He turned to stare at Camryn and was taken aback by the tears that misted her eyes. Leaning even closer to her, he dropped a heavy palm against her knee, squeezing her flesh with a firm touch. Camryn lifted her eyes to his, a generous smile stretching easily across her face.

      “The only thing my grandparents loved more than each other and their family was this city,” she said softly, “so we can’t get this wrong, Darryl. We can’t get this wrong.”

      As Camryn dropped her hand atop his hand, entwining her fingers between his fingers, Darryl smiled back, understanding sweeping between them.