"The mystique of the bayou and Baylee and Dane’s unhappy past experiences in the love stakes blend together to make a strong, tender and emotional connection between the two...I would love to read more books by this author."
Long and Short Reviews

Dane Winslow stood staring after the beautiful woman for several heartbeats. He couldn't let her just walk away. He didn't even know her name, although he was sure he could find out simply by walking over to his car and looking at his notes. He was certain that she had put up the bond money for John Belvue. Yet, something other than the fact that he didn't know her name was urging him to prolong her departure.

There was something compelling about her--something about her big brown eyes. They were deep, dark pools of mystery that echoed secrets as mysterious as the bayou itself. Then there was her hair, a shade lighter than the color of spun gold and that soft mouth made for kissing. He shook his head, trying to free himself from his wayward thought. "Wait!" He jumped down the steps after her.

Baylee turned slowly, deliberately, her heart thumping like a native tom tom. "Now what do you want?"

Dane's lips curled in a lazy grin. His hands were back in his pockets pulling the corded pants tightly across his nicely defined muscular buns. Everything about him screamed potent masculinity. Sexual being. Dangerous speciman.

Her sensible, sane side said, "Looks aren't everything." So it had to be the illogical part of her brain that was making her pulse jump around whenever his mouth curved into a smile.

"You don't understand," he said. "I need to speak with John now, before the hearing."

Baylee sighed. "You don't understand. John does what he wants to do and when he wants to do it. Right now he's probably on his way deep into the bayou."

He leaned forward. "And maybe he's not. Could you at least point me in the right direction?"

"It's about a mile downriver."

Dane glanced over his shoulder at the metallic glint of the water. A film of hazy dust covered its surface, giving it an eerie, mysterious appearance. It looked like a stream of molten lead. He was glad this part of the bayou didn't have moss hanging from every tree. It was creepy enough without that added feature.

His gaze came back to her and curiously traveled the length of her again. "Can you take me there?"

"Me?" Baylee asked, wide-eyed, surprised.

"Why not? You seem to know John Belvue fairly well." Dane's eyes wandered down to her dog sitting obediently by her side. He held out his hand, slightly wavering as the dog growled.

"What's his name?"

"Cannibal," she lied primly, "so if you value your fingers, you'd better not go waving them in his face." She didn't know why she had said what she did. Why make up a lie about her dog's name? Wasn't that silly? She only knew this man was making her blood boil. His masculine scent wafted over her, holding her captive with an invisible force. He made her feel unsteady, lightheaded. And because of that, she felt the need to lash out with her tongue. It was her defensive coping system. It would have brought her great satisfaction if he'd pulled his hand away and looked at the dog in alarm.

But he didn't. Instead, a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

Not that smile again, she thought. It made her nerve endings hum with electricity. There was something about him that was drawing her to him like a moth to a flame. It was pure electricity. She knew she was instantly attracted to him and didn't want to be--didn't like what she felt. For that reason, she was grateful that Hannibal sat protectively by her side.

Dane eyed the animal with speculation, trying to squelch his growing curiosity of this woman. "I'll ask you one more time. Will you take me to Mr. Belvue's home, or should I find someone else to take me?"

Baylee knew Tucker, the store's owner, would take him. The two boats tied to the unsteady dock in back of the store were his. She decided she may as well go along, just in case John was at home.

It would be easier on Dane if she explained to John the importance of talking with him--not that she wanted to make things easier for Dane Winslow. She did, however, want to keep John out of trouble. So, she'd do it for John, she told herself.

"You have twenty dollars?"

Dane's eyebrows raised. "Yes."

Baylee knew Tucker would take them for a mere five dollars, but she was sure that Dane would pay and Tucker needed the money. His wife was due with their first baby in about a month.

"I'll need it to get Tucker to take us." She nodded in the direction of the river. "Those boats belong to him."

Dane pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to her. Baylee felt an electrical shock race up her arm as his fingers brushed her lightly. Good lord, she hadn't felt this kind of reaction to a man--ever. Her heart had fluttered many times over a man, but nothing this radical had ever happened.

"I'll be right back," she mumbled. She looked down at her dog and put her hand out in a stop gesture. "Stay."

Baylee hurried to the door and went inside, her body still tingling from the brief touch of Dane's fingers.

Dane was irritated, but not because he was left with the dog who was watching him intently, but because this woman intrigued him to a point of frustration. He was compelled to find out her name and she wasn't likely to give it to him. In fact, she didn't seem to like him at all.

He held out his hand to the dog, palm up, so the animal could sniff it and not feel threatened. "You're a good dog, aren't you?" If it were at all possible, Dane could swear he saw a slight smile on the dog's face and the thump of the tail was encouraging. Two seconds later, he was petting the gentle animal. "All bark and no bite, just like your master, huh, boy?" The tail wagged more vigorously.

Curiosity got the better of Dane and he went to his car. He opened the door, reached in and pulled the briefcase over to him. He opened it and scanned the file on John Belvue. There it was--Baylee Mitchell--high school history teacher.

Baylee. He rolled the name over in his head several times and smiled. He liked the way it sounded.

"Are you coming or not?"

With an even wider grin, Dane dropped the file back into the briefcase and grabbed a small notepad.

"Just getting something to take notes with," he said, turning around and holding the pad up as proof.

Baylee introduced the two men as Dane approached.

"I'm pleased to take you 'cross the river anytime," Tucker said, pumping Dane's hand vigorously.

They walked across the warped wood of the deck floor, around to the back of the store, and to the boat.

"In Hannibal."

Dane leaned close to Baylee. "I thought you said his name was Cannibal," he whispered in a throaty growl. "And to think I was a little concerned about my fingers."

"You must have heard wrong," she said, feigning ignorance.

Dane took her arm and helped her into the boat. Baylee could still feel the heat from his touch as she sat down. For a moment, she scanned the river without seeing it. When the boat was pushed off from the dock, she slowly raised her eyes and looked at Dane. What was it about him that charged up her senses, she wondered with a whisper of panic.

She cursed herself for thinking about him at all, let alone how sexy his smile was, how electrifying his touch was, how…Baylee rubbed her temples, trying to distract her train of thought. She reminded herself that he was a lawyer and that after his visit with John was over, she'd never see him again. Not that she wanted to see him again.

"Does the water always run this sluggish?" Dane asked.

"Yup," answered Tucker.

Dane had never been to the bayou before, and he wasn't sure he cared for it. The streams and rivers he'd seen in Texas bore no resemblance to the waterway running through this wooded country. It wasn't a bit appealing--unlike the woman sitting before him.

The cypress trees that were backed closely by a line of bright green pines were the only thing that made the place look somewhat inviting, except, of course, the woman. Except for the woman, the place was downright creepy. She was like a golden ray of sun against the gloomy backdrop of this bayou.

Dark and deep, it was probably full of dangerous hidden things, too. Like the woman. Definitely dangerous to his peace of mind. He'd gone down that road once before and the results had been disastrous. So why was he thinking about her at all?'

Simply put, he was captivated by the gold flecks in her brown eyes and the full soft lips that reminded him of petals on a flower. He wanted to touch her lips with his and taste their sweetness. Damn! Had he gone crazy in just a few short minutes? He was sounding like some Renaissance poet. He focused, instead, on the young man rowing, his shoulders bobbing in time to the rhythm of the oars. Just beyond where the oar touched the water, he thought he saw a snake, or a swirl, or something in the water, but it disappeared so fast he wondered if he'd really seen anything at all.

Definitely creepy, he thought.

The boat finally hit the riverbank and Baylee stepped out on the shore and waited for Hannibal to jump out after her. Dane followed her lead, relieved to be on solid ground.

"Will you wait for us, Tucker? We won't be long."

"For twenty dollar, I almost wait all night. If'n it weren't for nalusachito," he said with a grin.

Baylee smiled and turned away from the river toward the tall trees. "John's cabin is up this trail a few hundred feet," she told Dane.

"What the hell's a nalusachito?"

Baylee's mouth twitched. "A soul-eater."

Dane stopped in his tracks, grabbing Baylee's arm and spinning her around. "A what?"

Baylee swallowed and looked up into eyes that flickered with confusion. The corners of her mouth strained against the temptation to turn up into a smile. "Nalusachito's a myth. A Choctaw superstition."

Dane saw the humor in her eyes, but he didn't find anything funny about something that ate your soul. He may not be afraid of the dog, but the bayou was a different story. "Are there any other monsters I should know about?" He looked past Baylee to the dark path ahead.

Baylee turned and started up the path again. "Monsters?"