Some women are impossible to forget not matter how a man tries.

            Logan Claiborne was frowning, and not because the sun was in his

eyes as he sped down the narrow, twisting road that led to the antebellum mansion where he'd grown up.

        He should be concentrating on Mitchell Butler and the merger of

Butler Shipyards and Claiborne Energy, or on how he was going to deal

compassionately with Grandpère once he arrived at Belle Rose.

      Instead, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as he remembered

the open, trusting, dark eyes of the voluptuously proportioned swamp

brat he'd seduced and then jilted nine years ago to save his twin brother, Jake.

      Until this morning, Logan had told himself that his grandfather had

been right, that Cici Bellefleur didn't belong in their world; that he'd

had to save Jake from the same sort of disastrous marriage their father

had made to a poor girl, their mother, whose extravagant dreams of

grandeur as well as her need to impress had nearly wrecked the family

fortune. He'd continued to tell himself that he'd been right to do what

he'd done even after he'd secured the family empire, even after Cici had

made a name for herself with her camera and had proved herself a woman

of talent and worth.

      Then his grandfather had called him this morning and had stunned

him by acting as thrilled as an infatuated kid when he'd mentioned Cici

had come home again and they were giving tours of the house together.

      Why had she, a famous photographer and writer, really come home?

What did she want?

      "Nine years ago you were dead set against her because of her

uncle," Logan had reminded him. Grandpère had always distrusted Cici's

uncle.

      "In a long life, a man makes a few mistakes. Remember that. I made

more than a few. Someday you may have a stroke that leaves you with too

much time to dwell on the past. You may regret some of the things you've

done. Well, I regret blaming Cici for her uncle Bos. It wasn't her fault

he fought cocks, ran with a wild bunch and operated a bar."

      "Do you remember that nine years ago you didn't want her anywhere

near Jake or me, especially Jake, who was running pretty wild back

then?"

  "Well, I'm sorry for that, if I did."

  "If you did?" It was still difficult to reconcile the grandfather

 he had now with the domineering individual who had raised him.

  "Okay, I was wrong about her. I was wrong to be so tough on you,

 too. It's my fault you're so hard."

  A pang of guilt had hit Logan as he'd run his hand through his

 rumpled, chocolate-brown hair.

  "I was too hard on Jake, too."

      "Maybe you're being too difficult on yourself."

      "I'd like to see Jake again before I die."

      "You're not going to die…not anytime soon."

      "Cici says the same thing. She thinks I'm getting better every day.

 She thinks maybe I could stay here instead of…" His voice trailed away.

  The mention of Cici and the hope in his grandfather's voice had

 convinced Logan he had to check on his grandfather at once. Since his

 stroke, his grandfather had gone from being a strong, commanding man to

 a clingy, depressed person Logan barely knew. This was why Logan had

decided his grandfather couldn't live independently at Belle Rose any

longer and needed to be moved to New Orleans near him. The old man

needed looking after.

      Unfortunately, the dense forest with its vines and wild vegetation

was so thick beneath the brooding sky, Logan was almost past the

familiar turn to his childhood home before he saw the gatepost. At the

last moment, he spun the wheel of his Lexus to the right too fast and

skidded. No sooner had he righted the car than he saw the pillared

mansion at the end of the oak alley. As always, the ancient home with

its graceful columns and galleries aglow in the slanting sunlight seemed

to him the most beautiful of houses, claiming his heart as no other

place could.

      How could he blame Grandpère, who'd become more childlike and

emotional since his debilitating illness, for wanting to stay here?

      Logan remembered the first time he had mentioned the possibility of

 moving him to the city. Grandpère had given him a scare by disappearing

for several hours.

      Cici has no business convincing the old man he's getting better so

he'll think he doesn't have to move.

      But was that really her motivation?  The mere thought of his grandfather's worsening condition was upsetting. Logan, not Cici, had Grandpère's best interests at heart. The

last thing he needed was Cici meddling and making him feel guilty about

a decision he'd been forced to make. He didn't want to make Grandpère

unhappy, but he couldn't run Claiborne Energy and be down here with his

grandfather at the same time.

      His thoughts in a snarl, Logan brakes too sharply. His tires spun

in the damp gravel as he stopped in the deep shade beneath the wide

alley of the spreading oaks some anonymous Frenchman had planted a

hundred years before the antebellum house had even been dreamed of.

      Beyond the house, fields stretched to a line of brooding cypress trees

draped with moss that edged the wilderness of the swamp.

      Logan flung the gleaming door of his late-model Lexus hybrid open

and stepped out of the luxury sedan. After having his tall frame jammed

behind the wheel for the two hour drive over bad roads from New Orleans,

it felt good to stand up and stretch.

      Despite the huge live oak trees, the heat was unbearably steamy for

this early in March. He inhaled the thick, syrupy air, which to him

smelled of home.

      Little green frogs croaked. Bees hummed in azalea blossoms. Wood

ducks made music. Did he only imagine lusty bull alligators roaring for

their mates?

      He smiled. How Cici used to love the dark, moss-hung wilderness

that bordered the plantation when she'd been a kid. Whenever he'd been

home and had put a foot outside, she'd followed him everywhere as

eagerly as a devoted puppy. Their relationship had been so simple then.

      She'd been eight years younger that he and Jake, so Logan hadn't taken

her crush on his brother seriously until the summer he'd returned home

from law school and discovered that his grandfather was right about Cici

not being a child any longer.

      Shutting his mind against those pleasant memories that included

Cici, he began to regret he was out of the air-conditioned car.  Maybe because he dreaded seeing Cici so much, Logan took the time to rip his tie off and unbutton his collar. Shedding his custom-made suit jacket, he opened the door and tossed his jacket and tie onto his

plush, leather seat.

      He wished Alicia Butler, his girlfriend of the past four months,

had been able to come with him. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so haunted

by the past. Or so tempted to remember Cici.

      Unlike Cici, Alicia was sleek and elegant. He'd met her because

they'd been thrown together due to his ambition to merge his company

with her father's. A brunette, her shoulder-length, straight hair made

her slim face seem even more regal. She knew how to dress, how to carry

herself. Heads turned at fundraisers whenever she was at his side, and

not only because of her beauty and stylish attire, but because of her

fortune.

      Other men, ambitious men, envied him. Not that that was the only

reason he felt such a sense of pride that she would soon be his.

Poised, she approached life deliberately, as he did. She was

civilized, polished and, therefore, as appropriate for him as his wife,

Noelle, had been before her untimely death.

      Alicia spoke French and Italian. She set a beautiful table. She

never ate too much or drank too much or wore an inappropriate outfit.

Not even when she was angry did she raise her voice. She was

equally controlled in bed, too.

      As Cici had not been, sprang the wayward thought. For an instant

his blood pounded as he remembered Cici wild with pleasure, writhing

beneath him.

      But Alicia would warm up after they were married. He would be

patient. He understood not trusting enough to ever let go. Together he

and Alicia would build a life together as he and Noelle, his recently

departed wife, had, a life that everyone would envy. They wouldn't

quarrel horribly and tear each other to pieces because their passions

got in the way.

      Briefly he remembered Noelle's sad eyes in that last week before

she'd died. Then, quickly as always, he ruthlessly checked the forbidden

image. He would make Alicia happy. History would not repeat itself.

      "I'm sorry I can't come with you and meet your grandfather,

darling," Alicia had said when he'd called her this morning. "But Daddy

needs me at the office."

      "Okay. I understand."

      Mitchell Butler, Alicia's father, was a domineering shark, at least

in business, but since Logan and he had this huge merger between their

businesses pending, Logan didn't want to cross him over something as

minor as a personal issue. He would see Alicia tonight.

      "Darling, I'm sure you'll know exactly what to say and do to make

your grandfather understand why he can't stay at Belle Rose," Alicia had

said. "After all, it's your family. He's your grandfather. You love him

and want only the best for him."

      If she only knew what a mess he'd made of things, Logan thought

grimly. He'd made everybody unhappy. His family remained divided, as a

result.

      He didn't want to dwell on his mistakes, especially not on his

brutal handling of Cici the first time around or his nine-year

estrangement from his twin. His thoughts on damage control and what was

best for his grandfather, Logan had rushed down here today despite his

heavy schedule. He was determined to deal with Cici before she got

creative and made his grandfather believe he could have the impossible.

      He remembered how small and lost Cici had looked standing on the

dock after he'd told her he didn't love her. It had been a lie to

protect her and him. Strangely, his lie had made him feel equally sad.

      Don't think about the past. Or how you felt. Just deal with Cici

now.

      Despite his best intentions not to revisit the past, he remembered

young, vivacious Cici trying to pretend she was strong and tough and as

good as the rich and powerful Claibornes. He'd hurt her. Hurt Jake. Hurt

everybody, including himself. And told himself it was collateral damage

because the family was richer and stronger than ever.

      After locking the car, Logan turned and strode up the gravel drive

toward the softly glowing house. But at the base of the stairs that led

to the lower gallery and massive front door, he paused.

      Slowly his gaze drifted over the mansion and lawn. A newly built

wooden wheelchair ramp that avoided the stairs snaked back and forth

from the ground to the front door.

      Logan's eyes roved over the familiar grounds, out to the

garçonnière where he and Jake had lived as teenagers before their

quarrel over Cici, and he wondered who owned the two-seater Miata parked

at such a jaunty angle beside the building.

      Frowning, he made for the stairs, but just as he was about to turn

the knob and push at the front door, it was opened by someone inside the

house.

      "Why, hello there, Mister Logan," said the soft, familiar, French22

accented voice of his childhood nanny.

      Noonoon, his grandfather's housekeeper now, stood just inside the

big door. At the sight of him, her dark face lit up as brightly as a

birthday cake.

      An answering warmth filled him. This generous-hearted woman had

always loved him, loved Jake, too. Ever since their mother's death,

she'd practically run Belle Rose single-handedly.

      "Lordy, it shore is a hot day."

      He nodded, gave her a quick hug, then released her.

      "Come on in out of the heat before you melt. If it's this hot now,

what'll it be like in August?"

      "Don't get me started about August." Because of the gulf heating up

 in the summer, August was a prime month for hurricanes.

      "Can I fix you something? A drink maybe? Iced tea with a sprig of

mint?"

      He shook his head. "I'm fine."

      "You shore are. At thirty-five, you're as tall and handsome as

ever."

      "Why do you remind me of my age every chance you get?"

      "Maybe because it's time you stopped grieving so hard for your

pretty Miss Noelle."

      He tensed.

      She stopped, realizing he wasn't the sort to encourage sympathy.

      "Life is short," she said.

      "I have someone new in my life." He stepped into the welcoming cool

of the wide central hall. "Her name's Alicia Butler. You'll meet her

soon. She's a real lady. Someone the family will be proud of."

      Noonoon shut the door behind him. "I'm real glad. So, what brings

you all the way down here from New Orleans?"

      "My grandfather. He's so deaf he's hard to talk to over the phone.

I thought we had things settled, but this morning he was saying he was

better and wanted to stay here on his own." Deliberately Logan refrained

from mentioning Cici.

      "Mr. Pierre, he be napping upstairs. But he'll be mighty pleased,

he will…that you're here…since we don't see much of you these days, you

bein' such a busy, important man and all and living in New Orleans."

      "Napping? Where is she, then?" Logan asked.

      "Miss Cici?" Noonoon inquired a little too innocently.

      Logan nodded. "Who else?"

      "I knew it wouldn't take you long…as soon as you heard about Miss

Cici. There shore isn't nothing like a rich older man taking an interest

in a beautiful, younger woman for getting the rest of his family's

hackles up, now is there?"

      "That's not why…"

      Noonoon placed her hands on her wide hips, her intelligent, black

eyes regarding him intently. So, Cici had already won Noonoon over.

      "When you heard about Miss Cici, you come down here faster than

that lazy hare sprinting at the last second to catch that tortoise in

that story I used to read to you two boys. Why, I'll never forget that

last summer she was here. Miss Cici, I mean. She was eighteen and just

the prettiest little thing I ever saw."

      Logan wished to hell he couldn't remember the way slanting sunlight

had washed Cici's breasts with light and shadow as she'd stood in her

pirogue the first day he'd come home. When she'd seen him, she'd jumped

out of the boat and had run into the woods, her long legs flying

gracefully. When he'd followed her, she'd said hi and her dark eyes had

sparkled with such joy, she'd bewitched him. After that, she'd been too

shy to say more, and, hell, so had he.

Logan's eyes narrowed, and Noonoon changed tack.

      "She only be here a week, Miss Cici, and Mr. Pierre, he already

plum crazy about her."

      "He told me," Logan said coldly, imagining Cici preying on the

vulnerable old man.

      "He been doing real good. I know you wants him to move to New

Orleans and all…"

      "To a fabulous assisted living arrangement near my house that I can

personally supervise."

      "But places like that aren't home, and we all know how busy you be.

How often could you get yourself over to see him? Mr. Pierre, he be

happy here. Old people at those homes just sit and stare."

      "You can't take care of him day and night. You have your own

family."

      Since the house was open to the public, Noonoon's main job was as a

housekeeper, not a caregiver to his grandfather. She'd agreed to help

with him temporarily.

      "Well, now that Miss Cici is here…"

      "She's not staying."

      "Well, she sing and play the piano for him every day. She talk to

him. Most nights they eat dinner together. She cooks. You remember how

she loves to cook."

      "The way she runs around all over the world, she won't be here that

long."

      "You sure about that? She shore is settlin' in. Says she's tired of

all that running, that she's had enough pain to last her a lifetime. And

she have her book to write."

      "Not another book. I hope she's focusing on something that has

nothing to do with me this time."

      "She hasn't mentioned you."

      He wasn't reassured. Cici's book on the oil industry in Louisiana

after Katrina had made Claiborne Energy look bad. Had she mentioned even

once how many people had jobs because of Claiborne Oil? No, her book had

been full of pictures of rusting pipelines and oil-covered wildlife and

shots of boats on water that used to be land with captions blaming

companies like Claiborne Energy for the state's vanishing marshlands.

      "And she wants to see about her uncle Bos and all," Noonoon was

saying. "He's not too strong, you know, after his treatments. Stubborn

cuss, though. She calls and calls him, but he still won't speak to her.

You'd think after all these years, he'd forgive her. All she ever did

was be friends with you and Jake."

Guilt made a muscle in his jaw pull. So, she was still estranged

from her uncle. Just like he and Jake were estranged from each

other…because of that summer. Not that most decent people in these parts

thought Bos was worth knowing. Still, he was her uncle. He'd taken her

in when she was orphaned.

      Bos and Grandpère's enmity had sharpened over the issue of Bos's

cockfighting. Once fighting cocks had become illegal, the two had fewer

issue to quarrel over.

      Cici said she wants to live somewhere quiet, and you of all people

know the garçonnière is mighty quiet."

      "You gave her the garçonnière? My old rooms?" He was shouting, and

he never shouted. Not even when someone as hard as Mitchell Butler tried

to screw Claiborne Energy for millions.

      "Mr. Pierre, he be the one who rent it to her," she defended

herself softly.

      Remembering the cute red Miata parked by the two-story octagonal

building, Logan's pulse began to thud. So, the dangerous, flashy sports

car was hers. Why was that a surprise? Cici had a reckless streak. And

no wonder…with that trapper cockfighting, swamp-rat of an uncle who'd

raised her, mainly by neglecting her.

      If his grandfather had been himself he would know that Cici

couldn't be dedicated to him in any real way. No, she probably had some

secret agenda.

      "Sorry I raised my voice," Logan whispered, straining for control.

      "This isn't your fault. Or hers. It's mine—for not moving Grandpère

sooner. I'll deal with her now."

      "Oh, Miss Cici, she don't like anybody bothering her in the

afternoon. Not unless it's an emergency. You see, she writes when Mr.

Pierre naps. Then at four she and Mr. Pierre, they give the last tour

together. I reckon she be free to talk around five."

      "How can he manage walking so far in his condition?"

Noonoon's sharp look made him wince as he remembered he hadn't seen

his grandfather in a month.

      "Miss Cici got him off his walker. Gave him a cane and bought him a

new, lightweight wheelchair. She hired Mr. Buzz to build ramps

everywhere. She pushes Pierre when he be tired. With the ramps he can

get up to all the slave cabins now."

      More ramps? Logan's pulse in his temple had speeded up. He didn't

believe Cici had come home to care for his grandfather. She had never

known how to take proper care of herself. No way could she take care of

Pierre. Not for the long haul.

      His grandfather needed dedicated nurses and the latest, modern,

long-term care, and he was going to have them.

      More to the point: his grandfather was his responsibility.

The sooner he dealt with Cici and sent her packing, the better

      More to the point: his grandfather was his responsibility.

The sooner he dealt with Cici and sent her packing, the better