She had been barely out of law school. It was ancient history. The fact that he had for some reason dug that deeply into her past brought a return of the uneasiness she had felt earlier. She crossed her arms in front of her, careful not to dump coffee down the front of her sweater. "You seem to have an inordinate knowledge of my career, Mr. Danjermond."
"I'm a very thorough man, Laurel." He smiled again, that even, handsome smile. "You might say attention to detail has gotten me where I am today."
To the DA's office in backwater Louisiana? It seemed an odd thing to say, considering Stephen Danjermond had Bigger Things written all over him. With his pedigree and family connections, Laurel would have expected him to be firmly entrenched in Baton Rouge or New Orleans.
"There is a method to my madness, I assure you," he said, reading her silence with amazing accuracy. "Ambitious prosecutors are a dime a dozen in New Orleans. Acadiana offers me the chance to shine on my own. And there are unique problems here, problems I feel I can help control-drug smuggling, gun running. There is a certain element in the bayou country that remains largely uncivilized. Bringing that faction to heel and making them realize the days of Jean Lafitte are long past is a worthy goal."
"And one that will attract the attention of the powers that be."
His broad shoulders rose and fell. "C'est la vie. C'est la guerre. To the victor go the spoils."
"I know how the game is played, Mr. Danjermond," Laurel said in a cool tone. "I'm not naive."
"No, you're an idealist. A much more difficult lot in life. Better to be a cynic."
"Is that what you are? A cynic?"
"I'm a pragmatist." He held her gaze and let the silence build between them until Laurel had to fight herself to keep from stepping back. "Will you consider my offer?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm flattered, but I can't think about work yet."
"But it's not just work to you, is it, Laurel? The pursuit of justice is a calling for you, an obsession," he said. "Isn't it, Laurel?"
The question was too personal. She was feeling too sensitive. He stood a little too close, watched her too intently. He looked relaxed, and yet she had the impression of leashed power beneath his calm facade. He was too… everything. Too tall, too handsome, too charming. Too still.
She glanced at the platinum Rolex strapped to his wrist, and relief flooded through her. "I'm afraid I have to be leaving now, Mr. Danjermond. I promised my aunt I'd help her with some things this afternoon. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Until we meet again, Laurel."
When donkeys fly, she thought. She hadn't come home for challenges or entanglements or trouble. She backed away another step, some primal instinct keeping her from turning her back too quickly on Stephen Danjermond. He watched her, calm amusement lighting his green eyes, and she turned then, simply to escape looking at his too-handsome face, turned just as Savannah walked in the door.
Chapter Nine
Tension, like electricity, filled the room instantly, tightening skin, raising short hairs, freezing breath. The initial shock held everyone motionless, speechless, then Olive rushed into the room, chalk-faced, eyes brimming with tears.
"I didn't let her in, Mrs. Leighton!" she wailed. "I didn't! She shoved me!"
Vivian grabbed the maid by the arm and hustled her out into the hall. Savannah watched them go, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lush mouth. The initial responses to her appearance made it worth the trouble she had taken to get out here. She could have turned right around and left, only she wasn't satisfied. She wanted to tear through this little civilized, socially correct affair like a tornado and carry her baby sister off with her when she went. Damned if she was going to let Vivian dig her claws into Laurel or let Ross get within two feet of her.
She looked past the shocked faces of Glory and Don Trahern and Reverend Stipple, to her dear old step-daddy. Ross's expression was guarded, like that of a poker player bluffing on a busted hand. He still wanted her. She was sure of that, and she smiled at him to let him know she knew. To remind herself he had chosen her over his wife, over her mother. To reinforce the truth in her own mind-that she was a born whore and would never be anything else. And she reveled in the moment, in making him wonder, making him squirm.
Feeling smug, she strolled into the room, her gait loose, hips swinging. She had dressed for the occasion in a scandalously short, sleeveless dress that was white with large red amaryllis blossoms splashed across it, and fit her like skin on a sausage. Aside from her red stiletto heels, it was the only article of clothing she wore. She had looped a long strand of pearls carelessly around her neck to accompany her ever-present pendant, and brushed her hair upside down so that it was now like a cloud around her shoulders, wild and sexy. Her Ray-Bans completed the outfit, hiding her eyes, giving her an air of mystery.
" Savannah," Laurel said, finding her tongue at last. She studied her sister and chose her words carefully. "We didn't expect to see you."
"I had a change in plans," Savannah said evenly. "I need to borrow your car, Baby. Seeing how mine is temporarily out of commission."
"Of course." Laurel took a step toward the door. "You can give me a ride back to Belle Rivière. I was just leaving."
"So soon?" Savannah cooed, disappointment plumping out her lower lip as she slid her sunglasses down her nose and stroked a gaze down Stephen Danjermond. "I haven't even been properly introduced."
Laurel bit her tongue and held her temper, saying a quick prayer that her sister wouldn't do anything more outrageous than she already had. She slipped an arm through Savannah 's, intent on controlling her in some way.
"Stephen Danjermond, my sister, Savannah. Savannah- "
"District Attorney Danjermond," Savannah murmured, preening like a cat, offering her free hand to the man Vivian had obviously marked for Laurel. "Such a pleasure, Mr. Danjermond. Savannah Chandler Leighton at your…" Her gaze slid down the long, lean, elegant length of him, lingering suggestively. "… service."
"Miss Leighton?" One dark brow rose a fraction. "You go by your stepfather's name?"
"Oh, yes," Savannah purred, stroking the palm of his hand with her fingertip. She shot a look at Ross across the room. "I owe my stepdaddy so much after all." She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Ross made me what I am today, you know."
" Savannah." Vivian's voice cut across the parlor like a scimitar. She stood rigid and queenly beside her chair, hands clasped tightly in front of her. "What a surprise to see you here."
"Yes, I expect it is," Savannah drawled sweetly, cocking a hip and planting her hand on it in a belligerent stance that perfectly mirrored her attitude. "Seeing how you told me once to get the hell out of this house and never come back."
Laurel flinched inwardly as her stomach knotted with tension. She moved toward her sister, reaching out to put a hand on Savannah 's arm. " Savannah, please, let's just go."
"Yes," Vivian snapped, her alabaster complexion mottling red with anger. "Please do go. If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head and behave as a lady, you are not welcome here."
Savannah shrugged off Laurel 's hand and sauntered toward the door, stopping within a yard of their mother. All the old bitterness seethed up inside her like acid, boiling and churning, eating away at her. Her face twisted into a sour mask. "I've never been a lady in this house, and I used to be welcome day and night."
"Sister, please," Laurel whispered, taking hold of Savannah 's wrist. Her gaze darted between the raw fury and sheen of tears in Vivian's eyes to Ross, who stood across the room, suddenly fascinated by the pattern in the Aubusson rug. "Please, let's go."
The tremor in Laurel 's voice was the only thing that kept Savannah from lighting into her mother and shouting to the very proper guests that she was what she was because Ross Leighton had mounted her four times a week from the day she turned thirteen. And her very proper, perfect belle mother had never even suspected-because Vivian saw only what she wanted to see.