Page 18 of Moonshine and Magnolias
“Brandi and I played softball in college.” She couldn’t stop the glimmer of pride in her voice. “All American three years in a row.”
“Nice.”
“Thank you. Go Dawgs.” She gave a smallwoofwith a fist pump, then handed him the second form. “Acknowledgement that proprietary information will be kept secret, and you’re not a spy from a rival hotel.”
He gave her a blank stare. “That actually happens?”
“I think it was more a problem when bed and breakfasts and inns were all the rage a few decades ago. Apparently one of my relatives was seduced by a developer who only wanted her for her knowledge. We haven’t run across that problem in many years.” She gave him the third form. “A statement saying any items found on the grounds or information you uncover belongs to Fountenoy Hall, and information may not be released until it’s been vetted for accuracy.”
His eyes darted to the side and he took a roll of antacids out of his pocket. “I can’t sign this. My main purpose of being here is research, but with some conjecture and theory on my part that I’ll relay to my client. But I do promise to treat any information I uncover with the utmost respect.”
She took a minute to think that over. “Fair enough.” Wendy took the form and made some modifications, then slid it back over. “If you do find anything scandalous about previous generations of Claytons, I would like to know.”
“Of course.”
“It’s very important that you do the tour the way Grandma has it set up.” She pointed her pen at him. “Follow it exactly. She’s been doing this for years and everything is established and perfectly timed.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He gave her a salute.
“If you need help, you can ask me. Or my cousin, since she roped you in to this.” Her foot tapped against the rug. If Brandi had promised him compensation toperform the tours, Wendy needed to know. If it was beyond the Hall’s budget, he might decline to help them at all.
Something wary flashed behind his eyes and his muscles tensed. He reached across the desk and lay his hand on hers. Warmth from his skin seeped into hers. “We shouldn’t have come in here. Let’s go back to the library.”
She tamped down her desire to draw comfort from his touch and gave his hand a pointed stare until he removed it. She was the one who brought them to the office, not him. And being with him had helped, until the personal contact messed it all up. “Did you and Ms. Clayton discuss compensation?”
He leaned back in his chair and away from her. “Payment? For doing something I want to do?”
“Payment for work done in the name of Fountenoy Hall.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”
She raised an eyebrow at him in a look that had her Steward employees scrambling to tell her the truth. “Nothing?”
“Are you kidding? Getting an inside look at a former plantation that’s been able to change with the times? Discovering which of the windows are still the original glass and what walls are the original stone? Seeking out the remnants of your still?” He stood up and ran his hands down the thighs of his jeans, and she stared at the movement a fraction too long. “In fact, I’m eager to get started. If it weren’t pitch black out there, maybe I would.”
What more could he possibly learn from her former plantation? “Surely you’ve already studied this time frame.”
He stepped through the path of cardboard boxes as he walked to the window. “Spoken like a true believer in keeping the past in the past. So often I’m forced to study pictures of what places used to look like, before they were torn down or destroyed by wars or natural disasters, when the family scattered and no one knows who they were or where they are now.” He pulled back the cloth curtain.
Just as she was starting to regain control of herself, she got sucked in by the passion in his voice. She left the safety of the desk and joined him at the window.Even though it was darker than midnight, her mind knew the scenery. Like the peach trees that had given Fountenoy Hall something to hold onto in the tough times. Like the five-hundred year-old live oak bordering the orchard that had called to Fenwick Clayton and told him this was the place to lay down his roots. Like the heartbeat of her ancestors building a life, a home.
He brought it to the present. “Fountenoy Hall is still alive, with its direct descendants telling its stories. It’s fascinating.”
Especially when seen anew through his eyes. It was beautiful, and she’d forgotten what it had meant to her. She wasn’t sure if she valued or despised the revelation. “How about we give you your room at no cost while you’re preparing? If you stick around after the tours are done, I can go back to charging you. I can’t let you do all that work and not have any benefit.” She’d have to redo the anticipated revenue report for the month, but that was a small price to pay for him taking time away from his own work.
He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Back to business, right?”
She stiffened. “It’s always about business.”
He gave her a smile, though it didn’t crinkle his hazel eyes. “You have a deal. Though your aunt’s cooking alone is worth it.”
Brandi shuffled into the office and leaned against the doorjamb, tapping on her phone. She seemed much more comfortable in her tight jeans and white t-shirt than she would have been in the Fountenoy Hall skirt and polo uniform.
“I got your text. What do you need now?” She lifted her head and shifted her posture to jut out her hip, shaking her blonde mane. “Well, hello, Dr. Rob. What are you doing here?”
Wendy glanced at him to see his reaction to Brandi, secure in the knowledge that he’d act like most men and fall over himself to earn a smile from her. He, however, stayed next to Wendy. “Hey, Brandi.”
It was probably only a matter of time before he stopped giving Wendy the heat of his stare and turned it on her cousin. “He needed to sign employment forms.”
