Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

"We shall all greatly miss our dear brother. He left behind loving family and a host of friends."

"You're at the wrong funeral, Rev," Nicole muttered. She slid to the left to avoid a jab from her mother's elbow.

She gazed at her least favorite great-uncle, the late Hosea Summers. Dressed in a thousand-dollar black pinstriped suit, he lay in a fancy, gunmetal gray slate coffin with real brass trim.

In accordance with his wishes, the family had brought Uncle Hosea home to Lafayette Parish for his final rest. Nicole's mother and father had arranged the services at Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Uncle Hosea had always said he didn't want to be buried in Houston, Texas. He mostly got what he wanted. Great Uncle Hosea's pet name for Nicole had been "That smart-mouthed rug rat." He'd rattle off the words in that gruff steel pad voice that made her want to kick his shins. Which she did regularly from age three to fifteen. Enough was enough. She caught Reverend Paine's eye, then tapped her wristwatch.

Reverend Paine stammered, then rumbled on a few seconds longer and ended with a prayer. The organist did her job with a mournful version of "Nearer My God to Thee." The large extended Summers family filed by to pay their last respects with dutifully serious expressions.

At six feet two, Stanton Summers was still a commanding physical presence despite his sixty years. Nicole had inherited his stature and her mother's temperament. Nicole's father was the only mourner who seemed genuinely touched. He stood at the casket, while the rest filed by with only cursory glances. Nicole joined him. She tried to work up some bit of sentimentality, failed, and gave a mental shrug.

"Come on, Daddy." Nicole tugged at his arm.

"Unc was a pain in the ass most of the time, but he was a hell of a businessman. He would have been pleased with the turnout," Stanton said as he looked around.

"Yeah, he could insult everyone at once," Nicole joked. She followed his gaze at their colorful assortment of relatives. "Maybe I should carry on his legacy. I know exactly what he'd say about Aunt Cora's latest husband. Then there's Cousin Elton. He -- "

"Behave, Nikki," Stanton broke in with a frown. "Anyway, Uncle Hosea lived and died the way he wanted."

"Slumped over a thick financial report. The king was in his counting house, counting out his money," Nicole said, repeating an old nursery rhyme her great-grandfather sang to her as a toddler.

"Hell of a businessman," Stanton repeated, missing the sarcasm of Nicole's response.

A couple came up to offer condolences just then. While they talked to her father, Nicole's attention wandered. Slowly the large room had filled with people from the service. Many had come in late only to make an appearance. A tall man with wide shoulders walked in a side door behind a woman with twin five-year-old boys. His steel gray suit molded to his well-developed body like only fine silk-blend fabric could. The newcomer had skin the color of mink, expressive cocoa brown eyes, and a full mouth that could inspire hot fantasies. He wore a solemn expression in keeping with the occasion and still looked absolutely drop-dead sexy.

"All the good ones are taken," Nicole said, low.

"What?" Stanton stopped talking to the couple and glanced at her.

"Who is that?" Nicole nodded toward the man.

"Emelda Ourso and her boys," Stanton replied. "Jeff must be parking the car." He turned back and resumed his conversation.

Nicole tugged at his arm to get his attention. "Isn't the guy standing there her husband?"

Her father followed her gaze. "No. You remember Jeff. He went to school with your sister."

"Please tell me he's not my cousin."

"Jeff?" Stanton blinked at her.

"No, him." Nicole jerked her head again at the handsome man.

"He looks familiar, but he's not a relative." Stanton's attention was diverted when two more people came up and started talking to him.

"Hmm, now there's good news," she said.

Nicole stole glances at the man from time to time. He moved with the grace of a trained athlete. She watched him sign the guest book provided by Robertson's Funeral Directors. His broad nose gave him a royal look, like Nicole's notion of a Nubian prince. While she mused at her own girlhood dream, he lifted his fine face and gazed straight at her. After a formal, polite smile, her prince moved on.

"Thanks for coming." Stanton shook hands with the two men and accepted a peck on the cheek from a woman. When they left, he turned back to Nicole. "How are you holding up, sugar?"

"Better now," she murmured, still watching the man.

Her prince walked through the door leading back into the sanctuary of the church. She was considering following him when her father's voice brought her up short.

"Life goes on. Uncle Hosea really cared about the family."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it."

"His own children were a big disappointment." Stanton bit off further comment when the subjects of his assessment walked in.

"Maybe they won't notice us." Nicole took an intense interest in the tips of her shoes. Her cousins Jolene and Russell Summers marched toward them.

"Hello, Uncle Stanton," Russell said. "Terrible day."

"Yes, I'll miss Daddy so much." His sister gave a delicate sniff.

"Hmm." Nicole eyed them both. Her father put a warning hand on her arm.

"If there's anything I can do to help with the company, let me know," Stanton said in an earnest tone.

"Thanks, Uncle Stanton. I'll call you if necessary. Of course, I know the business inside out."

Nicole pursed her lips to suppress a wisecrack. Jolene and Russell would probably drink a toast with expensive champagne to celebrate later on ...